#had to put a pause to get used to the fuse writing because this was plaguing my mind

[bulletproofscales]

seven days a week

a drabble inspired by jungkooks song. also a sort of an epilogue to one of my firstborn long fics, self control but you can read this on its own too! im never one to write about releases/bdays but this song... it deserved it.

tags: service top jungkook , nsfw, ot7 , fat ot6 , gentle sex , breath play , beer stuffing , rough dirty talk , humiliation , body shaming , d/s dynamics , tight clothes , public space , sub headspace , squashing kink

4.k words

AO3 LINK

Jungkook knew for sure something had changed after that faithful dinner. Where the tension broke loose and their relationship developed into something else. Something more.

But not that much. With the size of his hyungs, Jungkook was already used to being of service as much as he could. He was used to helping Seokjin into his car. Bringing up the beer sixpacks up the stairs for Namjoon. Be on the look out to tug Yoongi's shirt back down from his overhangs, so he doesn't get sunburnt. Go looking for skincare products with Hoseok for his newly blooming stretchmarks. Kneeling in front of Jimin before he hesitates to ask for Jungkook to tie his shoes. And offer and arm for Taehyung to lean his weight into when they're walking together, keeping track of his own pace to not hurry the older.

So he was used to helping them, but never like this. He didn't know helping could feel this good.

It was a slow process, it wasn't like just after that night Jungkook fell straight into the role of his hyungs' fuck thing.

One night, at Seokjin's place, he caught sight of his hyung rubbing his lower back with a pained expression while getting the dishes off the coffee table (even when Jungkook insisted, Seokjin worked hard to still try and spoil the dongseang in any way he could). He could hear the grunting as he watched Seokjin's chubby hand struggle to reach at the spot where the pain must be coming from: right in the center of his fattened lower back.

He bites his lip, quietly getting up, sneaking behind Seokjin. Not saying a word as his hand reaches easily, thumb sinking into the bulging fat of his muffin top to rub against it. Seokjin's reaction is immediate, knees buckling (as if they weren't shaky enough from standing), and gripping the edge of the kitchen countertop as he sighed in relief.

"Jungkook..." It sounds like the beginning of a complaint. So the younger doesn't let him finish, chin carefully hooking onto the pliant chub of his shoulder; nuzzling whatever is left of his neck.

"I got it." Jungkook reassures with a whisper. His other hand cupping Seokjin's fattened waist, keeping him in place gingerly as his tattooed hand works the strain on his back. His own muscular legs staying in place as Seokjin leaned more and more of his weight on Jungkook the more he relaxed.

That's how it started at least. His crotch inevitably sinking into the roundness of Seokjin's ass. Hand getting a proper feel of his hyung's body for the first time since that night. Still careful about how much was too much. He couldn't help it when the tent in his pants began to show, and embarrassingly press to Seokjin's inviting body.

But even then, with the slow and painful build of his hard on, the urging of his hips to hump against the welcoming softness. Jungkook keeps it slow. Not wanting to make Seokjin even ore sore than he already is. Guiding him to his room with curious but gentle hands. Seokjin's lips showing that same hesitance in the soft meeting of their lips. Jungkook taking advantage of his strength to help lower his hyung onto the bed.

He learns then, that Seokjin needs it gentle. Careful touches, firm but precise. Massaging moans and soft sighs out of him as lays sprawled out of the bed. Looking up at Jungkook with a smile that holds an unfamiliar shyness to it, smiling softly as Jungkook works his body like a treasure. Keeping his thrusts slow but deep into him, pillows under his lower back both to prevent any pain but angle Seokjin's heavy body just the right way. Whispered and embarrassed praise leaving Seokjin's lips. His hands showing all the urgency his voice is to shy to demonstrate, tangling in his longer hair, keeping him closer to kiss him languidly but hungry. Seokjin likes it gentle.

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Jungkook always ends up getting drunk around Namjoon. He was never a lightweight, but he doubts anyone could even come close to Namjoon's capacity to chug beer. Jungkook always tries to keep up anyway, even if he knows the tipsy feeling will hit as Namjoon isn't even halfway full. Trusts his hyung to take care of him even in that state. Drowsy and whiny as he leans to Namjoon's broad shoulders. Ever patient with Jungkook.

Even when he starts to lose track of what he is saying.

"So why do you like beer so much anyway?" In the back of his mind, Jungkook can tell his own sobriety is slipping away. Slurred words and puppy eyes.

"You really wanna know?" Namjoon's smile holds all that patience and endearment it always.

He nods so quickly his body leans even closer, putting his hand on Namjoon's thigh for some stability. Uncaring of the closeness of their faces. "Desperately." From this close, Jungkook can see the twitch of his smile, the hint of something else mixed with the warmth of his eyes.

"I love how it makes me feel." He whispers deeply. The quietness of his voice only urging Jungkook to lean closer. "It's the only thing that can make me this full this quickly."

"And you like being full." A redundant comment, but Jungkook is far too drowsy to be smart about this. Not able to hide his smug smile, as if he were discovering a secret of Namjoon's.

But it certainly feels like it, when his hyung smiles embarrassed. "Yeah... Though that's not what I like the most about it." Jungkook's expression falters as he leans impossibly closer; wordless question hanging at the edge of his lips. Namjoon seems to understand. "I like... How breathless it makes me. Iike feeling out of breath."

Namjoon must be tipsy too, from this close he can tell. In the way his cheeks are slightly reddened from their usual golden shade. Lazy gaze and parted lips. Breathing heavily, but just barely.

"You still have more room." Jungkook states simply but whispered. Only getting a timid nod in response. The younger doesn't hesitate from taking the tall beer can from Namjoon's loose grip and bringing it to his lips. Waiting for some type of resistance but Namjoon wordlessly opened his lips for Jungkook.

The tension was immediate, Namjoon's ands finding refuge in Jungkook's slim waist, keeping him close. Flustering the younger into a bigger sense of urgency, tilting the cans in a steeper angle. Satisfied not only from the way Namjoon's stomach bulged out in effort, but the gradually louder wheezed breaths. Having to part his lips as he drank just to coax more air into him, bloat taking up too much space for his lungs.

Without that much beer left, Jungkook wanted to make his hyung feel breathless in more than one way. Urging him to stand despite his breathless whines. Pinning him to the wall as they stood. Just that action alone enough to get him sweaty and gasping for air. Gasping out from the kisses just to catch his breath. Only weaker as Jungkook's hand found their way to Namjoon's bulge, holding onto the younger for dear life. Forehead resting in Jungkook's shoulder, where he could hear Namjoon's wheezing; feel the movement of his rounded stomach with each inhale pressing tighter against Jungkook's lean torso.

His noises are unlike anything Jungkook's heard, breathless and gasped out. Barely comprehensible beyond a cracked whine and the shivering of his legs. Not even able to finish his words before he needs another gasp of air. Feeling the dampness of his forehead against his shoulder, the wetness making his shirt cling to his belly, wetting Jungkook's along too. Dick moist making the slide easier without having to move form their spot against the wall of Namjoon's living room.

But his hyung likes to get breathless. So Jungkook separates right when he feels Namjoon on the edge. "We need lube, hyung." He grins unapologetic as tugs at Namjoon's hand and drags him to the bedroom.

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He didn't notice it at first, probably because it was part of their dynamic since his hyungs started gaining weight. But after that night they became impossibly more open about it, albeit luckily not as tantalizing as they were before.

But, Hoseok, the lightest of the group (after Jungkook, of course), would get teased endlessly. Called names like 'twig', the butt of most of their jokes. And even if he knew his hyungs' relationship with one another ran deeper than he ever anticipated. He began noticing the way Hoseok's shoulders slumped a bit; the way his gaze, even through his chuckles avoided the rest.

It was only an experiment. Jungkook merely wanted to see if he could get a better reaction out of the older. One that appreciated his weight gain in spite of not keeping up the pace with the rest of his partners.

They were out together, enjoying the time out as a way to get some privacy. It wasn't intentional, anyone was invited to come. But the idea of walking around with them both for hours wasn't that tempting to the rest of them. So it became their little moment together. Just going out to walk around and go to a coffee and talk about their week. Tonight they went out for drinks, maybe jump around a few bars. Maybe that's what motivated Jungkook, that after their walk together and Hoseok's sits on the bar stool, that he says.

"Oh my god, hyung. You're outgrowing the chair." He can't help the teasing tone of his voice, or the mean smile that grows on his face. But he doesn't have time to feel regretful of it, not when Hoseok blushed looking down at himself. "Your ass is spilling out." He chuckles.

"I- Well... They're kind of small." His heart-shaped smile is bashful as he looks down at it. Blushing beautifully, Jungkook takes it as an opportunity to go on.

"I fit fine." Shrugging he eyes Hoseok up and down. "Because I'm not a fatass." His smile grows more demeaning, as the older's eyes widen. Jungkook never spoke to him like this. No one has. "You're still at a spot where you could stop and go back to your old size..." He leans closer, his hand caressing the bits that overspill. "But you're too much of a glutton to do that, aren't you?"

"I-I am." The space between them is so little, he can hear Hoseok's whispers over the loud music.

"You like stuffing your face too much to stop." Jungkook notices from the corner of his eyes the way his thighs press together. Looking up at Hoseok to find his eyes already on Jungkook's. "I bet you're hungry already." His fingers grope into the hanging fat. Urging a nod out of him. Jungkook's smile growing even more. "Wanna get out of here, fatty?"

The rush of heat to Hoseok's cheeks says it enough. How much he needed his growth to be recognized. And Jungkook is eager to do so. Taking him out to the nearest restaurant they can find, making mean comments about his order to the waiter, about his fit into the chair, about his messy eating. Making sure he doesn't forget what a pig he is turning into.

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A lot of people would say Yoongi is hard to read. Not for them though, they got him all figured out. So its easy to pick up when Yoongi came back from his trip home to his family, that the low angle of his head and slumped curve of his shoulders meant something was up. Jungkook just happened to be hanging out with Seokjin when his roommate arrived from a family weekend in Daegu.

Seokjin saw it too. Easy to tell from the worried glance he threw Jungkook's way. He wasn't gonna pry, but it was easy to guess. Yoongi had mentioned about his family disapproving of his lifestyle. Not just his sexuality but the way he 'let go' of himself. He can't imagine this weekend going much better, now that Yoongi was at his heaviest weight. And also in a big gay polyamorous relationship with his six best friends. They didn't mention it though, he continued with the movie he and Seokjin were watching, Yoongi joining even if they were already halfway through. And the oldest of the three stretched lazily, getting off the couch with Jungkook's help, and said his goodbyes. Leaving Jungkook and Yoongi alone.

The air a little tense, with Jungkook's awkwardness, Yoongi in an understandably bad mood, and none of Seokjin's big personality to mediate between them. So Jungkook is just a tiny bit nervous when he says.

"I--uhm, I think you're gaining beautifully, hyung." Even through the tension, he means those words fully. Smiling timid to Yoongi's stunned expression, afraid if he is stepping out of line, or assuming the wrong thing happened, or-

"You think so?" Yoongi's voice is so small. Eyes vulnerable in Jungkook's direction. Not distrustful, but in a clear search of reassurance. And Jungkook is more than willing, smile growing confident but sweet as he nods.

"Yeah, the weight is settling perfectly. It fits you so pretty." He stands up as he says it, Yoongi's gaze following him like a lost puppy's. As he kneels in front of his hyung, getting lost under the big dome of his belly.

"You don't think its too much, right? Am I taking it too far?" His hands begin to caress the pillowy expanse of his belly, from the saggy overhang up the curve towards the shelf of it. If Yoongi could see him, he'd see the loving expression over his face.

"No... I don't think its too much. I love seeing you take up so much space." Yoongi's voice is so quiet Jungkook's makes sure to match the gentleness of it. Whispering back as his nose begins to nuzzle the soft skin of is stomach. "Finally letting yourself enjoy. You look so good."

Maybe it was the whimper that Yoongi let out, or how, when lifting himself to see his face, the older's eyes had gotten just slightly bit teary. But Jungkook finds himself leaning for his lips. Tender and gentle, as his hands adventured through his body. Praise leaving his lips just to be swallowed by Yoongi's. Whose eyes looked at the younger with an amount of trust and vulnerability that Jungkook felt lucky to witness. Worshipping his body with his words, his lips his hands. But Yoongi didn't need the tenderness he offered to Seokjin, Yoongi could handle the strength, the urgency; he just needed someone to love him intensely. Make up for all that judgement with praise.

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Taehyung was unapologetically fat, though he openly mourned the fact that his fashion sense had to become downgraded. Constantly whining about it, bringing out clothes that used to fit and now can't. Parading around everyone just how ill fitting they are on his fattened body. Thriving on the attention of his partner's aroused eyes trailing over his body.

They all knew what Taehyung was doing, and how they were all giving him exactly what he wanted. All their undivided attention as he whines about outgrowing another button up. It made something awake in Jungkook, an idea.

It was just them both today. Jungkook was picking Taehyung up for, of course, some new clothes shopping. Jungkook driving them to the special sizes store. He knew today was the time to put his experiment to the test. Completely normal as he helped Taehyung into the backseat of his car. Of course hearing Taehyung ramble about being a 3XL when Jungkook knows for a fact he isn't anymore; hasn't been for months.

He is doing the thing. And this time Jungkook won't fall for it.

They're in the closet room, having helped Taehyung carry the huge pile of clothes he picked out. Almost none of them his size. As Jungkook sat on the bench in front of the changing rooms on his phone. Hearing ruffling from behind the curtain at the supersized changing room Taehyung was in.

"What do you think?" The older chirps confidently revealing himself. Jungkook barely glanced up. And sure enough, Taehyung had picked out an outfit that did not fit in him. Not in the slightest.

Taehyung is looking for him to fight back, to call him a fatso, and point out just how ridiculous he looks. How big he looks. But Jungkook forces himself to look back at his phone. "Looks good." He says uninspired.

"Ah, really?" He lazily turns to look in the mirror, almost the entire bottom of his belly peaking out from under the shirt, squeezing the life out of his chest and his pillowy fat arms. Everything trying to jiggle out of the shirts deathly grip. An amazing view.

"Mhm. Looks great." Jungkook repeats himself, struggling to act unaffected by the sight of Taehyung. "Show me something else."

He feels satisfied when he hears Taehyung huff a little. Pout surely adorning his lips. Cute. "Fine. Wait here." The curtains close and the ambience music of the store is accompanied by the ruffling of Taehyung changing. A bit longer than before until there's a moment of quiet.

"Jungkookie."

"Yes?"

"I can't get out of this shirt." Jungkook's eyes widen then. He was prepared to ignore Taehyung, when he was at the safe distance. Not heping him out of the little shirt he managed to squeeze himself into.

"Oh, oh okay, wait." He gets up quickly going in too. The changing room prepared for two people to fit in, naturally. But Jungkook was still cramped in. Greeted by the sight of Taehyung, hem of his shirt digging into the middle of his stomach. Fat face barely poking out from the collar, probably skin sight as well. Arms up helplessly in the air. Though the angle of it all, his belly lifts enough from the belt, showing the tent in his pants.

Oh.

"Yeah... Yeah I'll help you." He smiles a bit endeared. Looks like someone's plan backfired. Taehyung has to press his naked chubby back flat against the cold mirror just for Jungkook to have enough room. The younger's thighs slotting between Taehyung's big ones. His knee brushing against the tent as he begins to innocently sink his fingers in the tight confines of the hem of the shirt and Taehyung's jiggly stomach. Tugging it off.

