#but zero I like at least two other pairs with him and he’s bi as fuck lol

[no1ryomafan]

Never shared my brain rot of why watching G dubbed is so funny not for the fact the dub is super fucking corny at times yet it adds to the show rather then ruining it-and also when it’s not corny, it’s still a pretty decent dub-but how Domon is X and Master Asia is Sigma and their dynamics unironically parallel each other that making a mmx g Gundam AU wouldn’t be too far off ESP if you just made domons brother Zero given “ehehe devil Gundam corrupting people just like the maverick virus”- if not for the fact I cannot see X as a straight man 💀

[cienie-isengardu]

No offense but Cyrax always gave off a new recruit vibe compared to the other members. Seriously he seems a lot more...normal than the other Lin Kuei and seems more...open minded compared to the others. I feel like Cyrax was a fair bit older than the regular Lin Kuei enrollment when they found him(probably late teen to young adult) and since Cyrax wasn't as indoctrinated they just shoved him with Sektor to keep him grounded since Sektor was more obedient of the two.

Cyrax and Tomas Vrbada have no confirmed or hinted biological ties to Lin Kuei and as Botswanian (African) and Czech (European) respectively, both came from culturally different backgrounds than the majority of the clan members (Chinese/Asian). We don’t have much details on how each man was recruited and at what age they joined. However with Tomas, we at least know his reasoning for joining the Lin Kuei, as his official BIO stated “it has been Smoke's hope that through the Lin Kuei he will discover his past--and the origin of his power”. About Cyrax we don’t even know the reason behind his choice to pledge his life to Lin Kuei but there was a clear boundary that he did not intend to cross:

“I chose to serve the Lin Kuei. But I will not surrender my free will! [MK9]

Like you, I too assume he joined at much older age than majority of adepts started their training (either like Sektor from birth destined to be Lin Kuei or like Bi-Han & Kuai Liang kidnapped as a young children), however I would argue with the new recruit vibe, as Cyrax presumably was already well-proven top fighter to take part in Mortal Kombat Tournament and he too was steeped in Lin Kuei beliefs - like the disdain for Shirai Ryu clan

“Your inferior clan is dead. Soon you will join them.” [MK9, Scorpion Chapter]

or once considering Lin Kuei as the honorable clan

“[...] He has contemplated leaving the clan, fearing that it is no longer an organization of honorable assassins.” [MK9's Cyrax BIO]

The last one is especially something that Cyrax shared with Kuai Liang, as the younger Sub-Zero for a long time did not realize how deep Lin Kuei’s evilness run even though he worked for the clan as an assassin himself all his life:

“When I finally killed Sektor, I discovered the Lin Kuei had not sacrificed it's honor with the Cyber Initiative. We had abandoned it long before.” [MKX’s story mode, Scorpion Chapter]

So, I’m not sure if Cyrax was that much more normal (mentally healthier) than the rest as he clearly was influenced by Lin Kuei teaching. Though I assume between Sektor and Bi-Han, it is no wonder Cyrax feels like the most normal Lin Kuei to be around because the story mode allowed him to express emotions and fight for his own humanity. In contrast, Sektor is withdrawn and obey-at-any-cost while Bi-Han has this lone wolf vibe due to barely interacting with anyone, even his own comrades. So in that case alone, Cyrax is the most sociable one, no question about that.

Frankly, compared to Sektor, no one of the named Lin Kuei is even on that level of indoctrination, however what is worth to point out, Kuai Liang in original and alternative timelines was brought to Lin Kuei at young age and was trained to be an assassin his whole life yet even with so long-lasted indoctrination he always rejected C.I. Project. Despite his loyalty to Lin Kuei, he would rather abbadon the clan than allow anyone to turn him into a machine, not to mention rejecting the “no friendship rule”, both in the case of Tomas and his own brother. He, Tomas and Cyrax share that trait, no matter the differences of their backgrounds or amount of time spent with Lin Kuei. 

Did Cyrax presumably joining Lin Kuei at an older age influence his stubborn commitment to individuality and humanity?  Definitely. But I think it is also the fact he was not alone in believing that C.I. Project was a wrong decision, as at least Smoke and Tundra supported that belief. Was Sektor paired with Cyrax to keep in check the man’s independence? Yeah, that sounds very likely, especially since original timeline mentioned this

“[...] In the guise of fighting alongside his Lin Kuei comrade, Sektor's orders are to watch and report on Cyrax. Sektor's reports will decide whether this is the last mission for Cyrax." [Mortal Kombat Gold’s Sektor BIO]

As human Cyrax was already questioning Grandmaster’s plans, I would not be surprised if Sektor was tasked with watching and reporting his comrade's behavior to the Grandmaster. 

[missunderstoodxoxo]

asking question to get your mind off things - does parker have special parts of her friendships with all of thr Friends?

Thank you, Mack. You’re an angel. ❤️

She does.

I’m still working out the specifics but she’s got special connections thus far as such:

Phoebe: Phoebe and her are the queer icons of the group (there’s been canonical examples of Phoebs being not straight and I haven’t decided if Parker is bi or pan yet, so QUEER) and as I’ve said in a previous post, Parker has drunkenly made out with Phoebe, just to see what it’s like with her friend. Parker is a lot more open-minded about Phoebe’s quirks than a majority of the group.

Joey: The pair loooove food. Parker maybe doesn’t love it as much as Joey- see Rachel’s disastrous trifle- but the two have a love of good-tasting eats. As also stated in a previous post, Parker has tried to get Joey to expand his reading habits, to no avail.

Monica: Rachel may be the fashionable one of the group but Parker loves Monica’s ensembles, specifically S1. (I see Parker as having a mix of all of the girls’ styles but maybe that doesn’t make her distinctive enough. IDK.) Parker is the optimistic about Monica’s love life, believing there is someone perfect out there for her friend. Just not Chandler.

Ross: Listen, Ross is personally the least favorite of the group to me and it shines through with Parker. She loves him and he’s her friend but she isn’t afraid to call him out on his shit. Think a more blunt sibling-ship than Ross and Monica, minus the biology. She does appreciate his love of paleontology, to a higher degree than the others; that doesn’t mean much when their tolerance is near zero but-

Rachel: Rachel and Parker have a special bond through their time at Central Perk. I feel like Parker is constantly sticking her neck out for Rachel and hopes that the other woman doesn’t cost Parker her own job. She’s definitely on Rachel’s side on the breakup with Ross, if not just because she’s tired of hearing Ross proclaim they were on a break.

Chandler: Oh boy- she’s been infatuated with Chandler since- forever? She just think he’s the greatest. So, she’s practically dying inside anytime he’s out here being all “I’m desperate and alone and I want love and blaaaahhhh.” Like, she’s right freaking there! (Parker could say something but she’d rather have Chandler as a best friend than as nothing.)

[killian-whump]

Do you headcanon any of Colin’s characters as queer?

I sho' do! *pause* I think. I mean, it depends on your definition of "headcanon" and "canon" and "queer" and how much I'm thinking about it on a given day.

I mean, I headcanon Peter Sheerin as gay, but I personally think there's enough "hints" in the canon content that it doesn't really count as headcanon. But then again, it's definitely not stated and the hints are subtle, so it's also not canon, so... 🫠

WHAT IS CANON ANYWAY, OKAY?!

I think Gerry's ace, but I feel like maybe ALL the leprechauns are biologically asexual and reproduce magically by popping out of clover patches fully formed or something. I mean, look at that adorable little beansprout! He's never had sex in his life, and he'll never have to. BLESS.

Also, I think Wish Hook post-Gothel (which includes Old Hook) is asexual, but not necessarily by choice/nature, but due to trauma. However, Detective Rogers IS asexual by nature, because his persona was formed from Wish Hook's - so he's got the aversion to sex, but without the trauma that caused it, so he'd read as just plain ace.

But... Do those two (three? four?) count as queer? Depends on how you define "queer" and whether you consider these cases "true asexuality" (whatever the hell that means) or something else - and even whether you feel asexuality belongs under the LGBTQ+ umbrella or not (I personally feel it shouldn't, but accept that it usually does).

As for the others... Generally, I tend to assume any/every character could be bi unless canon gives ample evidence to the contrary. I mean, a 20 minute short or even a feature length film gives you so little information about a character's life that it's impossible to really rule anything out. Sure, Brennan's crazy about Nora... but who's to say twenty minutes after the film ends, he doesn't meet an amazing bloke in the audience and fall head over heels for him? And it would be an international crime to deprive the men of the world the beautiful fantasy that is the nameless lumberjack in The Words. Basically, I don't rule anything out unless canon rules it out, and then I'm a stickler for it.

Like with Killian Jones. This is where I differ from a lot of Hook fans. I know pirates tended to be gay or at least bi historically speaking, and I know people love to pair him with male characters (as do I, but only in whumpy ways)... but I just don't see it. Canon gives us non-stop evidence of his attraction to women - flirting with literally every one of them he meets, sizzling smolders, innuendoes galore, climbing towers and banging random strangers, etc... with ZERO of the same in regards to men. We never even got something on the same level as David's "Emma, I'm a married man!" So I just don't see it. At all. He's not the kind of guy to hide his attraction to... well, anyone. And given the historical gayness of pirates, there's no societal reason for him to hide any queerness he might have. I think he's just not into men.

I'm also a stickler for Gordo Cooper being straight. AFAIK, the real guy was straight, and when it comes to actual people, I don't think it's "okay" to headcanon them as anything other than what they present themselves as, even if they're presented in semi-fictional media and played by a super cute guy named Colin.

So... yeah. I mean, I think one dude IS queer, a couple more might be queer depending on how you define the term, a couple are straight... and the rest like girls, but might also like boys. I don't know, man. I only work here 🫠

[yeojaa]

( DEVIL IN A NEW SUIT. )

Money’s something that makes the world go around.  There’s absolutely nothing wrong with securing the bag.  You don’t shame anyone for doing what they need to do.  

That is, until you come face to face with the poor guy that’s being suckered out of both his heart and cash.  You simply can’t let it go on.

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating.  idiots to lovers.  fluff, angst, smut.  the holy trifecta, babies!  explicit, obviously.  

tags / warnings.  mentions of infidelity, kook being adorable and sad, reader being a bit of a tactless butthole, a satin playsuit (very nsfw), kook does a 180, smut in the form of: a slight oral fixation, too much spit, overstimulation, pussy slapping, unprotected sex (pls don’t be irresponsible).

wc.  12.2k of nonsense.  pure nonsense, i tells ya. 

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​ did what she always does aka read through this and made me a better writer and @yeoldontknow​ dealt with my big dumbass and let me cry about my pea brain to her.  i love you both sm!!!  ✨💜

author note.  the long-awaited fic is here!!  i really hope you enjoy it.  if you do, please maybe leave a comment or something?  i swung back and forth between loving and hating this so it’d really, really mean a lot.  anyway, thanks as always for reading and i adore you!  stay safe and happy and healthy!

He’s a sucker.  That’s what you think of him, despite the fact you’ve never met him.  It’d be impossible not to, given what you’ve heard. 

His girlfriend - or something - is in every other week, flashing his black card like she has something to prove.  Sometimes, she’s by herself;  often, she’s with another gaggle of girls that fawn all over themselves and shriek a little too loudly for your taste.  They’re vapid, snooty in a way that makes you cringe every time they step into the boutique.  Still, you’re nice because this is your job and you have to be.  You can’t exactly tell a paying customer to get lost - even if you think it at least six times each visit. 

“He has no idea.”  It’s always the same thing, a story that pulls at your heartstrings yet has you scoffing in equal parts.  “I told him we were doing a girls’ trip but Hyunjin’s going to meet me on his way back and we’re spending the week at the Ritz.”

How can he possibly be this dumb, you wonder.  How can’t he see past the pretty pink lipstick and perfectly coiffed blonde hair?  It isn’t even that nice of a colour job - too icy and reminiscent of Malibu Barbie. 

(She’d bragged about it once - how she’d gotten an appointment at one of the most coveted salons in the city, spending hours in the stylist’s chair to get this “perfect shade”.  Her words, not yours.)

You figure he must be some lonely schmuck, some poor old sap who can’t possibly get what he’s looking for anywhere else.  Maybe he had some weird spoiling kink - if so, where was your man like that - or he just wanted companionship and found it in the arms of girls who paid him any sort of attention.  Truthfully, you thought a lot of things about him.  Kind of had to, given how often his girlfriend was in, rambling about her exploits and snickering behind his back.

You’d never expected him to be like this.

Jeon Jungkook shows up on a Sunday afternoon, shortly after lunch and with the dopiest smile on his face. 

Your colleague notices him first, nudging you to attention because you, unlike her, actually do productive things while you’re at work like go through layaways and make sure items aren’t sitting in the back gathering dust.

“He’s cute,”  she very poorly whispers, voice carrying because it always does.  She’s a younger girl - maybe a few years your junior, who’d gotten her job through pure nepotism - but she’s sweet enough.  Zero tact, though.  Never notices when she’s being just a little too forceful with her sales but her sweet smile and full rack seem to keep her from getting into any trouble.  You consider her a vaguely annoying sister, someone you love even when you don’t necessarily like her.

You glance up from the iPad balanced in your hands, disinterested.  “Who?”

There’s an older couple striding past the entrance, hand-in-hand with three Hermes bags.  (God, what awful taste.)  There’s another couple standing at the mouth of the Louis Vuitton boutique, bickering about which belt will best match the boyfriend’s tux best.  (The answer is neither, because those belts do not belong with a classic black tux.)

“Him.”

Yejin all but points him out, jerking her chin in his direction.  You don’t know how you hadn’t really clocked him in the first place.  Maybe because he’s so unassuming that you’d just brushed over him, noting his outfit before moving on.  When you look at him - really look at him - you can’t look away.

You think he’s handsome in that off-kilter kind of way, too-big teeth and too-wide eyes.  He’s terribly innocent looking, despite the fact that he’s wearing a gleaming gold Rolex and sleek black boots you recognise from Prada’s 2019 RTW.  Everything he wears is tailored, fitting him to the point you wonder who his seamstress  is.  

But then he speaks, and it’s not the suave, sultry voice you’d expect.  It’s featherlight and almost shy, bashful in its delivery.  

“I’m here to pick up a bag for my girlfriend?”  He upspeaks.  It’s stupidly adorable.

Bless her soul, Yejin throws a glance in your direction first.  A silent ‘yours or mine?’ that’s answered when you step forward, blindingly bright customer service smile in full effect.  “What’s the item and the name it’s under?”  You keep in mind he’s said girlfriend very clearly, even as you can’t help but trail your stare over his shoulders, the dimple that digs itself into his cheek when he speaks again.

“Oh, it’s under mine.  Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.” 

You’re floored.  This is Jeon Jungkook?  This specimen draped in leather and fine Japanese silk is the poor idiot wrapped around Barbie’s finger?  You’ve got to be kidding.

You wonder whether the surprise is evident on your face.  It must be, given how quickly Yejin interrupts, piping up in that saccharine sweet voice of hers.  “I’ll grab it!  The Box bag in cloud, right?”

Jungkook can only nod dumbly.  He has no idea what he’s there to pick up - only that he needs to because his girlfriend is away on a trip with her two best female friends.  He tells you as much, chuckling at his own ignorance.  It’d be cute if it weren’t so sad, his eyes twinkling like the jewels set in your ears.  There’s so much love in his eyes it’s frankly sickening.  

It comes before you can help it, snapping off your tongue - an oil spill ready to drag him to the depths of hell.

“Oh - you’re Kiko’s boyfriend?  I thought you’d left for Hong Kong already.”  Your head tilts - the picture of innocence as you continue to spew things you shouldn’t, staining the innocence of his expression with each word that drops off.  “She said she was leaving on Friday.”  Even while you’re tearing this poor man’s life apart, you’re racking your brain for the off-handed comments she’d made.  “She kept going on and on about how she was so excited to be staying at the Ritz.”

It’s almost like you gain some sick sort of satisfaction in watching his face fall.  You’ve never seen someone crumble so quickly, every ounce of affection swept up and spat out in the time it takes you to take a solid, proper breath.  

You do feel bad.  Not for saying it, but for being the person to do this.  For hurting this stranger.  (At least he knew?)

“I think you have me mistaken for someone else.”  Gone is the sunny friendliness, the blissful geniality.  He’s very much uncertain, bunny teeth digging into the full swell of his bottom lip.  He’s pigeon-toed and round-shouldered, thick brows drawn neatly over his stare as he focuses on some indeterminate point somewhere by his feet. 

If Yejin were on the floor with you, she’d tell you to knock it off.  Chastise you for getting involved in something you had no business being in.  (She’d be right, but you’ve always been an advocate for tough love.)  As it stands, she’s still in the back finding that stupid girl’s bag and you’re here, shaking your head, weakening Jungkook’s resolve with the edge of your teeth.  “No, she definitely said she was going away with her boyfriend.  Did you maybe give us the wrong name?”

Maybe if he weren’t so upset, he’d be more offended by the insinuation he’s stupid.  Instead, he only falters further, head mimicking yours.  Poor guy.

“I—I think there’s been a mistake.”

Yeah, you dating that gold-digger, you want to say.  Instead, you meet his stare like you haven’t just dug a thousand holes in his foundation.  “Oh, maybe.  I’m sorry.”  The apology is honest, even if the meaning behind it isn’t.  That’s a thing, right?  Apologising to make someone feel better, even when you don’t necessarily agree with it?  

God, you’re an altruist. 

“It’s fine.”  When he stutters, adorable lisp coming out to play, you know it’s not.  You applaud him for his brave face, even if it’s very poorly offered - a makeshift mask you think you could tear off with just another well-aimed word.  (You won’t.)

“Here it is!”  Yejin’s back, bouncing out from behind the counter with the giant white bag in her hands.  If she notices the atmosphere, she says nothing.  You remind yourself to tell her good job once Jungkook leaves - and you know he’ll leave the moment he’s got those silk handles in his hand.  He looks about ready to cry - or ready to fight, you’re not sure.

Once the purchase is passed over, he nods his head furiously and you swear you see a tear go flying.  You don’t have time to ask before he’s hoofing it out of the store.  

He doesn’t even notice he’s left his wallet on the counter.

By the time you snatch it up and round the corner, he’s nowhere to be found.  Probably because running in stilettos is next to impossible and he’s gotten an embarrassed head start.  Well then.

“I guess we’ll have to call him,”  you hum, turning the Prada bi-fold over and over in your hands.  It’s practically brand new, stuffed with large bills, his driver’s license, and few credit cards, including a Hyundai black card.  The same one on file that his girlfriend - maybe soon-to-be ex-girlfriend? - uses shamelessly.

Yejin’s watching you carefully, silently.  You’re counting down how long it’ll be until she asks - because you can see the curiosity swimming in her eyes, practically bulging her cheeks with the effort of keeping her questions caged behind her teeth.

Finally, after a good three minutes, she’s at your side, bony point of her chin digging a grave into your shoulder.  It’s probably not the most appropriate thing but she’s never much been one for decorum.  (You either, but still.) 

“So… what was that about?”

You don’t bother to turn when you speak, back to running through order details and matching them with customers.  “What?”

“You know— that!”  She waves her wrist in a circle, gesturing toward the space Jungkook had occupied not five minutes ago.  “He ran out of here like he was scared for his life.”

“Scared of the truth,”  you correct. 

You hadn’t thought it was possible for her to get more pale - she’s already fine porcelain, perpetually slathered in sunscreen - but she somehow does, balking at your response.  There it is. 

“What?”  There’s a reproachful edge to her words, an uncertainty that tells more than the single syllable. 

“What?”  It’s mimicry and a challenge all in one, meeting her stare from the corner of your periphery.  You can read every emotion that runs through her expression:  shock, displeasure, confusion.  

She retreats a step, bottom lip caught between her teeth.  (She really does remind you of your little sister.)  “So, you told him?”

You shrug, a noncommittal gesture that disrupts the curtain of silk that falls over your shoulder.  You hadn’t laid it out for him but surely he had an idea now.  There was no way he didn’t. 

“I pointed out a few conflicting facts.  That’s all.”  You’re not ashamed about what you’ve done.  You’d want to know if you were him.  Consider it an act of goodwill. 

The silence that meets your ears isn’t surprising but you don’t pay it any further mind.  What’s done is done.  Now he knows, or something close to it.  The chips would simply fall where they were meant to. 

You have to admit - you’re rooting for him. 

Whatever Yejin’s thinking, she keeps it to herself for the rest of the shift.  She knows better than to berate you about something like this, not that she would anyway.  Obnoxious as she can be, you have an understanding.  It strengthens your not-quite-close-friends-but-more-than-colleagues relationship. 

It’s only at the end of your shift that she brings it up again, drifting over to you as you complete your cash count for the evening. 

She holds Jungkook’s wallet in her hand, mouth pursed thoughtfully as she taps it against the edge of the counter.  “You have to call him.”

You almost lose your count, finishing with a pinched expression.  “Whoever works tomorrow morning can call him.”  You’re not brushing off the responsibility - you really could care less - but simply passing it along to the next person.  Sensible. 

As it turns out, you’re the person who works the next morning, called in because another associate has come down with a cold.  

You’re two lattes deep when you remember the wallet, tucked neatly behind the counter with a yellow sticky note posted to the front.  You suppose it’s your responsibility now.  You know if Yejin comes in tomorrow and sees it, she’ll give you her childish brand of hell. 

The line rings twice before it picks up, that oddly familiar voice crackling through the speaker.  “Hello?”

“Jungkook?”  

There’s a beat of silence followed by a careful confirmation. “Yes, that’s me?”  Upspeaking again. How cute. 

“I’m calling from the CELINE boutique.”  You can practically imagine the look on his face, eyes as wide as saucers as he recalls the awful-to-him encounter.  “You left your wallet here and I wanted to make sure you got it back.”

“O-oh, uh—“  It’s like encountering a baby bunny - or deer or something equally adorable and vulnerable.  “Thanks.  I didn’t even notice.  Um, I can come pick it up today?”  There’s another pause, the sound of fingers over a screen, and then he’s back.  “Is that okay?”

Leave it to him to have lost his wallet and yet be worried about putting someone else out.  He truly was a sucker. 

“That’s fine.  We’re open until six tonight.”  

“I’ll be there before dinner.”  As if realizing how vague that is, he continues, words running headlong into each other like he can’t get them out fast enough.  “Before six, I mean.  Um, is around five-thirty okay?” 

You want to tell him to just come whenever, that it really doesn’t matter to you, but that probably isn’t going to help the situation.  Instead, you hum a quiet sound of confirmation.  “Of course.  We’ll see you then.” 

He hangs up immediately. 

The second time you meet Jeon Jungkook, he’s just as endearing as the last.  It’s actually surprising, if you’re being honest.  You’d thought he’d be resentful or mean or any other emotion better fitting someone whose entire world had turned upside-down.

As it stands, he’s just the right-side of anxious, a hundred little sparks of uncertainty flaring beneath his skin and lighting him up in neon.  You can see him from a mile away he’s lit up so bright, seemingly uncomfortable in his own skin.

Your heart aches for him - and then it skips, almost trips over its own two feet when he wanders into the store with his hands dug deep into the pocket of his pants.

How he looks tonight is nothing like how he’d looked yesterday.  Somehow, you like it more.  The undone head-to-toe Balenciaga, the unruly curl of his dark hair.  It’s effortlessly chic - though you think it might have something to do with the fact that he’s just an attractive person.  (Good-looking people could get away with anything - even god-awful fashion faux pas.)

At the sight of you, he seems to further lose steam, eyes widening to such an extent you briefly worry for him.  Surely they’ll fall out of their sockets one day.  

“O-oh.  It’s you.”  The moment the words come, he’s blushing the colour of your red-soled shoes, horrified.  “I m-mean, just—”  He takes a deep breath, finds his footing and tries again.  “You’re the girl that helped me yesterday.”  Spoken like you, the exact girl who helped him yesterday, wouldn’t remember that fact yourself.  

“That’s right,”  you say evenly, expression neutral.  It’s almost as if that surprises him more - as if he’d expected you to shy away from the knowledge.  

The two of you stare at each other for longer than is strictly speaking necessary.  Well, you stare at him and he kind of bounces his eyes around the room.  You know he can’t be that interested in the croc stamp Belt bag behind your head or the selection of small leather goods in the glass case.  

He’s so awkward.

(You did kind of ruin his day though, so you can’t blame him.)

“So, um, my wallet?”  He’s made barely any headway, still lingering awkwardly by the front of the store.  You can’t help your smile - it’s more of a smirk - as you raise the item in question.  

“Right here.”

Jungkook glances from it to your face, then back again.  He makes the same trip twice more.  “Can I have it?”  To your surprise, he’s taken two whole steps toward you, brow furrowed.  He’s still terribly soft, rounded edges and innocent eyes, but he’s making progress.  Good job, you think.

“Of course.”  You mirror him, moving out from behind the counter.  Somehow, that’s not the right move, because his features are breaking and rearranging, big bunny teeth worrying a hole straight through his bottom lip.  You’d think he’d be more confident, more demanding, more… everything.  (You quite like that he isn’t - a complete anomaly - but you also imagine it’s also to his detriment.  Too much honey, not enough vinegar.)

This time, he closes the distance with three long strides.  It hadn’t escaped you how tall he was, the length of his gait - after all, you’d tried to run after him - but you’re still a little surprised when he’s in front of you, not a foot away, arm extended.  Palm out, he asks again, all while refusing eye contact.  “May I have it, please?” 

You hand it over with a soft laugh, pressing the grained leather into his hand.  You expect him to retreat immediately and he does - but then he turns and his expression is inscrutable.  Is he going to say thank you?  Berate you for what you’d done yesterday?

Neither, it seems.  “Why did you do it?”  There’s no anger, just an abiding sadness that laces his words, turns them the saddest shade of blue.

“Do it?”  You know what he means.  You ask anyway.

“Why did you tell me?”  Jungkook’s doing that thing again, alternating between biting his tongue and chewing his cheek as he stares at you.  You can practically see the melancholy rolling off him;  it shines dark on the depths of his irises, how his fist trembles just barely at his side.  For all his good looks and leisurely charm, you can see the effort it takes to hold himself together now.

Guilt ascends, starts somewhere deep in your stomach and turns stomach acid to butterflies.  It creeps higher and higher over your spine, locking each vertebrae until you’re immobile, unable to tear your gaze from his.  “I thought you deserved to know.”

“But why?” 

“What do you mean?”  

It’s almost comical, how both your expressions descend into bewilderment - like looking into a fun house mirror.  He’s trying to wrap his mind around your actions and you’re just trying to make sense of his confusion.  

You anticipate a response - can see it tittering on the tip of his tongue - but he seems to think better of it, shaking his head.  It dislodges a wayward curl from behind his ear, silver twinkling with the movement.  

“Thank you” is all he offers before speed-walking away.

You don’t expect to see Jeon Jungkook for a third time.  

He’s waiting for you when you end your shift on Thursday, standing somewhere between the two boutiques, loitering like some kind of gremlin.  (Except he’s dressed exceptionally well, slick black jeans and a Balenciaga tee shirt that rivals the cost of your shoes.  Of course he’d get away with hanging out in the store without being told off.)

“Excuse me.”  For once, he doesn’t sutter.  The lisp doesn’t present itself, either.  Was this the same Jungkook?  You’re not sure until you meet his stare - or try, his own skipping away the moment you make contact.

There he is.

“Yes, Jungkook?”  He flinches, as if he isn’t expecting you to know or say his name.  How can someone so big, so broad across the shoulders with a face that belongs on billboards, look like such a terrified rabbit?  It makes no sense to you.