"A-ah, Jungkook, careful." He whispers, his entire body wobbling in sync to the younger's movements.

"Why should I?" His smile remains ever sweet. "You know what you're getting into when you try clothes 2 sizes smaller." He raises an eyebrow, letting his knee press harsher against Taehyung's semi. Loving the way he tries to play dumb and swallow down his whimper. "And you go crazy for it too... Loving making a pig out of yourself in front of all of us."

"I--I don't." Taehyung argues but Jungkook can feel the older's dick twitch against his knee.

"Don't argue. Not when I can feel how much you like it. You attention whore." He chuckles lowly. Pressing Taehyung firmer against the wall. "I'm not gonna fall for it. If you want something, you're gonna have to use your words, hm?" Taehyung's eyes are widened and teary, blown out pupils as his dick bulges against Jungkook. "What do you want fatty?"

Taehyung likes to play with them. But Jungkook knows he likes it even more when he has to work hard to get it.

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Something similar happened with Jimin. Where he would make a spectacle of himself gorging messily through a banquet of plates. Every time staining that image there was of himself, spotless and shiny. Making a pigsty of himself with stained cheeks and double chin, whipping his fingers in his shirt. Gorging like a starved animal even when there's nobody to see.

But Jungkook was there to see this time. Witness this hog in all his glory. Smiling to himself when he decided to try to move Jimin's plate away form him as the fat man reached for it.

"Where are your manners, Jiminssi?" He smiles as his hyung pouts at him. "I don't think you could eat slowly even if you tried." He says with a smile. Fingers delicately reaching for the chicken wing. Loving the way Jimin's eyes follow it dumbly. "You want it, hog?" His voice turns sweet and condescending. But Jimin nods urgently, like his fate depended on Jungkook's mercy.

He never noticed Jimin got into such a headspace when eating. A discovery he was going to use in Jimin's favor. Smile softening when he leans closer. "Say ahh." Jimin obliges easily, but still Jungkook makes sure to bring the wing to his lips as slow as humanly possible. Seeing the urgency in his eyes, the pathetic whine that leaves his voice. Earning a chuckle out of Jungkook as he succumbs and starts properly feeding his hyung.

Keeping his pace slow, making Jimin whiny and desperate as his hands settle on his belly. Helplessly giving in to Jungkook's feeding. "Look at yourself." He whispered. "Need someone to hold you back form gorging like an animal." Even if he is slow he makes sure his bites fill out Jimin's cheeks, making him breathe heavily and unable to respond to Jungkook's teasing. "Too dumb to stop me." He whispers, the hand that's not feeding Jimin cupping his cheek, loving how his big eyes follow Jungkook. "Aren't you, pretty?"

It was evident, the way Jimin became more worked up, not from the hunger or the desperation to eat, but the arousal. Making his hips hump pathetically as he overspilled from the chair, letting it creak out. Looking for friction in his fupa and overhang before Jungkook could hold his hip in place. They're gonna do things at his pace now. Make sure Jimin's headspace has a slow delicious build up. Jungkook take care of him.

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And while Jungkook feels good taking care of all his hyungs. It didn't take long until they noticed no one was taking care of their youngest too.

It was a Sunday, funnily enough after a week of his services. Being sort of interrogated by his hyungs all at once. What does he like in bed? What are his preference? Niches in the kink? A bit startled he rather say.

"Wait, where is this coming from?" He giggled confused.

"You've been making sure to get to know each of our preferences so well..." Hoseok smiled gently. "We are all ears." He felt his cheeks begin to warm up. Biting his lip as he began to explain, becoming shyer and shyer as his hyungs' smiles widen.

That's how he found himself here. Yoongi pinning him down as his fat fingers prodded him open ass up and pressed flat against the bed. Struggling to breathe so much under the weight he was becoming lightheaded. Only friction on his dick being the weight of his own body mixed with Yoongi's. He felt his orgasm approaching, the unbelievable heat and sweat of his body making everything confusing and hazy. All he feels is heat, stinging stretch and painful scratchy friction against the covers. His breathy moans must give him away, because Yoongi is pulling out his fingers and grunting as he lifts himself from Jungkook's back. "O-Okay, who else?"

The sudden lift of weight, makes him gasp for air, suddenly chilly and wet and desperate. His head swimming in the after shock as his dick hangs pathetically between his legs. "W-w-what?" The rumbling and creaking behind him goes unnoticed, eyes glossy and his vision blurry as he looks around. Before being suddenly pressed again to the bed.

"You're not going anywhere." Seokjin's plump lips brush against his ear. Jungkook whimpering helplessly as he feels the tip of the older's cock tease at his ass. Struggling under the weight as he tried to press further against Seokjin's bulge. But he is caged in, rendered useless at their mercy.

He could get used to this weekly routine.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

If it is alright with you, may I request hcs where Night Terrors, Smiley (or Jason), and Helen (separately) subconsciously refer to their s/o as their spouse while talking to someone (slipped out naturally without them realizing even though they aren’t married).

This got very long, I hope you enjoy :) I did go with Jason because I love writing him in stuff like this.

Terrors:

Does not even notice he did it, quite honestly. If you hadn't pulled him aside after that conversation and informed him of what he had done (a big smile on your face the whole time), Terrors would not have been aware of what he had done. However, now that you've told him, his mind is basically in lockdown mode. He's standing before you, frozen in place, flustered, and filled with shock and embarrassment for letting such a slip-up happen. A blush starts forming on his cheeks, and he's quick to take you somewhere private. He clears his throat and apologizes for doing such a thing, although you tell him that it's okay and that it made you happy, which causes him to sigh and cover his face. Terrors isn't used to love, or affection, even after dating you for so long sometimes the feelings inside of him feel so alien, and he can't quite place the emotions running through him right now. He eventually comes to the conclusion that the idea of you being his spouse makes him happy as well, and he tells you as such.

He stands tall and regal, walking over to you and lifting your hand to his lips as he bends over to press tender kisses to it before he stands again and says you must simply do something about it then. He's never considered the prospect of marriage (even before he fused with Candy), but if he wants something, he's inclined to have it. He begins asking you your opinion about weddings and proposals, speaking so formally and elegantly about it you'd forget he was confused and flustered moments before. You pause him to insist that you should discuss this with Candy as well first, but when Terrors informs you that Candy wants to marry you as well (considering they share a brain and can see each other's thoughts on occasion), which causes you to grow flustered at the sudden announcement. Needless to say, much was discussed that night, in true formal rigid Terrors fashion. It's almost comical how serious he's taking this, but Terrors has always been serious about you, and if he's going to marry you, he's going to make it perfect, no matter what, because someone as kind as you to love a man like him deserves the best he can offer.

Jason:

I think Jason is the type to refer to you as his spouse in his mind for a little while before he even considers getting engaged to you, just like sometimes you might refer to your partner jokingly as your spouse, but to Jason, he means it. Of course, he's always been careful not to say such a thing out loud, but it seems like today was the day his absentmindedness caught up to him as he introduced you as his spouse to someone. Jason notices immediately what he's said, and merely hopes you didn't hear him, and also hopes you don't notice how his ears and cheeks are beginning to turn red. However, the next time he looks at your face and sees the smile you're giving him, he knows there's no hope in merely pretending it didn't happen. He bows down, resting his head on your shoulder and sighing as his arms wrap around you, and you can only laugh at him as he deflates. He clings to you tightly, and insecurity flows through him. What if you were actually upset by him calling you that? What if you don't want to be his spouse?

He ends up voicing those opinions to you in an unusually quiet and timid voice, but you're quick to give him a good squeeze and a kiss and reassure him that you're not upset, if anything you're quite happy, and that you would in fact love to marry him some day. That puts the pep right back into him as he stands so he can look into your eyes, a blush still coating his cheeks as he asks if you're sure, and when you reaffirm that you are, a bright smile spreads to his cheeks as he covers you in kisses. He says he guesses he should buy a ring then, and you smile up at him and say that he should, although his question was a bit of a fib. He's already got a ring, one he picked out a few months ago, and he's just been waiting for the right time, but your affirmation confirms he was right in doing so. Now, he just can't wait to show it to you, and to hear the word 'yes' once again flow from your lips he suddenly can't resist kissing. You'll be his spouse in actuality and not just name one day, hopefully soon, and the thought fills him with life and joy.

Helen:

Helen is the last person anyone in the mansion would guess would do something like that, due to his unemotional and stoic behaviors, but hidden behind that mask are deep feelings only you are lucky enough to be privy to. He realizes immediately what he's done, and he's quick to drag you off somewhere private before he can even see if you noticed, burying his face into your chest and refusing to look at you. He squeezes you tight, his body trembling, and you can only hold him and quietly try and soothe him. Helen is flustered and honestly quite nervous about doing such a thing. Thanks to his horrible parents, he never considered the prospect of getting married himself, but after being with you for so long, his mind has been subconsciously changing its idea about getting married. However, he hadn't noticed until he referred to you like that, the sudden realization that he does, in fact, want to marry you shocking him, but in a good way.

He feels overwhelmed by the realization and the sudden feelings overtaking his mind, and he's only pulled back down by the feeling of your lips on his forehead. When you eventually quietly say it would make you happy to be his spouse, that him calling you that made you happy, his face is burning hot from how red it is, and he can only look down, unsure of what to say. You ask him if he would like that too, and he nods, saying that he would, and so you smile at him, pressing kisses to his lips and causing him to melt against you. He pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight to his chest, and he knows his past self would feel disgusted by how incredibly happy this makes him. He always told himself he'd be a loner, never fall in love, never want any of the stuff he always found mushy and unnecessary, but sitting here with you, he can't help but feel ecstatic about how happy you make him, and the idea of you being his forever. Although, he does pinch your cheeks and tells you not to tell another soul what he did back there, you can only mumble out a slurred 'okay' as he tugs on your cheeks affectionately.

[thebearer]

no but i love your writing! ever since i watched s1 and 2 last weekend because of a youtube ad, i peaked in the carmy tag and was a surprised to see the amount of stories carmy had! would love a scenario where he’s married to a sassy, take no shit type of reader sim to natalie. his wife legit could work with him for all i care. but for whatever reason he does something w/o checking in— he prolly just forgot. she finds out and confronts him hella pissed (could be at family or during restaurant prep idc) and she says “oh, if carmen said it was cool.” not even carmy the full government name bro 😭. p much how natalie articulated it 🤣. can’t remember the ep but in early season 1 when marcus blew the fuse you can also include slick commentary from richie (and fak) if you’d like! tysm in advance 🥰. also if you don’t me me asking, do you have name/alias on this blog? what we can call you? enjoy your week

- 🥣

yes yes yes ahhhhh! he definitely needs someone who keeps him in line but walks that fine line where he can also keep them in line (bc dom!carmy is living in my heart rent free forever lol). also you can call me e if you'd like :) thank you for your sweet words! i hope you have a good week, and hope you enjoy this!

"What's this?" You ask Sydney, looking at the new box being unloaded from the truck- big and bulky in a crate, far too large to be a produce shipment.

"Uh, I think it's the new glassware for the bar." Sydney looked at her clipboard, back at you carefully.

"Glassware? What new glassware. We haven't picked that out yet." You frowned, looking at the crate carefully.

"Oh, well, it was in Carmen's notes for the day, so... I think that's the only shipment we have. Unless the hostess stand came early, which would be amazing, but you-" Sydney stopped her ramblings, seeing your soured expression. "You know what? Never mind, uh, ignore me. I'm just...Carmen's with Sugar and Richie in the back if you want to ask him."

"Thanks, Syd." You muttered, ripping the bell open with a shrill before bounding towards the back. You could hear them before you saw them, a familiar chorus of chatter and rising voices.

"Hey, so what's the delivery out front?" You ask, not bothering to wait for them to acknowledge you. If you did, you'd never talk, they all talked over each other.

"The new glasses for the bars." Sugar turned, smiling softly at you. "How are you doing?"

"Good." You muttered, eyes cutting to Carmen. "We haven't ordered new glasses yet."

"Uh, well, I thought you liked the ones from last week, angel." Carmen's eyes were bulged, clearly flustered.

"I said I liked them for basics, but I needed you to confirm a drink menu." You glared at him, arms crossing over his chest.

"You can't put the drinks in that?" Carmen asked, hand flying out towards the hall.

"Not if you want the specialty, no." You huffed. "Carmen, I told you to wait just a few days and we could get them at the wholesale market. The textured ones for the signature at least."

"Uh-oh," Richie muttered, snickering to Fak.

"Can you not use the glasses I got?" Carmen sighed.

"I can, but did you get enough? And did we decide if the signature is going in a whiskey glass or a cylinder one? Did you order double of those?" You lifted a brow, taking a step towards him. Richie and Nat watched, heads turning from you and Carmen like a tennis match.

Carmen paused, running a hand down his face. "N-No, but-"

"-So what are you going to do when we open and you run out of drinks, huh? When everyone orders the signature and it comes in different glasses? You think those travel groupie influencers won't notice? Won't post about it and make it a big fucking deal?" You countered.

"Then we'll figure it out!" Carmen huffed. "Look I gave the order to Richie, and-"

"-Hey, no fuckin' way cousin. You gave me your order." Richie held his hand up. "Sweetheart, Carmy said it was good so I just placed the order."

"Well, if Carmen said it was good, then it must be, right? He's the fucking boss." You snarl, glaring at Carmen furiously. "Seems like you've got it under control, Carm, so I'll leave it to you." You turn on your heel, furiously stomping away.

Richie and Fak wait until they hear the slam of the office door, to release their cackles. "Oooh! Cousin, you are in the fuckin' dog house now." Richie laughed, Fak's chorus of barks emphasizing his statement.

"Shut up, ok? Just shut the fuck up." Carmen growled, running a hand through his hair.

"Carmy, why wouldn't you ask her before you ordered? She's your mixologist." Nat sighed, shoulders heavy with disappointment.

"Also your girlfriend." Sydney added, poking her head in. "I told you to wait. Just saying."

"Thank you, alright, thank you all for your fuckin' helpful words." Carmen snapped. "Just... Nat, make sure they get all that shit set up right, ok? Make sure the dishwasher fucking works before we're open, please."

The office door was shut, and Carmen hesitated, reaching for the knob anxiously. He wasn't sure if he should knock- I mean, fuck, this is his office but... you were already so mad at him. Knuckles rapping on the door, he didn't wait for the invite in- knowing he'd never get one.

Carmen found you, sniffling in a furious pout in the corner, body angled away from the door. "Baby-" Carmen started with a sigh, shoulders falling gently at your upset state.

"-Don't." You snap, wiping your eyes. "Don't even start with me, Carmen." The way you say his full name sounds so bitter, too formal and full of malice to be from you.

"I-I'm sorry. I thought we agreed on it, and-and Richie was pressuring me and... And you're right. I shouldn't have made that decision without you, and I'm sorry." Carmen said slowly, waiting for your gaze to meet his, angry, wet, waterline.

"Yeah, you shouldn't have." You agreed bitterly, wiping your eyes. "I get this is your restaurant, Carmen, but don't ask for my help if you're just gonna do what you want anyways. That's-That's not nice."

"I know." Carmen nodded slowly, approaching you with the caution he would a wild animal. "I want your help. I do, and-and I like your idea that the house drink goes in the special glass. Makes it stand out."

You lifted your gaze up to his. "Yeah?" You asked, he nodded, sitting next to you. "Did you blow your budget?"

"No," Carmen shook his head, not a total lie. Fak had been able pull some strings with the new stoves, turns out he did have a guy. It left a little over five thousand left over.

"We could go to that place, if you want to. Go look and see if they have the glasses. Get a rough estimate of about how many we'd need." Carmen offered, his hand cupping your thigh gently, thumb rubbing over your leg in soothing circles.

"As long as Sydney or Nat does the numbers and not you." You snorted lightly, rolling your eyes at him.

He laughed, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I'll get Sugar to run 'em, alright? Then we can go. Call it an early night."

You beamed at the idea, letting him slide in next to you, melting into your side. "That sounds good." You hummed, letting your head fall on his shoulder.

"I-I'm real sorry I didn't as you ." Carmen muttered. "That was shitty."

"Yeah." You sighed in agreement. "I just... I want to be included in things." You asked, looking up at him sweetly. "Not everything, but-but at least the things that apply to my area."

"I know." Carmen nodded, his hand catching your cheek softly. "I'll let you handle it next time, alright? I trust your opinion."

"You don't have to do that-"

"-No, you're right, I don't. But-But I want to." Carmen nodded. "I know you're lookin' out for the best in this place just like I am."

[animesmolbean]

A World of Pure Imagination

Author's Note: I had to do a lot of thinking while writing this chapter, but it's very fluffy at the end, so it's worth it, lol.

Side Note: My God, why is Timothée so cute in this GIF?! 🤧♥️

Hope you enjoy it! ♥️

Chapter 12: Live My Life

Yin sprinted through the quiet and mostly dark town, his magenta coat flying behind him. He needed to get to the dock. He needed to see Willy. He needed to stop him from leaving.

"Willy!" He called out, trying to find him.

"Where are you?!"

He stopped momentarily to catch his breath. But that's when he heard faint voices. He recognized those voices. It was Slugworth, Fickleberger, and Prodnose. They were talking to a fourth voice. Yin recognized it as the Chief of Police. He was getting closer.

Yin started running again. He saw the dock; it was in his lime of sight now.

But as he neared, he saw the four men staying there, watching the boat leave. But what he saw next is what broke him.

The ship that Willy was supposedly on exploded.

Yin covered his face with his arms, despite being far away. He slowly lowered them as he took in what just happened. He can faintly hear the four despicable men talking about the deal being done, and they concluded their business, going their separate ways.

But that's not what Yin was focused on.

"No." He whimpered, feeling his heart clench in anguish and tears well up in his eyes for the second time today.

He was too late.

(A/N: The music is "My Once Upon a Time" (the full audio verison) from Descendants 3 but with lyrics I came up with (some are from the song but 90% is my own). I recommend looking up the song and listening to it while you read the lyrics since I can't upload the full audio on here. It'll be worth it and make it fun! I hope you like it!)

🎵Here you are alone, and you deserve it

Your love's been taken down

And that's on you

You had a cause to serve, but did you serve it?

Or was this all you could truly do?🎵

Yin looked out towards the water.

🎵This is all your fault

No, it's those monsters by default

But why do you feel this way?🎵

Yin removed the magenta coat Willy gave him and held it in his hands.

🎵Is it because he is away?

He looked up with a frown.

🎵Now, you can't live your life, there's no use

You can't live your life, it's gone with a fuse

You can't live your life with choice

You took a risk

Now you lost your voice

And that will be how you live your life

Goodbye🎵

It started to snow a little as Yin turned around to walk back into town, still holding the jacket in his trembling hands. Once he was away from the dock, he paused and turned around.

🎵Why did he leave?

Did he feel unworthy?🎵

He held the jacket up by the collar, looking at it as it reminded him of Willy.

🎵Like there wasn't solid ground for him to stand🎵

His grip on the jacket tightened.

🎵But a sacrifice is not a firm foundation

You can not build your dreams on a mountain made of sand🎵

Yin's eyes widened a bit. He knew why Willy left now and why the Chocolate Cartel, along with the Chief of Police was there as he left town on that boat.

🎵He left because he lost his dreams

Yes, that is what it seems

He wanted to bring joy and fun

He didn't stop until it was done🎵

Yin started to walk back into town.

🎵He lived his life, he had no shame

He lived his life, he didn't want fame

He lived his life for real

He wanted to make

That was his deal

That's how you wish you could live your life

For real🎵

Yin stopped the foundation in the middle of town. The place where he realized he was in love with Willy Wonka. Where they almost shared their first kiss.

🎵I had joy and my friends, but I lived with a frown

But then he came, and my heart soared above

He has flipped my entire life upside down

That's it, I know what I'll do, my love🎵

Yin knew what he was going to do now. He put the overcoat back on.

🎵 Yes, I will sell for you🎵

Yin jumped onto the edge of the fountain, smiling, feeling determination now instead of sadness.

🎵I'll say, I lived my life, I flew higher

I lived my life, I feel so right

I'll live my life, not a ploy

I feel his heart

I'll spread his joy

That's how I plan to live my life

This is how I'll live my life

I will finally get to live my life

Again🎵

Yin spread his arms out as he felt himself soar higher than the heavens. He felt determination course through his body as he brought his arms back down to his sides forcefully, breathing in and out.

He smiled as tears welled up in his eyes again, but he didn't shed any of them. He let out a determined hum while nodding. "Now, what shall I do?" He asked himself, looking around.

"I know where you can start."

Yin gasped and turned around at the sound of the voice. He looked around to see if anyone was there. Then, out of the shadows, a familiar figure stepped out. Yin gasped, and he swore he felt his heart beat faster.

It was Willy Wonka.

The inventor smiled at the surprised boy. "Hello, little marshmallow."

"Willy!" Yin jumped off the fountain and ran towards him. He immediately wrapped his arms around him tightly. "Willy, my love! You're here." He cupped his cheeks and started to pepper kisses all over Willy's face. The magician laughed as Yin did so.

"Yes, I am here. I'm here." Willy wrapped his arms around Yin.

Yin stopped and looked at the beautiful boy in front of him. He wasn't injured, but his skin was cold, and his hair and clothes were slightly damp. Snowflakes caught in his long eyelashes. "How did you survive? Did you jump into the water?" He asked.

"You are correct. I did, right before the boat exploded."

Yin sighed and pressed his forehead against Willy's. "Why did you leave us? Why did you leave me?" He whispered, sniffling a bit.

Willy moved his hands to Yin's face, cupping his cheeks. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I thought I was doing the right thing. To help you." He whispered.

"The right thing? By leaving?"

"The Chocolate Cartel promised me you all would have better lives. They paid off my debt to Mrs. Scrubbit, and promised to pay everyone else out too. Noodle had more than the rest, so she could have a better life, too."

Yin was surprised by this. But there was more.

"But what really made me do it was when they offered to give you money. More than anyone else, even Noodle. So you can have your life back and find meaning. The only deal was to leave town and never sell chocolate again. So, I did it."

Yin frowned, feeling sadness well up inside him again. 'He really thought he was helping us.' He thought to himself. "Oh, Willy." He sighed, caressing the boy's cheeks with his thumbs.

"I don't need money to be happy. I don't want my old life back. I'm happy with what I have."

Willy looked at Yin.

"Was it true? What you said earlier? You really wanted to continue my legacy?"

Yin blushed. "You heard me, didn't you?"

Willy nodded, chuckling a bit at Yin's sudden shyness. "Yeah. That really meant a lot to me." He smiled softly. You... made my heart soar when you said that." He quoted Yin.

Yin chuckled shyly, sniffling a bit. Willy nuzzled his nose against Yin's. As the snow fell gently onto them, the two closed the distance and kissed each other. Their kiss was soft and passionate. It made them feel content and safe. It made buterflies flutter in their stomachs, making them giggle against each other's lips. Eventually, they pulled away for air with a soft pop. The couple smiled at each other.

But they knew this moment couldn't last. They had a mission to accomplish.

"Come on. I have some things to tell you. We won't be safe until everyone involved is in jail." Willy said, reluctant to pull away.

Yin was as equally reluctant, but he knew Willy was right. "Yeah. Let's save our friends."

The two pulled away and started walking to the wash house, hand in hand.

[melaton1nx]

Not sure if you mentioned it anywhere or not before but where did your inspiration for your AU come from? Any good backstory or lore you have or got planed you can drop crumbs for.

IreallylikeAUlore

YEYSYEYSYES UM,

I never mentioned it because no one really asked me 😅 but i’d love to explain!

originally my idea was to make an au related to space and stars, and flare was going to be some kind of guardian for the stars (cliche and nasty I don’t like it), and basically a copy of dream tale. This was somewhere in middle school, so the idea was delayed until I picked it up again late December of last year!

I was watching and reading Underverse/Xtale, and it stunned me that the involvement between AUs can create something so explicitly ✨cool✨, so I got to work on the AU I paused for about 8 years. Of course, it still was space themed, and it was originally going to be called “galactitale”. However, I realized that the name didn’t make sense with the storyline that I had in mind so far (a fire-sans with a demon dog friend), so I threw it all away and started fresh with focusing entirely on Sans.

I kept the idea that he was going to be a fire-skeleton, as well as the demon dog idea, (the idea was borrowed by the kind of thing X!Chara has with Cross) and developed a thorough small plot: an asteroid is yanked down by the inexplicable magic of a human’s soul and into the surface where monsters and humans frolicked, and the magic from that human uses the astrological matter from the asteroid to evolve into some sort of “spirit” and fuses with Sans’ soul (who at the time was knocked out from the crash).

From there I continued to fantasize about what else would happen, what would the other monsters be doing, etc. Soon, I got the most brilliant idea after reading about Dusttale: Sans murdered everyone. However, he did it by accident (the demon-ish idea, but he’s not a demon, moreso just another sort of creature that is completely made out of fire but has the behavior of a werewolf) and unconscious (except for when he killed Papyrus, he definitely was awake for that). I sadly didn’t write any of this down, but just continued to imagine what else would happen.

And it ended with this: as a result of killing almost all of the monsters (only one survivor, who escaped to the underground), the humans put several bounties and warrants for Sans’ death, triggering a sudden panic attack in Sans, and he soon found himself in the anti-void, where he slowly became friends with Error!Sans (again, just like Underverse😭😭)

there’s a huge gap as of right now for the middle because I’m leaving that to be filled by the asks I get here in order to get to the present part of the AU, which is Nightmare!Sans kidnapping Flare!Sans and joining his team, which positively changes his social anxiety, but continues to unleash that huge fire-monster to murder people or monsters in order to create negative feelings for Nightmare!Sans to feed on and get stronger.

I’m writing the part where he meets Mint!Sans and yknow, become a thing, but that’s all I have right now, hope this makes it more clear to you! :] 🫶❤️

[ngray192]

Ok, so a little while ago I posted about me writing scenes from a documentary that the Jurassic World Camp Cretaceous kids would do after they got rescued. So, since people wanted to see it; here it is...

"State your name, please"

>

"Ben Pincus"

>

"Sammy Gutierrez"

>

"Yasmina Fadoula"

>

"Just uh call me Brooklyn"

>

"Kenji Kon"

>

"Darius Bowman"

///////

"What were your first feelings when you got to Camp Cretaceous?"

>

"I was terrified"

>

"I felt guilty because I was there to spy..."

>

"I just didn't want to be there. Camp was never really my thing."

"Can you elaborate, Yasmina?"

"I've never been too good at making friends. My life has always been about being the best as an individual, not as a team."

>

"I was ready to 'unbox Jurassic World'" She chucked a little when she said the line she had said so much during her time on the island

>

"I don't really know how I felt." He paused. "I guess I felt like I was lying to myself. I kept telling these kids how rich I was hoping it would make me feel better about how my dad just put me on this island to get rid of me for a few weeks."

>

"I was excited. My dad and I always wanted to go to Jurassic World and I actually did it, I got to see dinosaurs."

///////

"I didn't want to leave them," their camp counselor, Roxie, said "but I was forced to. We tried everything to get them back, but after three months we lost hope. We didn't expect them to survive on their own for more than a month, let alone seven."

>

Yasmina put her foot on her chair, motioning for the camera to zoom in. "I had to get surgery for my ankle. When I distracted the Mossosaurus I had to jump onto the stadium. I tore a ligament right here," she pointed to a small scar and then sat back down. "It hurt like hell, but I just kept running. There was... so much running. Every day, we ran, and ran, and ran."

>

"I... couldn't hold on," Darius didn't look at the camera. "I couldn't hold on and he fell."

"Darius," the interviewer said his name gently, "Ben is fine. Everyone is fine."

"No, none of us are fine. We're all scarred, we can't sleep, I know none of us eat enough. None of us are fine, and it's my fault because I couldn't hold on."

>

"We blew up an entire tunnel to get to that boat. We almost killed Toro, we used Ben's hand sanitizer to light a fuse. And we still didn't make it. We had to go on fighting to stay alive cause it wasn't enough." Kenji looked down at his lap.

>

"That's when we met Mitch and Tiff." Darius said to the interviewer. "They pretended to be there to rescue us, but they lied. They were there to hunt dinosaurs, and almost killed us."

>

"We– we thought he was dead." Brooklyn had tears in her eyes. "We watched him fall. Darius blamed himself, Kenji wore his fanny-pack, Sammy cried and cried. Then he was back, with Bumpy."

"Bumpy?"

Brooklyn smiled slightly, "She's Ben's best friend, an Ankylosaurus we met in the genetics lab. He called her Bumpy because she had asymmetrical head bumps."

>

"We watched people die. After a while, it just didn't phase us." Ben said, not looking at the camera. "That can change someone. We saw dinosaurs eat people, see what was left while we walked through the jungle, and we changed. Darius went into 'leader mode', Brooklyn went into 'Esther Stone mode', Kenji just shut down and acted like it wasn't happening, Sammy tried to stay positive, Yaz just kept pushing herself, and I-" he stopped talking. "I got dangerous."

"Dangerous how?"

Ben looked up, his eyes were glossy. "My only thought was survival. I was ready to beat the shit out of that Hap guy even though he wanted to help us. I blew stuff up, I even tried to stay on the island."

"Why would you want to stay on the island?"

He shrugged, "People want to do crazy things when separated from civilization."

>

"I couldn't do anything. I wish I could, but I was useless. Yaz nearly killed herself for Sammy, Darius did everything to get us home, Brooklyn's YouTube videos helped us countless times, Ben had a fucking dinosaur, but me? I was absolutely useless." Kenji put his head in his hands.

"I'm sure you tried your best, Kenji" the interviewer was calm.

"How would you know?" He stood up off the chair, looking at the interviewer, "I showed Darius Toro. I wanted us to go in the tunnels. I didn't pack so we didn't set sail and the Scorpious came. I was gonna give Wu the computer and let the world be ravaged by dinos. I trusted my dad. I wasn't helpful at all when we were there!"

>

"Some good things happened when we were there," Sammy said, smiling a little. "I got to meet so many amazing people. I stopped a corrupt company. I met my amazing girlfriend. It was horrible, yes, but it wasn't all bad."

//////

"Did you have a favorite moment on Nublar?"

>

"When Bumpy and I ran over Dr. Wu's laptop."

>

"The night we saw Tiff and Mitch's campfire. Kenji brought out Dave's mixtape and I swear it was the funniest thing ever. We were all dancing and laughing, I wish Ben was there." Sammy chuckled softly.

>

"This one day Ben and I had to bring Pierce, Firecracker, Angel, and Rebel to the new watering hole. That's when I told him I had feelings for Sammy and he did this stupid voice when he was 'helping me' by pretending to be her."