“Can we talk?”  The stare he levels you with is unfair, too sweet and coaxing for you to even consider saying no.  You’ll still mess with him a bit though.

“We are talking.”

He sputters at that, hacks out a cough that makes you snicker openly.  It’s just so easy with him, like taking candy from a baby.  

“I mean like— talk talk.”  The set of his jaw gives away the whisper of frustration, the fleeting touch of exasperation that doesn’t allow itself to live anywhere else.  His eyes are still soft, round and glossy beneath the fluorescent storelight.  

“Sure, we can talk talk.”  

“Did you, um, want to grab dinner?”

You don’t mean to mock him (at least, not really) but he just makes everything so easy. You hope he doesn’t take it the wrong way.  “Are you asking me on a date?”  

“W-what?  No!”  Despite the immediacy of his response - the look of utter shock that cracks the careful facade - he’s burning bright, cheeks aflame with colour that licks up and over his ears.  “I just— I thought you’d want to talk somewhere else—”

“I’m kidding.  Let’s go.”

You move first, stepping past him and onto the elevator without a backwards glance.  He scampers after you, trails like a lost puppy in the wake of your shadow.  Even while you stand in the corner, waiting for the lift to meet the main floor, he keeps a careful distance, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans.  

“So, what do you want to talk about?”  It seems you have to take the initiative, throwing him a curious stare as the floor number ticks down.  His gaze is trained on neon digits, unmoving.  You repeat yourself, glancing up at him, half-tempted to nudge him out of his reverie.  It’s almost like talking to a really hot brick wall.  “Jungkook?”

He tears out of his thoughts like a wayward bullet, head swivelling wildly.  “Huh?”  

“What did you want to talk about?”  

“Um—”  He hesitates, not as if he doesn’t know the answer, but rather that he’s hesitant to speak it into existence.  There’s a tidal wave in the depth of his stare, a cresting wave that looks on the edge of breaking.  “—m-me?”

Brows furrow then amusement spills out.  “You want to talk about… you?”  

“That sounds bad.”  The shape of his grow prominent over his bottom lip, his mouth pulling and pursing with whatever maelstrom exists inside that pretty skull of his.  

“It’s fine.  We’ll talk at dinner.”  

He nods.  You think it means thank you.

Sitting across from each other in the Michelin-starred restaurant - a sought after spot that takes reservations weeks in advance - it’s easy to imagine Jungkook is just another guy.  Another bachelor with too much money and not enough sense, eager to sink his teeth into his next victim.  

It’s hilarious how far that is from the truth.

“What did you want to eat?”  He’s speaking into the pages of the leatherbound menu, half his face hidden.  Whether it’s a defense mechanism or just how he woos pretty girls, you’re not sure.  (You have a feeling it’s the former.)

“Whatever.”  Everything here is incredible.  You really don’t mind.

Jungkook’s face falls, folds in on itself like wet paper and you sigh a sound that further breaks apart the pillars keeping his composure in place.  His right cheek is hollowed, interior being shredded by enamel.  You take pity on him then, flipping open the menu with a great flourish. 

When the waitress - a lovely little thing whose gaze lingers on your dining partner for too long to just be polite - comes to take your order, you rattle off your usual order, doubling certain selections.  Soft-spoken as he might be, you have a feeling the size of his stomach makes up for all the mumbling and half-hearted glances.

“So?”  You level him with a stare over the rim of your glass, lavender and lemonade bursting across your tongue.  

He echoes you, wide-eyed and Bambi-like and stupidly cute.  “So?”  

“What did you want to talk about?”  If you’d had a worse day, if you were a lesser person, you might be irritated by having to repeat yourself so often.  As it stands, you’re only curious, your inquisitive nature outweighing your naturally short temper. 

“Oh.”  Poor boy looks like he’s been asked an impossible question, like what’s the meaning of life or the secret to eternal youth.  He fumbles with the edge of his sleeve, turns the plaid over and over in his fingers as if it were a puzzle.  You stare at him the whole time, unflinching, unrelenting.  He’d asked you here so you damn well expect an answer.

You’re about ready to repeat yourself - fourth time’s the charm? - when he finally finds his voice.

“I wanted to say thank you.”

It’s not the answer you’d expected.  It whacks you in the face, smacking your usual confidence out of place and shooting your carefully threaded eyebrows into your hairline.  “What?” 

He’s terribly uncomfortable, unhappy with being on the spot.  You watch the flicker of emotions through his face, the ones that creep into the delicate skin beneath his eyes, the wobble of his bottom lip.  Try as he might, he can’t keep the light from his eyes - twinkling stars that bloom like newly minted stars.

“Thank you.”  It’s just that much harder when he repeats himself, edges he builds with his bare hands and a clearing of his throat.

You’re silent for a long while - long enough for the first few plates to be set before you.  You gather up shredded radish and perfectly charred beef with your chopsticks, chewing thoughtfully on the morsel.  Jungkook doesn’t move - doesn’t even reach for his chopsticks - and simply stares at you.  You might find it off-putting if it were anyone but him.

You get through half the bowl of green beans, well on your way to finishing it, when he finally begins eating, deftly transferring little bites to his bowl.

The only sound is crunching - king oyster mushroom tempura, ice from your cocktail - and you’re pleasantly surprised to find it’s not uncomfortable.  A little different, sure, but altogether nice.  Like dining with an old friend.

You finally answer when half the plates are gone, another three laid out in their wake.  You’re careful not to speak with your mouth open - you notice Jungkook doesn’t either - and take a long sip of your water.  “You’re welcome, I guess.”  

Something tells you you’re always surprising him - whether intentionally or not.  His eyebrows have a tendency to shoot up, making him look even more shocked than he normally does.  (Seriously, how big are his eyes?)  You find that funny but don’t comment on it, opting to pop a silken piece of black cod into your mouth.  Your stare never falters, trained on his face as you chew thoughtfully.

“What?”  He’s had enough of your quiet observation, apples of his cheeks reminiscent of the tree in your parents’ backyard.  

“What?”  You parrot back, shameless, dark eyes twinkling at him.

“Y-you’re staring at me.”  

“You’re sitting in front of me.”

The line of his mouth hardens then, tongue rolling against his cheek in a gesture that stands out.  It’s the first glimpse of something rude, something not doe-eyed and innocent.  Oh?

“You don’t have to stare.”  Said with a speared piece of sashimi, the end of his chopsticks assaulting the poor piece of bluefin tuna like it has personally offended him.  

You reach for the same place, knock ornate wood against his, and quirk a brow when he meets your stare.  “Does it bother you, Mr. Jeon?”  The inflection is drawn out, almost mocking, only softened by the smile you offer.  

“That’s not my name.”  The bite disappears past his teeth.  You expect him to continue three chews later but he only goes for another, filling his plate and then his mouth.

“Sorry— Jungkook.  Does my staring bother you?”

It feels a little like playing with fire - holding your hand too close to a flickering flame, curious what it’ll do.  Juvenile in a way but enticing in another.  You’ve never met anyone quite like Jeon Jungkook.

“It’s rude,”  he reasons, glossy eyes meeting yours for perhaps the fifth time that evening.

“Maybe I’m just rude.”

He shakes his head then - dislodges untamed strands from behind his silver-lined ears - and sets his chopsticks down.  (Perfectly matched up, propped against the provided rest.)  “You’re not.”

You can’t keep the surprise away, the emotion threading through your brows to tie them into a little knot of consternation.  He says it so readily, as if he knows you and this isn’t one of a handful of very short, very unexpected conversations.  He’s not even looking away, meeting your stare with a confidence that surprises you.  

It lasts for all of five more seconds before he clears his throat and sips at his tea.  Anything to busy his hands, you think.

“You don’t know that,”  you finally return, after what seems like too long.

“I do.”  He nods - almost to himself - and continues, matter-of-fact.  “You care about people.  You’re… hard around the edges but you don’t mean to hurt anyone.  You want to do what’s right.  Sometimes it means you have to do things that aren’t easy.”

For once, you’re at a loss for words.  Really and truly silenced, unable to articulate anything that might beat back the kindness he’s offering.  

How the tables have turned.

He likes waffles with chocolate syrup rather than honey.  He doesn’t like whipped cream or citrus-flavoured desserts.  He has a tailor he’s gone to since he was a child, the same elderly woman he sometimes calls halmoni because she’s watched him grow up.  He decorates his apartment with the most random things:  limited edition KAWs figurines and the guitars he still hasn’t had the most practice with, one of a kind paintings from the gallery one of his best friends curates.  He buys the most expensive bottles of wine at any given restaurant not because his palate is so evolved it matters, but because it’s what he’s been taught to do.

He’s been in four serious relationships in his twenty-five years.  All of them have ended poorly, though his latest with Malibu Barbie is the first where he’d been cheated on.  (Somehow, you doubt that but you don’t voice this disbelief.)  He tends to lean towards long-term relationships with women who baby him (your words, not his).  He scoffs when you call him a serial monogamist, insists he isn’t even as you list out all the facts pointing otherwise.

“I just… don’t like wasting my time,”  he insists from behind his coffee cup.  

“You mean you don’t like the potential to be hurt.”  

Jungkook blinks at you then, Bambi eyes so big and bright you almost want to laugh.  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”  He seems confused - as if his reasoning is solid, irrefutable. 

“High risk, high reward, Jungkookie.”  It’s something your father had taught you years ago, the crazy old sap.  It’s probably why he’s had three divorces since you were seven years old, but you suppose it’s worked out for him now.  He’s been happily married for the last ten years - the longest relationship he’s ever had.  Youngin is good for him, though.  You like her - even if you sometimes wish she weren’t young enough to be your older sister and not his wife.

“You say that a lot.”

“I mean it when I say it.”

He’s quiet then, shoving a corner of his croissant past his lips.  When he speaks - starts to, anyway - his mouth is still full and you level him with a look that silences him until all traces of the pastry are gone.  “Girls are scary.”

You laugh.  Cackle, really.  You can’t help it.  He says it with a pout, the expression so utterly at odds with the offensively revealing shirt he wears, the smooth unblemished skin of his chest almost too much for such a quiet afternoon.  He glares at you across the table, shoves another piece of the flaky golden treat into his mouth, and waits for you to speak.  He knows you’re going to give him a piece of your mind because you always do, rebuffing 99% of the things he says.  (Sometimes for fun, often with good intentions.)

“Heights are scary.  Death is scary.  Leaving your wallet at home when you’re low on gas is scary—”

“Don’t you have Apple Pa—”

“Don’t interrupt.”  He clamps his lips shut, folding his arms across his chest.  From anyone else, it’d be a defensive gesture;  from him, it’s patient.  “Girls aren’t scary.  Having real feelings for people is scary, but that doesn’t mean you should just stay with people who don’t deserve you.” 

“Not all of us have cheater-sniffing noses.”  

You suppose he’s right but the fact still remains that he’s too nice for his own good.  Too trusting, too lenient, too blind to all the red flags.  Like he’s living life in greyscale. 

“Well, that’s what you have me for.”

The look Jungkook gives you then is incredulous, screwing his pretty face up as if he’s about to sneeze.  Instead, he laughs.  “I’m not hopeless.”

“Oh, but you are.”  You’re adamant, insistent.  He’s more comfortable with you now - sometimes teases you in a way you’d never have expected weeks ago - but he’s still so soft.  An absolute marshmallow dressed in designer duds, a heart of gold wrapped up in a bubble gum package.  

You want to protect him, teach him to fly.  Be his wingwoman until he’s soaring the skies on his own.  

You know it’s not his pride that keeps him from saying yes.  He doesn’t have an abundance of that, far too gracious to ever deny help when he really needs it.  He’s just shy, doesn’t know what he wants until it’s staring him right in the face.  

“Fine,”  he agrees after you’ve stared at him for too long.  It’s one of his weaknesses - his inability to handle attention when it’s laser-focused.  It makes him sweat, prompts his nervous habit of chewing at his bottom lip, long fingers picking at the peach fuzz on his cheeks.

“You won’t regret it.”

Jeon Jungkook has gone on six dates over the last ten days.  You know, because you’ve helped him pick out outfits for each of them, seated at the edge of his bed with your knees folded and a bag of white cheddar popcorn in your grubby little paws.

It’s not that he isn’t stylish - you both know he is - but there’s a certain finesse to dressing for dates, to knowing the likes and dislikes of your potential partner and playing to those.  

He, to no one's surprise, does not have this finesse.  If it were up to him, he’d wear his favourite clothes every day, different jeans and joggers in medium-wash denim and impossibly soft cotton.  He’d swap his Balenciaga separates in and out and stick with the finely tailored Gucci suit he calls his lucky ticket (ew).  He’d live in those stupid two-toned sneakers and barely do his hair, allowing it to become a powder puff reminiscent of old Hollywood movies.

The girls would probably still love it.  (It’s easy to love him.)

“What do you think?”  It’s low-cut black, relaxed in the shoulders and flattering in the torso.  It holds him just right, hugging the muscle that threads across his shoulders like armour, coils around his upper arms and makes his tattoos stand in stark relief where the sleeves end, mid-forearm. 

It looks good— but then again, a lot of things look good on him.  He wants great.

You answer honestly, because that’s what you do and that’s what he has you there for.  To knock him down when his (admittedly small) ego gets a little too big, remind him of his hubris like the summer sun upon his candle wax wings.  “Not bad…”

You don’t even need to finish the thought for him to be tugging the shirt over his head, back flexed, ink-strewn fingers gripping the hem.  

Not for the first time, you’re reminded of just how unfair life is. 

How had Jungkook - bona fide dork, certifiable shy guy - been gifted one of the best bodies in human existence?  (You wish you were joking.)  It was utterly absurd, a complete waste on someone who’d only learnt to utilise his good looks in the last five months you’d known him.  

“This one?”  He’s grabbing another hanger, all but thrusting it into your face.  Medium-weight cashmere.  Probably too hot for a night like tonight but you’ve seen it on him before and it hugs him like a lover, displaying his best assets (titties) and drawing attention to the narrow shape of his waist.  It’s the equivalent of a little black dress.

“Look at you go,”  you tease, mouth full of mirth and popcorn kernels.  “Throw that Juun.J trench you have overtop and you’ll be set.”

Jungkook nods sagely, as if your word is law.  You suppose it is.

“Thanks, ____,.”  He says it in that sweet way of his, eyes lost to the weight of his gratitude.  

Your response is a shrug.  “Bring me back some dessert and we’ll be even.”  You don’t know where he’s going tonight but you figure it’s one of the many restaurants you’d recommended earlier in the week when he’d started lining up his various dates.  You know there’ll be something good on the menu.  

He promises he will as he slides the turtleneck on, tucking it into the dark trousers he’d picked up days ago, and redoes the slim black Rag & Bone belt around his waist.  You have to admit - you’ve done another great job of styling him.  Simple yet painstakingly attractive, playing at all the little bits of Jungkook’s best qualities without outlining them in bright red ink.  Understated but elegant, effortless yet seriously hot.  

Maybe you should quit your day job and become the female Hitch.  That was a viable plan, right?

You’re mulling it over when you realise your walking Ken doll is making toward his bedroom door, wallet clasped in one hand and phone in the other.  “Hey!  You’re leaving already?”  It’s polite surprise that colours your words, stare drawn to the screen of your iPhone.  It’s only 6 PM and the reservation isn’t for another hour.

There’s a sheepish look creeping over his features, painting itself in delicate strokes that you spy past the line of his smile, how the skin crinkles around his eyes.  For a moment, he’s the shy Jungkook you’d met in your store and not the one that now bleeds careful confidence, filling his little black book (read: phone contacts) with names as easily as he breathes.  “I was, uh, going to stop and get f-flowers.”  A silver-lined hand scrubs across his nape, dislodges the carefully styled waves he’s settled for.

Flowers, huh?  Well, that’s certainly something new.  Good for him, you think. 

“Jeon Jungkook, going all out.”  It’s heavy on the teasing, playful mockery lending a warmth to your words.  “She’s special.”

Which you’d figured, given he was seeing her.  Repeats were rare for him now that he’d learned how to weed out the bad seeds, held his hand a little closer to his heart (at least, sometimes).  Since he’d started dating again, this would be the first time he’d be going on a second date.  It’s a big deal. 

“Yeah—“  Nervousness sparks across his face, lights up his stare like the stars in the night sky.  “I guess she is.”

You smile fondly, like a proud mother.  “Go get ‘em, tiger.”  

“I will,”  he promises, looking so giddy it makes your heart swell ten sizes.  

You don’t even think anything of it as you follow him out of his room, bag of popcorn neatly rolled under your arm and your socks slid back into place.  It’s only when he levels you with a strange stare, pauses in the shrugging on of his coat, that you return his look.  “What?”

“Where are you going?”

“Leaving?”  

“Why?”

Wasn’t that the million dollar question?  

You don’t normally leave, usually waiting here at home for him until he returns to give you a rundown of his date (and the promised appetizer/dessert/whatever).  It feels somehow wrong to stay, though, as if you’re taking up space that doesn’t belong to you.  He’s going on a second date, after all.  Soon enough, he won’t need your help picking out clothes or deciding on a restaurant.  You won’t get to curl up on your usual corner of his sectional, wrapped up in the obnoxiously soft blanket you’d convinced him to buy one night while online shopping.

But it’s fine.  Totally, one hundred and ten percent fine.  The two of you are friends.  You’d always expected - anticipated, hoped - this day would come.  Baby boy was growing up. 

“Y’know.”  You answer a second too late and he’s still wearing that odd expression, handsome face flooded with something that looks like disappointment.  It flickers in the bits of his stare you can make out past his fringe, partially concealed by the dark silk that you know feels as soft as it looks.

“I know?”  He never tries to read your mind - knows it’s utterly useless.  

You wiggle your hand dismissively.  “Second date and all that.”  

Jungkook giggles - the same deceptively sweet sound he always makes - and finishes tugging his jacket on.  It fits him so well it should be illegal, falling to his knees and ending just shy of the intricate laces of his boots.  “Just stick around.  I’ll drive you home when I get back.”

It’s something he always does - his way of saying thank you for putting up with all of his first date jitters, his outfit changes, his worrying over how to first approach a girl on Tinder - so you don’t doubt him.  “Fine.  I’ll stay.”

He beams, caught halfway out the door.  “Tell me to break a leg.”

“Go break her back,”  you retort to the sound of his laughter.

You’re almost asleep when your phone starts going off, the vibrations jolting you awake.  It rattles across the glass table, won’t shut the hell up until you’re slamming your hand atop it, glaring at the screen as it lights up with notifications.

It’s almost 2 AM and they’re from Jungkook.  This can only mean one thing.

from jeon jungkook:  Hey. from jeon jungkook:  I’m really sorry but I won’t be home tonight. from jeon jungkook:  If you want to stay over, I can drive you back in the morning. from jeon jungkook:  Please don’t be mad.

Leave it to him to apologise for getting his dick wet - to feel bad about having a successful second date.  It makes you laugh as you stare down at the texts, tap a quick response you know will have his heart racing.  (Even after months of friendship, it’s hard not to tease him just a little bit.)

to jeon jungkook:  i officially hate you

The typing notification gives him away immediately, but the moment you do the same, he stops.  Of course.  He hates confrontation - would rather leap off a cliff-face than deal with negative emotions.  (He’d told you that once, over a night of beer and fried tteok.)

to jeon jungkook:  it’s fine!  have fun! to jeon jungkook:  turn her world upside down 😏

He doesn’t answer after that but the read receipt pops up.  Good, you think.  About time he finds someone nice.  You wonder what she’ll be like when you meet her.  

Jungkook’s third date comes with another third - you.

He drags you along to dinner, insisting there’s nothing at all weird about the fact.  He has to repeat it at least four times during the drive there, head nodding like a plastic bobblehead as he weaves in and out of traffic. 

“I want you to meet her,”  he mumbles, like that makes it better.  As if bringing a friend along to a date with that reasoning means it’s totally acceptable and not on the list of Hard No’s When Dating.

“Don’t you think that’s kind of weird?”  He’s too focused on changing lanes to answer you, signalling before seamlessly drifting over.  (He’s an impressively responsible driver, but that’s unsurprising.)  You repeat yourself.

“It’s not… weird.”  But you have a feeling that he knows how odd the request is.  Knows and doesn’t care, unfortunately.  “She wants to meet you too.”

(When had Jungkook turned into this person who argued with you?)

You somehow highly doubt that.  No girl in her right mind would leap at the chance to meet her potential beau’s wingwoman.  It’s something reserved for official status, when the foundation is set.  Still, you play into his hand, level him with a stare he should recognise.  It’s the one you throw his way any time he’s too nice, gives a mile when he shouldn’t even offer an inch.  (It doesn’t come as often anymore, but it still makes appearances once in a while.)  

“What does she even know about me?”

“That we’re friends.”  His vague response speaks volumes.  The look changes - grows into a glare that has him furtively peeking at you from the corner of his periphery.  When he speaks, it feels like a dead giveaway.  “That I really value your opinion.”

You groan, a noise so loud it rattles around in the car and interrupts the ballad playing through the speakers.

“She’s trying to figure out if I’m competition or not!”  Of course.  It’s obvious.  She wants to know what she’s getting into it before things get too serious, determine if her Prince Charming is really all that.  (He is.)  “I’m not coming to dinner.”  

“You’re already in the car,”  he reasons.  

You note he doesn’t deny your first statement, mouth rounding into a pout that should crush your resolve.  Instead, it drives you mad, irritation bubbling in your throat.

“I just won’t go in.”

“____,.”  When he says it like that, it’s hard to deny him.  Jungkook might not utilise his charms often but when he does, it’s lethal.  Undeniable with those dumb Bambi eyes of his.

“No.”

“____,,”  he repeats, almost pleading.  You can’t look at him.  You won’t.  The moment you do, you’ll be sucked into the swirling vortex that makes up his stare - a million pretty little lights caught in the brown of his iris, so many possibilities you’d lose yourself trying to explore them all.

You last a whole ten seconds before his staring becomes too much, those round eyes tracking you in the rearview mirror until you’re relenting, softening in the way that only he can cause. 

“Fine.”  You hate how it sounds rolling off your tongue, terse and a little pissed off.  You’re not actually mad.  Just worried.  You’ve seen situations like this play out - not that you’ve been in this position before - but female friends and potential girlfriends just don’t go hand-in-hand.  It takes a very special kind of person to facilitate a meeting this early and you are not that person.  You’re ragged edges, uneven temperament, distrust that you can’t help.

Jungkook knows that.  Should, anyway.  You’ve grown close over the last nearly half a year.  

When he mumbles a quiet sorry, turns to rest his chin against his knuckles as he drives, you know he means it.  He’d never put you in this position if it didn’t mean a lot to him - if his own happiness wasn’t somehow also on the line.  (Truthfully, it’s your fault.  All that self-love encouragement was coming back to bite you in the ass.)

You grumble an obligatory acceptance as the streetlights fly by.  You’ve got a reputation to uphold. 

“You’re paying for my dinner.”

“Of course.”

How many times have you pictured this same situation, watched it unfold on your television screen as the protagonist gasps wildly, hand at their throat?  How many times have you laughed at the exchange, snickering into your palm as the romantic interest makes some wild declaration of love and wins the protagonist’s heart?

Answer:  you’ve lost count.

Still, it doesn’t prepare you to be thrust beneath the spotlight, half-dreaming and terribly confused.  

“What’re you doing here?”  At any other time, it might be as reproachful as you want, full of disapproval and sleepiness.  Here and now, it’s slurred speech and the lines of your pillow dug into the softness of your cheek, lashes dusted with sleep and breath freshly minted.

Jungkook’s oddly surprised, considering he’s appeared unannounced at your doorstep at the crack of dawn (not really).  “C-can I come in?”

You don’t budge.  It’s not because you’re about to say no, but because you’re still really tired.  So tired you stare at him for a moment too long, zoning out as you drink in his appearance.  He’s wearing the clothes from last night - the same animal-print silk shirt that hangs obscenely low and reveals too much skin.  You recognise it because you’d picked it out for his date.  

(The one where he was supposed to ask Jiwon to be his girlfriend, you fail to note.)  

You repeat yourself around a yawn, ignoring the way your vowels crash into each other and barely make it to the light of day.  “What’re you doing, Jungkookie?”

“Please let me in,”  the doe-eyed prince at your door mumbles, gaze bouncing somewhere beyond your shoulder, over your face, to the wayward strands that’re the result of sleeping too well.  Everywhere but your eyes.

“Fine,”  you huff, stepping back to allow him over the threshold.  You don’t miss the way he smells - his signature cologne and something else.  If you had to guess, it’s her perfume.  It’s distinctly floral, drawing you into a garden of roses.  You don’t know if you like it.

Without a second glance, you’re shuffling away from him, dragging your slippered feet into the kitchen.  

You move on autopilot, spooning coffee grounds into the Chemex filter.  You don’t bother asking whether your surprise guest wants any - assume he does, because the fiend somehow lives on caffeine - and settle against the counter as you wait for your kettle to whistle.

You’re still so tired you feel like you might fall asleep standing up but you think you do a good enough job of levelling Jungkook with a solid stare.  “So?”

“W-what?”  

It’s been so long since you’ve last heard his stutter that it surprises you, recentres your attention from your own exhaustion and has you frowning.  Something’s happened.  Must have.  There’s no other explanation for it - for how he looks at you, so uncertain like all those months ago when you’d smashed his glass house to pieces.

“What’s going on?”  You’re demanding, full to the brim with concern as you round on him.  He flinches away as if your words have burnt him, leaning into the stainless steel side of your fridge.  

(Silly Jungkook - that won’t protect you.)

“What do you mean?”

The early hour has, luckily, dampened your usual aggression.  He’s stalling, you can tell.  You hate when he does this.  You tell him as much, glowering at him as he tries to shrink his nearly six foot frame into something small.  “You’ve showed up at my house unannounced.  What do you mean ‘what do I mean’?”

He looks as if he’s on the brink of repeating himself, biting it back behind his neat white teeth when your expression grows darker, more frustrated.

It’s impossible to stay dressed in red, lethargy swathing you up like a cocoon and softening your edges.  You sigh heavily - perhaps a little overdramatically - and go about completing your coffee ritual.  Patience works best with Jungkook, you’ve learned.  (Though, he sorely tests your own sometimes.)

With a steaming mug in your hand and the other passed over to him, you gesture toward your living room.

He nods once - a small up and down of his head.  

“So.”  You try again, softer this time, warmed by the heat that permeates ceramic and settles your sleep-ravaged nerves.  You’re seated cross-legged on your couch, facing him with your back pressed to the arm rest.  He’s half-turned to you, coffee cup slotted between his thighs.  Feet turned in, mouth wobbling with the intensity of how hard he’s chewing into his bottom lip.

“I couldn’t do it.”  The words rush out too fast, tumble into each other in such a way you have to take a second to comprehend what he’s said.  Couldn’t do… it?

You stare at each other for a long while, you trying to understand and him refusing to meet your stare.  

When realisation dawns on you, you can only imagine how you look.  It must be terrifying by how Jungkook practically tries to crawl into the cushions of your couch, shoulders rising around his ears like a turtle.

“You didn’t ask her?”  It explodes out, a question that demands an answer. 

He’s staring past your head, unblinking.  You’d almost worry he was a robot if his voice weren’t so damned human, full of melancholy and rounded by his lisp.  “I c-couldn’t.  It was just…”  The shrug he offers is half-assed at best, not nearly good enough to excuse him.

“Just what?”  