>

"When Ben saved us. Kenji and I were about to be caught by Hap and all of a sudden he falls. Behind him Bumpy and Ben were just standing there and it was one of the most amazing and confusing moments of my life."

>

"Seeing my brother get off that boat. We got the proximity alert and I was so worried there was gonna be another problem, but there wasn't. He got my call and I got to see him again, I never thought I'd get to see him again."

[iam93percentstardust]

Prompt: tony can’t get enough of Steve’s strength and Steve loves it bc he’s still quite self conscious of his body? 💚

I realized halfway through writing this that you probably meant for a canon-compliant fic, but I was already so deep into the worldbuilding for this little science fiction fic (seriously, you don't even know how much unnecessary worldbuilding I did) so I kept with it

Also on ao3 here!

~

“Steve!” Tony hollers through the communicator. Steve glances up from the board game he’s playing with Natasha and Clint and over at where the communicator hangs from the ship’s wall. He still doesn’t really understand the technology behind the communicators even after a year of being awake, but they’re hung all over the Avenger’s Shieldand he won’t deny that they’re useful.

“I’m here,” he says at a normal volume, knowing that JARVIS will easily pick up what he’s saying and transmit it to Tony. Tony’s just being loud because he’s always loud and because he’s down in the engine room of the ship with all its noises from the conversion of stardust into energy.

“Great! I need your muscley goodness down here like yesterday.”

Steve hides a smile and stands, passing his pieces off to Clint, who’s losing worse than either Steve or Natasha. “Here, you can have mine. Not sure how long I’ll be down there.”

Clint’s eyes narrow and Steve tries not to fidget under the cybernetic enhancements. When he went into the ice nearly three hundred years ago, mankind didn’t even dream of space travel, at least not realistic space travel, and now they’ve got colonies on galaxies as far away from their own, it makes his head spin. Humans have peace treaties with over two thousand alien civilizations. And mechanical body enhancements, meant to augment humans for travel and work and sometimes sheer entertainment, are as common as breathing. But Steve, with his serum-induced enhancements, is somehow still the odd one out.

“You know,” Clint says, “you don’t have to help him out if you don’t want to. Tony means well but that doesn’t mean he can’t be abrasive sometimes.”

“I don’t mind,” Steve says truthfully. Everyone else on this ship seems to dance around his non-cybernetic enhancements—and around the fact that he’d been frozen in the ice caps, now stretching as far south as Florida, for three hundred years—but Tony never once seemed to care. He’s thrilled about Steve’s enhancements—no one else on the ship is quite as strong as Steve is, not since Thor joined the crew of the Milano—both because of what Steve can help him with and because of what the serum means for scientific advancement, though Steve hasn’t let Bruce or Yinsen take any of his blood yet.

He heads down into the belly of the ship, pausing once at one of the portholes to look out at the stars flashing by them. It still amazes him that humans have achieved all of this (and horrifies him that they achieved this but left their own planet behind).

Tony’s “lair” (as Clint calls it) is located at the very bottom of the ship. It’s here that Tony holds his court, making sure that the engines that run the ship are still intact and running smoothly, tinkering with other projects that the other crewmembers give to him, and designing improved systems for the Shield, whether that’s comms, mechanical, or even medical. Tony does it all. According to Natasha, Tony, who’s one of the few nonhumans on the ship, was once a member of high society on his home planet, Aur’a, but left it all behind to join the Shield and travel the galaxy.

Steve opens the door and is immediately met with a wave of heat. It’s always hot down here. Tony says it’s because of the celestial energy, that stars run so hot that even residue energy is still too hot for unenhanced humans to handle. Fortunately, neither Steve nor Tony are unenhanced, and Steve would be willing to bet that the reason it’s so hot in the engine room today is because Tony is working with raw stardust.

The copper pipes running the room are too close to avoid bumping into for someone as large as Steve, so he doesn’t even bother trying to avoid them, letting them brush against his skin as he follows the sound of Tony humming. When he’d first joined the crew, he’d been worried about Tony complaining that Steve couldn’t move around the engine room without knocking something over, but Tony has never once complained, only just made easygoing jokes about bulls in china shops and told him that the pipes are built to withstand forces a lot stronger than Steve. It had gone a long way toward helping him feel comfortable in the space and now he spends a lot of time down here, talking with Tony about the mechanics of the ship, even though a lot of it goes over his head.

He ducks underneath one of the pipes and rounds a corner to find Tony sitting on a bench, carefully chipping at a speck of stardust on the benchtop in front of him. Tony once told him that it only takes a miniscule amount of stardust to power the ship for an entire week, which is good because stardust is difficult to mine. Tony’s goggles are perched on top of his nose, giving him an owlish appearance. Steve finds it adorable, but he waits until Tony is done with the chisel before walking over to drop a kiss on top of his hair.

The rest of the crew doesn’t know that they’ve been seeing each other for a month. After their first kiss, Steve had asked if it would be okay to keep it quiet a little longer. Steve’s brain is still firmly convinced at times that they’re in the forties, so the idea that he can date a man and have it be as accepted as dating a woman is still a little foreign to him. Tony had been more than accommodating though, which is only one of the reasons Steve loves him so much.

“Oh!” Tony exclaims, clearly startled. “Didn’t realize you were already here.” He turns, pushing his goggles up to his hair. “Did you get even more muscley since the last time I saw you?”

“Tony, you saw me this morning,” Steve says amusedly.

“Right you are, Capsicle, but I still stand by what I said,” Tony shoots back with a cheeky wink. He runs his hands over Steve’s biceps, making a low purring sound under his breath. Steve just barely manages to hear it over the sound of the engines, and it makes him smile.

Sometimes, he still feels self-conscious about his size. Spending most of his life looking and feeling one way only to change in only seconds had been disorienting, and he hadn’t had much of a chance to get used to his size before he’d been thrown into the war and then frozen in the ice. Tony’s always good to talk to though when he needs someone to remind him that this is okay, that he isn’t taking up too much room just by existing. Somehow, he always manages to get to the heart of Steve’s insecurities and allay them.

He indulges in Tony’s warm touch for a little longer before asking, “So what did you need me for?”

Tony perks up, spinning on his heel and picking up the speck of stardust with his bare hand. “I need your help opening the converter door so I can toss this in. Something must have gotten damaged during the battle with the Hydra’s Scales, because it’s not opening for me.”

“Huh,” Steve says, following Tony through the warren of copper pipes toward the energy converter. He has no idea how Tony knows where he’s going without a map. Steve still sometimes needs a map and he’s lived on this ship for a year. “That’s not something you can fix?”

“Not with what I’ve got on ship. I’ll ask Fury if we can stop in Knowhere later this week. They’ve probably got what I need.”

“Wow, Tony Stark admitting he can’t jury-rig a solution from his lab. Hell must have frozen over,” Steve comments, grinning when Tony turns to scowl at him.

“You shut your mouth,” Tony growls.

“Or what?”

Tony’s eyes turn dark and heated. He slinks closer to Steve, runs his fingers up Steve’s chest, and purrs, “Or I’ll shut it for you.”

Steve’s brain shuts down. “Uh…”

“But not right now,” Tony says abruptly, tweaking Steve’s nipple through his shirt. He spins back around and marches off, leaving Steve floundering in his wake. He gapes after him for a second before hurrying to catch up.

“You,” he says, carefully bumping Tony’s shoulder with his—he doesn’t want Tony to drop the stardust after all—“are a menace.”

“That’s me: mechanic and professional menace,” Tony says cheerfully.

They stop beside the energy converter. Steve can immediately see what Tony means by there being something wrong with it. The converter is made out of some sort of transparent material—Steve doesn’t know what—so he can see right in to where something is twisted in the converter itself, partially fusing the door shut. Even Tony, with all his abilities as an Aurum, can’t reach into an active energy converter without burning his hand to ashes, and the converter has to stay active or they’ll be dead in space, so they’ll have to stop somewhere where he can make the necessary repairs.

“See?” Tony says. “I need someone who can muscle that open for me.”

“Well, I’ve definitely got muscles.”

“Mmm, yes you do,” Tony murmurs. Steve wonders if Tony’s thinking about the same thing he is: that time he pinned Tony to the walls of their shared bunk and—well, now’s not the time to be thinking about that.

He grabs onto the wheel and wrenches it to the left. Tony sure hadn’t been kidding; the wheel doesn’t budge at all. He applies more of his strength, muscles bulging. Under the squeal of metal, he hears Tony’s breath catch, and he grins saucily at him. Tony sticks his tongue out and gestures at the wheel again.

“Come on, Captain Crunch. Put your back into it.”

Steve, having no idea what Captain Crunch is supposed to be a reference to, makes a mental note to ask Tony about it once they’re done here. For now, though, he uses all of his strength and slowly—so slowly—the wheel turns, protesting the entire way. Eventually, he gets it open, letting another blast of heat into the engine room. Tony tosses the stardust in. It flares in the heat of the converter, setting off beautiful gold and purple sparks. Steve closes the door. It closes a lot easier than it opened. Tony hums thoughtfully at it.

“Well, that narrows things down,” he says, once the door is fully closed.

“What, that it was easier to close than it was to open?”

“Mmhmm. Only a few things that could be. Probably need to tell the One-Eyed Pirate though that we have to stop on Xandar instead of Knowhere. I don’t think Fujikawa will have what I need. Steve, don’t let me forget to tell Fury the course change.”

“Got it.”

“And thanks, by the way. Definitely couldn’t have done it without you.”

Steve glows at the praise. Maybe it’s silly, but it’s nice to be reminded that even in this oversized, clumsy body out of time, he’s still able to do some good. “Happy to help,” he says honestly.

They head back to Tony’s little work area, Tony eagerly chattering on about the project he’s working on for Natasha. Steve listens, fingers itching for the drawing tablet he’d left in the galley with Natasha and Clint. Tony is lovely when he’s animatedly talking about his inventions. Steve has half a dozen folders saved on his tablet, filled with nothing but different poses of Tony.

Tony leans up against the workbench and pulls Steve in, looping his hands around his neck. “Now, where were we earlier?” he hums, eyes dark.

“Careful,” Steve warns, bracing himself with hands on either side of Tony’s body. “I might crush you.”

“You might,” Tony agrees, though he doesn’t sound concerned at all. “And I might like that. All that coiled strength pinning me down? Oh, honey, yes.” He shivers, a small delighted smile curling his lips up.

“You just like me for my body,” Steve accuses. It isn’t the truth and he knows that. Tony loves him for many reasons; Steve’s strength is only one of them. But it’s fun to tease his lover and Tony is always happy when he does. He frequently worries that Steve is too serious.

“Yes, darling, that’s exactly it.” Tony kisses him lightly. Steve lets himself lean into Tony’s body a little more, grinning when Tony shudders against him.

He pulls away, tucking his head against the curve of Tony’s neck. “Thank you,” he breathes. He doesn’t know how Tony always knows when Steve is feeling self-conscious about his body, but he somehow does and he always comes up with something that’ll help.

Tony strokes his hair. “Anytime, darling. Anytime.”

[qianinterprises]

WayV Reactions: you get mad at them over something trivial

Pairing(s): WayV x mostly gn!reader (I think Kun's is the only one with a written female reader. The others should be gender neutral).

Genre: angst, fluff (happy ending)

Warnings: couples arguments, yelling, angry reader

Word Count: 3k

Author's Note: Thank you so much for the request!!! I had so much fun writing this, although I will admit I had to look up "trivial things to fight about" so nothing would be repeated lol! I have no idea why most of these take place in the kitchen lol, it just seems like a place of arguments. I hope this is what you wanted!! I hope you enjoy!! 💕💕

Tagging: @treasuretaeil

Kun:

Originally posted here

"How about Dandelion?" Kun asked from his spot on the couch, absentmindedly flicking through the large book of names clasped in his fingers.

An audible gasp left your lips. You turned, wide eyes to stare at him, completely flabbergasted.

"You want to name our daughter WHAT?" you snapped.

Dandelion? Of all the names in the big book, he had to choose the name of a damned weed!

Kun shut the book and turned to stare at you with an eyebrow raised, not expecting your tone to be as harsh as it was.

With you expecting a baby girl in a few months, you and your husband had set to attempting to pick out a name, which proved to be a little more difficult than you had anticipated. You just couldn't seem to agree on a name, which, until now, had been fine. You were both generally easy going people who hardly ever fought, so as your face flushed with anger, Kun was at a loss.

"I just thought it'd be cute," Kun defended, voice gentle.

You could tell he was trying not to anger you further, but you balled your hands into angry fists.

"Well why don't we just call her a useless weed and be done with it! See how that affects her mental health!" you yelled.

You didn't know why you were so angry, or why you were taking that anger out on your sweet husband who had done nothing but take care of you throughout your pregnancy.

You blamed your hormones.

"Babe, please calm down."

Kun's voice was gentle and soft as he reached out for you, and although you were still seething with anger, the second his arms wrapped around your middle, you could feel it dissipating, leaving you to apologize.

"Kun, I'm sorry for-"

"Shh, there's no need my love," he whispered.

How did you ever get so lucky.

Ten:

Originally posted here

Ten hardly ever got a day off. With WayV and the occasional comeback with NCTU, plus all the variety shows and vlives the boys did, you hardly got to spend time with him, but you knew what you'd gotten yourself into when you'd started dating. You knew nights together were going to be few and far between, so when he'd asked you over to the dorm one afternoon, you'd jumped at the chance, eager to see your boyfriend after so long. However, if you'd known what it would be like, you would have stayed home.

Ten's phone chimed again, not long after he'd placed it down in favor of wrapping his arm around you while the movie played on the tv. His phone had been going off every few minutes, and despite your sliding closer or attempting to distract him, he couldn't seem to stop from responding, spurring on the messages further.

You didn't question whether he was texting some tramp. You knew he'd never do that to you, plus, he was constantly showing you some funny photo or meme that Johnny had sent, making you chuckle, although you couldn't help but to resent Ten's tall friend for distracting your boyfriend.

Finally, as he removed his arm to grab his phone and text Johnny back, you snapped.

"Can you put the damn phone away! If I would have known you'd do nothing but text, I wouldn't have come!"

Ten paused mid text before dropping his phone on the couch.

"He's my best friend, (y/n)! I'm not just going to ghost him!"

You huffed.

"I'm not asking you to ghost him! I'm asking you to spend time with me without the phone!" you hissed.

Ten sighed and picked his phone back up. With a grumble, you got off the couch, preparing to go home, not wanting to watch a movie with your boyfriend if your boyfriend didn't want to be there with you. However, as you moved to grab your coat, he tackled you onto the couch, caging you in his arms.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I promise, for the rest of the day, it's just you and me. No more texting."

You looked at him skeptically, but as he held off his phone, switched off, you sighed and wrapped your arms around him.

"I missed you," you mumbled.

"I missed you too," he replied, kissing the top of your head.

WinWin:

Originally posted here

You had never been the kind of person to rely on anyone. You liked doing things on your own, relying on no one, and thus, many of your friends labeled you "stuck in your ways" because, despite having a boyfriend who'd bend over backwards for you, you couldn't bare to let him do anything for you.

This had spurred on quite a few minor arguments, especially when said boyfriend was the worlds sweetest guy who just wanted you to rely on him for more than a warm chest to snuggle against.

"Why won't you let me help you?" he'd asked several times.

Your answer was always the same.

"Because I can do it on my own."

You never meant to make him feel dejected, but as you opened the kitchen cabinet to grab out your favorite coffee mug, you found that maybe, your boyfriend had a little more of a mean streak than you gave him credit for, and this morning, without your daily caffeine, it really pissed you off.

"Dong Sicheng!" you yelled, anger filling your veins.

Apparently, at some time during the night, your boyfriend had snuck out of bed and rearranged your cabinets, moving everything up one shelf higher, so now, instead of the highest self being the only vacant place, now the bottom shelf was vacant. You were decently tall, but you couldn't reach the highest shelf. You doubted anyone who wasn't 6 foot tall could reach, and of course, on the highest shelf, was all of your coffee mugs.

"Yes?" Sicheng asked from behind you.

You spun around in a whirl, his shirt, that fit you more like a dress, flowing out at the sudden movement.

"What the fuck did you do! Everything was perfect! I could reach everything! Why the hell did you move it!" you snapped.

You glared at him as he tried to hide a small smirk, leaning closer to the counter as he reached up, grabbing your favorite coffee mug, and placing it on the counter for you.

This only pissed you off more.

"What the fuck Sicheng!"

"You never let me do anything for you! The power goes out, you fix the fuse box. Your car breaks down, you take it to the shop. You want coffee, you grab the mug out of the cabinet. You don't let me do anything for you!"

You could see his point, you honestly could, and maybe that's why your fury died down a little.

"Sicheng, I'm independent. I don't need you to do anything for me. I can do it on my own."

"That's what you always say! But I'm your boyfriend! I want to do stuff for you!"

With a sigh, you shook your head. Maybe he was right. Relationships were about give and take, push and pull. He let you help him with things and you hadn't returned the favor. Maybe it was time to bend.

"Fine. Keep the mugs up there, but damnit Sicheng, when I call for you to get me a mug, you better come running."

With a smile, he leaned close to press a kiss to your lips.

"Promise. "

Lucas:

Originally posted here

Having a live in boyfriend was fun, nothing you'd ever experienced before. Suddenly, you had someone to share your bed with, someone to cook for, someone to open pickle jars when you couldn't.

However, it also meant extra time cleaning. Especially when your boyfriend apparently didn't know the use of a welcome mat. Plus, he wasn't the cleanest person in the world, and that fact became evident as you walked into the kitchen to grab a drink and found two bottle caps and a candy wrapper sitting on the counter, forgotten.

"Seriously Yukhei," you muttered under your breath.

You threw the trash in the bin and opened the refrigerator, hoping for a nice glass of milk before bed. Your eyes landed on the milk carton. Happily, you lifted the carton out of the fridge only to realize that it was empty. You certainly hadn't been the one to place an empty milk carton back in the fride.

"Yuhkei!" You yelled to your boyfriend who was already cuddled up in bed.

You waited for him to make his way into the kitchen, but the longer you waited, the angrier you got.

When he did finally walk inside, he was met with your fixed glare.

"What'd I do?"

"First, you leave your trash on the counter, then you put an empty carton back in the fridge! Do you NOT know where the damn trash can is?!"

Yukhei raised his hands in defense.

"I forgot!" he whined.

You groaned. You'd definitely heard that one before.

"You always forget Yukhei! How hard is it to put your trash where it belongs!" you whine, glare still fixed on him.

"And... just so we're clear... an empty milk carton doesn't go back in the fridge?" he asked.

You threw the milk carton at his head, although you weren't planning on hitting him. As he ducked, the carton hit the floor. He was trying to be funny, and you hated to admit that it was working as a smile cracked across your lips.

"There it is! There's that beautiful smile I love!" he cooed, moving closer and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Shut up Yukhei!" you grumbled, pushing against his chest lightly.

He wasn't having it. He pulled you closer and pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

"I promise I'll start putting my trash in the bin," he whispered.

You knew it was an empty promise. Tomorrow morning, you'd wake up to more bottle caps and candy wrappers on the counters. Yukhei could be infuriating. But you loved him despite his lack of cleanliness.

Xiaojun:

Originally posted here

(This image has nothing to do with the reaction, I just had to include it lol)

*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *BE-*

That was the sound you'd been hearing every ten minutes for the past hour as your husbands hand slammed into the alarm clock for the sixth time. You grumbled and rolled over, once again awoken by his horrible habits.

This wasn't unusual. Dejun tended to set 15 alarms before he'd finally get out of bed and start his day, which, by that point, was usually when your own alarm clock would start going off and you'd wake up groggy and cranky, having just lost an hour and a half of peaceful sleep because your husband coudn't seem to get his ass out of bed in the morning.

"Why do you need so many fucking alarms! It's fucking stupid! Just set it for the time you actually need to be up!" you growled, not opening your eyes as you buried your face in the pillow, hoping to get back to sleep.

"I can't wake up that fast," came his mumbled response.

You huffed. It was always the same answer, but it never made much sense to you. Why couldn't he just get out of bed like a normal fucking person.

Alas, you didn't respond as sleep once again tugged at your consciousness, lulling you back to sleep beneath the warm blankets before-

*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP*

"GET THE FUCK UP!!"

"Five more minutes," he grumbled.

Five more minutes and you'd have to hear the infuriating sound of that damned alarm clock?! Fuck that.

You had had enough. Your sleep was important to you and being woken up two thousand times with a damn alarm clock before your husband finally dragged his tired ass out of bed was not helping your sleep in any way.

In a fit of anger and irritation, you pressed a sock covered foot against the middle of Dejun's back and pushed, affectively kicking his body out of bed, his body hitting the cold ground with a thump before he knew what happened.

"Hey! What was that for!" he snapped.

"Your up now," you grumbled, rolling back over and pulling the blankets over your head.

You could hear him grumbling something along the lines of "why do I love your psychotic ass" before the shower turned on.

Hendery:

Originally posted here

You let out a groan as the title of another horror movie appeared on the television screen as you cuddled next to your boyfriend. You hated horror movies, a fact he knew well. The ones that didn't make you have nightmares were generally so silly and irritating you'd spend the entire moving staring at the time. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, absolutely loved horror films, so it shouldn't have come as a surprise when you sat down for your weekly movie night at his place and found a horror movie coming on, which wouldn't have been an issue if you hadn't watched horror movies the last five weeks in a row.

"Can't we watch something else," you complained.

"It's just one move (y/n), you'll be ok."

You groaned. He never listened, too enthralled in his own excitement for the movie.

You didn't have a problem with the fact that he liked this genre, but he could just as easily watch it with Ten or YangYang, or, if he really wanted to torture his leader, Kun. You, on the other hand, somehow always seemed to get stuck watching them.

"We've watched these five weeks in a row," you whined.

"Shh."

That was the last straw. He wasn't even willing to listen to you!

With a huff, you got off the couch and grabbed the remote from the coffee table, switching off the movie and turning to glare at him.

"You know I don't like horror! Yet for the past several weeks we've done nothing but watch it! When are we going to watch something I want to watch?!" you snapped, hands balling into fists.

You could tell Kunhang was taken aback back your outburst as he floundered to find a response. You expected him to bite back, adding fuel to your fire by saying something along the lines of 'I work so much! Why can't we watch what I want!' But to your great surprise, his face just dropped.

"I like the way you hold onto me," he said softly.

You squinted.

"Huh?"

He sighed and sat up straighter, putting the bowl of popcorn on the table.

"You always cling to me when a part scares you. Sometimes you even jump into my lap and I like that. I like protecting you..."

As his voice trailed off, you sighed, anger evaporating. You sat down on the couch next to him and took his hand.

"I don't mind that sometimes, but not all the time," you said. "Besides, wouldn't you rather make out while watching a romance movie?" you smirked.

He paused at the suggestion, seeming to weigh his options in his mind before flicking the television back on and searching up the sappiest romance movie he could find.

With a grin, you sat back on the couch and discreetly coated your lips in cherry chapstick while he found a movie.

YangYang:

Originally posted here

Your feet and back ached as you walked through the door to your apartment after an exceptionally long shift at the diner you worked at part time. All you wanted to do was crawl into bed with your loving boyfriend and go to sleep in his arms. However, as you laid eyes on Jeno and Jaemin sitting beside YangYang with some game loudly playing from the tv, you couldn't help but groan.

"I'm home," you called tiredly, biting back the urge to grumble about games as you made your way into the kitchen to grab a glass of water and maybe a sugary snack.

As soon as you flicked on the light, you couldn't fight the irritation as your eyes met three empty pizza boxes stacked carelessly on the stove and a mountain of plates, cups, and bowls you'd begged YangYang to take care of that morning.

"YangYang!" you snapped, teeth gritting as you found the trashcan, also filled to the brim, waiting to be taken out.

You heard mumbling from the living room followed by an absence of firing guns, meaning they'd paused the game. YangYang walked into the kitchen, eyebrows raised as if he had no idea why you'd called for him.

"What the fuck Yang! I ask you to do the dishes, they're not done! Taking the trash out is your job anyway and it's piled sky high! And those fucking pizza boxes don't belong on the damn stove! What did you do today?! Sit on your ass while I was slaving away!" you yelled.

In hindsight, you probably shouldn't have picked a fight with YangYang's buddies in the next room, but your tired brain could take no more.

"I had to practice and they just got here an hour ago! Don't go snapping at me when you just as easily could do the dishes now!" he snapped back.

"Why should I have to! I've been working all day! You could have done the dishes before they got here! Hell, I wish you would have!"

"Excuse me for not being a clean freak!"

You blew out a huff of air and squeezed your eyes shut.

"Whatever, just go play your damn game."

You turned away from him and moved to the sink, starting the water and pouring in a good squirt of dish soap before grabbing a sponge and getting ready to wash the dishes before a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, a face nuzzling into your neck.

"I'm sorry I didn't do the dishes baby," YangYang whispered softly.

You didn't respond as he pulled the sponge out of your hand.

"Go to bed. I'll do the dishes and then come join you," he whispered.

It was a fast change of heart, but one you were thankful for. You pressed a kiss to his cheek before making your way toward your shared room, not missing the way Jeno and Jaemin bolted from the apartment before YangYang roped them into helping.

[where-theres-smoak-2]

So I was doing a rewatch (yes another one, and yes I am obsessed) and I got to the collar scene, now usually I just skip over this scene because my poor girl Alina having to go through that is awful, not ok Aleksander. But this time I actually watched it again and I noticed something...interesting, I guess you could call it. See I always assumed that Alina didn’t know that having the collar put on her would take her powers because she seemed so horrified when Aleksander did take control of her powers after the collar was put on her. The other thing I always assumed that she didn’t know was that the amplifier would be fused into her collarbone. But when watching again I realised that actually she did know both these things before the collar was put on her. Which made me wonder why she seemed so surprised by it. I mean it could just be down to continuity errors in the writing I suppose but if its not, then what other reason could she have for reacting the way she did? 

In regards to the collar, like I said, I figured she didn’t know it was going to be fused to her because she says to M*l earlier in the episode that she would ‘wear’ the bones which implies its something more similar to what was in the books and its like a necklace. But then in episode 3 the apparat tells her that the amplifiers work by ‘melding a piece of it into their bodies’. This wording does very much describe how the collar was melded into her, so this is information she had. On top of that Ivan was standing right behind her and obviously she has spent a lot of time with him by this point and you can see his own amplifier, the bear claw, is fused into his hand. I mean I guess its possible that Alina just forgot that was how it worked, or my best guess is its a case of knowing that its going to be fused into her and actually experiencing it being fused into her are two very different things and so there was just no way for her to be prepared for it. I mean it was a rather large piece to be melded to her collarbone. 

Then there’s the whole knowing that it was going to transfer her powers. Again I totally missed this the first time around and thought she was so upset because she didn’t know he was going to take her powers from her. But rewatching the scene I realised he tells her that’s what he’s going to do. At the very start of the scene she asks why David is putting the collar on her when Aleksander was the one to kill the stag, that its his amplifier and he gets its power. Aleksander replies ‘you asked for this yourself, when we met. To transfer your gift to someone who could use it.’ What’s funny is I remember the line, I’ve even talked about it in my Darkling analysis post but for some reason never made the connection that this would mean she knew what the collar would do. But anyway, I actually think her reaction is less shock that he’s taken her powers and more something else. The part in this scene that was interesting to me is that Alina in the beginning (as she often is with Aleksander) is being very confrontational and her primary emotions seem to be hurt and anger at him for lying to her. As he approaches her she does show some wariness and kind of flinches away from him, but to me I didn’t read this as her flinching away in fear, more that she was putting her guard up against him because she knew he was about to try and manipulate her and because as angry as she is with him she still feels that draw to him and so she’s wary that he might be able to break down her walls and manipulate her again, she’s worried she’ll fall for it again. What is also interesting is Aleksander reaction to seeing her flinch from him. He kind of pauses for a moment and then lowers himself down to her level. He puts them on the same level and makes his speech about all the things they can accomplish together. You can see Alina struggling with herself throughout the whole conversation where she really wants all the things he is saying, she wants them to work together to end all wars, she wants to be at his side and to work together to make ravkans and grisha safe and she wants them to work together to destroy the fold. She wants to believe him. You can see the moment she sort of surrenders to that desire, right after he says they can do anything. In that moment she chooses to trust him and she takes his hands and stops her struggles. Now I just want to be clear here that I am in no way insinuating that she consented to have the collar put on her, I mean for one thing her hands were in shackles and M*l was being held captive, for another she didn’t know what Aleksander was planning to do with her power once he had put the collar on her. But it is still interesting to me that even knowing that it would transfer her power to Aleksander, she choose to once again trust him in that moment and believed him when he said they would do everything together. Which again brings me back to that question of if she knew it was going to transfer her power to him and she had decided to trust him, why was she so shocked and hurt when he was controlling her power? 

Well like I said up until this point Alina had shown that she was hurt and angry and that she made the decision to trust him and after making that choice she seemed calm. But the fear came in when Aleksander looked away from her. This is something he’s only done before when threatening M*l. I think she knows him well enough by now to know that him looking away is because he is about to do something that he knows will hurt her, that will upset her. This is what makes her afraid, seeing him look away from her. This is when she starts to feel confused and starts asking what is happening and saying she doesn’t understand. It’s not that she doesn’t understand what the collar will do, she just doesn’t understand why he isn’t able to meet her eyes. I think this is further exacerbated by the fact that David also looks visibly upset. She’s realised that Aleksander is hiding something from her and isn’t being entirely truthful and that in turn is making her afraid. I do think that she takes some comfort from Aleksander’s eyes, throughout their whole relationship they had a thing about eye contact, right from their first scene together in the tent in episode 2. So when she seeks out that eye contact for reassurance only to find that he is avoiding her gaze it unsettles her.

 Another thing I noticed is that when Ivan slows her heartbeat at first I thought it was to stop her from struggling, but then I realised she wasn’t actually struggling by that point, she was asking alot of questions but not struggling. It might still have been a little to keep her under control but right before moving away from Alina he looks first to Ivan and then David to indicate to them to carry out the plan. So I think Aleksander arranged with Ivan to slow Alina’s heart rate more as a sedation, I think Aleksander didn’t want Alina to feel pain or fear when the antlers were fusing to her. Of course that doesn’t make what he did to her ok but it does show that he had some level of care for her that he didn’t want her to experience pain, unlike if he was a full on villain who wouldn’t give two hoots if his victim was in pain.  