“Just—”  There’s the wiggly hand gesture you do that he’s adopted, his ink-strewn hand waving through the air like a floppy chicken foot.  He thinks it’ll earn him a pass but your unrelenting glare indicates otherwise.  He deflates, hand falling back to his lap, clutching his mug like it's a makeshift security blanket.  “It didn’t feel right.”

What did that even mean?  Feel right?  

Love didn’t just appear, fully-formed and complete.  It took work and dedication and the understanding it could all come crashing down.  Didn’t he understand that?  Hadn’t you drilled that into his head?

You exhale through gritted teeth, push breath past enamel that acts like a solid steel gate.  

“Jungkook, it’s not going to just ‘feel right.’”  You’re air quoting, all tact thrown out the window.  “You like her, don’t you?”

You expect him to nod immediately.  He doesn’t. 

“Jungkook.”

“Yeah?” 

“You like her, right?”  

“I think so.”

You want to tear your own hair out.  Instead, you press the pads of your fingers into your temple - apply pressure in hopes of alleviating the tension that settles there.  “So, you like her.”  It feels a bit bad, condescending in a way;  you don’t mean it in any way but supportive.  You just want him to be happy.  “But you couldn’t ask her out because it didn’t feel right?”

“She’s not you.”  

He’s looking at you now, looks like he might have a heart attack if he does so any longer.  But he doesn’t tear his gaze away when you meet it, entire expression warped into something you don’t recognise.  Hope, maybe?  Fear?   

“What?”  You wish it were hard rather than feather light, almost lost to the cacophony in your head.

The hollow of his cheek is thrown into stark relief, the line of his jaw clenched tight.  He repeats himself even as you’re the one looking away, shaking your head as if that might will away the irksome answer.  (It won’t.)

“Don’t say things like that.”  

It’s hurt that flashes through his expression and strikes you right in the centre of your chest.  His face crumbles, brows knit together beneath his mop of shiny hair.  He looks so terribly sad - a kicked puppy, an abandoned deer.  Bambi, through and through.

“You asked why I didn’t do it,”  he reasons in a voice far more solid than he looks.

“I didn’t think you’d say something so ridiculous.”  It’s cruel.  “You’re making a bad choice.  You’re into this girl.  Don’t be dumb.”

His features rearrange, then so do his limbs, entire body lifting from his seat in jerky, disjointed movements.  “I’m not dumb.”  There’s a reproachful quality to his words, a distaste he doesn’t bother to mask.  It’s not something you’ve ever faced, surprising you enough to draw your eyes to his face.  

He doesn’t look like the Jungkook you know.  

When he leaves - sets his cup in the sink and storms out the way he’d come before you have time to stop him - you wonder if you ever knew him at all.

“Okay.  Spill.”

Yejin’s tired of your abrasiveness, tired of having her head bitten off every time she tries to approach you with a question.  You can’t blame her.  You’ve felt like shit the last week, sleep-deprived and generally pissed off.  

All because of a doe-eyed idiot.  

“What?”  It’s less snark, more sigh.  You’re counting down the minutes until you’re free, until you can curl back up in your bed and try to sleep like you’ve done the last four days.  

“What’s going on with you?”  

“Nothing.”  

“Bullshit,”  she hums, trailing after you as you move behind the counter.  “You’ve been in a bad mood all week.  I’ve never seen you this upset like, ever.”  She’s right, of course.  You’ve always been very careful to keep business separate, pushing the customer service agenda no matter what.  “Did something happen?”  

You grit your teeth.  An expletive careens off your tongue when you slam the tip of your finger within the drawer you’d just shut.

“____,”  she tries again, concerned.  

“Nothing happened.”

“See, I don’t believe that because like, look at you!”  She gesticulates wildly, adorned wrists clinking loudly.  “You look like hell—”

“Thanks.”

“—and you’re being clumsy and like, I think I know you well enough.  So just tell me?”

You hate that she’s right.  It doesn’t mean you’ll relent, too caught up in your own strange brand of strength to unload.  (Maybe it’d be helpful.  Probably.  But you’ve never found comfort in other people.  At least, not like this.)

“Yejin.”  Her name stops her in her tracks, hurried and insistent as you pull your coat on.  “It’s fine.  Really.”  You’re swallowing your pride - practically choking on it - as you offer what you hope is a reassuring smile.  “I just need to get some sleep.”  And figure out what the hell to do about Jungkook, but that’s a can of worms you refuse to open and certainly not here.

Maybe at home, over a glass of wine, fueled by liquid courage.  

The bottle of Côtes du Rhône has aided you more than you’d hoped, offered an armour that slinks over your shoulders and drives your fingers to action.  It’s prompted something - started the ball rolling.

(Idly, you think that might not have been a very good idea, but it’s too late to care now.)

“You’re here.”  You being him and him being Jeon Jungkook, hair damp and imposing frame draped in an oversized sweater.  He looks terribly uncomfortable standing in your doorway - more so than he had days ago - hands shoved into the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie, dumb sneakers pigeon-toed as if he’s ready to take flight.

“Y-you asked,”  he mutters, refusing to meet your stare.  At least, you think he’s refusing.  It’s a little hard to focus when there’s this fine film turning everything hazy, the bitter taste of wine heavy on your tongue.  

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

He looks at you like you’re crazy then, though he never quite meets your eyes.  It’s a smart tactic - level you with a look then immediately bounce it away.  It has you coming back for more, eager to refocus his fretful gaze until it’s locked with your own.

“Will you come in?”  You sidestep, give him enough space that he can enter without feeling suffocated.  He still hesitates, takes a second too long in deciding.  “I won’t bite.”

You don’t miss the better promise that comes under his breath.

“So.”  This feels oddly familiar, him backed into the corner of your couch again while you settle across from him.  He hums a noise but offers nothing further.  

This is how it’ll be then.  Fine.  If he wants to be this way.

“You like me.”

He sputters - doesn’t mean to, by how big his eyes go.  He hadn’t expected it to come barreling out of your mouth.  “I—  I don’t—  I didn’t say that.” 

If it were anyone but him, you’d take his reticence as rudeness.  

“Tell me why.”

The poor boy blinks, stares at you full on now.  Can’t look away, locked in the intensity of your stare.  

“W-what?”

“Tell me.”  You sip carefully at the liquid in your glass, swirl it ‘round and ‘round.  “You said that girl wasn’t me but you haven’t made a case as to why that matters.  What have I got that she doesn’t?”  

“You’re serious?”  

“As a heart attack, Jungkookie.”

The brunet swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion.  You think he might say no, outright refuse.  You don’t expect him to start rattling things off like the list lives in his head, answers printed against the darks of his eyelids.  

“You’re funny.  You’re honest.  You speak your mind.”  You don’t mean to scoff but his reasons are so shallow - so easily found in other people.  He must read the doubt in your expression, pushing on to cut you off from doing the same to him.  “Y-you care about people even when you pretend like you don’t.  You’re just as scared of being hurt as I am.”  

For the first time in a long time - in years and years - you feel seen.  As if he’s pulled back the cover of your unpublished draft, memorised the redlines and notes in the margins.  

“I don’t—”

“You have this face you make when you’re proud of me.”  He’s turning his own fingers over in his lap, knuckles white from the strain of locking them together and undoing them again.  “When I do something you approve of or when I make you laugh.”  

There’s something thick in your throat.  

“You make me want to try.”  He clears his own, speaks so softly you have to strain to hear it.  “Y-you make things not so scary.”  

It grows heavier, harder to breathe as you stare at the man sitting across from you.  He’s focused wholly on his hands, too caught up in his words to help the way he plucks at his skin, fiddles with the silver chain that loops around his wrist.

“You know what I need, even before I know myself.  You make me laugh.”  He laughs, an almost choked sound that fizzles and rattles bashfully. “You look really, really good in your work skirt.”  You know the one he means - all black, pencil-fit.  Makes your legs look a mile long, despite the fact that they aren’t.  

You can’t help but join him, a little breathless, with a strange sensation behind your ribs.  Like sunshine on a cold day, filtering past the walls you’ve put up, streaming through the windows that’d replaced drywall when Jungkook had waltzed into your life with his fluffy hair and boyish laugh.

When you speak, you don’t even believe your own words.  They come of their own accord - a defense mechanism.  “I can’t.”

As if he knows - as if he’s got a polygraph going, Jungkook shakes his head, meets your eyes and holds you there with the intensity of his attention.  “Can’t or won’t?”

“I—”

“I’m not asking for the world here.  Just a chance.”  He’s got a peculiar look on his face.  “Don’t you think you owe it to me?”

“Excuse me?” 

All of a sudden, he’s close.  Closer than you’d expect, far closer than he should be.  There’s nothing beyond his expression, the way his eyes twinkle under the dimmed apartment lights as he stares you down.  The scent of his cologne is cloying now, the fading nectarine hint of his shampoo making your mouth water.  

“You kind of ruined my life.  I think this makes us fair.”

You sputter, gasp, make sounds that careen off your tongue and fill the air with nonsense.  You’d ruined his life?  (You’d made it better - made him see the light, you thought.)  You’re working to find your voice, ready to tear into him for this abrupt accusation.

Then he’s giggling, nose scrunched and delight filtering past his teeth.  

“I’m kidding.”  

It feels like whiplash.  You’ve created a monster.  

“But you do owe me, I think.  So why not?”

You only have yourself to blame when you say yes, conceding to his pretty eyes and sweet smile.

Dating Jungkook is easy - as effortless as breathing.  He’s a bona fide dreamboat plucked from your wildest dreams. 

He texts when he says he will and picks you up every night, stamping a kiss to your cheek the moment you’ve clocked out.  He holds your hand and refuses to let go, rubbing soothing circles over your wrist when you’re tired or stressed or annoyed.  He brings flowers to every date - insists on them even when you tell him they’re a waste of money.  He knows your coffee order, has learned the art of the pour over when he wakes up before you.  

You understand now, why he’d stayed with women who were terrible for him (to him).  If you were them, you wouldn’t have let him go either.  Would lock him up in an old tower like your own personal Rapunzel.

(You say that because you’ve been on a Disney movie binge.  He is, unsurprisingly, very into these sorts of things.)

“Open it,”  he pleads, pushing the luxurious pink box towards you.

You stare down at the lid, the Agent Provocateur label glaring back at you.  You can’t help how you laugh, sound bouncing around his bedroom.  “Are you trying to tell me something, Jungkookie?”

Your lover - not boyfriend, because you haven’t had the talk and it’s still new and you’ve never been this careful before - rolls his eyes, pushes the box closer with a huff.  It’s adorable.  

“Just open it.”

You finger the soft bow strapped across the top, play with the neatly cut ends.  You can feel the impatience radiating off Jungkook, feel those pretty doe eyes boring holes into the top of your head.  You take your time even more now, unravelling the ribbon with slow, measured twists of your wrist.  

Whatever you’d expected to find nestled among the tissue paper, this isn’t it.  

You’d imagined he’d be into something feminine, all pristine white lace and scalloped cups.  Something he could brush his cheek against, run his fingers over.  

Tucked within the box is something that doesn’t even earn the title of lingerie, a few flimsy straps bonded together.  Blush pink satin and dressed with buckles, you turn it over in your hands, trying to make sense of the way it all connects.  Surely there’s more to this.  Surely, darling innocent Jeon Jungkook doesn’t expect you to wear just this?

“Do you like it?”  You can sense the eagerness in his voice, that desire he has to please that seems to never go away.  

“What is it?”

“It’s a playsuit.”  

“A playsuit?”  You’re no stranger to experimenting in the bedroom but this— this looks like it’s meant to harness a dog in.  Would it even fit?  Soft as it is, it seems terribly restrictive, made for someone with model proportions and no body fat at all.

He nods, round eyes so bright, so hopeful, you can’t voice your concerns.  “Will you wear it?”

It fits you better than you’d expected.  Or at least, you think it does.  If Jungkook’s reaction was any indication, it’s heaven sent - the perfect gift wrapping for a present he’s been dying to claim. 

The buckles you’d studied earlier - that had taken you too long to strap together - dig into the tender flesh of your hips, the shape of his fingers imprinted along the metal.  He grips you so tight you think you might bruise, left with a reminder of his love for weeks.

“S-so wet,”  he groans, sound dropping into an almost whine as the swollen mushroom head of his cock brushes through your folds.  The satin of the playsuit has been long since tugged aside, stained with your arousal as it cuts into the softness of your thighs.  He repeats the motion once, twice, coats your clit in pre-cum that leaks out of the slit and adds another layer of slick.  “So ready for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You nod dumbly, drool around the two fingers he’s got slotted against your cheek, ring finger pressed down over your tongue.  

“Use your words, gorgeous.”  As if you can, as if you’re not riding the high of your last orgasm and about to come apart beneath his playful teasing.

The palm of his hand meets your overstimulated clit with a sharp smack, the cold of his teeth bared against your neck.  He doesn’t like when you don’t answer - much prefers to make an effort even if it’s indiscernible.

“What did I say?”  

Something garbled comes, a plea as much as a sob.  Another hit lands, just shy of the pearl that throbs with need and pain, landing instead on the sensitive, already red skin of your inner thigh.  He soothes it this time around, massages your own wetness into the roses that bloom beneath his touch.

When he speaks again, it’s so utterly sweet, tender as can be.  The Jungkook you’ve known for months and not the devil in disguise.  

“You like this, don’t you?”  His kisses are searing, laced with reverence that feels at odds with the way he forces your gag reflex, taps his curved cock against your pussy.  “You like what I’m doing?”

“Y-yes,”  you cry, spit pooling past the sides of your mouth, dripping lewdly across your breasts.  The hand cradling your chin is all but drenched, dark ink thrown into stark relief by the way it slides over his skin.  Jungkook hums against your cheek, licks a fat stripe from shoulder to ear.  

“Good girl.”  Two fingers spread across over your heat, pointer and index sliding over your lips.  You’re spread obscenely - can see it in the mirror that rests against the far wall.  Can see how the head of his cock peeks between your thighs, runs the same path over and over with each languid, slow roll of his hips.  “Such a good girl for me.  My perfect girl.”

Your shoulders shake with the effort you put into nodding, throat clenching on reflex when the three fingers in your mouth flatten over your tongue, hold you steady in place.

“Pretty girl wants more, doesn’t she?  Wants me to fill her up?”

He’s teasing you, the bastard.  Dragging his aching erection against your cunt as you writhe against him, desperate.  It’s amusing to him - you can read the delight in the reflection, see it shining bright like a beacon when he pulls his hand away and recentres it across your chest.  Digits tease at the already pebbled buds, swollen and sensitive from how hard he’d sucked them into his mouth earlier.

“Say it.  Say you want me.”

You do, without hesitation, without fear.  You know he’ll catch you.  “I want you.”  

He sinks into you the same instant the words fall, holds you tight against him when your entire body begins buzzing and threatens to do the same.  Your walls feel like a vice grip around him, greedily sucking in his cock as he slams home, ruts into you like a wild animal.  

Strong as he is, he’s weak to the noises you make - the broken sobs that spill off your tongue and make up the prettiest sound he’s ever heard - and how you feel absolutely perfect, wet and warm.  The muscle in his thighs strain, pleasure vibrating up the notches of his spine, setting every nerve ending alight with its ascent.

“B-be mine,”  he returns, practically begging as he spreads you wide, making you take everything he has to offer.  Heart and soul and stupidly huge, perfect cock.

“I am.  I am.  I am,”  you chant, tears welling along your lash line.  They fall when his rhythm stutters, when the heat overwhelms and you’re coming for the third time that night, crying his name like it’s the only word you know.  

They continue to pour, carve trails down your reddened cheeks as you reach nirvana, wait for moment he’s right there with you.  It doesn’t take long - a few more punishing thrusts into your fluttering heat - and then he’s found his bliss, crying into the silk of your hair, spilling inside you. 

It doesn’t happen how you thought it would - a shy question poised over dinner, sealed with a sweet kiss on the way to the car - but it means just as much.  Breaks you apart as it rebuilds you, fills you up as it splits your seams.

You’re his and he’s always been yours. 

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @shaybtsforever @we-found-wonderland-in-1989 @justanothergirlfromeurope @jalexad @bonnyskies @coffeeismylife28 @haeilove @purplespaceymermaid @sunsetsnsirens-blog @beingbeings​ @veronawrites​ @notmontae97​ @papillonsgf​ i’m really hoping i didn’t miss anyone e___e

[chadillacboseman]

A Chance Encounter

Pairing: Sub-Zero (Bi-Han) x GN!Reader

Warnings: Unprotected sex, a date gone wrong that is very creepy, so warning for that.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: Sub-Zero fuckers come get y'all juice!!! Seeing him on-screen really awakened something in me lmao. I'd let that cold man ram an icicle through my chest. I tried to keep him in character as best I could lol.

--

The first time the Lin Kuei warrior had fucked you, it was a chance encounter. Something fast, frantic, and unexpected. Just a way for the assassin to sate his lust and turn his focus back to his mission.

Bi-Han had been on the hunt for a champion, a police officer in the city where you lived. He had entered your apartment complex, phasing through doors and searching for his target when he had entered your unit. You were exiting the shower when Bi-Han saw you- naked body slick with water as you searched for a towel. You had screamed, startled by the presence of the hulking, armored assassin standing in your bathroom. Had it been any other person or any other circumstance, Bi-Han would have simply killed you without a second thought. But something ignited in him at the sight of your body- a spark he had long forgotten he was capable of. The sex was frantic, hard and fast against the wall, with Bi-Han pressing into you desperately, trying to corral his powers and not harm you. When he finished, a thin sheen of ice covered your bathroom wall and the assassin disappeared into a frozen fog without a word.

--

The next time the assassin found you, it was late and you were in your bed with your hands between your legs, whimpering in the darkness when the room grew suddenly cold. Bi-Han's voice startled you as he stepped forward out of the dark in a rush of icy fog. "I can take care of that for you." The assassin shucked his codpiece and let it fall to the floor. He ripped the blankets away from the bed and exposed your body, his white-blue eyes raking over you hungrily. Bi-Han grabbed you by the ankles and pulled you to the end of the bed with a grunt before hiking your legs over his hips. When he pushed inside you, the temperature in the room dropped at least ten degrees. The assassin's touch was cold but not unpleasant as he gripped your thighs and fucked you. This time was different, less frantic- Bi-Han moved with intent instead of desperation. He wasn't exactly gentle, but he took his time as he thrust into you, cold fingertips digging into your flesh and leaving small hints of frost in their wake. The assassin paused to pull his mask away from his face, and you were struck by how handsome he was beneath it. To your surprise, he dipped his mouth to yours and took your lips in a frigid kiss. When he breathed it was like you were outside on a winter night, inhaling crisp air before a snowstorm. When he finished inside you, you let out a whimper at the cold sensation and he chuckled as he replaced his mask. You watched as he affixed his codpiece and disappeared into the darkness with one last burst of chilled air.

--

You didn't see the assassin for several weeks after that, and you assumed your fling was over. You didn't dare speculate on his strange abilities or what you assumed were bloodstains on his armor- at least the sex was good. You met your date for the night at a mediocre restaurant that claimed to be Italian. Your date was boring, an accountant from the inner city who spoke incessantly of their own job and hobbies, barely letting you get a word in edgewise. When they suggested, after dinner, that you head back to their place, you politely declined, and they instead offered to drive you home. You accepted and your date dropped you off at your apartment complex with a polite wave. You were eager to shed your shoes and nice clothes and take a hot shower to forget about the monumental failure the dinner had been. You were so engrossed in your thoughts that you didn't hear your date follow you in the door. When you turned around they were standing in your kitchen, the polite demeanor and demure smile gone. You panicked, searching for a weapon of any kind, but found nothing. "What do you want?" Your voice shook as you spoke. "I just think that if someone pays for your dinner," they closed the distance between you and you bristled, feeling fear coil in your chest, "you should probably pay them back somehow." "Get out." You tried to calm yourself, steadying your voice. "I don't think I will-" The room grew suddenly cold, as if a window had been opened on a winter day. Your date paused as ice began to form at their feet, coating the tiles and creeping onto their shoes. "What the fuck?" The armored assassin materialized from the darkness behind you and your date's face paled as they backed up a step, raising their hands as if to surrender. Bi-Han took a step forward, his eyes fixed on the target before him like a stalking leopard. The ice was creeping higher, coating your date's shoes and working its way up their ankles. "Leave." With those words your date turned on their heel, shattering the ice, and made a run for the front door. You turned slowly to face the armored warrior- with the mask, his expression was impossible to read, but his eyes looked full of fire. "Thank you…" you murmured. "I should have killed him." He said simply "I appreciate you not doing that," you replied with a weak smile, "The mess." You gestured vaguely. You thought you heard a quiet chuckle filter through the mask, but you couldn't be sure. Bi-Han backed you up against the counter, his cold hands moving to your hips and maneuvering to bend you over the cabinets. You heard a thud as his codpiece fell to the floor, and he shoved your pants roughly down past your knees. You saw ice crystals beginning to form on your kitchen window when he pushed inside you. You let out a shaky moan as he started thrusting, his fingertips leaving bites of frost on your skin as he fucked you against the cabinet. One of the assassin's cold hands laced into your hair and pulled your head back. You let out a whine and he picked up the pace, bucking his hips against you with every thrust, and pushing you against the counter. You felt the burning heat of your climax building in your gut, threatening to boil over at any moment. One particularly deep thrust made your whole body clench and you let out a strangled cry of pleasure just as the warrior spilled inside you with a grunt. Bi-Han pulled out of you and his cold seed dripped down your thighs, sending shivers up your spine. The assassin stepped back and replaced his codpiece, tucking his softening cock back into his armor. "I wish I knew your name-" you blurted out as you pulled your pants back to your waist. He paused for a moment and considered you, his piercing eyes staring through you like an x-ray.

The two of you stood in silence for a moment before he spoke-

"You can call me Sub-Zero."

[moonbaby26]

Title: Aftermath

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Continuation of previous chapter. Set after the battle with Apocalypse, you and the others are finally picked up from Cairo by allied forces and transported to a nearby aircraft carrier for temporary shelter/debriefing while you try to arrange travel back into the U.S. The reader helps Peter work through the continued emotional fallout from realizations of all that his father Magneto has done.

Warnings: Some cursing. More emotional baggage being unloaded. But also fluff/comfort, and eventual brief makeout session to help with the stress relief.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @what-a-silver-lining , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp , @wintwrsoldiwr , @tommy-braccoli , @amourtentiaa , @cringingmemeries , @bi-panicatthe-disco

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

——————————

Like Magneto had warned, it’d still been a long time before anyone had come to help. Trying to put back together some semblance of working communication equipment from the remnants of the jet, and whatever they could scavenge from the damaged homes and buildings all around had taken Hank and Moira long enough.

But even when Moira could finally establish renewed contact with the outside world to put out a distress call, finding a U.S. ally willing and even capable to fly into ground zero to pluck all of you out was another matter.

Unfortunately, you had eventually realized that the destruction here in Cairo hadn’t been all there was. Most population centers through the world had been impacted, many of the larger air and naval bases among them. It was hard to say how much had been Apocalypse, and how many had fallen solely because of Magneto though. From the little bit Moira did relay back to you all, the more metal any structure had had in it, the more likely it had ended up decimated.

It was only helicopters that finally came, no runway area available in all the rubble for any larger plane. When the soldiers exited them, you picked up that they were all speaking Greek.

“We’ll all be going to the island of Crete.” Xavier had confirmed, meeting with you all before boarding. “There is an allied naval base there, where U.S. officials will be awaiting to debrief us.”

It was no surprise that he could sense the unease in the majority of you, after all that had occurred the last time you’d been forced into helicopters with men dressed in military fatigues like this.

He had changed then to communicating telepathically with each of you individually, to give the soldiers no chance to overhear. Though the message was the same for everyone. “We will all be split onto only two helicopters. I will be in one, and Jean in the other. If they should even think of anything unsavory, we will, let’s say alter their plans to otherwise. But everyone stay at least paired please as precaution. Together, you are all your own best protection.”

It’d been no question that you would board with Peter. On one helicopter it would end up being the Professor, Moira, Peter, yourself, and the white haired girl you now knew as Ororo Munroe. On the other, Hank, Raven, Jean, Scott, and Kurt.

Ororo had actually been rather nice to talk to, once she was no longer trying to blast you out of the sky anyway. You’d learned she’d been living on the streets of Cairo for quite some time, just stealing to survive before she’d run into Apocalypse by chance when he was first trying to recruit powerful mutants.

When she’d spoken about having no living family, and thereby no desire to stick around in Egypt any longer, Kurt had been the one to excitedly tell her all about the school. Which the Professor had already vowed to rebuild thankfully, inviting Ororo immediately should she wish to join you all.

Gladly, she accepted, and by the time the soldiers were sliding the helicopter doors closed, the sun was finally setting. The interior lighting was already dim, as you glanced over to Peter in the growing darkness, seated together on bench like seats along the inner hull. He’d been waiting until the very last moment you thought to see if Erik would come back, but he never did. Though you couldn’t imagine Magneto ever would have agreed to travel like this. Or that the Greek airmen would have even allowed it, still knowing he was wanted worldwide.

You did believe Xavier though. When the dust finally settled, you thought Erik would be back. He’d find his own way home. And to contact Peter again, he’d only have to reach out to the Professor. Which of course Erik would no doubt, as those two old friends always crossed paths again eventually from all the stories you had heard. They never gave up on each other in the end, despite all their differences in beliefs.

You didn’t fight it when you finally began to nod off. Even over the pulsing of the helicopter and the radio chatter coming from the soldiers’ headsets, it was all just white noise eventually. Peter had his arm around your waist, his head leaned back against the hull and yours on his shoulder as you’d both fallen asleep somewhere over the now moonlit Mediterranean Sea.

——————————

Waking up had been much harder. As stiff as you were from the helicopter ride, you still had been in no hurry to move as you’d heard your name called. Xavier was trying to round you all up before the soldiers got impatient.

They’d at least provided him a wheelchair you noticed as you all groggily reconvened on what was actually the flight deck of a large U.S. aircraft carrier now docked in the bay alongside the Greek naval base.

All of you certainly looked worse for wear, Peter especially had his glasses skewed almost comically now, hair mussed in about every direction as he yawned big, standing on one leg with an arm thrown over your shoulders for support.

Once you were all accounted for on deck, the Professor spoke quickly. “Given the state of things, there will not be any transatlantic flights available currently. We will be staying here in the short term. For all of you, you will be given medical treatment as needed in this ship’s sick bay. We have also been provided sleeping arrangements separate of the crew. I am asking all of you to please rest up as best you can tonight. Moira and I will speak to these gentlemen as to the events that have transpired today.”

The “gentlemen” Xavier referred to looked about as pleased to be here as you all had been to wake up in Stryker’s base. You knew little of actual military rankings, but from the amount of bars on the fronts of their uniforms, you’d guess they were pretty high up there in authority.

But the Professor only continued in your heads for good measure. “Please understand that non-mutants especially are on edge right now. There were fatalities and very extensive damages to some cities today. I implore you all to be patient with any persons you may encounter on this ship. I believe they’ve moved the majority of the crew to the mainland already to better quarantine us here and limit tensions. But please remember, that by your demeanor and your choices, you represent us all. I will reach out to you all as soon as I know anything more on our options for returning home.”

He’d bid you all good night then, leaving with Moira and the most senior looking of the men while the rest of you had followed some nervous looking officers to the lower decks. You got the sense that Hank and Raven now felt obligated to chaperone and protect the group, as the oldest of you now, only second to the Professor.