I also think her shock after the collar had been placed on her, whilst some of it is the horror of feeling the antlers fused into her, its also because she once again trusted him and I think whilst she knew it would transfer her powers to him and that he would be able to use them, I think when she choose to trust him she did so believing he wouldn’t use her powers against her will. She believed him when he said they would do it together. So in my opinion it is less shock that he has access to her powers like I first thought and more betrayal that he is using them against her will, if that makes sense. If he had kept to what he said in his pretty little speech about doing it together and used her powers through the connection but only when she gave permission, and whilst keeping her in the loop of what was happening and what they would be using her powers for, if he stopped when she said she didn’t want to do something, then she would have been ok with it. It’s the realisation that doing it together is not his goal, that despite all he told her he is the one in control and that he isn’t treating her as a partner but as a slave and as a tool to be used in his grand plan no matter whether she wants to help or not. Once again he has tricked her and once again she is left feeling betrayed and like a fool. I think this is why she doesn’t believe or trust him later during the make me your villain scene when he is pretty much pleading with her to understand him, which lets be real is probably a conversation they should have had before he forced the collar on her, maybe then Aleksander wouldn’t have felt that action was necessary and they could have come up with another solution together that didn’t involve making Alina a weapon against her will.       

Anyway think I have waffled on long enough. So there we go end of random thought dump. 

[brutal-nemesis]

E&T: The Armputation

Yeah. Yeah it’s time bitches :) you read it right we’re chopping that shit off

←Previous - Masterlist - Next→

Ingredients: amputation (omg wow), noncon surgery/body mod, body horror, slight gore

Erebus had sensed something was off when Neteri failed to bring him dinner one night, and when the guards appeared at his door the next morning instead of her, he knew what it meant.

It was time for another procedure.

He understood why she didn’t tell him it was coming, but having hardly any time to process that something was going to be drastically different about his body within the next hour wasn’t the best feeling. Before he knew it, he was on the table again, this time with his shirt off, that silly little rat drawing on the ceiling staring down at his restrained form. Maybe he should give it a name? That was something to focus on, and it’s not like he could see what Neteri was up to at her workbench with his head strapped down. After debating a bit, he settled on Zander, after a big black dog he’d played with sometimes as a kid. He missed seeing dogs. And cats. And birds and the sky and trees and flowers-

“Morning, Erebus!” Neteri seemed far too chipper for someone who was about to…do whatever she was going to do. “How are you feeling?”

“Not...great. Because I’m here. I don’t want to be here.” Even though I deserve to be.

“Yeah that’s expected. But nothing out of the ordinary?”

“Do I get out of this if I say yes?” She laughed and stroked his face.

“You’re fine.” He felt himself grow more and more nervous with anticipation as she rubbed something cold all over his right shoulder. Right there, she was going to cut him open and, and...what was she getting from her workbench? When she came back into view and he saw what she had, he felt his stomach drop. The knife she was holding was the most horrific looking instrument he’d ever seen. It was large and curved, and the fact that she was going to use it on him made it that much worse. 

“What,” he gulped, “what are you going to do to me?”

“Well...do you promise not to freak out?”

“Uh...no. You do realize that makes me more worried, right?”

“Oh, yeah I guess so. It’ll probably be better that you know the full plan beforehand anyway. So,” she put down the knife and clasped her hands, “I’m going to be replacing your arm.”

“Replacing my...with what, exactly?” 

“Another arm, of course. This one, to be exact.” She motioned to a box on the counter. “It’s from a lust demon.”

“Wait, you’re going to cut off my arm?!” Neteri nodded matter-of-factly as Erebus’s heart rate skyrocketed. He didn’t deserve that...did he?!

“I thought that was implied in the ‘replacing’ part, but yeah. Off with your right arm, on with this one.”

“You can’t just do that! That’s-you can’t just amputate my arm!”

“See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you. I knew you’d freak out.”

“Of-of course I’m freaking out! You want to cut off one of my limbs, for Drottkia’s sake!”

“I mean, yeah, but I’m going to give you a new one right away. So at the end of the day you’ll have the same number of arms you started with. It’s honestly not worth getting that worked up about.”

“Yes it is! You’re going to just-just attach someone else’s arm to my body! What in the world makes you think that’s not-” his voice cracked, and he realized there were tears streaming from his eyes. He didn’t want this, he was so, so afraid, and no matter how much he struggled and pleaded it was inevitable. 

“Shh, shh. That’s enough now, you’ll be alright,” Neteri said as she wiped away his tears. He hated the way she comforted him, as if she wasn’t the source of all his problems. She reached for something out of his line of sight, and he didn’t manage to get a good look before she shoved it in his mouth. It was just a wad of cloth, but it silenced all of his further protests. He struggled uselessly against the tight leather straps, but he could hardly move at all. There was nothing he could do as she picked up the knife again. There was nothing he could do as he felt the cold blade touch his skin. 

There was nothing he could do but wiggle the fingers of his right hand one last time while he still could. 

The knife sliced through the flesh of his arm in one swift stroke, pain exploding out from it so quickly that Erebus could hardly register it. He barely had time to scream before he felt her place another tool on the wreck of his arm. And when it started moving, he knew exactly what it was. That was a saw, that was a saw, she was sawing through his bone, the vibrations shaking him to the very core. All of a sudden, there was a quiet thud and the sawing stopped, causing a suffocating panic to descend over Erebus, threatening to crush him.

It was gone it was gone his arm was gone the arm he’d used to write and eat and draw and plant flowers and hug his mother one last time and hold his father’s hand as he died was gone and the horrific new one couldn’t replace that, not at all, not at all, but it was too late because it was gone. He heard her pick it up and take it away, leaving a gaping hole next to him on the table, a space that had always been filled before by his arm, but his arm was gone and there was nothing there, nothing at all.

But when he felt her set something else down in that empty space, and his stomach twisted. It was the arm, the one that wasn’t his, the one that was going to be attached to his body, that was going to be his. After fiddling with it a bit, she pressed it up against the stump, the cold demon flesh meeting that of a warm human. She started to stitch them together, and Erebus couldn’t help but whine at both the sting of the needle and the horror of what was happening to him. But once the stitching stopped, the healing magic started, and that was far, far more painful.

Erebus screamed into the gag as he was assaulted by waves of relentless agony, ebbing and flowing as each nerve and blood vessel was joined together. It felt like every pain sensor in the arm was lighting up all at once as the connections were forged, every imaginable anguish being played out in a single moment. And when the bones started to fuse, oh he could hardly breathe, it was like fiery splinters were stabbing up into his shoulder, as many pinpricks of agony as there were stars in the sky, and there was nothing, nothing in the world besides that stabbing pain and the hum of screams in his throat. But all at once, the intensity of the pain evaporated as Neteri’s magic ceased flowing. 

Erebus cautiously opened his eyes, looking at Zander the rat for a moment before turning his gaze to Neteri as much as the strap over his forehead would allow. He was shocked to see that she was clutching the edge of the table for support, breathing heavy as blood dripped steadily from her nose and ears. With a shaking hand, she pulled the gag from his mouth, her unfocused eyes meeting his tear-filled ones.

“Are you...okay?” she gasped between breaths. Erebus paused. He was absolutely, positively, nowhere near okay, but he knew what sort of answer she wanted.

“I’m...it still hurts, but not as much as before you, uh, started...connecting it.” Erebus replied, his voice painfully raspy from screaming. 

“Can you...can you move your fingers?” He hesitantly complied, and was relieved to feel the unfamiliar digits wiggling, even if it felt a little off. She nodded, looking between his hand and the place where she’d attached the arm. “Okay. Hang in there just a bit more.” She took a deep breath and placed her hands on the wound again. Her magic sparked to life, and Erebus could see it was hurting her, too, before he was consumed by his own pain. But it wasn’t long before the magic sputtered out again. Neteri nearly collapsed on top of him, catching herself at the last moment.

“I think...it’ll be good...good enough for now. I’m sure it’s not perfect...I promise I’ll fix it later but I...I need to stop or I’ll...” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m sorry if...hurts...I know that...really painful...and you shouldn’t...more than necessary.” Opening her eyes, she pulled something out of her pocket before moving out of view. A few seconds later, the pair of guards from before came into the lab, shock flashing on their faces for a moment as they took in the bloodstained scene before them. Neteri came around the table, clutching something small and blue in one of her fists, seemingly a little more steady on her feet. She stood between Erebus and the guards, looking one of them dead in the eye.

“Take him back and give him something to take care of the attachment site, but I don’t want anyone else touching him, is that clear?” She jabbed a finger up at his face, her other hand clutching Erebus’s left arm tightly, either for support or out of possessiveness. “He is mine, and he can care for himself until I’m better.” She turned to the other guard. “I’ll probably need your help with a few things…”

Erebus let the guard take him back without a fuss after he was freed from the table. Trying to escape in this condition would just be dumb, and it’s not like there was much point in running with that spell on the brand. He was left alone in the cell with a roll of bandages and something to help fight off infection. But before he took care of the new wound, Erebus needed to wash off the blood that practically coated the right side of his body. There was so much of it on the arm...no, it was his right arm, that the skin looked completely red. 

But as the blood was washed away by the little rainstorm, Erebus realized that that really was its color. Honestly, with the bright red skin, pitch black nails, and the prominent stitches attaching it to his body, the arm made him look like some sort of...monster which is what he was inside, wasn’t he? He watched in horrified fascination as the limb he didn’t recognize as his own moved as he wanted it to. Well, for the most part. It was sort of shaky, and he couldn’t make a fist or straighten it out all the way, but that was hopefully something Neteri could fix...

And despite everything, a small part of him couldn’t help but hope that, for her sake, Neteri was okay.

Next→

Tags: @dramaticcollapse @thehopelessopus @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @galaxywhump @as-a-matter-of-whump @mnmlover2002 @tears-and-lilies @yet-another-heathen @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @starnight-whump​ @unicornscotty

[ubemango]

one time, in your room (m)

note: I wrote this after receiving such an enthusiastic response to my virgin!jk drabbles. I really can’t thank you guys enough for expressing interest in this story, it really helped jumpstart lunyua lol 😭😭🥰🥰!!!!!!! I’m happy she’s back:) I would be absolutely nowhere without it heheh. My thank yous are also due to Violet and my crème de la crème for helping me write this back in March--I love you both very, very much!!!!!! Enjoy :D

DISCLAIMER. there’s one scene based off a tweet that I can’t find the link to lol... it’s about getting fingered till u cry. You’ll know when you get there 😭

PAIRING. jeongguk/reader GENRE. romance, college au RATED. M WORD COUNT. 17.3k WARNINGS. alcohol, oral (f receiving), cum shot, fingering, sexting, phone sex/masturbation, face sitting, riding, talks about Babies, jk loving oc A Lot SUMMARY. There are papers to write, and virgins to daydream about. (You can think about Jeongguk’s dick later.)

                                          part 1: emergency tactics

It started five months in.

Jimin probably didn’t mean anything by it. There’s talk and then there’s inebriation, and Jimin slurred roughly between the two like the drunkard he is. But Jeongguk was still hurt and you didn’t know what to do.

“He called me a pussy then told me to fuck one instead,” Jeongguk said under the strobe lights, the plastic ones you buy at the dollar store and you know it’s Hoseok who got them because he’s frugal, not cheap. The couch was itchy under your skirt. “Am I—is it really that bad? Like am I doing this wrong? Am I taking too long, or—”

“No, oh my god. Babe,” you said, and the cooler in your hand found the floor before you cupped his face. He was pouting. “Doing things—like that—it’s—it shouldn’t be something you stress over, okay? Don’t listen to other people. I like you. And Jimin is a whore.”

Jeongguk snorted. You could still see the doubt in his eyes, though. Shiny because he’s tipsy, but that downward droop still there. “You’re the best,” he said as sincere as he could sound.

And he’d left it at that. He got way more drunk though, definitely influenced by his post-teen-pre-adult angst but what’s a 21-year-old supposed to do with ample service of alcohol and an aching heart? You’d left him to it and cleaned the vomit on his shirt after. It was an okay party.

It stayed okay for a bit, too. Jeongguk isn’t an insecure person, but his bouts of uncertainty were getting more and more frequent. Especially when all his friends were naturally horny and really fucking stupid.

“So you’ve been dating for almost eight months and you—still haven’t defiled him,” Jimin says, now absolutely sober and still absolutely dumb.

You can feel Jeongguk’s ears heat up. “Dude.”

Jimin ignores him and turns to you. “Aren’t you like—bored?”

“When will you stop talking,” Jeongguk murmurs through a bite of his burrito bowl.

“I’m not,” you answer Jimin, flipping through another page of a study on birth control. A convoluted piece of shit, as Taehyung put so eloquently, but he left a couple minutes ago for a study group. “And stop bullying him.”

“I’m just shocked,” Jimin continues. “How does someone so hot end up with someone even hotter and like—not immediately participate in procreation. This is a crime!”

“Look.” Your textbook flips closed. “I don’t know what your obsession is with this guy’s dick over here, but it’s mine to worry about.”

“I think you upset her,” Jeongguk says.

“I know what it’s like to be pressured into sex,” you say. You feel Jimin lock up. “Look—sorry, that was baggage and I’m stressed.” Jimin nods. “But seriously? It’s—he’s—Jeongguk’s fine the way he is, alright?”

You taper off. It’s silent save for the milling of other students in the quad, but the air is thick. Sliced through with your anger but you’d rather have this conversation in private, without Jimin and his probing. Unnerving Jeongguk was like lighting the fuse in you, and maybe it was the instinct to preserve whatever purity Jimin keeps insisting on but you’ve never seen your boyfriend so upset about something. It kind of hurt to see him like this.

You get back to taking notes when Jimin talks again. “I’ll go,” he says. “Jeongguk I—”

“It’s fine.” Doesn’t sound like it though because he’s tight-lipped. 

Jimin salutes and sidles away. A bubble of unfinished conversations swells around you.

“Thanks for—that, I guess,” he says.

Your highlighter squeaks against the paper. “Jeongguk.”

“M’yeah?”

“Do you want to have sex with me?”

Maybe that was a bad start because Jeongguk sputters. You think he squawks, too—and he’s definitely fidgeting, lots of cut-off noises in his throat as he tries to say anything coherent. You look at him and he finally takes a breath in. “I—”

“You’re worried.”

His face contorts in confusion. “About what?”

“I don’t know. But I can feel it.”

“Same wavelength,” he laughs. Empty but he knows you’re just trying to help.

“Look.” He doesn’t but that’s because you’ve turned back to your books. “We have sex when we have sex. And if someone tries to—bother you about it, you can tell them they can suck on my fat cock.”

You hear him chortle. “I’ll do that.”

The conversation ends. You study. You still feel Jeongguk fidgeting.

Now there’s three weeks left till the term is over.  

“My—brain. It’s exploding. There’s too much going on.”

Jeongguk’s desk is a cramped space—the only place you can prop your textbook up against is his sweatshirt wrapped into a wrinkly ball. Graciously taken from his hamper because he still hasn’t done his laundry. The chair creaks when you spin to look at him: a dejected blob of comfy clothes surrounded by looseleaf paper and sticky notes. “Break time?”

He slumps against his pillows, arms out like a sad toddler. “Break time.”

This probably means you’ll cuddle for the next three hours but there’s little to complain about when Jeongguk purrs into your hair once you settle into his chest. There’s a warmth to him you can’t get anywhere else. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he huffs. “Just working too hard.”

“Okay,” you murmur. Jeongguk’s breath evens out the way it does when he wants to stop thinking. You can hear the hum of the fridge outside. 

“Want this to be over.”

You trace your nail over his collarbone. “I know.” 

“When’s your awards ceremony?”

“In two weeks,” you say.

“Same time as our final game.”

You lean your head up when he sighs, watching his eyes flutter in the afternoon shade of his curtains. A calmer period right after a hectic schedule of school, because you have Professor Kwon to thank for her excessive meetings about tutorials and assignments. It never occurred to you that you might’ve been imposing when you showed up to Jeongguk’s dorm with your homework, but he’d been studying too. Same wavelength, he’d say.

“Jimin been bothering you lately?”

“No, thank god. Don’t think I could take anymore prodding.”

This is the first time you’ve asked since that afternoon in the quad, though now Jimin’s been less annoying whenever you see him with Jeongguk. You know he’s just itching for your boyfriend to finally get his dick wet. 

And you can’t blame him—that was his intention when he finally got Jeongguk to ask you out. Friendship with Jeongguk was a weird stretch of time, especially when he’d spent the entirety of it silently pining for you: involuntarily single, but so preoccupied with the care and keeping of your GPA you’d been blind to any advance. Not that he tried anything, though. 

He’d been in his second year, still getting used to the enormity of campus grounds as a scholarship-bound athlete. And on top of all his schoolwork he had to balance the fragility of having a crush on an upperclassman well on her way to PhD candidacy. It was a good thing he was cute, though, and Jimin had no qualms about embarrassing Jeongguk any chance he got when you were around. The blush when Jimin had pushed him to your desserts table at one of the indoor Farmers’ Markets still burns in the furthest love-lit corner in your mind.

“You remember when you asked me out?”

“God.” A too-late night in the library that prompted the chivalrous part in Jeongguk because he’d brought you to the bus stop too close for campus police to escort you. You’d been good friends for a while already, the hurdle of skirting around each other knocked down when Jeongguk finally got the guts to insert himself in the your friend circle. In that wet shelter, a quivering lip. The sure that now has you seven-and-a-half months down the line with arguably the best thing that’s happened to you since you started your college career, but you won’t tell him that. “Why are you bringing that up?”

“I don’t know. Just—feels like forever ago.”

“Sappy.”

“Maybe the stars are aligning,” you say.

“Is that a good thing?”

“I don’t know, just. Sometimes when I lie down with you I feel like I have to—lay myself bare.”

“Then bare yourself.”

You pause. “I’d like to suck your dick.”

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna need you to elaborate,” Jeongguk says like he’s winded.

“Two weeks of me finishing assignments and you at hockey practice. You know. Take advantage of the time we have with each other.”

“Good point. But I have a counter offer.”

Jeongguk is always a giver. “Which is?”

“I eat you out instead.”

“You’re too good to me,” and this is the only response you can come up with without sounding too shocked. Or horny. Not that you’d ever shy away but Jeongguk had a way of burning you up from the inside. “You’re down for that?”

“Always,” he says, then rolls you over. All that muscle from his workouts barring you from even thinking about fighting him back so you let him push you till you’re comfortable. But this isn’t about you. Not at the moment, anyway. 

“Take your shirt off.” Jeongguk does this so quickly his face almost crashes into yours when he comes back down, gasping a laugh that he breathes into you when his mouth meets yours. A quick tangle of your legs around his waist has him lying over you with ease, caught in his cage of pressed-down elbows and intimacy. 

“Wanna—take care of you.” He trails his mouth down your neck, bed squeaking when his knees pad down. Lips tasting lower and now he lifts your shirt up to your chest, pressing wetness to your stomach and you’re quick to discard your clothing if only to see Jeongguk pause at the zipper of your jeans. “Can I—?”

You nod. 

His fingers don’t shake but he’s blinking fast, pulling on the waistline of the rough denim and shucking it past your feet, sighing when your panties come into view. A short-lived reverence when he leans down to mouth at your sex above the thin cotton and your legs spread wide for his arms to cling onto.

“Tell me—tell me what you like,” he says. A shy demand.

“Take my underwear off then I’ll tell you.”

There’s warmth lost when Jeongguk slides your panties down to one ankle but he’s over you in the second it takes for you to flick it off. No pause in his eagerness but now he lies in wait for your instructions. The way he pauses for you is so agonizingly hot you might combust.

“It’s—I like it when… I feel you lick at my…” God you sound fucked. But Jeongguk’s a wild card and takes it in stride, hands once again finding purchase around your thighs and you feel his hard tongue on you, a wet slide that has your stomach caving. It’s the natural twitch in your fingers that prompt you to keep a loose grip in his hair, other hand tight in the bed like your proxy anchor. “Oh. Yeah. Yeah…”

Jeongguk laves your core, pressing harder the higher he goes. Contingency he takes advantage of because you get louder. It’s the lick on your clit that has you sighing. “Oooh, you—use the… tip of your tongue. And lick right—there.”

He’s so pliant you feel like you’re throttling him. There’s a forward insistence of his head until you feel the flat of his tongue pressed fully against you, his neck rolling with every shift of your hips. In control of your pleasure and he makes it feel like this is what he was made to do. His fingers get tight. “You taste good,” he exhales right onto your sex and you nearly crush his head with your thighs.

“Oh my god.” Your breaths are lost. You might hide your face but that would mean losing sight of Jeongguk providing a service only he can spell out with his tongue. “Ah—”

There’s a little squeak further down the bed and you notice the small flutter of his groin caught in the warmth of him and the sheets. His lips close around your nub before you can say anything, slurping that has your gut wrangled, your fingers gripping his hair as you get lost in his love. Your eyes roll back. “Oh fuck, that—agh—”

He’s made you come before. And the familiar tone of your incoming bliss is something he can memorize—he probably already has judging by the train wreck of your throat and the sounds he pulls from you. A swindler of your orgasms but you’d gladly hand yourself over if it meant deceiving your pussy into its own demise.

“Fuck you’re—so sexy like this,” Jeongguk mumbles. You whine at his attention but now you’re running even hotter than ever.

You’re not even telling him what to do anymore but you know he knows it’s good, a message sent with every twitch of your sex into his mouth and now his fingers are splayed along your pelvis to keep you from bucking up. He doesn’t even need his fingers. It’s the hardened tongue, the little slashes on your clit as his head swings back and forth that have you squealing: “Yes, like that. Oh I’m cumming—fuck—!”

Jeongguk hums when you jerk your hips up, convulsions in all your sweetest parts and your throat is dry from all your moaning, the swell of your lungs so hard to keep up with but he always has you losing your breath. Spit collects in its warmth down your ass but it’s a lost thought when Jeongguk lathers you into your come-down, legs like jelly and he helps your knees together when you finally stop trembling. You don’t realize your eyes are closed until you feel his lips on your mouth, complaint of catching a break right behind your teeth when you kiss with what little strength remains in you. 

“That was. Really good,” you whisper. Jeongguk laughs. And he doesn’t say anything, just looks at you with his wet mouth and red cheeks. “Do you wanna cum?”

He looks like he’ll say no. A bitten lip instead of confirmation. “I—”

“Please, I want you to.” Like a switch turned on he lights up, head bobbing and now he’s shoving his jeans past his ass, underwear down too. “You wanna—come on my face?”

His eyes look like they’re leaking out of his face. A strangled noise escapes his throat. He probably thinks you’re on crack but it’s just in his nature for him to assume a dazed auto-pilot whenever you say shit so outlandish. “You—I—I-I—Can—?”

“You can cum—god you can cum anywhere. I’m yours. Remember?” Reaching behind, you feel for the clasp of your bra, flinging it off before you pull on Jeongguk by the dip of his back until his knees straddle your ribs. “Is this good?”

“Can—could you—spit… on it.” His voice dwindles like he’s caught between the threshold of dirty and pushing it. You don’t answer because your neck straining for the tip of his dick and down the rest of his shaft is all he needs for one. Jeongguk bucks into you. “Oh fuck—ngh—ah!”

If his grinding on the mattress was a ticking bomb, your tongue on his cock is the thirty seconds till detonation. And by the sounds of Jeongguk groaning into the mid-afternoon sun slipping through his curtains you know he’s almost there. “Lie down, lie down,” he instructs, hand replacing your mouth in a stroke so quick you’re scared he might get cum in your hair.

“Agh—fuck yeah I’m—”

A spurt of his cum stains your lip, then your cheek. You feel some on the tip of your nose too but Jeongguk points his dick down to your tits, spilling all his hot frustration on your even hotter skin and you might cum again from the visual of him looking so spent. “Wow.”

“Yeah, that—” Jeongguk swallows twice— “I… wow.”

His dick is getting soft. There’s sweat pooling where your body meets the sheets. “Wanna pass me tissues?”

“Oh fuck. Yeah, yeah—here, sorry.” Jeongguk makes soft passes with a wad of cotton over your chest, handing one to you for your face. “Do you—do you like it? When I… cum on you?”

“Yeah.” You think about making a weird comment about sipping on his juice but you’ll save it for later. You focus on not letting his spunk flake on your cheek. “It’s hot. Really.”

“Good,” he says. Flopping down after shooting the soiled tissue into the basket and now he seems exhausted. “Do you feel gross or is it just me.”

“Gross how?”

“Gross like I need a shower.”

You can’t deny him. “Wanna shower?”

“Yep,” he says with no hesitation, and he doesn’t let you say anything else when he grabs you by your wrists. Somehow, everything feels lighter.

Sometimes Jeongguk invites you out to practice. It’s boring and you don’t know a single rule about gameplay, but the presence of him despite being a ways away on the ice is still a comfort on its own. 

The arena is frigidly cold, and while you aren’t without distraction (re: Assignments) it’s still one you can barely get yourself to really focus on. You rub your face in frustration. You hear the sound of the hockey puck passed around in harsh slaps.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“Jimin,” you acknowledge. He drops down next to you. “Here to spy on hockey ass too, huh.”

“That and Hoseok promised to get me dinner later.” You raise your eyebrow. “Did one of his assignments.”

“Forgot you were a chemistry genius.” Clicking your tongue, you watch the big 97 of Jeongguk’s jersey as he glides around behind the glass. He waves when he sees you looking. You’d greet him back but your hands are too perfect where they are in the heat of your sweater pockets so you wave your head in what you hope looks like excitement. 

“Been holding up okay?” You turn. Jimin’s eyes are a blaze of concern. “The other week, in the quad. You were pretty stressed.”

“Final paper.”

“Dissertation?”

“Working up to that,” you say.

“So you’re a scholar scholar.”

“Mm.” Your laptop screen blinks to black. “Something like that.” You hear Jimin snicker. He’s coiled up, stomach caved in a tiny laugh, eyes crinkled. Too amused. “What?”

“I’m just—” Jimin takes a breath in to stem his impending laughing fit— “so confused. Like, there’s Jeongguk who can eat eight cups of spicy ramen and literally bomb the bathroom with his shit—and then right next to him is Jane Goodall but with human babies.”

“He loves spicy ramen,” you comment.

“Yeah but do we like his stank? Nope. And you really just compared pronatalism to liking ramen. You know you’re out of his league.”

Jeongguk, completely oblivious to Jimin’s really weird anecdote, brings a fist up in cheers when he shoots the puck into the net. “Well. At the very least he’s cute.”

Jimin heeds with a hum to watch the play on ice. Seeing the team skate around with their broad-shoulders and thick helmets is an odd kind of relaxation. A team of huge men cutting the ice with knives on their feet but the sound is a swish satisfying enough for those kinds of videos that put you to sleep. Rough and gentle, just like Jeongguk. “I’m glad Jeongguk met you,” Jimin starts again.

“Mm. I think he has you to thank.” You boot up your laptop once more in the hopes you get inspired to type, but now Jimin has you distracted even more. 

“He just… used to be so quiet. And I’m gonna brag here but he’s got good friends. But meeting you was a game-changer.”

“Hm.”

“He was so passive.” You think to Jimin almost two years ago, pushing a slightly-smaller Jeongguk towards your table at the market. One look in your eye; pointing to the donut closest to him. Your finger touched his palm when you dropped the chocolate-glazed on it and he looked lost. “But now he’s just. Happy. All the time. It’s nice to see.”

There’s 97 again. Then Jeongguk turns and glides closer to the rail. He holds up ten fingers. Ten till over. You give a thumbs up. You feel yourself shivering but you’re not cold anymore. “Then I’m glad, too.”

“Good kid.” Jimin waves too, and Jeongguk skates off without looking at him. “Bitch! Anyway.” He leans back on his hands, feet perched on the row in front. “You guys… good now?”

And your screen fades to black again. “Oh god.”

“Sorry, fuck. Sometimes I think—no sometimes I don’t think. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, whatever.” You turn to Jimin looking very apologetic, keeping mum with his lips folded in. “It’s—he’s. A lot more eager, I have to say.”

“And are you okay with that?”

You hesitate. “I mean if we’re getting vulgar here—”

“Absolutely not, you are not telling me what he did with his dick.”

You raise your hands in surrender. You wouldn’t have told him anyway. It’s just nice to see a flustered Jimin, especially after what he’s subjected you and Jeongguk to. Good-natured but overtly so, and now you’re both blushing. “It’s been good.” 

Great. Now you’re thinking about Jeongguk and his cock again. Obviously it’s not unwelcome but riling you up is getting too easy.

“Then that’s good,” Jimin says. You hear the blow of the whistle. A congregation of fist bumps forms at the exit of the rink, and Jeongguk lets everyone pass him to get off. “Well I’m gonna go get ready for some free food. See you, yeah?”

He offers a high-five you hit hard. “Bye.”

“Oh. And good luck on your paper. You coming to the game by the way?” Jimin asks. He jumps off the bleachers, leaving you to stare at your honest attempt at getting work done. You close your laptop with a sad click. 

“I have an awards ceremony that day,” you explain. “I’ll try and catch it.”

“Don’t work too hard.” Just then, Jeongguk runs up behind Jimin not at all silently—his gym bag is ginormous—to catch him in a headlock. “Wha—”

“Why are you talking to my girlfriend,” Jeongguk interrogates. He’s probably wet with heat because Jimin scrunches his nose and shoves him off.

“You’re a pig, did you even shower.”

“Smell my armpits and you’ll get your answer.”

“Anyway,” Jimin groans. “I’m off.” He walks to the changing room in a swagger so calculated you’d yell at him for showing off his ass. But Jeongguk drags your attention away when he steps in front of the bleachers, leaning over until you greet him with a kiss.

“Hi,” Jeongguk says against your mouth.

You plug your nose for effect. “So you didn’t shower.”

“I rinsed! Don’t be mean.” He watches as you shove all your things into your bag, his hand poised for you to give it to him, and inside you falter at his generosity but you shoulder the strap and use his outstretched palm to help you up instead. “I wanted your bag, miss.”

“No, you already have a heavy one.”

“Let me carry it for you—” But you shut him up with a tiptoe and a peck to his open mouth. “Don’t distract me!”

You ignore him, grabbing his wrist and dragging him toward the exit. “Let’s go, I might miss my bus.”

Eight p.m. is a dead hour on campus grounds. You see only a handful of straggling students going back to res, even more going into the library building. The lamps guide your every step. Jeongguk’s fingers tangle in yours. “So you aren’t free at all the rest of the week right?”

“Yeah.” You try not to look at him because you know he’s pouting. “I didn’t get any work done thanks to your shouting.”

“That was Yoongi,” Jeongguk defends. “And sorry.”