Raven had assumed her blonde, human appearance before the helicopters had arrived, but without his medicine Hank could only remain in his Beast form. You could tell how uncomfortable both he and Kurt now made the soldiers as Hank had requested to accompany you and Peter to the sick bay, while Raven went with the others to whatever living quarters you were being given.

You’d be lying to say that their obvious judgment on Hank and Kurt’s physical appearances didn’t bother you. But you tried to remind yourself that they also didn’t know any better. They didn’t know how ridiculously smart, and even a bit nerdy and loyal Hank could be. Or how kind, forgiving, and genuine Kurt was.

When you did get to the sick bay, the doctor on call also looked like he’d just been dragged in there against his better judgement. But he did greet you all, saying he’d been made aware that there was a broken leg he needed to set and make a cast for.

His reaction to the metal splint Peter already had though was almost something funny. You knew Peter wanted to joke so badly about his “dad making it for him”, but you’d all agreed before the helicopters had arrived to downplay Erik’s role in all of this if he didn’t show himself.

Xavier had promised to make clear to the U.S. officials that Erik had been on your side in the end though. Yes, Magneto had blood on his hands from past and present, but having the world pursue him any further would only lead to more violence. It wouldn’t undo anything that had already been done.

Beast had been strong enough to unbend the metal with his bare hands, carefully removing the splint. He’d also helped Peter get out of the flight suit and dirtied clothing to wash up. Though they’d just cut his clothing away from his broken leg with surgical shears, not to injure it any further.

They’d put a screen up for some privacy while they worked on him. You knew Hank would protect Peter, so you were okay focusing on yourself a bit as you also got undressed and a nurse checked you for broken bones. With your clothes off, you finally got to see how badly bruised you were everywhere. But they’d agreed that your only actually damaged bones were cracked ribs, which there was no real treatment for save going easy to give them proper time to heal.

After the examination, you were allowed to take a shower. Which was honestly more amazing than you expected, not realizing just how much dirt, sweat, and blood had accumulated through all of this. Afterward, you’d gotten dressed with some clothes they’d left you. A plain white t-shirt with a small U.S. Navy insignia, and dark blue sweatpants essentially.

They’d offered to escort you to where the others were bunked. But you declined, choosing to wait for Hank and Peter instead.

And it had been a while, but eventually they cane back out. You could see they’d gotten the same treatment as you while here. Both had showered, though Peter made a point to laugh at how poor Hank had had to help him essentially get a trash bag tied over his leg cast first so he wouldn’t get it wet.

They had on the same white t-shirts as you as well now. Though even in the largest size, Hank’s looked uncomfortably small. Hank also got the same blue pants as you, but for Peter it was only blue shorts to accommodate his cast. You all looked like you were late for P.E. class honestly, albeit maybe at a U.S. Naval academy somewhere. You’d gotten a good deal of amusement from that.

They’d given Peter crutches too, which he was clearly playing with as he tried to see how quick he could move on them. Hank reprimanded him more than once when Peter had almost fallen flat on his face a few times on your way to the bunks.

The soldiers hadn’t separated you into guys and girls for the sleeping arrangements. Probably because to them the separation was more mutant/non-mutant only in all reality. But it didn’t bother you any. Really you felt safer knowing everyone else was close. By the time you had gotten to the bunks though, it was already lights out and Raven was the only one still awake waiting for you three.

“Sleep where you want,” She said, motioning to all the still empty beds. It looked like this block was meant to house a lot more than just your small number, but had evidently been cleared out for your arrival. Still being on a ship though where space was at a premium and the beds were double stacked and inset into the walls, it would be sleeping like books on a shelf.

You’d walked down a ways past your sleeping friends to find some open ones. Naturally you started to climb into the top bunk, knowing Peter would need the bottom with his cast in the way.

But you didn’t even have both legs pulled in before he startled you by grabbing your ankle. “What?” You breathed in a whisper, not wishing to wake the others as you tried to look down at him in the dark. With the main lights off, there was only the faintest glow from small emergency type lights sparsely spaced along the walls.

Mostly you could just see the white of his teeth, knowing he was grinning back at you. In this moment it reminded you only of the Cheshire cat, mischievous and a little disconcerting.

“There’s room down here, goofball,” He whispered back.

“Peter,” You answered, the tone saying far more than the short response. You weren’t alone here, and it, well it just didn’t seem proper. With the immediate threat of death now finally passed (hopefully), it really felt more like being back at school for the moment. There were standards of behavior and-

“If one of Hank can fit in these, then two of us definitely will.” He was clearly unfazed by your sudden reservations, though seemed to realize the cause pretty quickly. “Raven doesn’t care. Where do you think Scott and Jean ended up? You didn’t even notice did you?”

You could hear the bit of amusement in his voice. But no, you didn’t count heads as you were walking by. Why would you? If Scott and Jean had made it into the same bunk already, it wasn’t your business.

Which, yes, admittedly if you felt that way, would the others be as okay with it for you and Peter? He’d rightly guessed that it was more the fear of being judged that made you hesitate, than actually being uncomfortable sleeping beside him. You’d already slept side by side in the helicopter on the way here after all, but that wasn’t quite the same as being in the same bed.

“Still waiting,” He reminded, squeezing your ankle lightly.

You knew if you actually said no, he would drop it. It was only your indecision that he was waiting for you to resolve. But, how often would you have this chance again? Thinking of it in those terms, you relented at last, climbing back down.

You could still see his smile in the dark, no doubt excited over the small victory as he scooted back as much as he could to allow you in.

Trying to get into a comfortable position was a little awkward at first, especially with his cast. But you eventually ended up both laying on your sides, your back against his chest as he wrapped an arm around you under your shared blanket.

You were quickly learning how much he seemed to be comforted by physical contact. It wasn’t long at all before his breathing steadied out and you realized he was fast asleep, his head nuzzled into the back of your neck.

The feeling was warm and pleasant though. Yourself following suit not long after, sleeping deeply at last for a long deserved rest.

——————————

When morning finally came, there was no real way to know it. There were no windows to let in the daylight. By the time you’d woken to hear the others’ voices and the fluorescent lighting buzzing back on when one of them hit the switch, you’d learned it was actually almost noon local time.

Which none of you were complaining about. But you were hungry now. Sleep had been the primary physical need beforehand, and with that now met, you needed some more calories to burn.

Peter especially. You could actually hear his stomach growling as you’d all gotten up and headed into the common bathroom to brush teeth, brush hair and the like with the standard toiletries they’d left in there for everyone.

“Yeah, I’m like a hummingbird basically,” He’d explained nonchalantly on your walk to the mess hall afterward. “I just haven’t fallen out yet here because I haven’t gotten to run since dickhead busted my leg. But normally yeah, high octane all the time to keep things going. My blood sugar tanks if I don’t keep snacking at least. Twinkies are a personal fave in the old survival kit.”

“Those are good,” Kurt agreed. “I like the little pies too,” He gestured a circle shape with his hands, “With the little...the dried purple fruit, what are those in English?”

“Raisins, my bro.” Peter responded. “Old raisin creme pie. I swap back and forth on those. Oatmeal pies are alright too, but you know where it’s really at is zebra cakes, man.”

“Zebra...cake?” Clearly Kurt was trying to envision in his head how a zebra would have anything to do with the naming of a cake.

“It’s got white icing with brown stripes,” You answered. You weren’t super into junk food, but you did grow up in the U.S., so a lot of this knowledge was entirely unavoidable.

“But zebras have black stripes?” Kurt replied with some bit of bemusement.

“I don’t think Little Debbie or Hostess are too concerned with accurate representations of wildlife.” Raven chimed in, halfway amused at the randomness of the topics you all came up with, but still looking quite unimpressed.

“They do have brown stripes when they’re juveniles, before they get their adult coat.” Hank corrected though, glancing down at her.

“So they should be called baby zebra cakes. Got it.” Scott finally piped up, though also clearly thinking this ridiculous.

Raven and Jean just exchanged a look of their own as Ororo glanced to you. “Is it always like this?”

“Pretty much,” You answered with a slight smile. It was good to see Peter meshing in so well with the others though, even if he was a little bit older. You hoped that whenever the school was rebuilt that he’d consider staying. Xavier always seemed to be able to make room for any young mutant willing to learn and also work as a mentor to the even younger kids.

You were all still chatting lightly as your group walked through the mess hall doors. But after being just the few of you for so many hours, it was a bit of a shock to see several tables worth of sailors look up at your sudden intrusion.

It was clear by the amount of still empty tables though, that this wasn’t near the normal occupancy rate. You remembered the Professor commenting that he thought a lot of the men had been forced to disembark to the mainland, just to make a larger bubble for you all.

And by all the expressions on the faces of those that were left, it seemed that most disagreed whole heartedly with that decision.

Your group quieted immediately, everyone picking up on those stares and the bit of whispering as you got in line together. The mess hall was set up cafeteria style, so you had to grab trays and slide them along, picking what you wanted as the kitchen staff would spoon out or serve whatever it was you’d chosen onto your tray.

“Maybe we should just take the food back to the barracks?” Kurt asked quietly, looking down with an evident bit of anxiety building.

“It’s okay,” Raven answered, “Just keep your head up. We won’t be long.”

You were conflicted though. You shouldn’t have to eat, segregated out of everyone else’s sight like some sort of criminals, just because your presence might offend someone. But then again, what purpose did it serve in the larger scheme of things if you antagonized these sailors into an avoidable confrontation right now?

As the Professor had said, tensions were already high. Throwing any spark into that powder keg couldn’t possibly end well.

Hank had volunteered to carry Peter’s tray for him, as Peter needed both hands to work his crutches. You were glad for that at least as you could only envision yourself dropping it all in spectacular fashion. Especially when Peter insisted on a triple portion of some kind of strawberry cake desert they’d had.

“I think we should go back to the bunks,” Jean spoke up though when you were all about to walk away from the line with your trays and drinks. “There’s one of them, he’s about to go off.”

You all paused, looking to Raven and Hank simultaneously, seemingly all deciding without speaking that they’d become the de facto leadership in the Professor’s absence.

“Fine,” Raven relented, obviously not wanting to roll over in this situation, but also remembering all you’d already been through recently. Just getting to eat in peace should be a reasonable thing to want.

But even turning the other cheek, didn’t seem to be enough.

“Hey!” One of the sailors called out before you could get close enough to the door.

“Keep walking.” Raven just directed.

“Do you even know what the rest of the world looks like right now!?” He kept on, standing up as his voice only grew louder. “My Mom and my little brother were in San Francisco. Their goddamn apartment building collapsed!”

Peter was the first one to stop, looking back then.

You could hear the tone in the man’s voice change though, and in that moment you knew he was not going to attack anyone. But it almost made it worse that he didn’t as his voice broke, nearly pleading to you all. “I don’t even know if they’re alive, if they made it out or not. The phones won’t work...no one can get through.”

“We didn’t do that,” Raven spoke up as calmly as she could, looking back to him as well then. “I’m sorry.”

“But you know who did, don’t you!?” He countered. “It was him. Wasn’t it? The one from Washington D.C. that could move metal. And he got away. You let him get away!”

The men next to the sailor were trying to pull him back down to sitting now, trying to remind him something about orders, making you realize they must have been given a similar talk as you all had. Don’t cause trouble, don’t antagonize, keep the peace because you’d been told to.

Even with two food trays in hand, Hank was now trying to usher you all through the mess hall doors just as intently as the man’s friends were trying to make him stop as well.

But Peter just twisted right out of Hank’s reach in a blur, calling back suddenly then. “It was Magneto. I’m sure it was. But he’s gone, man. He ran.” Peter looked pained, but shook his head. “His family was killed...but that doesn’t mean he had any right to take it out on the world. I hope you find your family. I really do, and I’m sorry.”

With that Peter shoved through the doors, going on ahead of you all and not looking back. His frustration was palpable as the crutches limited him. If his leg hadn’t been broken you doubted any of you would have seen him leave at all. Like he too wanted to run away now, instead of having to face the painful reality that this was.

——————————

Nothing was said about the incident for quite some time as you’d all eaten quietly in the barracks. The food was plain, the simple kinds of things that could be made in bulk to feed a large crew on a ship like this. Macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, rice, and the like.

You were sitting on the floor eating while Peter was sitting on his bottom bunk, now just picking at the strawberry cake he’d most wanted with a fork. “This was definitely some pre-made frozen crap they just defrosted and put whip cream on.” He commented in dry disappointment.

“Yeah, I guess it’d be hard to keep fresh strawberries for long on a boat,” You replied, sipping one of the soft drinks you’d brought back. At least these were canned to still be carbonated well, but it wasn’t all that cold anymore.

He smirked. “I’d go crazy living on this thing out at sea. Not too many steps up from a prison cell really.”

Though you could imagine submarine life would be even worse, you didn’t think he was far off base. “It takes a special kind of person to enlist that’s for sure.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, going back to silence for a while as he dissected the cake idly.

You’d about finished all your food before he spoke to you again.

“What do you really think of him, (Y/N)?” Peter asked you in a somber tone then. “I mean, am I an idiot for trying to get to know him? My whole life I thought about what it would have been like if we’d had a real dad. If it wasn’t just Mom stressed the hell out all the time trying to keep us from getting evicted, or me from getting arrested honestly, or her worrying about Wanda being depressed so much. It’s like we were always broken. I had this idea if we’d just had that missing piece of a father, that everything would have been fixed. But then I finally meet him, finally find out who he really is, and he’s just as fucked up as anyone.”

You moved your tray to the side, considering your words carefully as you got up to go sit beside Peter on the edge of the bed. “You’re not an idiot.” That was the easiest point to make first. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to know who your parents are.” But the rest, that was muddled and complicated.

“I mean, that was the first time I’ve actually ever met him in person. So I only know the stories really.” You continued. “I know the Professor thinks highly of him. They’ve always been close.”

“Xavier punched my dad right in the damn face the first time I saw them together.” Peter responded, turning his head to look at you directly. “Knocked him on his ass actually.”

You blinked. “Um, well...I have heard their relationship has had its rough patches too. They disagree on a lot of things as well. But they always seem to care about each other in the end, when it’s all said and done.”

Peter laid the last of the cake back down on the floor, before laying back down behind you in the bunk. “So you’re saying that’s what I have to look forward to? Alternating between wanting to kick his ass, and wanting him to stick around and have a relationship together?”

You could only be honest. “Not really what I was going for, but, I mean, that’s kind of Erik right?”

“But he’s killed people hasn’t he? How do I get past that?”

That was really the hardest question of all, wasn’t it? And now the one probably weighing on Peter’s mind the most after the interaction with that upset sailor in the mess hall.

“His sins aren’t your sins, Peter.” Was what you finally said, sighing and looking at your hands now in your lap. “Erik has lost so much too. His parents, your grandparents, I know they died at Auschwitz. The Professor told us that. And they experimented on Erik, tortured him to try and use his powers as a weapon. Erik ended up killing the man most responsible for that. But Xavier had tried to stop him anyway and ended up paralyzed for it. It was an accident though.”

You could feel Peter shift behind you, sitting up slightly in the bunk. It was most likely that he’d never heard any of this. You hated that it had to come secondhand from you. That you, this random mutant would know more about his own father’s history than himself.

But you continued. “And then what he told us in Egypt, about his wife and daughter....I mean, my God. Like you said, it doesn’t mean he can just go around hurting everyone else just because of what’s been done to him. But what would anyone else really do? How can we say where our own breaking points would be?” You weren’t trying to absolve him by any means, but how could you sit here and judge him either?

“Yeah,” Peter answered, sounding distant. “I mean, I tried not to think about it too much, everything was already so messed up. But I’ve got to tell Wanda all of this too at some point. And I don’t know how. We had a little sister, and she’s already gone. How do you...how do you even process that when you didn’t even get to meet them? How do you get closure?”

You heard him moving around like he was wiping at his face with his hands. You didn’t think he was crying, but maybe his eyes were trying to build up something that he wasn’t willing to allow yet.

“Can we just lay here for a bit?” He asked you after another moment.

“Sure,” You answered, laying back down in the bunk with him. This time you didn’t care if the others would pay any mind or not. He needed someone right now.

You were just laying the same way you’d slept last night with your back to his chest. But after a while you felt him tug at your side.

“Turn around,” He asked.

You did hesitate momentarily, knowing how much more personal that would be in the confines of the small bunk. But you allowed it, rolling over so that now you were nearly face to face, torsos touching as he wrapped his good leg over you before pulling up the blanket.

“Hey,” He smirked, seeming to cheer up at your awkward look. Your stomach flipped as you thought he was going in for a kiss, but he just ended up kissing your forehead once before pulling back.

Whatever expression you made then got a real laugh out of him.

“I was just going to tell you thank you.” He said teasingly, before leaning back in to whisper in your ear, “But you look kind of disappointed...did you want a little more?”

There was no question you were fully flustered now as you felt that heat rising in your face yet again. You’d have to make a mental note to apologize to Jean later if she was getting any of this broadcast to her. But then again, she did live in a house full of teenagers doing God knows what at any given time. Maybe she was already used to it. But you didn’t even want to think about Xavier possibly picking up on your current emotional panic either, that would be mortifying.

Sensing your spiraling distraction, Peter lightly touched one fingertip to the end of your nose. “Boop. Earth to (Y/N), have we lost signal? Overheated the engines already?”

You blinked. “That’s not funny.”

“Oh, it’s hilarious. And still waiting, dear. Always waiting...”

To be honest, when you finally kissed him, it was more just to wipe that smug look off his face. But on second thought, maybe that had been his plan all along. To taunt you into action. But it worked. It worked extremely well, as you’d both closed your eyes. His hand pressed into your back, making sure you stayed tight against him as you’d let it happen again and again. One kiss after another.

It’d been different too. The first ones back in Cairo had been so desperate more than anything, just a burst of emotion like a dying wish when neither of you had really expected to make it out of that desert.

While this now was far slower, much more thought behind each. It did make you forget everything else for those moments except the taste and feel of him.

But as much as you liked the sensations, you also knew you had to be the one to steer you both back out of it. When you felt his hand starting to move under your shirt, sliding up greedily across your bare skin, you realized he was already wanting more. And this wasn’t the place, not the time. Not yet at least. You weren’t immune to those feelings either, but it’d be much better if you waited. As much as you knew he hated waiting...

You’d pulled your lips away, but he then only moved to kissing your neck instead as you had to speak his name to try and call him back out of it. “Peter.”

“Mmm?” He responded after a moment, at least pausing, even though his lips were still touching against your throat.

You tugged his hair a little to try and get him to look back up at you.

He resisted slightly, not a lot, but you knew he was stalling as best he could before he finally relented. “Stop sign comes out huh?” He breathed, though not upset, just clearly having trouble coming out of the mood as his hand slid back out of your shirt to rest only on top of your clothes.

“Not exactly enough privacy here,” you responded quietly. Which was of course a huge understatement as the others were probably just out of earshot right now. If you were lucky anyway.

“It’s a big ship, babe. I’m sure we can find a place,” He joked, but only partially you were sure. As you really thought if you said the word right now, he’d make it his mission to find such a place immediately.

You toyed with his hair a little more, moving the messy silver strands out away from his eyes. “I think it’s getting to be pretty inevitable if you really want to know the truth.”

He leaned into the touch, just kissing your hand once more as your palm neared too close to his mouth. “You make it really tough either way, I’ll say that.”

You knew better than to lecture this one on the virtue of patience. But this was already the most physical you’d ever been with anyone as it was, and all so soon. Yet you knew it was only a matter of time. These new feelings were only growing. None of this would be fading any time soon.

You just laid your head back on his shoulder after a while, speaking to him, “Hey, after we’ve cooled down a bit more here, you want to see if anyone will allow us on the flight deck? It’d be nice to see the ocean at least before the sun goes back down. Get some fresh air.”

“Romantic stroll in the ocean breeze you say? Well maybe more a romantic hobble for me.” He chuckled dryly. “I’m game.”

——————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

[martianbugsbunny]

OUAT Thoughts Pt.66--Episodes 3-4

I have watched through S7E4; spoilers DNI. Also, spoiler warning for anyone further behind than I am.

—What is Ella’s problem? She stands in front of Tiana, looking a full ten years older than her, and basically blames her for not saving her father’s life? From the looks of it, Tiana was probably, Idk, a chilD?!!!?! How was she supposed to do anything?

—I don’t really like Ella too much. She’s a bit abrasive.

—I kinda like Lucy, but the actress is *no offense, cause I realize she’s just a kid* not very good. She over-delivers most of her lines.

—Okay I loved seeing Rumple happy and domestic, but the tradeoff sucked. Did they really have to make us and Rumple watch her age and die while he stayed the same age?

—*But* it is nice to see that Gideon is doing well. He’s a scholar and you know what, I bet his wearing white now is on purpose. He’s a good man and they want us to know it.

—Also, he’s a good kind of unassumingly handsome. He’s cute, but not ostentatiously so. Idk, I think I forgot the word I thought was spot-on, but it was a good-ass word. Anyway, Gideon’s been handsome since he first showed up, and he’s still handsome now.

—I could go in-depth-ish about how Naveen is one of the two best Disney princes/adjacent, and how much I love his relationship with Tiana, but I haven’t seen a hide nor a hair of him, so I’m going to assume he won’t show up unless he does. Going forward with that knowledge, I think Tiana and Hook would go nicely together. They could go along with the best part of Tiana/Naveen, which is the way they both shape each other into better versions of themselves.

—Also, I’m now 89% sure Alice is Hook’s daughter. Which makes them playing chess together in the hospital waiting room excredibly sad.

—I’m a bit confused about the timeline of that stuff from the tail end of season 6 where Lucy and Henry were in the Enchanted Forest? If that was before Hyperion Heights, Lucy knowing the town is cursed doesn’t make sense, unless maybe Tiger Lily enchanted her to keep her awake. If it’s after Hyperion Heights, it still doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, because Tiger Lily said she would be reunited with her family again in an ominous way that sounds like “sorry, kid, but you only get to see your dad when your family is cursed.” So…*shrugs*

—ALICE IS A LESBIAN!!!! Y’all I am just over the moon! She is a plaid-wearing, earring-having, ripped-tights-owning, Wonderland-quoting, completely batsh*t crazy lesbian and that is a solid YES.

—Also, her comment to Rumple when he appeared in the Cinderella world was quite amusing. Yeah, sweetheart, I also get the 💖💜💙 vibe from him, but that prince is way too young. And come on, Rumple would score a king.

—Speaking of the vibe, I love the clothes he wears in Hyperion Heights for only solidifying it. And yes, this is just an excuse for me to point out that, at least once within these two episodes, Rumple has low-key cuffed his jeans again. (Bi-cuffing almost makes me want to own a pair of jeans, but even Rumple isn’t quite enough to convince me. My skin can’t breathe under those things.)

—OOOO, and he wore camo! Iconic!

—Wait, what was Alice doing in the Cinderella world to begin with? Was she looking for Henry for some malicious purpose, or was she looking for Hook?

—Who’s that weird-ass lady locked in the tower? I have no cause to take her seriously, because A) I know nothing about her that should make me take her seriously, and B) she has shown no efforts in the present towards the same. Just some weird cryptic nonsense.

—I need some backstory for Tiana. I do not understand how her original story translates to being in a resistance group against Lady Tremaine. It makes zero sense, and it’s bothering me. If they’re just slapping her name on some lady who has no narrative or spiritual resemblance to Tiana, I’m gonna be annoyed.

—Can’t wait for Dr. Facilier to show up! Top three animated Disney villains for sure.

—Unfortunately, all signs point to Rumple dying at the end of the show. I’m grumpy about it. Hey, maybe they’ll up the ante and the the last scene will be all my beloved characters chilling in the afterlife together. (If they all die together, yes it’s sad, but it’s better than just some of them dying.)

—Alice was chasing a white bunny! Gosh, I hope she wasn’t chasing it for nefarious purposes, because I love her but bunny peril is the line.

—Regina dispensing motherly advice to Henry without even knowing who he is stings me. Also, she’s still v pretty.

—Really I am not getting over Alice. I refuse. This is the best thing to happen to me ever. Alice in Wonderland is among my favoritest books and just. Her. Being a lesbian. If nothing else comes of this season, that alone is enough.

—I wonder if who her mom is will ever be important. The limb I’m climbing out on here is that her mother was from Wonderland, because it doesn’t make much sense for her to be *Alice* if she isn’t connected to Wonderland somehow.

—It’s pretty out of character for Henry to be a coward. And yk, he has the Heart of the Truest Believer, so him being so fricking stubborn about believing in the curse.

—Rumple’s good-guy fairytale clothes were so pretty. 10/10.

—Ew, a spooky spooky cemetery! Fake graves!

—It took four episodes but he said it! Rumple said “dearie!” And it was so worth the wait. I’m glad he’s awake now, because it’s much more fun when he is.

[shizuu-chann]

Let’s spread some positive vibes by remembering what we love about the trilogy. Fill in and tag your friends. Feel free to add your own categories to this survey.

tagged by @togepies, thanks again for including me!

Tagging with zero pressure: @nicolasadrabbles and @iheartgarrus

I’ve been a fan since: technically Andromeda, but I only played Andromeda first bc the LE was coming out in a few months. I loved the Dragon Age series before that, and I figured I would probably like ME, but the old graphics were a major turn-off for me. When the LE was announced, I got really excited bc it was another BioWare series I could binge and adore, but it wasn't out yet. My friend had just finished Andromeda and convinced me to try it, and now it's probably my favorite game series ever~

Favorite game of the series:  ME2! While I love ME3 because the graphics are beautiful, and you get more substance out of romantic relationships (Garrus, specifically), ME2 has my favorite vibe. You're kind of a rogue agent, assembling a team of the most dangerous and skilled people in the galaxy, and they all become a sort of found family for Shepard after the Alliance and the Council hang you out to dry. Plus, I love the interface for the game; the orange menu screen is easy on my eyes, and I like the clicky selection noises <3

MaleShep or FemShep?: FemShep <3 I love her so much. Played MaleShep once, and I loved him, too, but it really feels like FemShep is THE Shep to me.

Earthborn, Colonist or Spacer?: Colonist

Paragon or Renegade? Paragon (close to ParaGade, but not quite)

Biotics or Tech? Tech, but biotics are really cool.

Favorite class: Infiltrator! I don't really love any class in ME1, but ME2/3 make Infiltrator the fucking best. Tactical cloak and sniper rifle, my beloveds. Vanguard is a close second.

Favorite companions: Garrus, Zaeed, Mordin, Tali, Wrex, Grunt, EDI~

Least favorite companions: Kaidan and Jacob. I have nothing against either of them personally, honest, and I think they're generally good characters. But Kaidan bores me, I find him wholly uninteresting, and Jacob is just repackaged Kaidan, imho.

My squad selection: ME1: this changes every playthrough, honestly. Often it's Garrus and someone else, most recently Ashley. Others it's Ashley and someone else, most often Wrex. ME2: Usually Zaeed and Garrus; those two are my go-tos and my faves. Current run is Garrus and Miranda, but I've taken Grunt a fair bit. ME3 is, surprise-surprise, most often Garrus and someone else, but I try to tailor squad selection to each mission so I can get the most interesting story dialogue.

Favorite in-game romance: Shepard and Garrus <3

Other pairings I like: I cannot pair my Shep with anyone else, so it's difficult, but I do appreciate others. I like FemShep with Tali, Liara, Ashley, Miranda, and Jack (bc I just think all the characters should be bi, lol).

Favorite NPC: I'm choosing multiple--Aria T'Loak, Joker, I adore Hackett, and Anderson.

Favorite antagonist: The Illusive Man in ME2. Sure, you're cooperating with him, but he's definitely an antagonist.

Favorite mission: ME1: If we're talking purely vanilla game, probably Feros. Otherwise, maybe the Bring Down the Sky DLC. ME2: Thane's recruitment or the Suicide Mission, if we're excluding loyalty missions. ME3: Grissom Academy.

Favorite loyalty mission: Oooh, tough. I really like most of them. It's a toss-up between two, but for different reasons: either Garrus's or Samara's.

Favorite DLC: ME1: To my knowledge, there was only one for ME1, besides pinnacle Station, but that couldn't be added to the LE. ME2: Lair of the Shadow Broker--LOVE the level designs. ME3: Super original and revolutionary: the Citadel, lol. That's the canon ending in my mind. OH! But I also love the Omega DLC! Hmm...

Control, Synthesis or Destroy?: Destroy, but I also change a bunch of that ending in my mind, too. Namely, that EDI and the geth live and the Citadel isn't destroyed.

Favorite weapon: N7 Valiant sniper rifle <333

Favorite place: Omega or Illium

A quote I like: The whole exchange during Priority: Rannoch right before Shepard takes on a Reaper on foot. There's so many, many of them from Joker. But, for the sake of choosing: "This is why I love hanging out with you guys! Why shoot something once when you can shoot it 46 more times!" --Urdnot Wrex, 2186

[kueruzu]

You know what? I like you.

*hands over some Soul Eater headcanons*

For context— Some headcanons are shared by many others while some may be pretty rare or scarce

Maka Albarn

Maka is Bi. You can not change my mind. Maka just has that energy. But somehow she gives off straight ally vibes and any girl she’s ever flirted with(if she can find the courage) ends up being extremely confused that she’s bi. She just cries inside but never gives up.

ADHD is her downfall. It’s not as noticeable to classmates. But close friends, teachers, family? They’re well aware. She can function in school surprisingly well but outside of it she’s pretty disheveled. She’ll hyperfocus on a book series and finish it all in one week or even a day if she can. Then she’ll hyperfixate for days or weeks even. Sometimes she’ll forget it’s her turn to cook and will end up remembering last second or being reminded. Or she’ll jump from topics or spew random facts. At first, Soul thought she was just weird but after a while he learned more about her and ADHD and put two & two together.

She likes reading to others or being read to but god forbid it’s pointed out. Her pride is too damn much sometimes so she’ll only read for someone if they ask and when Soul knows she needs a pick me up he’ll read to her. He tends to stick to one book for her, always reading a new chapter each time.

Maka’s “girly” downfall is shoes. She will lose her shit over a nice pair of boots. By nice pair of boots I mean platforms or combat boots. Nothing else. She wants to wear alt and gothic clothing so badly but she’s scared of her friends reactions. It took Soul finding out and subtly wearing more leather, black, and spiky stuff for her to finally break her shell.

Horror and scy-fi are her favorite movie genres much to Soul’s dismay. She might shriek like a baby at a jumpscare but by the end she feels so eager for more and more that they’ll have horror movie marathons when it’s her turn to pick stuff to watch. Soul absolutely hates it. He can sit through scy-fi although thats also a bit much but the horror shit is gonna be the death of him if it isn’t some kishin egg.

Soul “Eater” Evans

Oh look, Soul is Bi. You once again, won’t change my mind. He gives of both Bi energy and bi wife energy. You can trust Soul with your drink, he’ll bite anyone who dares to even think of screwing you over.

Soul is extremely soft. To the point where he’ll cry at almost any Disney movie. You could even put on something extremely happy or at least with no death for the heroes like freakin sleeping beauty. He’s just tearing up at the end because she finally got to be a princess and be happy and free to live her life. Maka makes zero comments after she finds out and leaves him to his music and sappy movies. Which he surprisingly won’t cry at.

He has a playlist for everything. You thought he was just a pianist prodigy? No no no honey. He can read your mood and give you the playlist you need. Need to feel like you own the world? He got you. Went through a break up? He got you. Need that perfect playlist for that 30 minute walk you’re being forced to do everyday? He. Got. You. However, Maka refuses to let him pick playlists for certain things that she controls and it pains him to no end.

Soul writes songs for all his friends. They tend to be melancholy, well except for BlackStar and Patty’s. He composes the music and records it for them and just gives it them. He doesn’t know how to properly express his feelings so he composes music to try and show them he cares. Maka was the last one to hear her song. He wanted to perfect it.

Remember the first ending? With “I wanna be” playing and Maka and Soul running? That? Yea. Soul had a Naruto run phase and when he’s older he looks back on it and cringes. Maka insists that, “Cringe culture is dead. Like what you like.” And he agrees. But he’s rightfully allowed to cringe at how blatant he showed his admiration for Naruto. Soul’s not having Maka’s upbeat bullshit. Let him cringe and be gloomy for once.

I’m too lazy for more than Soul and Maka— Yall get more another day. If you enjoy it— I’m, gonna share it anyway... But if you enjoy it then yay!

[cienie-isengardu]

Why do you think Cyrax decided to join the Lin Kuei? He seems to be the only one who chose him, and it shows that he is the most mentally balanced. Do you think cyrax was the first to start a friendship with Sektor? Do you think they reached more but then cooled down due to their differences with respect to IC?

Those are very good questions.

My general idea is that yes, Cyrax agreed to join the clan, but it was Lin Kuei that sought him out, similar to what happened with Smoke:

"Originating from Prague, Tomas Vrbada was recruited by the Lin Kuei for his impressive ability to escape capture. Able to transform into a wisp of smoke, his talent has proved useful on countless missions. Smoke has no memory of his childhood. His only family is the Lin Kuei, more specifically the younger Sub-Zero, who is like a brother to him. It has been Smoke's hope that through the Lin Kuei he will discover his past--and the origin of his power."

The sources don’t give us a well established age for Cyrax or Smoke nor how long they served the clan, but in the case of Tomas Vrbada, his MK!9 ending provided more detailed backstory:

"Shao Kahn's violent death shook the very core of Smoke's being and dislodged his earliest memories. Tomas Vrbada was only a boy when he was abducted by an obscure cult and sacrificed to a demon. Burned alive, he returned to the mortal realm as an enenra, a creature of smoke and vapor. His captors were helpless against his shapeless form as he lashed out with rage, killing them all. His murder avenged, he returned to his human form, remembering nothing of his former life. Now aware of his true identity, Smoke understands he is no mere assassin. His destiny has been revealed."

Smoke was a boy when he was transformed into Enenra, then killed his captors and in result, lost memory. Lin Kuei seems like a well informed organisation who either kept tabs on all unnatural abilities and events throughout the world or, knowing their dark past, could even stand behind the whole sacrificing to demon, to get (back?) Enenra into their ranks. There is no information how many years passed between the change and joining Lin Kuei, but I don’t think Tomas was that much older, mainly because an adult person is harder to mold in proper way to fit the strict clan traditions, especially if said person comes from totally different culture (and ethnicity) to begin with. Tomas and Cyrax both were outsiders who somehow catched Lin Kuei’s attention.

In that regard, the clan is unique - on one hand it is a deeply secretive organisation, on another it allows people who proved their worth to join regardless of their origin. But at the same time, it is usually Lin Kuei who invites not the other way as far as sources are concerned. The mastery of martial arts and special abilities/genes are the obvious criteria but I would like to point out that Lin Kuei seems to “prey” on a certain type of people, including the orphaned, abandoned or lonely who stand out in normal society and who don’t have anything to lose by joining. I mean, Frost in an alternative timeline killed her mother at age of 12 (intro dialogue vs. Jax) and was taking part in an illegal death match (MKX comics) before she met a fellow cryomancer who could help get the grip on her unnatural ice powers and would not see her as a freak. Smoke has unnatural abilities yet no memory of childhood, no family he knew or remembered and no sense of who he truly was. In both cases, Lin Kuei filled the void in life of (most likely) young, lost “freaks” giving them substitute for family, an affiliation to the group of similar special people, a source or pride and means to either grow stronger (Frost’s abilities) or looking for answers (Smoke’s origin). At the same time, Jade, an experienced assassin herself, declined Sub-Zero’s invention because “Outworld needed her” which wasn’t really about devotion to realm but to Kitana and Kotal, two people who meant everything to her. This makes me think that Cyrax joined Lin Kuei because like Tomas and Frost he didn’t have any better option and the clan fulfilled Cyrax’s human needs to belong somewhere. Considering how naive he was for seeing Lin Kuei as the “honorable assassin clan”, he too could be pretty young when he took the offer and never figured out - or didn’t want to see - how Lin Kuei twisted his loyalty and sense of morality, at least until the threat of Cyber Initiative Project became too real to ignore clan’s dark deeds.

So in short, I think Cyrax was either orphaned or somehow banished / rejected from his native society for being different (unnatural) and Lin Kuei was a substitute for “family” and source of security and pride of himself he needed in youth but may never have a chance to learn all the dark secrets and inner pathologies of the clan the same way like Bi-Han or Sektor did.

As for friendship matters, lately I am becoming more and more convinced that Sektor and Bi-Han were on good terms so I think elder Sub-Zero could be the first one to start some sort of friendship (beneficial familiarity?) with Sektor. But since Bi-Han has Kuai Liang to take care of, Sektor most likely always was on the second (or third, if we count comics Hydro) place when it comes to everything which may be a reason why Cyrax became such an important part of his life. To the point that even as a cyborg, Sektor has a pathological need to keep Cyrax around. It is hard to say how those two worked well together, but I sincerely think they really were very close to each other - as paired warriors seems to be (Smoke & Tundra, comics!Sub-Zero & Hydro). In such a strict society like Lin Kuei, having a partner you could trust and rely on and willing to cover your faults seems like the best way to survive and stay sane. Even if at some point their partnership evolved into a sexual relationship, I think that any sexual (physical) aspect would be less important than the established emotional bond.

The C.I. Project and their conflict about it for sure shattered that bond to some degree but ultimately, I think it was Cyrax’s decision to leave that brought the most damage. Sektor seems to never truly understand or accept his decision while Cyrax, after everything that happened, became pretty depressed and even suicidal. Both are unhappy for different reasons but I think both to some degree regret losing what they had once.

[oabf45]

Ok so I finally watched the new 9-1-1 and 9-1-1 Lone Star episodes and here is what I think overall for the seasons so far, the characters, and part 2 of the seasons. Badically my opinions no one asked for 😁

9-1-1

- Let's rip the band aid off. I'm sorry but we're never getting Buddie. I'm a huge Buddie shipper myself, but I honestly have reached the point where I just don't see it happening. For one their friendship alone just isn't what it's been the past two seasons. Idk if its just me feeling this, but their scenes together, though sweet, just haven't been what they've been in the past. I mean this last episode is the most connection I feel from their characters than i have this whole season. I'm still not over Eddie's lack of reaction to Buck being trapped when Buck was ready to dig through the earth to find Eddie. Though I think there is still a chance Buck could be BI I just no longer have hope that Buddie is going to be a thing. I mean, they've at least hinted that Buck could ride that way, but Eddie has given zero signs of being into men at all. But honestly if they at least explore a BI Buck then I'll be happy, even if he's not with Eddie. It also doesn't help that there's a HUGE possibility that Oliver and Ryan don't get along anymore. They stopped following each other on social media and they post pictures with all the rest of the cast except each other. Its just looking extremely unlikely.

- I don't think Ana deserves as much hate as she's getting. I wasn't so fond of the Eddie/Ana pairing either, mostly because I was so into Buddie. But Ana does seem genuinely a great person and its a plus that Christopher loves her. I just wish that if they were going to persue this they would have built it up more and showed us more of her character. I mean we know close to nothing about her which is what makes it hard to like her or like her with Eddie.

- I'm glad that even if Buck doesn't end up with Eddie he still is obviously going to be someone very close to Christopher. Their relationship is so absolutely darling and even if its not Buddie, Buck is very obviously like a second dad.

- At first I was not at all happy with them bringing back Taylor. I found her character so freaking annoying in the past. But honestly her character seems to have mellowed out and I actually liked her. But I am PRAYING that if she sticks around its just as a friend and not a girlfriend. Buck and Taylor are just a huge NOPE in my book.

- I need more of Athena, Bobby, and Michael ASAP! I miss seeing them more on my screen!

- I'm super excited for baby Chimney/Maddie. And I'm so happy Chimney felt safe enough in his relationship to express his feelings about an at home birth. Their relationship is so sweet and healthy and it makes my heart so warm

- I swear on everything I love if they take that little baby away from Hen and Karen I will RIOT! I also hope to see more of Hen's mom and can't wait to see her pass her exam.

- Albert was wrong for dating Buck's bad date, but he's a good guy and overall a good friend. Buck needs more friends outside of Eddie. I hope they give him more of a storyline in part 2.

- Overall loved the first half of 9-1-1 season 4. I hope they do another crossover in part 2 so that Buck can meet Carlos.

9-1-1 Lone Star

- Yes I have hated the baby trope this first half, yes Gwyn has been annoying af and I'm ready for her to go, and YES Owen has been annoying this season too. But I still love Owen and no I don't believe he's a bad person or a bad father. I hope they do right by his character in the second part and bring the old Owen back now that his life is going to go back to what it was. But I also know this is going to leave room for another romantic interest which you just know they're going to bring in. Maybe they'll bring Michelle back 🤷🏽‍♀️

- The amount of screen time Carlos got is *chefs kiss*. I'm so glad we got to see more into his family dynamic. And how great he is as a cop?! Like make that man a detective already! Also Rafael's acting is superb. He has the most expressive eyes I've ever seen! His face with Owen compliments him on his caring heart and how that makes him a great cop? He BEAMED and it was like no one had ever told him that before. I wanted to hug him so badly.

- I'm so happy they're showing a healthy gay relationship. Sure they've had their ups and downs, but they show TK and Carlos working it out perfectly with good communication which is what we need to see represented more with LGBTQ+ couples on TV. I have no doubt they'll last because they're literally the reason most people tune in and the showrunners know that. And that reuniting hug? Ronen and Raf's real life friendship makes their on screen relationship feel so real and I hope that never changes.

- I need more Mateo. The only thing we know is that he's dyslexic and has a cousin in LA. He's such a great character I wish they'd give him more screen time.

- I know that most y'all see them as just a brother/sister pair, but I love the idea of Mateo/Marjan as a couple. I feel like she could help him grow up a little while he could help her have more fun. But either way I love their relationship and want to see more.

-PLEASE give Paul a GREAT love interest. Someone who loves and accepts him for everything he is. He deserves so much love.

- Tommy Vega is THAT BITCH! She deadass basically said "shoot me. You won't". LOVE seeing a strong black woman on the screen. And I hope they give more screen time to Nancy. I feel like she could be a really interesting character.

- Am I the only one that kind of wants to see them bring back Billy Tyson? I know thats so random, but I think he needs redemption. Idk 🤷🏽‍♀️

- Last but not least......thank GOD I read spoilers before watching the episode because if I hadn't prepared myself and they ended the show with that bridge scene......all I gotta say is JUDD AND GRACE BETTER BE FUCKING OK! OR I'M FIGHTING EVERY DAMN BODY! But honestly I think they will be. These two make the show, for one. Judd is deadass the glue that holds that firehouse together and is overall a great character. No way they're killing him off. And Grace is a fucking saint and also a great character. And she's one of the only two black women on the show. Showrunners, y'all really wanna try that? They're such a great, healthy relationship who are literally so unstoppable together. I think they'll have some trauma but survive. And possibly a Ryder baby? Yes please, and please let it be a baby boy. Judd needs a little mixed cowboy 🤠

- Overall the season has been good, but too Owen/Gwyn central. Hoping the next part has more spotlight on the others. Maybe some "Character Begins" episodes? I think a "Judd Begins" Episode would be perfect to start off with to tie into the whole "omg is he alive" aspect we're bound to get.

[fyeah-anya-corazon]

Ranking every potential love interest for Anya

Happy Valentine's day!

To celebrate the occasion let's look at every single character she has had as potential romantic partners. I'm including here every iteration of Anya so far.

For a teen character with more than 15 years of existence, it's amazing she hasn't had any sort of stable partner. As far as comics go, her main version has only had one romantic partner so far, but calling it a "relationship" is kind of a stretch. MSM did what the comics (embarrassingly) haven't and give her a romantic partner that I think we were all happy for, and even though it's not my favorite, it's probably the most high profile partner she'll have in a while.

Anyway, let's start the countdown!

Peter Parker

NOPE. NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE. Sorry shippers from MSM, but this is a big nope from me due to their student/teacher relationship from the comics and that she's still a minor in them.

Possibilities of becoming canon: I mean.... I don't doubt that at some point some hack writer might pull a Bruce/Barbara with them for some au. Probably one of the blessings of her not being as relevant as Batgirl.

Score: -110000/10 HELLSHIP HELLSHIP

Paul Townsend

Her original potential love interest in comics, he disappeared after Amazing Fantasy. He was still important enough that he even appears in the cover of AF #6 as part of Anya's civilian life.

Possibilities of becoming canon: Zero. It's clear we'll never see him again.

Score: -10/10 dude was very clearly into some shady stuff.

Rocky Flint

Her new best friend (?) they even lived together for a while. Introduced during the Spider-Girl relaunch, she is nice friend, but Rikki was the one who took the spotlight during this period.

Score: 1/10 prefer them as friends.

Black Tarantula

From the MC2 universe, I guess it works within it's "What if?" premise. A series that gives a antagonistic-but-not-too-much role to Anya in it's "what if she stayed longer with the Spider Society?" it does kinda feel natural that two characters with characters with similar origin to be attracted. (Let's not even mention how comfortable she feels with Fabian pursuing Mayday to join their harem).

Possibilities of becoming canon: canon in a reality, doubt in main reality this would happen. It would be interesting if 616 Fabian resurfaces as a enemy to Anya.

Score: 2/10 kinda works in it's reality, but I can't forgive DeFalco for thinking it was a good idea to pair a character who lost her family to narcos with a narco.

Lynn Sakura

Oh, the panel that started it all....

Anya's BFF, is a shame she was dropped after the original Araña series. There's is potential in there, but now it all rests on anyone remembering Heart of the Spider.

Possibilities of becoming canon: I mean, it cooould happen. To say there's no subtext in there would be a understatement....

Score: 4/10 just as Rocky I prefer them as friends.

Reptil

So far her only romantic partner she's had. It didn't start the best way, and ended... we actually have no idea how this ended. Next thing we know Berto was pursuing other relationships with Finnesse and White Tiger. It seemed that only Paul Tobin wanted it to happen.

Possibilities of becoming canon: He is kinda dead. He reappeared for a panel thanks to Bendis not caring about continuity, but God knows if anyone is gonna pick that up. Overall, I think there's a bigger chance for Reptil to pursue any of the previous relationships than going back to Anya.

Score: 5/10 good guy, but who thought it was a good idea making Anya's first kiss against her will?

Julie Taregon

Anya's hockey captain from very early, interviews from the time indicated that she was originally meant to have a much bigger role in Heart of the Spider. Just like Paul she was dropped by the main series, but nothing takes away from the distinction of being the one who activated Anya's powers for the first time after she asked her out.

Possibilities of becoming canon: As much possibilities as Paul or Lynn. Assuming a new Anya solo is greenlighted she would make a interesting addition to the supporting cast.

Score: 7/10 I dig it but wish she would appear more.

Mayday Parker

The newest addition to her potential partners, I've actually been shiping them from before Spider-Girls, the fact that in short 3 issues they generated enough interest that this is probably the second most popular ship at this point (came first in a twitter poll I made). There's a story with them just waiting to be written, they need to be together in a series again!

Possibilities of becoming canon: Um... I think that at this point both have the same level of relevance that if someone pitches a story were they become a couple it wouldn't hold much objection.

Score: 1000000/10 currently my fav ship.

Miles Morales

Marvel comics should be embarrassed that a cartoon made this pairing happen, as meanwhile in the comics they haven't even talked to each other. As you may notice, this list is dominated by women, if there's one guy I would smile from ear to ear if it becomes a thing it would be with Miles. They both have so much in common, it's a match made in heaven.

Possibilities of becoming canon: I actually think this has a good chance of happening. They will probably not be endgame, but I see them having a relationship along the lines of Tim and Steph.

Score: 9/10 If only Miles were a woman 😔

Gwen Stacy

Just like Miles, the cartoon did what the comics haven't and developed them into a lovely friendship (with something more...?). Arguably, the most popular ship involving Anya; on ao3 is the one with the most fics, and there's probably more fan art of this pairing than from anyone else. The main limitation with this is how in the comics writers tend to underwrite Anya while putting the spotlight on Gwen, and never developing their partnership into something more. Hopefully the upcoming Order of the Web series they've been teasing they'll finally have some heartfelt interactions.

Possibilities of becoming canon: you know what, I legit think this has a actual chance. As I said, this is a rather popular ship, at least even Seanan Maguire is aware of it and is fair to say other people at Marvel are aware of the fan art and the like. Gwen in the comics so far has ambiguous sexuality, it wouldn't be too far fetched if someone makes it canon. Just as Miles, I can't see this as endgame, but it can become a recurring relationship like Gambit and Rogue.

Score: 10/10 Marvel don't be cowards challenge.

Rikki Barnes

The og. The one that turned subtext into text. Completely unintentional, yet their relationship did eventually had ramifications on at least one of them. At this point, if anyone wants to reveal Anya as a wlw, they just need to point this relationship to justify it. Anya and Rikki were probably the closest between them than any other superhero they ever interacted with.

Possibilities of becoming canon: Uhm.... Just when I thought that Rikki wouldn't be back, she comes back AND confirmed as bi. The problem? Rikki currently has a girlfriend. Breaking up Julie and Rikki seems very mean spirited, specially for Julie. Hypothetically, if for any reason their relationship ends, Rikki and Anya would definitely become canon at some point.

Score: 1100000/10 @Marvel you owe Anya a girlfriend.

[baconcheeseburger]

You want her?

Summary: Dean and you are out drinking. Dean notices that you are eying the bartendress and decides to act on it. He suggests to take her back to the motel with you, for a night you both will never forget.

Pairing: Dean x Reader x Robin (OFC)

Warnings: NSFW, no plot in sight, just smut, threesome (f/f/m), oral (fem receiving), fingering, dirty talk, spanking, tied up, edging, kinda dom!Dean, voyeurism, masturbation, hair pulling, rough-ish sex, unprotected sex

Word count: 4,4k pure filth

Prompt: “You like the way I flick my tongue?”

A/N: Written for @supernatural-jackles​‘ bi-weekly writing challenge. More or less my first time writing smut, at least a lengthy one. Sorry for posting so late and last minute, unfortunately life got in the way... But here it is! - Enjoy! Banner and divider were made by me.

“You want her, Y/N?”

His question caught you off  guard and you froze. Your jaw dropped and you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything.

Dean stood close behind you, his face alongside yours, following your gaze to the other side of the bar. You hadn’t been able to tear your gaze away from the bartendress all night. Your eyes had kept trailing back to her, watching her walking around behind the bar and pouring out drinks. Watching her tits bounce with every step and her hips sway with every move. From time to time you had catched yourself wondering and imagining how her lips would feel like on yours, how soft her hands would feel on your body.

“She was checking you out all night as well.” His voice had dropped a few octaves. His hot breath fanned over your ear and cheek and his lips lightly graced the shell of it as he spoke. Paired with the way he pressed his body into yours from behind and his big, strong hands gripping your hips tightly, fingertips digging hard into the flesh, he had you whimpering. You didn’t even register a sound left your lips until you heard him groan deeply.

“You know”, he began and lightly nibbled on your earlobe, “I saw how you were looking at her since we got here, saw how you practically eye fucked her in front of me. Fuck, baby, I can’t help but to imagine you making out with her. I bet you would look so fucking good together.” He slightly lowered his body and rolled his hips up against yours and your breath hitched when you felt his growing bulge press against the crack of your ass. “I’d love to see her on top of you, ‘d love to see her eat your pretty little pussy out. I know you’ve never done anything with a woman before, but... Hell, I see the way you look at her and I say, let’s take her home and have some fun. So, I ask you again... You want her, Y/N?” He licked over the shell of your ear and pulled it in between his teeth, lightly biting down.

Your eyes fluttered shut and heat was pooling between your thighs. Damn, alone the thought of the three of you together made you moan. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and leaned back against him. Breathing heavily you pressed your thighs together. 

“Mmh, who says I have zero experience with women, huh?” you teased. You turned your head to look into his shocked, lust blown eyes.

“Fuck, sweetheart”, he growled and crashed his lips against yours. He pulled back just as fast and let go of your body. You hadn’t realized how weak your knees had become and almost lost your balance when he stepped back. Dean pushed through the people and walked over to the bartendress with long strides.

You had no idea what he was saying to her, but at first she was about to shake her head then she curiously looked over to you when he pointed in your direction. You watched her bite her lip before she turned back to him and said something to him. Dean's smirk grew wider at her answer. He nodded and came back, the onesided pantie dropping grin never leaving his lips. He winked at you and grabbed your wrist. “Let’s go.”

You stepped outside and Dean pulled you into the alley next to the bar, pressed you against the brick wall and pushed his leg between your thighs, before he dipped his head and kissed you passionately. Your hands immediately found their way to his neck, gripping at the short hair at the back of his head. When he pulled back, he was panting.

"She’s getting off in thirty. Told her where we’re staying, she will come to the motel when she’s done here”, he growled into your ear and pushed his knee up, giving you the much needed friction. “Gonna work you up until then baby, want you drippin’ when she joins us.” He captured your lips once more and pushed his knee up again. You couldn’t hold back anymore. You started to desperately grind against his thigh and moaned into his mouth. You had never been so turned on in your life.

He chuckled and pushed his thigh even higher, which had you standing on your toes, almost lifting you off of the ground and ground his hips against yours. You could feel his rock hard cock against your stomach and you didn’t want anything more than to drop to your knees and let him fuck your mouth.

Dean sucked your bottom lip between his teeth and pulled before he stepped back, growling. “Baby, we gotta go. If we don’t stop, I’m gonna fuck you right here and now, where anyone can see us.”

You looked at him through hooded eyes, a mischievous smile growing on your lips. You let your hands wander over his body, traveling further down to his waistband. “Well, what speaks against it, huh?”

He groaned deeply. “Because,” you could see the strength he had to gather to take another step back, “I have othet things planned for you tonight and fucking you in the middle of the street isn’t on the list.”

Back in your motel room Dean shut the door behind you. He backed you up against the wall, grabbed the back of your thighs and picked you up. Within seconds your upper body was naked and he attacked your neck with his mouth. His hands grabbed your breasts and he started to play with your nipples, rolling them between his fingers.

“Tell me, Y/N”, he let one of his hands slide down your body and fidgeted with the button of your jeans, “how far have you gone with a woman?” He licked over your pulse point and scraped his teeth over the sensitive skin, nibbling on the spot that made your knees weak.

“Made out with two girls in senior year. Almost would have fucked the second one, b-but I- wasn’t sure if sh-she would want to g-go there, so we didn’t go further than that. Oh fuck, Dean!”

You cried out when his hand found its way into your pants and his fingers finally touched you where you wanted them the most.

He bit into your shoulder to muffle the deep and long moan that escaped his lips. “Fuuuck, baby, you’re drenched.”

Dean pressed his palm flat against your clothed core, rubbing in the slightest motions. “Let’s see how often I can bring you to the edge until she gets here, huh?”

He put more pressure on his middle finger, parting your lips when he moved his hand upwards and stopped at your clit. With the tip of his finger he tapped against it, sending shivers down your spine and making your walls clench around nothing. He added another finger, pressed down and started to circle them around the bundle of nerves through the lace of your panties. When a loud whiny moan left your lips, you just let it happen. You didn’t care if anyone heard you. 

While his lips worked their way down to your breasts to give the unoccupied nipple some attention, his fingers were moving slowly, stretching out every bit of pleasure that jolts through you.

It didn't take long until your body started to shake and your breath hitched, little whimpers leaving your lips. Dean knew your body even better than you did yourself. He knew exactly which buttons to push, knew how to push you further and further, knew every little movement and sound you made when you were about to let go. He knew how to keep you on the edge until you couldn't take anymore without pushing you over.

You gasped when his fingers stopped moving right when you got close, right before the tight knot in your stomach was about to snap. You felt his lips on your neck, felt him smile, before he pressed down on your clit and lightly tapped against it again. Your eyes rolled back and you let your head fall against the wall, moaning. Oh sweet, sweet torture.

He moved his hand away from your center and grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him. Dean grinned mischievously. 

"One." The tip of his tongue peaked through his teeth. He licked his lips and kissed your hard and fast.

You were so distracted by his lips and tongue, that you didn't register his hand slipped back down. This time he pushed it into your panties and when his fingers brushed over your folds you shamelessly moaned into his mouth. 

"Oh fuck, Dean, yes."

His fingertips circled your clit for a few times, then he pushed his hand further down and slipped a finger into your pussy. Your walls immediately clenched around the digit, trying to suck it deeper. He slowly pumped it in and out, teasingly brushing over your walls. When he added a second finger he started to move faster. In a skilled motion he crooked his fingers and pressed down onto the spot that made your knees weak. 

Dean kissed his way over your jaw, back to your neck. He licked, sucked and nibbled on the sensitive skin. To drive you even more insane, he started to thrust his hips into yours, rubbing the palm of his hand against your core.

Your walls clenched and you felt the coil in your stomach tighten again until Dean pulled away.

"Two." He whispered, his hot breath fanned over the shell of your ear.

He loosened your legs from his waist and as soon as your feet hit the ground he ripped your jeans and panties down, helped you step out of them and threw them across the room. His mouth captured yours again, distantly you heard his belt unbuckle. Dean grabbed your wrists and held them together in one hand in front of you. With a questioning look he searched for your gaze as he moved the belt around your wrists. You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth and nodded.

With every brush of his calloused fingertips over your skin as he wrapped the leather around your wrists, he sent a shiver down your spine. When he was satisfied with the tightness of the belt, his gaze fell above your head. He smirked and brought your hands up over your head and hooked the belt into the hook of the coat rack on the wall. You pulled a bit, testing out if the rack would hold. It seemed pretty stable.

As soon as you both were sure the thing wouldn't break, Dean covered your body with his and pressed himself against you. His hands were sprawled out on you back, one on your ass, pulling your hips into his and the other one pressed down between your shoulder blades, pushing you into him and holding you in place. He leaned down and kissed you hard.

By the time a sharp knock on the door ripped you from your own little world, your legs were shaking and were barely able to hold your body up. You had lost count on how often Dean had pushed you to the edge.

Dean clicked his tongue before he took a step back and turned around to open up. 

The leather on your wrists felt heavier than before, tighter. You hoped the rack would withstand your weight and you let your legs give in to let the coat rack support most of your weight, so you could concentrate on catching your breath. Your lungs hurt with every breath you took.

Your eyes followed Dean as he grabbed his flannel from the floor and put it on while he walked to the door. He opened it a bit in only his jeans and the open flannel and looked outside for a second before he opened it fully with a smile on his face. 

You heard the clicking of heels on the wooden floor and shortly after the bartendress entered the room. A small part of you was surprised that she was really here, you thought she might not even come.

Now that she was here you were slightly embarrassed hanging around naked on a coat rack. But she didn’t seem to mind it at all. No, instead of questioning your position, she started to peel off her jacket and eyed you hungrily.

“Hey. I see you started without me, huh?” she joked and threw the piece of clothing on the chair.

Before she walked over to you she pulled her dress over her head, revealing a matching black lace lingerie set, her hips swaying even more than before. You looked her up and down, eyes traveling over her curves. Right in front of you she stopped and let her eyes wander over your naked body, biting her lip.

The tip of your tongue darted out and wetted your lips, before you smiled at her. "Hi." Her lips curved upwards. “Hey. Y/N, right? I am Robin, it's really nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, Robin. I’d shake your hand, but…” You chuckled and with a wide one sided smile you looked up at your wrists. Her eyes followed your gaze.

When your eyes met again, she smirked at you. “Oh well, you know… There are a few other ways to say hello….” Her beautiful brown hazel eyes darted to your lips, then she looked up into your eyes again before her gaze settled on your lips. Now that she was so close you could see the golden specks in her iris that made them sparkle even more.

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to yours, you couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped your throat. Finally you felt her lips and it was nothing like you had imagined; in a good way. They were so incredibly soft and full and felt fucking wonderful. You opened your mouth to let her tongue in. Your tongues danced against each other, the kiss getting more heated with every passing second.

After some time Robin pulled back, her lips still brushing over yours as she whispered: “Can I touch you?”

“Please", you begged. She lifted her hands and graced the skin of your forearm with the tips of her fingers from your elbows up to your bound wrists. Her palms pressed against your soft skin and she lowered her hands again, letting them glide over your skin and softly scratching her fingernails along the way. Your whole body began to shiver. It felt so unbelievably good to be touched by her, you almost couldn't handle the anticipation for more. You wanted to feel her hands everywhere, wanted her to touch every inch of your skin.

Robin scratched her nails down your arms and over your ribs, over your sides down to the mid of your thighs where she changed the angle of her hands, pressed her palms against your skin and moved them back up to your hips. With a firm grip on your butt cheeks she pulled your hips into hers. Not a second later her mouth was on yours again in a heated kiss. She bit on your bottom lip and pulled before she kissed her way over your cheek to your jaw. She placed sloppy kisses all over your neck and collar bone, slightly nibbling on it. 

Her hands roamed all over your body, no inch of skin left untouched. When she reached your breasts she grabbed and massaged them. Her index finger teasingly circled around your nipple for a few times at first and scratched her nail lightly over it, before she pinched them between her fingers, twirling them around. You sighed and whimpered at the sensation, the air suddenly knocked out of your lunges. Your eyes shut and your head fell back. With your eyes closed her touch felt a lot more intense.

“Need to taste you”, Robin mumbled against your collarbone. She slowly lowered herself and kissed and nibbled her way down your body.

When you heard Dean’s deep voice, it shifted your attention away from Robin, back to him. “Baby, I want you to look at me while she eats you out.”

Your eyes locked with his and another incredibly strong wave of pleasure washed over your body, just from looking at him. Dean had taken off the rest of his clothing and stood by the bed. You could see all the emotions that whirled around in his forest green eyes. The way he moved his hand up and down his cock and the way the muscles in his arm flexed with every stroke of his hand turned you incredibly on. 

Robin reached your mound and planted a kiss right aove your slit. She pulled one of your legs over her shoulder and immediately started to devour you. She licked over your slit, flicked her tongue against your clit and repeated the motion. With every lick she got faster, hungrily licking up your juices.

When a particular long and loud moan left your lips she looked up into your eyes and hummed. “You like the way I flick my tongue, baby?” She licked a long stripe over your slit again, circling your clit with the tip of her tongue a few times before she sucked it hard between her lips, her teeth lightly scraping over the sensitive skin. When she pressed her tongue flat against it while she still had it pinned between her full lips, you let your head fall back against the wall and you moaned loudly.

“Answer her”, Dean ordered in a low voice.

“Mmmh”, was all you were able to respond.

“Use your words, sweetheart.”

"F-Feels so good. Love your t-ounge. So so good." 

You looked back at him, saw that he sat down on the end of the bed while he kept his eyes on the both of you, watching you closely and pumping his fist up and down his thick shaft. 

“Fuck, look at her, sweetheart. Doing such a good job fucking you with her mouth. Freakin’ love the sounds she coaxes out of you.”

Robin’s tongue moved around your clit, occasionally changing rhythm and pattern, hitting all the right spots.

“Oh fuck, yes. Don- don’t stop. Fuck, so good.”

She chuckled at that, sending vibrations straight to your core, and sucked hard on your clit.

“You want her to fuck you with her fingers?” Dean asked.

You fastly nodded your head. “Uh-huh”

“Words, baby girl”, Dean reminded you sternly, his voice was deep and laced with lust. 

“Y- yes. Aah fuck. Please, please. Need- need your fingers inside me”, you begged and teared your eyes away from Dean to look down at her.

“You heard her, Robin. Do it. Push your fingers into her cunt and fuck her. Hard.”

Not needing to be told twice her hand left your butt and moved between your legs. She teasingly brushed over your lips before she pushed two fingers into your throbbing pussy and immediately found your sensitive spot. After a few hard thrusts she added another finger, filling you up.

It didn’t take her long to have you a whimpering mess above her, ready to let go. The coil in your stomach grew tighter and tighter and was about to snap.

And Dean sensed it too. “Stop touching her.”

No, no, no! When she stopped moving her fingers and pulled away, you whined loudly. You didn’t care how pathetic it must have sounded, this was pure fucking torture. You were so fucking close - again - and he just wouldn’t let you come.

“Dean… Please. Please, I want to- need to-” you begged until he interrupted you harshly.

“No.”

“Dean-”

“Not yet, sweetheart.”

“But-”

“Not. Yet." Dean almost growled. "If you’re gonna come, then you’re gonna come on my cock. You understand?”

He left no room for discussion and to be honest his words alone could have sent you over right now. 

Robin stood up, but not without kissing her way up your body. When she stood straight again she raised her hand that was glistening with your juices and slowly pushed them between your lips. You moaned when you tasted yourself on her fingers

Dean ordered her to lay down on the bed, so she walked backwards while she pulled off her underwear, her eyes never leaving you and pulled herself up to the headboard. She leaned back on her elbows and pushed her heels into the mattress, her knees falling wide open to reveal her wet, glistening pussy lips. You gasped at the sight and sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, your mouth began to water.

Dean stepped closer to you and took Robin’s place. He covered half your body by pressing his body into your side. His hand traveled over your stomach up to your throat. He laid his fingers around your neck and chuckled darkly while flexing them. His lips were so close they brushed over the edge of your ear.

“You wanna taste her?” The tip of his tongue graced over the shell.  Dean stood so close, you could feel the bass vibrating in his chest as he spoke.

"Yes, please. Wanna taste her so bad." You turned your head and looked at him, begging him with your eyes to free your hands so you could join her on the bed and dive in between her legs.

"Then go on, do it." He raised his free hand and lifted your hands from the rack to open the belt. As soon as the leather was gone he moved his hand to the back of your neck and directed you to the bed.

You walked over on shaking legs, incredibly glad the bed wasn’t too far away. You crawled over to her and started to touch her thighs, rubbing your hands up and down her soft skin. You pressed your lips against her inner thigh and kissed your way up until you reached her puss, where you pressed a kiss to her clit. Your tongue darted out and you licked over her lips, finally tasting her. And damn, she tasted great. You began to eat her out, mirroring what she had done to you and changing it up a bit. It didn’t take you long to find out what drove her crazy, what made her beg for more.

You were so concentrated on Robin that you didn’t feel the bed dip behind you. You only realized that Dean was behind you when his big hands grabbed your butt and he slit the head of his cock through your pussy lips.

Without a warning he slammed his hips into yours, filling you up with his cock in one thrust. The pleasure that rolled through your body overwhelmed you when he bottomed out, his hips slapping against your ass and pushing you forward, deeper between Robin’s legs. Your legs began to shake again and you rested your forehead against her stomach to recover your breath. Robin’s hands moved to head, stroking over your hair.

You waited for him to fucking move, but Dean didn’t move. He stayed still, waiting. The hand came out of nowhere, slapping down on your ass hard. You yelped at the impact, then moaned, welcoming the stinging pain.

"Did I tell you to stop? Keep going. Make her cum and maybe I will let you cum too." And with that his hand came back down on your ass cheek, reddening the skin.

You eagerly began to thrust your tongue into her entrance and flick it against her clit. You moved your hand from her hip and slowly pushed two fingers into her entrance, starting to fuck her with your fingers. As soon as you started, Dean slowly pulled his cock out and hardly thrusted back into you. The sound of his hips slapping against your ass filled the room as he fucked you hard and fast, his fingers digging hardly into your hips to keep you in place.

You moaned against Robin, the vibrations helped pushing her further to her release. You could tell she was close, you felt her walls clench around your fingers. With a twist of your wrist you changed the angle you fucked into her and crooked your fingers. Her pussy gripped your fingers tight, her thighs began to shake and caged your head between them when she came, screaming your name.

Dean leaned forward and buried his hand in your hair and pulled you up by it. Your back hit his chest and his other hand came around your body, grabbing your throat. He picked up his pace, fucking you even harder.

Robin moved and kneeled down in front of you. She pressed her mouth to yours and started to kiss you, her hands wandering over your body. She grabbed your breast and played with your nipple. With the other she rubbed against your clit, adding even more to your pleasure.

Dean nibbled on your neck. “Now”, he grunted. “Come. Come for me, baby.”

A few thrusts later your walls clenched around his cock, you came so hard you saw stars and your ears began to ring. Your screams were muffled by Robin’s mouth on yours.

Dean followed you soon after, the pulsing of his cock sending you straight into another orgasm. He now slowly fucked into you, riding your orgasms out.

You hadn’t moved much after, you were totally spent. You sank down to the mattress, your body aching in sweet pain. Dean got up to get something to clean you up, while Robin lay with you, kissing you and moving her fingertips over your back, side and arms.

When Dean came back from the bathroom he put the blanket over your bodies and lay next to you. He planted a kiss on your shoulder and chuckled when he saw your tired eyes. You turned to him and sighed happily.

You felt Robin inch closer to you. She pressed herself against your back, her nose brushed over the nape of your neck. A small sigh left her lips and her body relaxed with every breath she took. She slowly drifted to sleep.

Dean cradled your cheek in his hand, brushed his fingertips over your cheekbone and jaw. He bit on his lip and grinned at you.

“Had fun, sweetheart?”

You chuckled, pecked his lips and rested your forehead against his. “Oh yes, I had fun. A lot. Thank you, Dean. That was…”

“Yeah. It was.” He grinned. “Get some sleep, sweetheart. I love you.”

“I love you too, Dean.”

[bangtanlalaland]

falcon | jjk 01 (m.)

synopsis ⇣ Jungkook Jeon, known as “Falcon,” unites with his best friend to rebel against the twisted, dominant system of the city, Python, until everything changes when he crosses paths with one of many enemies.

— dystopia au; enemies to lovers au

⇢pairing: free runner!jeon jungkook x detective!female reader    ⇢featuring: free runner!park jimin, free runner!kim namjoon, free runner!min yoongi & police captain!jung hoseok

⇢genre: angst, fluff, smut

⇢word count: 12.2k

⇢contents ⨯ warnings: (this fic is totally inspired by mirror’s edge), there’s isn’t any smut in this chapter (but there will be in future chapters), slow burn, some fluff in there, so much dialogue (it’s literally a MOVIE), some violence, some blood, some death, swearing lots of action (oops), fighting, free-running, lots & lots of drama (srsly get your popcorn ready), mentions of premonitions, major plot twists, infidelity (sorta?), mentions of sex, some sope action (yes i said it), namgi is also a thing (oop), basically jungkook is a rebel & proud, jimin is very clever (like woah), namjoon is a leader & sweetheart (as always), yoongi is a bad guy (¿woahhh did we expect that?) hoseok is a fuckboi (i’m sorry ugh :(((), also viper in this story is actually taehyung (oop), police stuff (duh), lots of bi stuff going on here, (much love for the lgbtq community)

artwork poster by: @hellenys​​

song rec: “falcon” by jaden smith

a/n: woah! so this is yet another wip that I’ve had for so long. I’ve made the decision to make this a series! (or maybe a two-shot) still not 100% sure yet, but I am honestly beyond relieved to finally release this. also a huge thank you to @hellenys​ for the artwork! I was actually inspired to start writing falcon after seeing her work. (specifically the photo above^) so you guys go check her out, her artwork is amazing!

Smack.

The sound of your boss dropping a chunky stack full of vanilla colored folders onto your desk, in your cubicle, startles your attention from sipping your now third afternoon dose of coffee. You swear he has been on your ass ever since you stepped foot into the clouded atmosphere of the police department. You were convinced you’re in Hell. Literally.

He eagerly spills, “These missing persons reports aren’t going to solve themselves. I can’t even step out for a $5 burger at that fast food shit place down the street without the press breathing down my neck about the citizens’ missing loved ones.”

You sigh for what has been the one thousandth time today so far. Going on one thousand-one. This city has been getting worse as the days go by, missing persons reports dating as far as 10 years back, maybe more if you really dig deep in there. Runners scatter the rooftops of the city, yet you and your entire team were left with zero leads. And your boss was right; the press was constantly nagging like a toddler at the age of two. Yet you and your tiny team were responsible for getting hands dirty and finding answers. And here he goes yet again…

“Contact the victims families. See if there’s any new information they could give us. Just in case. Over time, victims may remember details they happened to leave out- ” The phone for the department rings on your desk, and you hold your index finger up as if to politely ask your boss to shut his damn mouth so you can answer the phone.

“Python Police Department.” Your face grows concerned, mouthing to your boss: “Missing Person.” He throws his hands up and shakes his head in response, waiting for your departure from the phone. The elderly woman seemed borderline upset, but mostly depressed. As if all the life that was once in her was drained completely. After reassuring you will find answers, you hang up and turn to face your boss.

“It was a lady named Mrs. Jeon. She wants to follow up on the case for her son. Jungkook?” You say, more so as a question rather than a statement, in hopes that you pronounced his name correctly. Your boss nods in approval, clearly knowledgeable of who you’re talking about.

“Yeah she calls here at least one or twice a week saying the same thing over and over again,” he pauses momentarily then starts, “I remember that kid. He was in high school when his mother reported him missing,” he continues while shaking his head.

“I’ll never forget the day dispatch called me out there to see what was going on. This was back in my rookie detective days. At first I thought maybe he’s just playing hooky. Happens all the time, right?” You nod in agreement. You’d heard of his name before but never looked into it, considering you’d just been promoted 4 months ago. And for the first month, you’d only been sent to canvas witnesses. Although sadly, Jungkook is simply one among hundreds if not thousands of cases that have gone cold.

He continues, “But then, we checked the grid and his chip was gone. We didn’t get any alerts about its removal, so it was definitely shocking.”

“That doesn’t make sense. What do you mean it was gone?” You ask with crossed arms.

“Well, more like the grid showed that the chips’ location was his home. Obviously, he isn’t home and we searched the house. No chip.” He pauses for a moment as if processing what he’s about to say, “Someway, somehow, he removed himself from the grid. But, he wasn’t the only one.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I reassured Mrs. Jeon that if he didn’t show up in two days then we could file a missing persons report. She insisted that something was wrong and didn’t want to wait two days. But she had no other choice, and so she filed the report and days turned into weeks, months, and years.”

“How long?” You question.

With a sigh he replies, “Five.”

“No wonder she’s calling.”

“I know. But that’s the weirdest thing about it. As I mentioned, Jungkook wasn’t the only one with a missing chip.” He reassures with a sigh of what you assume is exhaustion.

“And?”

Your boss squints his eyes, as if he’s thinking.

“Follow me.”

He leads you to the “Cold Cases” room. It looks almost like a library, but instead of children books it’s several cases from murders to runaways — where endless amounts of evidence, files, reports, and other tangible items are stored. He scrambles through a pull out drawer of folders labeled and sectioned off in alphabetical order. He then pulls out a vanilla folder, and opens the file, revealing a photo of a young teen with dark, brown hair and plump, pink lips.

“Mrs. Park. Mother of Jimin Park. She filed a missing persons report the same day Mrs. Jeon did. They actually came together. And apparently they live on the same street.” He states while exiting the room and striding you into his office.

You inquire, trying to catch up to his quick pace. “So what are you implying?”

“I think…” he trails off, placing the folder on top of his desk and flopping into his office seat. “Jungkook and Jimin decided to drop out of school and run away in the sunset together.”

“And why would you assume that?”

“Well, let’s talk about the runners that run the rooftops. I know you’re still trying to get the hang of things, but there’s a pattern with this.”

“Okay?” You more-so question, rather than stating.

“First things first. Their chips. Runners always remove them, except we get alerts when done so.” He pauses. Of course you’re aware of the misdemeanor charge for that, right?” You nod in a “yes” gesture.

“Good. So, first they remove the chips. Second, they completely vanish. No one sees them for good and has no knowledge of where they are. It’s like they never existed, right? Families, friends, co-workers or whoever they know don’t see them anymore.”

You nod again, catching along. “Mmhmm.”

“Then, a missing persons report is filed. Either by a relative or a close friend. With that being said, it only makes sense that Jungkook and Jimin would be close together at least. I mean surely if Mrs. Park filed a report with Mrs. Jeon then couldn’t they both have known each other? Or at least had some knowledge of the relationship their sons had with one another? And again, the chips. Surely, they were in this together, and there’s not one part of me that doubts it.”

You take a deep sigh, soaking this information in, “Makes sense.”

“Look,” he says, while moving closer to you, stuffing his hands in his pockets. You gaze upon him, admiring the beauty mark on the left side of his top lip. His chocolate waves crown his face.

“What I’m trying to say is- If you find one of them, chances are you’ll find the other. Just… please be careful, ____. If these guys can suddenly vanish off the grid without a trace, who knows what else they’re capable of?”

Meanwhile, Jimin barges into a hideout on a rooftop (now part of an abandoned building) far into the city, but enough distance from prying eyes. He’s panting, out of breath, sweating and bent over as he removes his earpiece, swiping the perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand. He runs his fingers through his jet, black strands. The sun slightly scorched his once pale cheeks, resulting in a rosy, pink shade.

“Fuck!”

Namjoon removes his headset and arises from his seat in the area that he and his mates have labelled as “coms,” having hacked into the city’s surveillance system.

“Good job, Phoenix. Water?” He asks, while offering Jimin a sip of his bottled water, before downing it completely.

“Fuck, no. I almost fucking died!” Jimin replies, still panting.

“Relax. You’re alive, aren’t you?” Namjoon retorts nonchalantly.

He crushes his plastic bottle and lunges it toward Jungkooks slumped figure over the couch nearby. He grunts in response, jerking up in his sleep. Being on the run for the past 5 years has only caused him to be as alert as a hawk.

“You’re up next, Falcon.” Jungkook shakes his head, gaining consciousness of his surroundings again. His black tank top and white nylon sweats having stuck to his form. His milk, chocolate strands blanket his face as he sits up, rubbing his eyes. The faint sunlight helps to awaken him from his slumber, as he covers his eyes to adjust to the sunrays. Jimin, who now has gained his breath back, flings his earpiece at Jungkook.

“Blue lights are heavy today. Watch your ass, huh?” With that, Jungkook stretches upward while placing the earpiece on. On his way towards the tiny kitchen area, Namjoon keys into the channel.

“Thunderbird for Falcon.” Jungkook gulps his banana milk and returns the carton to its place in the fridge. Wiping his mouth to rid the milk residue, he responds, “Go for Falcon.”

“I’m sure you probably don’t want to hear this. But it’s time for a test run.”

Jungkook is silent, yet internally screaming. He hates test runs. Who doesn’t though?

“I know what you’re thinking. I’ve told you before that one time won’t count. But, I need to calculate your momentum, and it helps tremendously to compare to your previous test runs.” Jungkook wasn’t worried about speed, but more so about his body. The last time he’d done a test run, he had completely passed out from overworking his body. Namjoon couldn’t leave the hideout, given that blue lights were everywhere and he didn’t want to risk not having anyone watching over the place. Luckily Jimin was already out for a run, and decided to take a detour to rescue his best friend. But, Jungkook does not like to fail. In fact, he despises it. He’s afraid that he’d fail. Again. He takes a deep breath.

“I know you can do it. The advantage now is that you actually got rest.” Jungkook couldn’t help but nod in agreement. He knew the last time he was going non-stop and being the stubborn bunny he is, Namjoon warned him more than once that he’d burnout sooner or later. But that’s the conflict with Jungkook. He grew complacent of being on the run constantly. It’s his life now; he hates the society he lives in and refuses to live according to the systems’ standards.

“Copy that, Thunderbird.” Jungkook responds, his arms and hands flexing, veins popping, as he slips on his neon red fingerless gloves. He pulls the straps of his black mask over and behind his ears — completely concealing most of his face.

Namjoon smiles in response, “That’s what I like to hear! Let’s bring that energy to the test, Falcon.”

Back at the station, you step out of your formal addression towards your boss and slip, “Hobi, I’ll be fine.”

“I know, I just can’t see myself losing you. You know how much you mean to me, right?” He asks, while reaching his hand towards your cheek with the intent to caress you but your reflexes immediately catch on, and you turn the opposite direction while muttering under your breath, “You know that we can’t-”

“I know. Sorry.”

A brief moment of silence shares the space between you both. Hoseok Jung, or as your recent pet name for him: Hobi, is not only the police captain of the Python Police Department, but currently your main squeeze as well. At least, that’s what you’d like to think. You can’t quite pinpoint what “this” with him is, given that neither of you made it official yet or set any boundaries. Which resulted in this continuous cycle of confusion on where you stand in this said “situationship.” But you don’t probe him, instead you just go with the flow and see where things lead. The only major conflict is that no one at the station should know about your doings. Or else there would be major consequences to face. You suppose that’s why Hoseok is the way he is with you. Maybe you’re nothing but a fling to him. Although some of the things he says deem otherwise.

“Last I heard, his street name is Falcon.” Hoseok skims through a folder on his desk that contains numerous papers, all to what you assumed held important information, then he pulls one out.

“I have a list of coordinates for locations where security cameras are installed and picked up high runner activity. Check those out and see if there are any leads. If no luck, go out and canvas witnesses on the street.” You nod in agreement, gathering your belongings to head on your way when suddenly you feel Hoseok’s grasp on your wrist. You immediately turn your gaze towards him, eyes blown wide as saucers.

“Please, be careful. Call me when you make it to the first and last location.” You eye his grip on you and snatch away quickly, regaining your composure.

“I will,” you respond, while slipping out of his office to leave the building.

On the rooftops, Jungkook gets into position. Staring ahead of himself, he takes a deep breath, awaiting Namjoon’s marker. A tiny droplet of sweat drips down the right side of his face, trailing down to his neck.

“On your mark. Ready.” Jungkook takes another deep breath. The sun suddenly becomes beyond its warm state, at this point, it’s scorching. His palms are damp. The black of his tee absorbs the city’s heat.

“Set.”

His mind goes racing in a million different ways. It was strange that at this moment, his mother crosses his mind. He wondered if she was okay. But, he couldn’t risk seeing her. Exposing himself. Then blue lights would find out, and   he’d be done. For good.

No, can’t risk it. No matter how much it hurts.

Since the age of 18, Jungkook called the rooftops his home. Some part of him felt selfish for only thinking of himself and leaving his mother behind. But he knew she would only scold him for rebelling against the system. Therefore, it was imperative that he left. For months, he and Jimin elaborated an escape — consistently backtracking and fixing any errors in their plan.

Unfortunately, plans don’t always go as planned and being just a couple of high school kids, Jungkook and Jimin hadn’t fully thought out the whole “where would we bunk” deal. But, all changed when they reached the rooftops. Although the first two years were literal Hell. Probably part of the reason Jungkook had become too exhausted at the end of it all. It was horrid to run non-stop, stability not being an option. Jungkook and Jimin had several quarrels with other runners. It became a cycle that Jungkook grew weary of:

Getting accepted into a hideout → Developing trust with other runners → Everything feels comfortable now →  Someone does something to show their true colors (Runners are out to get each other, despite the consequences. Whether the reward is for money, power, or maybe even freedom) → Jungkook and Jimin realize they can’t trust other runners → In conclusion, they flee → The process repeats

That is, until they met Namjoon. At first, he resisted. He previously had one roommate before that betrayed him, just as other runners betrayed Jimin and Jungkook. He thinks of him sometimes, and he’ll never forget his name. Yoongi Min, who goes by Firebird. Blue lights offered Yoongi a deal: to persuade Namjoon into a trap, at a disclosed location, in return for clearing his own name of all criminal records — freedom. Yoongi had been Namjoon’s roommate for four years, eventually growing close and becoming trustworthy of one another. Even coining each other’s names together, as a team. He always thought he’d take over the city of Python with Yoongi. Thus, that’s why Namjoon took Jungkook and Jimin in; because he saw them as himself and Yoongi, knowing that he would have wanted someone else to do the same for him and his once good friend.

“Go.” And with that, Jungkook powers forward leading with one goal in mind: Fast.

“I want you to head straight as far as you can. Got it?”

“Copy,” Jungkook slips. He starts at a steady pace, sliding under pipes connected to cooling fan systems, and vaulting over fences being sure to avoid high voltage ones. However, his velocity decreases when doing so. Namjoon takes note of that.

“Try to keep a linear direction as much as possible. Jump to the next building, using the metal pipe as a pole.”

Jungkook makes an estimate on how fast he should run to land onto the pole that’s adjacent to the rooftop of the building he’s currently on. He backs away about two meters and plants his feet on the ground, getting into position. His body exerts force and within seconds, Jungkook leaps from the rooftop. His heart dropping to his stomach, silently praying that his calculations were correct; and within seconds he lands onto the metal pole, his toned biceps clinging on for life. The leather gloves he wears grant a better grip on the surface, as he pulls himself upward, finally reaching the rooftop.

“Good job, Falcon. Keep pushing!”

Jungkook heaves, but knows he can’t stop now. He continues to scan his surroundings, taking in the view of the city from his vantage point. The sun still beams within the distance. Glass buildings towering the city, camera drones and lightweight super-jets scattering the sky.

No time for distractions.

Jungkook continues on his path as instructed by Namjoon. Lightly jogging, he rapidly picks up his pace until he takes a quick glance to his right and something catches his eye: a security camera, hanging below a billboard on the current building he stands on. He treads forward, and notices a blue light on the camera that blinks rapidly. He sticks his middle finger up towards the object and makes a swift turn to walk away when suddenly he stops dead in his tracks.

You push open the door to the rooftop access, finally having reached the top of the corporate office building of Cobra Enterprises, the biggest conglomerate in the city. To your surprise, on your left, there stands a man with doe-like eyes and lengthy, coffee-colored strands concealing his face. Your mouth flew agape, realizing that this is your first encounter ever with a runner — his neon red gloves serving as evidence.

“Falcon, what’s going on? I’m picking up a blue light within your perimeter,” Namjoon keys in. Jungkook says nothing, simply eyeing your form. He’d never been in love, and it wasn’t as if he’d recognize love even if it were standing right in front of his face with a big sign that said: “Hey! It’s me. I am love.” It was your essence that gave him an odd feeling. A feeling that intrigued him for some strange reason. But then you flashed that shiny PPD badge, which glistened in the sun, and it caught his attention — instantly sending a wave of discouragement throughout his heart.

“I’m Detective ____ with PPD,” you slip.

“Abort the test run! Get the hell out of there!” Namjoon commands on the other end of Jungkook’s earpiece. You attempt to step closer to the man, but he raises his hand up.

“Don’t come any closer.”

You shake your head, “It’s okay. I-I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to talk, okay?” You reassure while gradually lifting your hands up in the air, as if surrendering to him. He scoffs, obviously not impressed by your coy tactic.

“A blue light wanting to talk? Nah, don’t think so,” he spits while clenching his fists and backing away.

“No, please! I-I-” You suddenly become tongue-tied, as the man evidently runs away out of your sight, leaving you behind. Frozen in place.

That asshole.

Your cell rings conveniently at the right moment.

— Hobi ❤️ [Incoming Call]

You swipe to answer, and can’t even get a “hello” out before Hoseok starts on his shit again.

“Goddammit, ____! I told you to call me when you got to your first location.” He sounds furious, as if you’re his pet on a leash.

“Okay, dad!” You retort, clearly annoyed with him in this moment as you make your way down the exhausting flight of stairs inside the building.

“You know what-” Hoseok runs his fingers through his waves. “My place. 30 minutes.” The sound of a click on the line indicates that he hung up, leaving you with a frustrated temper.

Jungkook storms into the hideout, snatching his mask off of his face. Namjoon rips his headset off, visibly pissed.

“You wanna tell me what the hell happened back there?”

Jungkook scoffs, currently not up for anyone’s shit, as he trails to the fridge to grab his carton of banana milk yet again. Namjoon rolls his eyes while shaking his head. Jungkook releases his lips from the carton and slips, “Nothing.”

The sound of Namjoon’s tongue clicking echoes through the space, “Bullshit! You know our code, and you did NOT follow!”

With his back, turned Jungkook takes a deep huff, cheeks on fire. Jimin silently creeps nearby and coyly chimes in,

“See a blue light, call it a night. Don’t take flight, and you’ll put up a fight.”

“That’s right, Phoenix. We do NOT stick around once a blue light is within our sight. We take flight. Is that understood?” Namjoon probes with a stern tone, directing towards Jungkook.

The youngest turns face forward, with a clenched jaw and jutted chest. He says nothing, clearly testing the eldest. Namjoon steps forward and closes the gap between one another, so close that their noses nearly touch.

“Is that understood?” He inquires, his voice a few octaves lower. Jungkook pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue before breaking.

“Copy.”

“Get your shit together, Falcon. We’ll pick this up tomorrow.” Namjoon pulls away and brushes past Jimin, heading out of the kitchen. Infuriated, Jungkook lunges the now empty carton toward the wall ahead of him and also brushes past Jimin, who grasps his wrist in time to halt him. A look of worry spreads across Jimin’s face.

“Come on, Kook. You know Thunderbird. He’s just trying to protect us. It’s like… his job.”

Jungkook stays silent, thinking if he would ever get to see your innocent face again. Jimin nudges his arm to grasp his attention.

“You do know that you can talk to me, right?” He reassures with a promising expression. Jungkook simply nods and walks away, leaving Jimin worried. He knows when something is wrong with his best friend. He can feel it. But he also knows that Jungkook is a tough cookie, and it will take time for him to finally crack.

Meanwhile, Jungkook locks himself in his room — having confined himself completely from the world even if it was just for a few hours. How could he be so stupid? Why couldn’t he just talk to you like you wanted? Maybe you were a good person. At least that’s what he assumed, considering your beautiful face.

No. Snap out of it!

He can’t trust anyone. It’s for his own good. As the sun sets, he peeks through the glass window in his room to soak in the view of the city. Streams of pink, yellow, and blue paint the evening sky. If only he’d introduced himself to you, maybe he would feel a slight less pain in his chest. It was something Jungkook craved that he’d never gotten yet.

Intimacy.

Hoseok is frustrated; he runs his fingers through his hair for what has felt like the millionth time today.

“What’s gotten into you, huh?” He asks with a dark, lustful feel in his eyes. You gaze at him in complete silence.

“Can’t obey me anymore or what?” He lets out a frustrated sigh while gripping your hips.

“Oh you’re asking for it, huh?” He coos while mustering up the idea to tickle his way into getting a response from you. You break the silence, the sound of your laughter filling up his penthouse. Giggles and gasps for breaths emit from you, a sound that Hoseok thinks he could hear for the rest of his life and never grow tired.

“Oh my-! S-stop!”

And like a light-switch, he abruptly stops. His hands falling down to your sides, gripping your hips again. He gazes into your stare for what feels like an eternity. That familiar beauty mark on his lip is your favorite sight. He notes your eyes landing on his lips for too long, and he takes the opportunity to inch forward and meet yours.

He tastes like coffee — the kind you have in the morning before heading out to the station. The kind you’re used to sipping while reading emails at work or making phone calls. Or even the kind you order from your favorite coffee shop where you first met him and continue to meet up with him there to discuss anything work related.

Your lips soften against his, as his softens against yours. You’re not even sure how that is possible. Physics? Maybe.

However, the thought of your relationship with Hoseok crosses your mind. And  before you could even think twice about what to do, with his tongue literally down your throat, you unexpectedly shove him lightly. His eyebrows furrow in response, concerned if he’d done something wrong (when he could swear you like french kissing, considering you both do it all the time, and he remembered you mentioned one moment how much you like to do so).

“What are we? What is this?” You blurt out. Hoseok’s expression makes you instantly regret asking him. He pulls himself away from you completely to pace back and forth with his hand on his hip, shaking his head. Your gaze drops to the floor, feeling like such shit for bringing it up. But you’d be damned if he made you feel bad, because you have to know. For your own sake. Your own sanity.

“Are we really doing this right now?” He asks while sitting down on the leather loveseat.

That’s it. Something in you snaps.

“Hoseok!” You screech, gaining a wide-eyed stare from him.

“We’ve been fucking for over 2 years! What did you think? That I was just going to keep floating around, letting you stuff me every fucking week and not say anything about it?”

You are a panting, hot, and frustrated mess on the verge of tears from how upset you are. Hoseok watches your riled up figure, and he can’t seem to bring words together. He’s had a long day and wants nothing more than to release his stress into you either on his bed, or this loveseat, or maybe the kitchen counter if you can’t make it to his bedroom. But your emotions are clouding the atmosphere, and it’s something he can’t handle.

“I don’t know what you expect me to say,” he states dryly.

You felt like someone just hammered a nail into your heart. Your mouth flies agape, sucking in a breath to contain yourself from crying in front of his eyes.

“Why can’t we just fuck and not go through all of this? What do we need a label for anyway? It’s not like anyone at the  station is going to find out.” He shrugs, emitting a chuckle paired  with a nonchalant vibe.

Drip.

And then a tear fell down your cheek, prompting yourself to march out the front door and never look back. Clutching your crossbody, your leather chelsea boots click against the hardwood floor. Before Hoseok had the chance to grab you by the wrist, you were gone. You continued strutting down the hall, better yet lightly jogging to get as far away as possible as quickly as possible. Your fingers find placement on the ↓ button for the elevator.

Ding.

The moment the elevator doors shut is when the tears came streaming down   your cheeks, like a waterfall. You knew all along it was a bad idea to get involved with Hoseok. You’re sentimental and have always been so. “Catching feelings” while having weekly sex with him was bound to happen eventually. All in all, you could say that you saw the end coming, but at least 70% of you wanted things to be different than what they were. As your mother would call it, “living in la la land.” For the remainder of  the night, you comfort yourself on your couch, stuffing your face with leftover chocolate-covered strawberries and sipping champagne. All while venting on the phone to your childhood friend and updating him on the current situation with Hoseok.

“Ah. I’m sorry, noona. Hobi is a real ass sometimes, you know?”

You take another sip from your wine glass, “Ugh. That’s the thing!” You pause, popping a strawberry in your mouth, “I knew it. And yet, I still fell for him. I’m just horrible, a mess.”

“Don’t say that,” he replies with a yawn following his response.

“It’s true, Yoongi! I’ve literally been letting him in this whole time and not standing my ground. It’s so pathetic of me,” You sigh with a frown upon your face that Yoongi obviously cannot see.

“Wow. He was that good, huh?” You roll your eyes just thinking about it, “Ugh, yes! Don’t even remind me!”

“Well-” yet another yawn cutting him off again, “Just take your time, you   know? I’m sure it won’t be that easy to get over him. But eventually, it’ll happen.” Your eyes begin to tear up again, “You really think so?”

Yoongi hesitates for a brief moment, “No, I’m just trying to get you off the phone so I can go to sleep.”

“Fuck you, Yoongi Min.” His cute giggle lifts your mood in a contagious way — making you laugh out loud along with him.

“You’ll  be fine, ____. Really.” A tear finally drops down your face. This is why you love Yoongi, and why you’d been friends with him almost your entire life. He’s someone you can trust, always having been there for you. It didn’t matter the distance you were from each other, or how long it had been since you contacted one another, you both would pick up right where you left off.

“Goodnight, Yoongs. Love you.” His gummy smile appears as he replies, “Love you too, ____. Goodnight.”

After hanging up with Yoongi and having your belly full enough of strawberries and wine, your thoughts continuously play over the events of today, making you realize how drained you are. Then the image of the runner from earlier crosses your mind. God, was he the hottest man you’ve seen in awhile, at least from what you could see due to his mask covering most of his face. But his lengthy strands paired with his toned biceps and tall, lean figure are what got you. The sun bounced perfectly on his tanned, body, displaying a gorgeous shimmer of sweat he was drenched in, kind of reminded you of your fave Krispy Kreme glazed doughnuts.

His eyes were bright and beautiful, and you’ll never forget the way he was startled when you approached him — like a deer in headlights. You wonder what else was “hot” about him that you didn’t get a chance to see. Okay, maybe it’s just the wine talking. Some part of you wished you could have at least asked what his name was, but he wasted no time in evading you. Even though you felt a slight sting  in your heart, you couldn’t blame him for leaving. After all, you’re a cop and he’s a runner. Of course he’d “run” from you.

Hoseok is sound asleep until an alarming tone from his cell phone startles him from his slumber.

— Yoongi Hyung [Incoming Call]

“Shit.” Hoseok lets out a frustrated sigh before answering. His tired, raspy voice is heard from the other side of the line. “Hyung, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know you tell me.” Yoongi deadpans.

Hoseok sighs in response. Pulling away from his phone to read the time: 12:42 AM. He clenches his fist and runs his fingers through his messy mane.

“What do you want, Yoongi?”

“I need you to look into someone for me. Get ____ on the case,” Yoongi demands with a slight hint of desperation.

Seething, Hoseok retorts, “Fucking hell. Why couldn’t you wait until the morning to tell me?”

“It is morning, and before you step into the station I need to make sure it’s the first thing on your agenda. I need this done asap.”

Hoseok remains his composure on the outside but is internally screaming.

“I don’t know, Hyung. I can’t guarantee it. I have ____ on the Jungkook Jeon case, and I may have her finally close it. Hopefully-” Yoongi scoffs, on the other side, clearly not happy.

Hoseok adds, “What’s this all about anyway? And what do I get for it?”

“Did you forget who’s the eldest here?” A moment of silence falls into the phone.

“Didn’t think so,” Yoongi continues. Hoseok feels small. He always does when being confronted by Yoongi.

“I’ve cut a deal with Cobra Enterprises. The company will have a meeting tomorrow with PPD about a new project to take place. I want you to look into a guy. I’m sure you remember him. Namjoon Kim.” The youngest sighs yet again. He remembered Namjoon from his rookie days, and he also recalled Yoongi had failed to go through with the set-up.

“Press ____ to look into his file and continue there. Drop her from the Jungkook Jeon case.” Hoseok’s mouth flies open in shock at Yoongi’s request.

“Are you fucking kidding me? How the hell am I supposed to-”

“Do not try me! Now, you’ll do as I say without giving me any shit, understand?” Yoongi retorts, his voice now at a higher volume than before. His deep violet-haired, skinny stature dressed in a purple v-neck, paired with a black leather jacket and leather jeans. He paces back and forth, flipping a pen between his slender fingers. The visible ink of his black, circuit board tattoo trails from his neck down to his right shoulder and ends at his wrist.

“Yes, Hyung,” Hoseok states, his voice barely above a whisper now.

“Get her on the case for Namjoon and find out where he is! Tell her he goes by the name Thunderbird. These rooftops are massive. Viper and I cannot find him alone. Having her would help tremendously. Besides… she’s smart, and I’m sure she’d be able to get to him before I do,” he continues while staring at the view of the city from his hideout.

Hoseok lets out with a tinge of annoyance in his reply, “Fine, fine. Alright!”

“Don’t do this, and I will tell ____ about our little secret. I’m sure she wouldn’t be too happy about that either. Especially not now.”

“You better not say shit to her, you hear me?” Hoseok works up.

“Get the job done, Hobi.” Yoongi ends the call.

No, you could not find out. At least not like that. Hoseok doesn’t want you to know about the little fling with his hyung. He knows Yoongi would do anything to destroy the side thing Hoseok has with you, since he’s jealous. He wants Hoseok all to himself.

The ringing of your cell frightens you out of your sleep. Your eyes land onto your clock placed beside you on your nightstand. You silently curse whoever dares to awaken you at this ungodly hour of 3:18 AM. Surely it was none other than Hoseok Jung. You dared to not answer, but part of you needed to if you wanted to keep your job. You were slightly worried his calling may be job-related anyway. At least you hope it is, because you can’t think about how he’d hurt you the previous day. Your exhausted form answers the call with a swipe.

“Hello?”

“I’m here.” Your eyebrows furrow as you scan your bedroom in the moonlight. Your right hand finds it’s way to rub your eyes.

“What?”

“Just open the door. I’m here.”

You stay on the line, and groggily drag yourself out of bed to head beeline for the front door of your apartment. Through the peephole, there stands Hoseok with his iPhone to his ear and his head hanging low. You unlock the door and tiredly pull it open to finally meet eyes with the bastard. Yesterday’s events flash through your memory, and you’re drawn back into the mood you were in before you knocked out for what seemed like only ten minutes.

With furrowed brows you question, “Hoseok what do y-”

His lips crash with yours, cutting you off completely. Your hand that once held your phone, now wraps around his neck, easing him closer to you. His firm hands now grip your hips, flushing you to his body entirely. His plushy lips play with yours, naturally gliding and smoothing against their own accord. The bitter taste of coffee lingers on his lips, to what you assumed he more than likely had a cup of Joe before arriving to your apartment. He breaks the kiss to stare into your eyes, caressing your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that to you,” he pauses for a beat, “It was wrong. I was wrong.”

A low sigh escapes your lips. Hoseok cups your cheeks, and gives you a small peck. You pull away to take hold of his hand and lead him into your apartment, closing the door behind the two of you. You find yourself sitting on the side of your bed, with Hoseok joining you. He rests his cool palm on your warm, exposed thigh, courtesy of your pajama shorts. Your fingers find placement on top of his hand. He stares into your gaze, guilt settling deep within his gut. Part of the reason he’d always treated you like nothing is due to his feelings for Yoongi. He likes this thing with you: being able to have you whenever he wants, do whatever he wants to you, and treat you how he wants.

It’s almost like he owns you, except he doesn’t. But he likes the complacency of the situation, knowing that you’ll always be there when he needs you. Yet he knows it’s selfish and such a narcissistic quality about himself, but he wants what he wants and cannot stop his actions. It’s this never-ending dilemma he’s stuck in of leading you on or admitting his feelings for you. Because all in all, Hoseok wants to “have his cake and eat it too.” On the other hand, Yoongi stands on the sidelines — waiting for the day he & Hoseok could be together. And now it’s worse since you’ve poured your feelings out to him. Although for Yoongi, it’s everything he’s ever wished for.

The luminance from the moonlight glows throughout the space that’s your room. Hoseok shivers slightly from your touch, the warmth of your fingers encases his cold, slender ones. You both sit in silence for a moment, just taking in each others presence. You attempt to gather your own thoughts of why Hoseok couldn’t wait to apologize until the next day you both work.

“Hoseok.” You let out, a yawn following afterwards.

“Hm?” He responds while glancing into your eyes with those gorgeous brown   eyes, his strands gracefully dressing his forehead in that familiar middle-part style.

“Cuddle?” You ask sheepishly why reaching your arms out towards him, offering your warmest embrace. His lips curl up into that stunning smile, making his eyes shut instinctively. He removes his bomber jacket and shoes, then climbs into the opposite side of your bed. You follow suit and pull your duvet over the two of you. Your arms naturally wrap around his abdomen, and  you curl up into his chest. Admiring the familiar scent of Hoseok’s  fresh, linen garments with a hint of some expensive cologne. He smells so clean, as a man should. It sends you into a trance. Your ear rests on top of his chest, growing familiar with the rhythm of his heartbeat. And it’s just enough to put you to rest.

—

The sun peaks from the skyline, beginning its journey to  rise. Deep orange and yellow hues paint the sky. A gleaming ray of light shoots throughout the hideout the three men share together. Namjoon is the first to awaken, his beach-sand colored hair ruffled in a slight mess. With a bare upper body and boxer briefs, he slips from his mattress on the ground to head for the washroom — his disheveled state still working to fully awaken. After finishing up his morning routine of brushing his teeth, washing his face, and grooming his hair, he slips on black nylon sweatpants and a red fitted tank, displaying his black, circuit board ink on his left forearm snaking up to his left shoulder and neck. He stares at his own figure in the mirror, silently hating himself for letting Yoongi talk him into getting a matching tattoo.

If only he’d knew where Yoongi’s loyalty really lied, he’d  never would have given in to him. A slight pang in Namjoon’s chest  resurfaces. He missed Yoongi, a lot more than he wanted to. Because it was more than “friendship” with him. He loved Yoongi and wanted to confess his feelings for him, but he was afraid his confession would lead to corruption of their friendship. He was also afraid of Yoongi’s “distant” personality. He was for sure it would have ruined them, even if their friendship blossomed into something more. Unfortunately, after Yoongi became a traitor in Namjoon’s eyes, he couldn’t stop the feelings he had for him and continues to have. It was  ever since that one night they’d both had a little too much soju that things led from one thing to another. He relishes in the memory of Yoongi’s lips pressed against his.

The lingering, sweet taste of alcohol on his lips is the fondest moment Namjoon has of Yoongi. He had never been more aroused by anyone else ever, and Yoongi had just that effect on him. One thing led to another, and before he could process what had happened, the next morning he’d awaken to the sight of Yoongi naked and wrapped around his chest. Ever since, the entire dynamic of their friendship had changed. Yoongi hadn’t spoken of the previous night, and neither had Namjoon. He’d never thought that a week later, he would have had no other choice but to kick out the one person he had grown to trust for so long. He never forgets the look in Yoongi’s eyes. Puffy, red, and swollen from the tears he’d cried.

Namjoon  had never seen him this shaken up before, considering his inability to show his feelings. But he believed Yoongi had done all of this to  silently punish him for sleeping with him. Liquid forms in Namjoon’s  eyes as his mind goes in circles consistently, playing the events over and over in his mind — reminiscing on the presence of who he thought would have eventually been his lover. While brewing a cup of coffee, Namjoon readies himself for the day. Upon arrival to the coms room, he seats himself at his desk, an arrange of five monitors on display. The longer one in the middle is the portal to log into Thunder, a tracking software he’d created, with Yoongi, that’s designed specifically to pinpoint a runners’ location. Of course, he had re-programmed said software to track Jungkook and Jimin’s location whenever they’d go out on a run, which is why they use an earpiece that has a tracker installed.

For safety purposes, he’d also designed it to detect when other runners are nearby while also detecting blue lights in the surrounding area. Each runner is part of a team that is represented by a color on the “rainbow spectrum,” and each color has a leader. Namjoon being the leader of Red, and along with Jimin and Jungkook representing the color. Although, the only colors from the spectrum that have been confirmed are: Orange, Yellow, and Green — while Blue and Violet have yet to be discovered. In the meantime, Jimin tosses in his sleep as though he’s experiencing a nightmare. Something within his slumber startling enough to jerk him awake, his eyes blown wide and his lips parted dramatically. His chest rising up and down as he trails his fingers through his onyx strands that fall back  onto his forehead. His arms find their way up to block the sunlight from his window that forces to blind his eyes.

His body is warm, and after sitting up completely, he realizes his white tank is soaked in perspiration. Jimin snarks at the cold sweat clinging to his upper body. Rolling out of bed, the cool tile below him makes his body shiver. He pulls his top over his head and off, flinging it to the corner of his room. His toned upper body glistens with sweat, covered with the tattoo “Nevermind” on the left side of his abdomen. Jimin rushes to the washroom to start up the glass shower.

He hops in immediately; cool streams of water race down his fit figure, drenching his black strands and gradually decreasing his body temperature. He runs his index finger across the inside of his wrist where another tattoo is displayed: 13. A small grin crosses his face, thinking of the  time he’d met Jungkook when he was 13, how they’d instantly bonded, and how far they’ve come in their lives. The number also resembling the day of his own birth. But Jimin’s smile fades, after realizing the dream he had. He knew something was wrong, because for weeks now he’d been having these nightmares that something bad would happen; everything would change, yet he wasn’t 100% sure how. Even though things were okay now, but he couldn’t help the thought that maybe his gut instinct was trying to warn him.

Knock x2.

Jimin jumps slightly at the sudden knock, and his gaze snaps up to the bathroom door, “Dude… Gotta pee,” Jungkook’s tired form slips. Outside the door, he can barely keep his eyes open — having almost pulled an all-nighter, listening to music and lifting weights in his room. Jimin swings the door open, with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Scared the shit out of me, you know?” Namjoon arrives in the hallway.

“Morning, boys! We’ve got a long day ahead of us. So, get some breakfast and meet me in the coms room when you’re done.” Jimin nods and adds coyly, “Ay ay, captain!” Jungkook groans in response. On the other side of the city, the smell of eggs and bacon sizzling in a pan acts as a cue for Hoseok’s awakening. His arms stretch out, releasing  the tension that’s settled in them. He checks his phone for the time  only to find missed calls and texts, from none other than his hyung.

— Yoongi Hyung [5:02 AM] just wait till u come home. u will fucking get it!!!

— Yoongi Hyung [4:59 AM] are u fucking kidding me… i come here for dick and this is what i get? where tf are u???

— Yoongi Hyung [4:57 AM] whatever. coming in with the spare key u gave me.

— Yoongi Hyung [4:56 AM] u ass. i’ve rung the doorbell a thousand times already. are u that asleep?

— Yoongi Hyung [4:54 AM] Missed Call (x2)

Shit.

“Good morning sleepy head!” Hoseok jumps slightly at your cheeky greeting of you standing at the doorway of your room.

“I made breakfast if you’re hungry. I’ll be heading out in a few to   follow  up on any leads I can get with the Jungkook Jeon case.” Hoseok takes a huge gulp before spilling, “Yeah… About that.” He drags, while slipping out of bed. His hands find purchase on your waist, pulling you closer.

“I uh-” He pauses for a moment, remembering the threat Yoongi had given him. You stand there, all eyes on him, waiting for him to continue.

“I’m dropping you from the Jungkook Jeon case,” he states rapidly. Your eyebrows furrow, “Why would you do that?” Hoseok sighs, thinking of anything off the top of his head to lie.

“Just-  Leave it to me. I did some digging when you left the station yesterday,”  He continues while slipping his shoes on.

“I want you to look into something else,” You nod for him continue.

“Namjoon Kim. Known as Thunderbird. He’s got a record, but he’s also  been reported as missing just like Jungkook.” Hoseok breaks away from  your gaze for a moment, internally hating himself for doing this to you. He knows he’s no good for you.

“Do you still have that list of coordinates I gave you?” He inquires, while simultaneously looking up at you and tying his shoes.

“Mmmhmm,” you simply mutter, watching his form in silence. It is clear that he’s about to leave but you waited  for him to say so. Hoseok grabs his jacket and notices you’re still standing in the doorway. He pauses to slip, “I should get going. I have some errands to run-”

“It’s fine.” You cut him off, the tone in your voice clearly revealing that  no it is not “fine.” You’re slightly upset really, but part of you expected Hoseok to not stay around since you’re convinced that the only reason he’d came to apologize to you was to clear his conscious. And  because, well, he was alone and wanted some form of companionship. Typical, right? Another part of you cringed at the thought you assumed  he’d treat you as if you’re both together, even though you’re not. So, it isn’t abnormal for him to just leave. It’s not like he’s committed to you. Except your heart tells you it’s just not fair. Hoseok doesn’t miss the look of disarray that spreads across your face, due to  his departure. He looks to you before leaving your apartment.

“Maybe I can come by later?” You internally cringe at his request whilst trying to not get your hopes up.

“It’s not a big deal, only if you can! Don’t go out of your way for me. Besides, I’m sure you’re busy.” He hesitates for a brief moment, then awkwardly nods as if slowly trying to process what you said. A feeling deep inside tells him that you know he’s full of shit. Maybe it’s his guilty conscious, but that makes him feel even worse for leaving you on his off day, just to be with Yoongi. The instant you shut the door behind Hoseok, your heart broke. You want to regret getting into this thing with him, but you know it was something you wanted at one point.

Jungkook attired himself in his usual pieces. Black ink tattoos of an  “X” covers just below both of his elbows. His signature three, silver hoops dangle within both of his ears, as he deliberately munches on a protein bar, while standing in the coms room.

“I specifically asked you both to come once you were DONE with breakfast,” Namjoon retorts indirectly towards Jungkook, who is undoubtedly dropping crumbs on the ground.

“Hey, don’t look at me.” Jimin throws his hands up and shakes his head as if to surrender, his jet-black strands swaying about in front of his eyes.

“As I was saying…” Namjoon continues, “I have different tasks for you both.” Jungkook’s eyes stay glued on the eldest. Jimin’s toned arms are crossed, tilting his head to the side.

“Phoenix,” Namjoon tosses a wireless earpiece to Jimin. “I want you to head over to the docks. I’ve been picking up high blue light activity lately in that area.” Namjoon gropes his chin, as if in deep thought. “Check it out and see if there’s anything you could find that’ll tell us why they’ve been so trigger happy lately.”

Jungkook abruptly stops chewing and tunes out after hearing Namjoon’s request. That is why he felt different about you. You didn’t hurt him like most blue lights would hurt runners if they’d ever been caught. That’s the difference.

“Falcon!”

The slight ringing in Jungkook’s ears immensely fades away after he realizes Namjoon is talking to him. His eyebrows rise up, as if silently asking him What? Namjoon removes a black messenger bag he has around himself and tosses it to Jungkook, who almost didn’t catch it due to the crumpled granola wrapper still in his hand and Namjoon’s sudden reflexes.

“Since your little encounter” Namjoon makes the quotation marks gesture with his fingers. “I’m sending you on a fast cash mission. You know the rules.”

Namjoon quirks his eyebrows, as if to emphasize his point. “I’ll be guiding you, but keep your eyes peeled. Your name isn’t Falcon for nothing.” Jungkook shrugs at the audacity.

“When you reach the location, there will be a runner by the name of  Viper waiting there for you. Give him the bag, and safely return back to the hideout without being detected by any blue lights.”

“Copy that.”

Namjoon nods in response, “Oh. Before I forget.” Namjoon reaches toward his glass desk to pull out a black, wireless earpiece.

“I know you’ve been borrowing Jimin’s earpiece since yours broke. So, I made a new one.” Namjoon extends his hand out to Jungkook then snaps away.

“Try not to break it this time, huh? Materials are kind of… limited.”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow and obtains the piece to delicately place in his ear. He places the bag over his head and lets the strap rest on his shoulder, adjusting it to his liking — making sure it’s tight around his torso. Jimin follows and pushes his earpiece in.

Namjoon makes an overly-dramatic clap noise with his hands. “Alright, boys. Let’s get to work!” On their way from the hideout, Jimin stops Jungkook before they proceed to go on their separate ways.

“Hey,” Jimin spills, his eyes now crescent, moon-shaped due to the sizzling sun displayed brightly in the sky. Jungkook replies, “Yeah?”

“Just, uh…” Jimin lingers on for a moment, observing the ambience as if he’s searching  for something. His eyes land back on the youngest, admiring how innocent he is. Jimin loved Jungkook as his own brother, and he’d do anything to protect him. He’s convinced he’d do more than Namjoon.

“Be  careful. Okay?” A tinge of worry oozes from Jimin’s command. He wishes he could just tell Jungkook the dreams he’d been having lately, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want to upset him, yet he knows he’d have to tell him sooner or later. Because recurring nightmares that Jimin has are always to some extent: true. It’s been that way for as long as he could remember. The first time he’d experienced it was when he was seven years old. He dreamt the same dream during that time, that his father was caught in a rainstorm and passed away due to a car collision.

The first night he experienced the nightmare, he was afraid; and although he’d warn his parents, all else failed. They thought it was just another bad dream that would pass. A few weeks later, his father passed away due to a DUI car accident. Jimin was devastated, and although he was right all along, he hated when the same dreams occurred because he knew eventually it would no longer be a nightmare — instead a reality.

“Always,” Jungkook answers, while turning around to jog in the opposite direction. Completely unaware of Jimin who’s still left behind and laying eyes on him. An ounce of worry overtakes him, that he misses Namjoon’s calling of his name.

“Phoenix, do you copy?” Jimin snaps back from his daydream,

“Y-yeah. I mean- Copy that. I’m here.” Namjoon keeps track of Jungkook’s location and notices Jimin’s stillness.

“Alright, let’s head west and take it from there. It’s a straight shot.” Jimin starts his run, climbing over fences, sliding under pipes, and running on walls. Namjoon uses the digital map to pinpoint the intended location.

“Looks like the docks will be on the west side of the Cobra Enterprises building.

“Copy that.” Namjoon takes a sip of his now lukewarm, medium, roast coffee.

“Switching to channel two, be right back.” Jungkook sits on the edge of a building, looking below his feet where the grand city of Python seems so tiny. Pedestrians look like ants from his perspective. Moving vehicles give the appearance of toy cars kids play with. The sound of a deep voice keys into Jungkook’s earpiece.

“Thunderbird for Falcon.” Jungkook swings his feet playfully, enjoying the summer weather, “Go for Falcon.”

“You’ll be heading east to The Echidna. Viper will be there waiting for you. Deliver the package to him, and make it back safely. Remember, no blue lights.”

Hoseok turns the key to open the door of his apartment. The sound of the front door closing startles a naked Yoongi, who steps foot into Hoseok’s room with a towel wrapped around him. His soaked, purple strands dripping with water. Hoseok shuffles his jacket and shoes off, yet notices the penthouse is filled with silence. He’d hoped Yoongi had just given up for now and left, but he knew him. He wasn’t going to leave until he got what he wanted.

His fingers glide through his own soft waves, and he treads upstairs to his room. His heart suddenly pumps faster when his eyes land on the back side of Yoongi, who has removed his towel to dry his hair. His pale, porcelain skin glowing and glistening with water and sunshine. Hoseok takes a thick gulp and clears his throat. Yoongi finds Hoseok behind him and gives his signature smirk, “Good morning.” Yoongi drops his towel on the ground and gestures a “come here” motion with his finger, and Hoseok follows.

“Missed me? I know I missed you,” Yoongi caresses Hoseok’s cheek, gazing into his brown irises, his bed-hair adding a nice final touch.

“I’m sorry, I-” Hoseok is cut off by Yoongi’s index finger placed on his lips. He commands, “Just shut up and fucking kiss me already. You owe me. Big time.” Hoseok chuckles before leaning in to wrap his arms around Yoongi, placing his hands along his back, pulling Yoongi flush to his body.

Before heading out to investigate the supposed “Namjoon Kim” case Hoseok urged you earlier to begin, you chose to pay a visit to your favorite chocolatier in the mall, the one that sells your favorite chocolate-covered strawberries. The fresh, cool breeze of the air conditioner blows through your hair as you strut through the front entrance of The Echidna. The chocolate shop wasn’t far from the main entrance, on the entry level so you decided to take your time, casually strolling through the mall. The smell of pretzels, pizza, and other delicious foods filled your senses as you passed by the food court. After a minute more of walking, you reach the shop and realize they are running a promotion: Buy one dozen of chocolate-covered strawberries, get another half off.

Just in time.

On the rooftops, Jungkook blasts over buildings and latches onto pipes, ladders, and other obstacles that help him navigate throughout the environment.

“Thunderbird for Phoenix.” Jimin keys back into Namjoon while taking a break from running.

“Go for Phoenix.” Namjoon tracks Jimin’s location, and notes how far he is from the intended location.

“Good job. You’re on the right path. You should be able to see the front side of the Cobra Enterprises building from where you are.” Jimin scans his surroundings on the east side, and notes the building with a golden, cobra snake symbol. “Yeah, I see it.”

“Good. Continue your normal path and you’ll notice the building will then be on the east side of you.” Jimin nods in approval, “Copy that.”

Yoongi and Hoseok lie in bed together, wrapped in each other’s embrace. Hoseok rests on Yoongi’s chest, drawing circles on his chest with Yoongi’s fingers laced in his strands.

“So,” Yoongi breaks the silence. “So?” Hoseok questions, admiring the soft supple skin under his fingertips.

“Gonna tell me where you were last night?” Just as Hoseok gathered up the courage to respond, Yoongi cuts him off.

“No, wait! Let me guess. With ____,” he states with a dry tone. A tinge of jealousy behind his words. Hoseok turns his head around, facing Yoongi.

“Are we really doing this again?” Yoongi rolls his eyes, pushing Hoseok off of his chest. Hoseok’s eyebrows naturally crease in response.

“Yoongi, seriously?” The eldest says nothing, his back now turned to the youngest, having flipped over on his side.

“What fucking more do you want?!” Hoseok runs his fingers through his hair, his strands falling back onto his forehead. Yoongi keys in on him, with a furious gaze. “Us!” He exclaims, sitting up and easing his way out of bed to slip on his jeans.

“I fucking want us,” He continues, more-so demanding rather than stating. Hoseok takes a deep breath. “You know that I’m working on that-”

Yoongi seethes. “Yeah, and for how long?!” His voice raising with fists clenched on his jeans, zipping them up. “Don’t you fucking get it?” He adds, slipping on his signature, purple v-neck.

“____ is in love with you. How do you just “work on that?” He emphasizes with air quotation marks. Hoseok struggles to answer, leaving his lips parted slightly. A moment of silence falls between the two. Yoongi takes this as a cue of defeat — slipping on his leather jacket.

“Exactly.” He exits the bedroom, leaving Hoseok to ponder in his thoughts, while left in bed naked, regret filling him completely.

Yoongi saunters downstairs and slips on his boots, departing from Hoseok’s loft. He runs his fingers through his hair, while marching down the hallway of the complex. His mind continues to race many miles per hour. His finger presses the button to signal the elevator, and to his surprise, the doors open quicker than he’d expected. He takes a deep breath while stepping in and recounting the moment he’d had with Hoseok.

He hates himself for getting caught up in this situation with him, and now with you involved made matters worse. His heart aches at the thought of what things would be like if he hadn’t traded Namjoon out. Yoongi misses him, but he knows he’d never accept him for who he is and he wouldn’t ever forgive him for what he’d done. A pang in his chest approaches, knowing that he and Namjoon’s future was now long gone, and merely nothing but a dream now. It hurts, and he’s hurt. Which is why he’d pressed Hoseok to get you to look into his case in the first place. He needed this. Needed closure. He misses Namjoon, and there isn’t a day that passes when he doesn’t think of him. He needs him.

You’d chosen the dozen of half milk-chocolate strawberries and half white-chocolate covered strawberries. For both sets. The cashier carefully hands you the paper bag, with two gorgeous arrangements of twelve strawberries in each box. You gracefully exit the chocolatier with the brightest smile on your face, strutting toward the entrance of The Echidna to make your departure from the mall. Jungkook awaits on the rooftops, peering at his surroundings to ensure no one is in sight. And by no one, he specifically means blue lights. His tired being squats down, seating himself on the ground, nearby one of many dome-shaped, skylights that sit behind him. The sun toasting his skin causes him to wipe away the perspiration from his forehead, for what feels like the hundredth time.

Namjoon scans the time on the Thunder portal, noting that the runner should have arrived by now.

“Viper should be within your perimeter. Do you see him?” Jungkook scans his peripheral, but there is no sight of said runner. “No, he’s not here.”

Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow, as he doesn’t see any hint of a runner nearby the mall. The only indicator visible is Jungkook’s location. A red, blinking dot on the map.

“Something’s not right,” He says to himself, shaking his head.

Jungkook feels a presence behind him and just before he could turn around to say something, a deep, baritone voice speaks out.

“Thanks for meeting me here, this was a great spot.” But when Jungkook’s eyes landed on the tall, slender form, his mouth flew agape.

Violet. One of the colors on the spectrum that hadn’t been discovered yet.

There was no way, he thought. No way it was possible. And then the eldest spoke again, realizing Jungkook’s expression.

“Hey. Red, huh? Wait-” He pauses, Jungkook clenches the bag’s strap tightly. “That’s the color where- What’s that leaders name?” His finger taps his chin as if thinking. “It’s right at the tip of my tongue… Sounds like a month?”

Jungkook stops dead in his tracks, his eyes widening. How did he know Thunderbird’s real name?

“How do you know his name?” Kook questions, gripping onto the bag tighter.

“It’s Joon, right? Namjoon! There it is.” Namjoon keys in to double-check on the youngest.

“Falcon, has he arrived yet? I’m still not able to see him.” Namjoon grows hesitant from not receiving a response.

Jungkook abruptly throws the bag at the man standing in front of him and darts in the opposite direction. Viper sprints behind him and tackles the youngest down onto one of the skylights, their figures thumping and sliding against the glass. Viper bangs Jungkook’s head into the glass. Jungkook throws a harsh punch straight to Viper’s nose and tackles him down, his body now caging him in.

“Who the hell are you?!” Jungkook seethes.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Viper grins with a mischievous expression. Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow at his coy remark. His hands grip around his neck, applying pressure with much force.

“Falcon?” Namjoon keys in yet again. Growing suspicious, he continues to scan the area and notes a blinking, blue light that appears to be moving. His assumption is that whoever it is may be inside the mall. “Fuck.”

A tinge of venom seeps from Viper’s words, “Tell that leader of yours, that Firebird is looking for him-” He chokes, Jungkook applying more pressure.

“He better- get ready.. for him too.” He adds with a menacing laugh. Jungkook releases his neck and throws another punch to his face, his knuckles aching as a result. Viper continues to laugh, and manhandles Jungkook. His back falls back onto the delicate material below them. He drives his foot against the side of Jungkook’s abdomen repeatedly.

“Ahhh, fuck!” Jungkook groans, his fists clenching from the pain.

Jungkook forces a kick straight to Viper’s face, grazing his nose with his shoe, causing drips of blood to spill. Jungkook clenches his teeth and tackles Viper down again, and then suddenly.

Crack.

The two men gaze down below them, and witness cracks scattering along the glass of the skylight.

“Shit,” Jungkook slips.

“Falcon!” Namjoon yells into his earpiece.

Viper watches Jungkook’s expression with wide eyes, his lips parting in shock. Jungkook slowly stands on his two feet, removing himself from on top of the eldest and attempts to escape, but with the added weight of being on his feet, the glass shatters into pieces, Viper’s form falls through the skylight, en route to the interior of the mall. Jungkook trips, losing his grip on the edge, his veins popping out as he forces his body back up onto the rooftop.

You fumble in the pockets of your leather jacket to obtain your car keys. Until the sudden sound of shattering glass startles you and out of the blue, an intense cracking, thud-like sound follows by a body falling splat onto the ground level of the mall. The contents in your hands drop in response, and the only melody filling your ears is the screams throughout the entire atmosphere, civilians pushing their way to the nearest exit. A thumping beat resides in your chest, and it’s as if your heart pounds so loud you that the noise suffocates your hearing above everything else. Your mouth falls open, and your instincts tell you to examine from above, where the body initially came from. And then your eyes meet a familiar face; to say you were shocked was an understatement.

There he was. Again. The man you’d seen yesterday. You knew it was him because you remember those eyes, his hair, and that black mask. After locking eyes with you, he immediately vanishes. You glare at the body that lies on the ground, slowly inching toward the male. With shaky hands, you kneel down to feel his pulse under his neck and there’s nothing.

Jungkook charges off the rooftops of The Echidna, adrenaline pumping through his veins like never before. The last thing he needed was for blue lights on his tail. And he saw you. He fucked up again. You saw him, and now there’s nothing he can do to un-do what happened. The sound of Namjoon’s voice resonates within Jungkook’s earpiece. “Falcon! What the hell happened? Did you deliver the package?” Jungkook says nothing, instead, he runs.

Namjoon sighs in frustration.

“I’m here,” Jimin keys in. Namjoon locates Jimin’s location.

“Fuck,” Namjoon replies.

Jimin asks with a hint of confusion, “Did I do something wrong?” Namjoon sighs.

“No, Phoenix. You’ve made it to the destination. I haven’t heard from Jungkook since he arrived at The Echidna, and he isn’t responding.” Jimin’s eyes widen. Oh no, had something happened to him? What if… the dream?

“Wait what? Do you need me to head over there?” Namjoon shakes his head, as if he could see him.

“No! Stay where you are. Just find out what you can find, and I’ll be here. I’ll handle it. Over and out.”

Jimin’s heart drops. He hoped Jungkook was okay, for his own sake. He couldn’t lose another person close to his heart.

Namjoon locates Jungkook’s location, and he’s storming like a lightning bolt. He removes his headset to meet with the youngest. Jungkook pants, his chest rising and falling.

“Falcon, what the hell? How many times do I-” Namjoon is cut off by the expression on Jungkook’s face. He stops in his tracks and notices his mask is already off, with tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. His hands are shaking, and his heart is beating rapidly.

“Jungkook?”

Jungkook begins rambling, “I-I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck just happened!” Tears stream down his cheeks, he feels like he’s on fire, his chest continues to gasp for air. He feels like he’s about to have a panic attack.

“I-It all j-just happened s-so fast, I don’t know what to do.” Namjoon notes his trembling hands; he’d never seen him so worked up before.

“He- he came. And then I saw his purple shirt a-and I panicked, I didn’t know what the fuck to do! I-” Jungkook sobs with an aching pain on his side. “I didn’t know what to do!”

“Okay, Kook just calm down. Follow me into the coms room.” Upon arrival, Namjoon processes what had been said and his eyebrows furrow in reply. “Wait… His shirt? It was what?”

Jungkook makes an attempt to calm himself down, his rosy-tinted cheeks stained with wet tears. “Violet. It’s the last color on the spectrum.”

Namjoon shakes his head, now pacing back and forth. “This could only mean one thing…” He trails off, pondering the fact he discovered a new color on the spectrum. He scrolls through the portal and peers at the map, finding the different colors of the spectrum scattered across the city of Python. Every color except Violet.

“That’s why Thunder couldn’t pinpoint his location. Violet isn’t yet programmed into the software. Which means-”

“Firebird.” Jungkook slips.

Namjoon’s gaze snaps toward him with wide eyes, “Where did you get that name?”

“Viper said it. Firebird is looking for you.” He pauses, to let in a deep breath, “And you’d better get ready.” Jungkook groans in discomfort, a sharp shock of pain shooting through his side. He watches Namjoon’s figure, noticing the startled expression on his face.

No, it can’t be. There’s no way he was looking for him. Even if he was, why? After all this time, why now? And what was it that Namjoon had to prepare for?

And then everything came crashing down. “Shit,” Namjoon spills.

“Who is Firebird, anyway?” Jungkook questions with curiosity. A distinct chattering sound can be heard from Namjoon’s headset.

“Phoenix for Thunderbird! Do you copy?” Jimin chimes in with a slight tinge of frustration and worry clouding his being.

Ignoring Jungkook’s question, Namjoon places his headset back on.

“Go for Thunderbird.”

Jimin sighs in relief, “Oh, fuck. I thought I lost you for a sec.”

Namjoon shakes his head, “What’s going on?”

With a heaving, sweaty chest Jimin states, “We have a problem. A really, fucking, big one.” — his eyes keyed in and widening at the sight of what’s happening at the docks.

[iwillhaveamoonbase]

Operation Cool Guy

Callum tries to be a cool guy to get new student Rayla to agree to a date with him.

Inspired by a scene in Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.   Rated M because of sexual references made, but not sandwiches were made.

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Callum stared at the new girl, Rayla, out of the corner of his eye.  She looked good in their school uniform, long legs on full display, though she complained often about how the school wouldn’t let her wear tights underneath. It was hard not to notice her, with her almost pure white hair and striking purple eyes as well as a Scottish accent that was very much out of place in their California private school. She’d transferred for her final year after her parents moved to the States for work.  At least, that was the rumor.  Callum didn’t actually know.

He fidgeted with his jacket a bit.  Rayla was instantly popular and surrounded by people almost 24/7.  The star quarterback had asked her out who knew how many times, the last time resulting in Rayla twisting his arm behind his back and demanding he leave her alone.  Due to Rayla being a senior while Callum was a junior, they only shared a mixed-level science class together.  She always sounded so smart when she was called on in class.

A loud slam from Rayla’s direction caused him and everyone around him to jump.  “Just leave me alone, you dick.”  Her voice rang loud and clear as she refused to turn to look at the soccer captain who had, apparently, asked her out yet again.

“Rayla, I can show you a good time.  The best time.”

“Please,” she scoffed. “I’ve heard your exes talking in the locker room.  You expect a girl to suck on your dick and refuse to lick pussy in return.  No thanks.”

“It’s not sanitary,” he groused.

Callum watched as Rayla turned on him, staring at the soccer captain for a moment before laughing.  “The American education system has completely failed your ass, hasn’t it?  It’s self-cleaning, you idiot, and women tend to know how to find info to keep themselves clean.  Also, there’s no way you’d want me because I’ve licked pussy and if it’s so unsanitary, I must also be unclean.”

“Are you…are you gay?”

Rayla rolled her eyes. “I’m Bi, thanks for asking.  And you sounded really hesitant there, so let’s make something clear: I have two dads. Two GAY dads.  I have zero interest in dating someone who has homophobic tendencies, so you can stop hitting on me.”  

“I’m not-”

“Don’t care.  Wasn’t interested in your ignorant ass anyways.” Rayla turned back to her locker, effectively dismissing the soccer captain.  Everyone watched as he stared at her, mouth agape, before huffing and walking away, grumbling under his breath.  

Callum looked down at his phone.  A text from Soren had just come in, telling Callum to go with the plan and act like a tough guy with Rayla.  He’d had a crush on her ever since he had first heard her introduce herself, but there was no way someone has cool and interesting as her would like him.  Soren had insisted he could coach Callum and to act uninterested and all that.

Callum sighed, running a hand through his hair and closing his locker before walking over to her. He leaned against the lockers and tilted his chin to try to show-off his jawline.  “Hey.”

Rayla didn’t stop going through her locker nor did she even glance at him.  “What do you want?”

“Your number.”

“No.”

Callum internally winced. “I wasn’t that interested anyways.”

“Cool.  We done here?”  Callum didn’t have time to respond before Rayla closed her locker again and walked away. Several girls started trailing behind her, their chatter carrying through the halls.  

Callum sighed.  ‘Strike one.’

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Callum groaned as he thought about Soren’s latest text in his plan to get Rayla to agree to go on a date with him.  He’d acted uninterested, like he had an interest in typical masculine things like cars and bikes, and had even gotten detention for telling a teacher off. Rayla was still not responding to him or anyone else.  Maybe Soren was wrong; maybe all girls didn’t like bad boys.

The school was almost completely empty and Callum and Rayla were sitting in detention.  Callum for the teacher incident and Rayla for refusing to take off her tights and follow the uniform guidelines.  She’d loudly complained in class that she didn’t think a simple pair of black tights were a problem when the girls already had to wear knee socks but it had fallen on deaf ears.  Rayla rolled her eyes when she saw him there and turned away from Callum, focusing on her homework.

The teacher got up from his desk, glaring at them both.  “You two better be here when I get back.  I have to go talk to Ms. Smith about another one of your classmates.  Delinquents, the lot of you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be an educator if you think so poorly of us,” Rayla grumbled.  Callum stifled a laugh as the teacher glared at her.

“You are an intelligent, respectable young woman, Ms. Burrows.  Why are you so determined to question authority?”

“I’m Scottish and Irish. It’s what we do.  People try to impose their authority and superiority on us all the time.  I question stupid rules and people believing they can tell me what to do without having good reasoning beyond ‘because I said so’ or ‘that’s how it is’ and, in the case of the uniform ‘because that’s how it’s always been.’  Change is good sometimes.”

The teacher pinched the bridge of their nose and loudly exhaled.  “I’ll be calling your fathers about this.”

“Ask to speak to Ethari. He’s nicer.  Runaan will tear you a new one.”  The teacher shook his head and left, grumbling about students refusing to behave and follow the rules.  

Callum turned to look at her.  “So-”

“I’m tired of people telling me what to do.  That good a enough reason for you?”

Callum shrank a bit at her blunt phrasing, looking down at his hands.  “I was going to ask you out-”

“Why?”

“I…I mean-”

Rayla turned her head away, scoffing.  “No, thanks.”

Callum gulped and thought back to Soren’s plan.  There was no way it would work.  Callum remembered his mother telling him to just be honest with others and he would be happier in the long run than if he tried to change himself to make someone else happy.  “Look, I’m just trying to tell you I want to be with you.”

Rayla turned her head and glared at him.  “OK?  Why? Why do you want to be with me?”

“Because you’re smart and cool and really pretty but not in a glamor way, but a ‘I’ll run through the woods and get dirty after climbing a tree but have fun doing it way’.  You’re tough and it was awesome when you twisted the quarterback’s arm behind his back and when you flipped John for putting his arm around your shoulders.  And I’m not this…cool guy who is unaffected by things.  I like to draw and paint and study different cultures and languages. I know I’m not cool enough for you, but I still really like you.  Your laugh makes my heart feel full and my day is a thousand times better when I get to see you or hear your voice and now I sound creepy and I’m going to shut up now.”

Callum turned away and fidgeted with his jacket.  Rayla was quiet for a few moments, before finally muttering a soft ‘hey’.  Callum turned back to see a strong flush on her cheeks going all the way up to her ears.  “That’s the first honest thing anyone has said to me since I got here.  I like you, too.  You’re pretty cute and you care about people around you.  When you did the ‘cool guy’ act, I thought I had misread you and I was really disappointed.”

“Really?”  Callum couldn’t believe his ears.  She liked him?  Him?      

“Yeah.  I’ve never seen cheekbones like your’s in person.  I’ve also got a thing for green eyes, maybe.”

“So, can I get your number?”

Rayla shook her head. “You haven’t earned it yet.  I’m still not happy that you pretended to be someone you aren’t just to get in my pants.”

“I didn’t-”

“OK.  I believe you.  That’s not what it was.  But…”, Rayla bit her lip, “you still have to earn it.  Keep showing me who you really are and then we’ll talk.”

“OK.  Deal?”  Callum held out his hand; shocked when Rayla shook it.

“Deal”

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Four weeks later, Callum was the proud, sole person in their school who had Rayla’s private cell phone number and a week after that, they were holding hands down the hall and he was kissing her in the alcoves between classes.  Soren had freaked out that honesty and being yourself had even worked but Callum was not going to question it.  The most amazing girl he had ever met was giving him a chance and he had never been happier.