You reach the bus shelter. “I’m kidding.” The neon sign overhead says your bus is due in three minutes. “I’m—I like going to your practice.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I like seeing my star hockey player tear it up on the ice,” you joke. Jeongguk laughs into your lips when he bends down lock them with his own. 

“Was it sexy enough for you?”

“Oh yeah. Got my pussy rumbling.”

He balks. “You’re so annoying.”

Two minutes. “It’s starting again.”

“What is?” In the dark light of the evening moon rising, you are reminded of this bus shelter seven months ago. A tower of nerves over you. If you think hard enough, you can still hear the shaky question he’d let dangle from his tongue, the one that has you here with him now. But now Jeongguk is nervous for different reasons. “Oh, like when you disappear on me for like five years.”

You see the light of the bus coming. You wrap Jeongguk in your arms. “Yeah. I’m only free next week.”

“Take it easy,” he says. Only one person gets off at the stop. “Just text me. Don’t need a repeat of last time.”

Last time—a month into your relationship. When you texted him every four days because of your midterms and he’d gotten so worried he genuinely wept when you showed up to his doorstep. It was a good thing you’d brought food too; not that you were expecting a cry fest but he’d felt better once he was filled with fried noodles and your affection. You concede to his request with a nod.

He lets you leave with one last kiss to your forehead. “See you,” you say. The air is alive with what you have to leave behind for the time being.

The week is rough. Professor Kwon asks you to submit marks sooner than you anticipate, so the need to get your paper done becomes a lot more urgent. One student hasn’t even handed in her assignment, which—fine. You don’t have any qualms about the zero you input. But the angry email with the threat to report you to an academic advisor the next day has you so on edge Namjoon agrees to grade half your assignments next time.

Jeongguk, somehow, eludes you too. Graduate school demands more tears than sweat and blood and while he tries his best to comfort you during your work-filled days, he’s been getting busier with hockey practice too. The added thought of starting to study for your exams is just another cake-topper. And it isn’t as if you’re going days without talking to Jeongguk, but it’s still a sting to the romantic part in you that misses him.

A week and a half before your big paper is due is a Tuesday. The girl who dissed you in your email doesn’t show up to tutorial. Everyone is dismissed for the evening. It’s good. 

Nothing beats the giddy jump in your step when you find a cubby in the library close enough to an outlet, though.

Then you get a text from Jeongguk.

[8:07 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I’m free the rest of the night!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let me love u bich u really deprived me of touch for an entire week  [8:07 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Wya

He meets you at the library with sweaty bangs and indents on his cheek from his helmet. You briefly contemplate jumping him. The feeling is quelled with the reminder that the library doesn’t tolerate loud noises and Excessive Romantic Gestures, so you opt for:

“Sexy.” You’re up on your feet to give him a quick hug and he makes a disgruntled face before dropping a kiss to your mouth.

“You wet yet?”

You glare to hide the need to balk. You plop back down. “You ate pussy once, don’t think this gives you free points to get so cocky.”

He pauses. “Sorry?”

“Sit. And don’t—ask me that again.”

“Yes ma’am.” Jeongguk cowers into the seat next to you. “What’s my scholar up to tonight?”

“Researching about Western Europe and their refugee policies.”

He doesn’t look like he’s interested but he makes a contemplative noise. “Very… educated. But anyhow. I’ve been thinking.” Uh oh. “And I have something. It was a week-long thought process but I have it.”

Your pens roll along the wood of the desk. “Have what?”

“A plan.”

“For?”

“For how I’m gonna fuck you. Eventually, I mean.”

“I leave you for a week and this happens,” you answer, but he’s not fazed. You feel yourself melting. Something you learned about Jeongguk during the preliminary stages of your relationship was that he liked getting things right. And if that meant practicing until he was ready—well. There’s a part in you that fears for the livelihood of your vagina. “Babe. That’s—you know we don’t need some sort of… five-steps-to-success thing.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” He pouts like you have it all wrong. Maybe you do, but it doesn’t sound so convincing to your—to be frank—non-virgin ears. “Good practice.” 

You knew he would say that. “You have something in your noggin already, boy?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna elaborate?”

Jeongguk shrugs. “What do people normally establish before they start having sex?”

“Well I don’t have lice in my pubic hair if that’s what you wanna know,” you offer.

He scrunches his face. “Don’t—joke about that.”

“Sorry.” Jeongguk gives you an incredulous look because you both know you don’t mean it. “But you really wanna do this here?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, lay it on me.”

“Wait—really?” 

You’re starting to think you won’t get any work done for the night. Like all the nights you spend with Jeongguk and you realize the pattern now, so you might as well indulge in him. “Yeah, go pull on all your pornographic roots.”

“Ha ha.”

“I’m not into getting tied up, first of all.” You flip a page in your textbook to feign nonchalance as Jeongguk wheezes.

“Stop that!” But he just takes a piece of paper and readies a fist to write. “You’re so crude.”

Now you really can’t focus. “Are you seriously going to write about my sexual preferences?”

“No, I’m writing a detailed observation about how to go about. You know.” He purses a lip in thought. “Navigating the ocean of your pussy and its desires.”

You didn’t think the library would be home to both of your sexual awakenings, but Jeongguk makes it hard to be shy when he’s this motivated. “Weird way of asking me if I’m into watersports.”

“Okay you have to take back asking me about my pornographic roots because it sounds like you’re the freakier one.”

“You like me being freaky?” 

He reddens. “Anyway!” (Silently, you revel in your power to tease.) “I was thinking. Since we can’t hang out too much the next week-ish, that we save all the good stuff for later.”

Good point. “Define good stuff.”

Jeongguk gets smaller. Eyes drilled into yours, he whispers, “Putting my penis inside you.”

“Okay now it’s getting weird.”

He drops his pencil in disbelief. “Only now? Tell me how any of this wasn’t weird in the first place.”

“You’re literally the one who took out a pencil to jot down my sexual preferences, don’t act like you’re innocent.” Now he has the decency to look sheepish. He doesn’t say anything. “Jeongguk. It’s fine to be nervous. But I don’t want you to feel like you need to do this.”

You might as well be talking to the wall but he nods anyway. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No! Just… you don’t owe anyone anything.” Something in you longs for him to understand that. You hate to make him nervous but Jeongguk is so adamant you almost want to wrap him in your arms from the sexually-inclined horde that came in the form of Park Jimin. “Remember that.”

He deflates with a sigh. “Then… can you come over tomorrow?” He’s squirming. “I’m done practice at seven.”

“If my advisor’s nice enough she’ll let me off at six,” you confirm.

Jeongguk takes a notebook out but makes no effort to open it. “And. I missed you. Just. Wanted to get that out there.”

There’s only so much texting can do, you get it. The pit of your stomach simmers with affection for the dumb boy sitting next to you, legs jumping the way they do when he’s nervous. “Love you.” And he smiles. Fuel for your listlessness. There are papers to write, and virgins to daydream about. Especially about the one who just propositioned you with absurdities. But now his pencil is out, and the moment is lost. 

You can think about Jeongguk’s dick later. For now, you settle in the quietude of his presence with yours.

It’s a colder day today.

“Hi!” Taehyung opens the door, bouncing in his pyjamas from the rush of freezing air. “Come, come. Please don’t ask me how I’ve been, I’m so tired of school and that’ll be my answer and I don’t want to talk about it.”

You swallow your pleasantries down. He’s a stressed Neuroscience major. “Fair,” you greet instead, toeing your boots off.

“Coming from somewhere?”

“Tutorial evaluation,” you say. Taehyung lets out a low whistle, closes the door behind you. He knows your shoulders are stiff because of Professor Kwon’s watchful gaze. Sitting at the back, ramrod straight with that black clipboard, taking down notes on your performance as a first-time TA. 

She’d let you go after with a smile, though. Let you know you did fine. You’d practically glided to residence when she’d given you the go to leave for the day. 

“I have a question for you,” Taehyung says. He sits on the couch, watches as you take off your snow-soiled scarf and jacket. “Has Jeongguk been more… fidgety lately?”

So he’s noticed too. “Yeah, I’ve—seen it. Why?”

“I don’t know, he sort of just—” Taehyung scoots over when you plop down next to him— “he came out of the room yesterday squealing, then ran around the living room for a bit then just. Went back into his room.”

Oh. So that’s what he was off to do when said he needed to get something after you linked him to your favourite porn accounts on Twitter.

“Maybe it’s just. I don’t know, pre-game jitters,” you lie. Taehyung’s giving you the look. Like he’s not satisfied with your answer and the only way to sate him is if you let him do one thing. “You can ask.”

“Did you fuck him yet?”

No reservations. As expected, because he’s just as nosy as Jimin and the rest of their friends annoyingly concerned with Jeongguk’s hesitation in the bedroom. “Nope.”

“Okay but like—can you fuck him already? I’m gonna be rolling in my grave by the time his penis passes the two-inch border of your personal space.”

You can’t keep in your snort. “Oh my god.”

“Just. We really don’t mean to be so standoffish but he just likes you so much it’s insane. Like I’ll see his phone light up and he will too. He’ll literally—he just glows. It’s kind of creepy actually but like. Cute creepy.”

The rush of praise runs through you. You don’t like to brag, but you really did snag the campus boy crush. You were popular enough with academia, but after the first time Jeongguk posted a picture of you two at the Christmas market, though—the entire student body went ballistic. It was the nascence of a fairy tale; movie romance budding in the grey concrete of campus grounds. 

No one saw it coming. And knowing that the one everyone has their eye on has its eyes on you—it’s a good kind of blow.

“He’s my baby,” you say, and Taehyung coos. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of him.”

There’s a rattling of the door knob. The sight of a ragged Jeongguk stumbles in, gym bag dropped on the floor and he disappears down the hall with the call for a shower and a brief smile your way. “I’ll be five minutes, babe.”

That’s Taehyung’s cue. “Well—I’m off to study group. Take care of him, yeah?”

“You know it.” You offer a fist bump. Taehyung’s knuckles are bony on yours. 

The trek to Jeongguk’s room isn’t unfamiliar. You bounce back on his bed, willing yourself not to close your eyes because you know you’ll just crash. A headache prepares right behind your temple, as imminent as rumbling thunder. Something in you calls for Jeongguk to hurry the fuck up before you succumb to Stress and those horrible, horrible thoughts of due dates.

It doesn’t take that long. There’s the squeak of the shower handle turning off and the black of your closed eyes, the scurrying of an unseen body; the lifting of your shirt for a very heavy weight of a hockey player blowing raspberries into the skin of your stomach. Jeongguk chortles when you nearly break your back trying to dislodge him. “You’re—oh my god—hey stop!”

“Hi,” he says, laugh caught in his breath, “I’m clean.”

“I see that.” He’s in his pyjamas. You let him settle on your side. The lingering heat from his shower makes you clammy but you let him hold you tight. “How was practice?”

“It was nice.” This is code for: I wasn’t yelled at by Yoongi. “I’m excited for our game, I’m feelin’ good. Did you find out if you could make it?”

You were blessed by the gods, because not only were your days coinciding, they were also starting an hour within each other. You’d be at the podium with a flowery speech while Jeongguk tears the ice rink with his pretty skates. And if every award recipient’s was longer than a minute then you might miss the entire game. Two hours past Jeongguk most likely scoring the winning goal; an infinity lost to see your star in action. 

(And seeing Jeongguk play is really attractive.)

You settle with: “I’ll try my best.”

“Okay,” he says. The crown of his head digs into your neck. You feel his lips when he speaks. “How are you holding up?”

“Barely.”

“Did you get your paper done?”

“Barely.”

“So it’s done.”

“Let’s not talk about school,” you dismiss. He leaves the conversation to wither with a suction to your skin. Wet where he lines your neck with quick kisses and you soften into the sheets. “Is this your way of—executing your plan.”

“Hm?”

“You know—your—guide to putting your penis inside me.”

He leans up on his elbow. Unimpressed because his eyebrows are scrunched. “Funny.”

“You love me.”

“And what about it?” His eyes shine the way they do before he tells you he loves you too. “It isn’t even a plan it’s just—a buildup. To when my penis goes inside you. Like a countdown but with orgasms instead.” You snicker. He drags a light hand down your front, settling his palm right over your pussy. “Let me touch you.”

You forget how to breathe for a second. “Yeah—I’m—yeah. Please.”

“Sit up.” Jeongguk plants himself near the wall, not unlike the position he was in when you sucked his dick for the first time. Instead of the afternoon heat, you’re caught under the dying evening rays of sunset: not as hot but still you feel the spark in your belly when Jeongguk lifts your bum to settle you between his legs. His nails play with the button of your pants. “I wanna try something.”

“Sure.” And he helps you wiggle off your clothes, bottom bare to his graces. Doesn’t say anything, just lets his mouth meet yours slowly, tasting the day off your tongue, your worries behind his teeth. 

“Anyone ever fingered you so hard you cried?”

“You wanna make me cry?”

“Don’t say it like that.” Jeongguk nips at your lip. “But yeah, I guess.”

You’re wet. This is a fact you come to realize when you feel him spread your legs, feet planting in the mattress in an attempt to ground yourself.  “Okay,” you agree.

His mouth’s busy with yours, lips unyielding like he could do this all day. It’s almost picturesque, the way he has you: head turned over to meet him in his love, arms wrapped around your own. Yours for him to savour and he always tastes good.

He doesn’t wait anymore. Your clit throbs with the passes of his fingers, head falling back to rest on Jeongguk’s shoulder when he dips in the pool of your heat and drags it back up. Groaning when he spins tight circles like you taught him and your hands find his thighs. “Feels—good,” you utter. Already you’re gone but Jeongguk feeds into your pleasure with no qualms for your embarrassment.

“Can I—put in a finger?” He asks shyly, but playing with your slick like he’s known how to make you putty in his hands this whole time.

“Yeah. Please.” You welcome the insistence in your sex with the buck of your hips. Jeongguk curls his middle finger up, the heel of his hand smooth on your clit and you sigh, “Ooh, fuck yeah.”

He kisses your cheek. “Another one?”

“I can take it,” you say, and he has another finger in you, hooking into your nerves. You might moan but Jeongguk turns your head and molds his mouth into yours, stealing your breath with his tongue. He curves in a little too hard and you squeal. “Oh my god, too—much.”

“Sorry.” He adjusts, fingers straight again. “M’gonna go faster, if that’s okay.” You nod, restless, and then he adds: “And you can’t look away from me.”

“Yes please—”

You couldn’t look away even if you tried, because the hand not fucking you into oblivion catches your cheeks, locking you to Jeongguk’s gaze. It’s a fucked out one too, and now you notice his hard dick pressed up against your back. 

It’s a storm of thrusting: wet and more wet and now he abruptly pulls out, smears your slick on your clit in a rub so fast you would squeal louder if it weren’t for his lips swallowing your sounds. 

“Oh-h—!”

You burn. Jeongguk enters you again and your cunt feels swollen. Fucking all the deepest and dirtiest parts of you and you take it, yielding to the draw on your tight walls. The squelch gets louder. So do you. 

“Oh yeah—” And you don’t cry but the feeling of him inside is so overwhelming and all that you need and it’s there— “Fuck, y-eah. Gonna cum soon—”

“Give it to me.” Punctuated with a twist in your sex so rough you would have twitched him off but his legs cage you. Jeongguk smiles. “Come on babe—”

“Nnn—ha J-Jeongguk—” You grab his wrist, the one knocking his fingers so good though he doesn’t stop under the tight hold— “B-Baby—”

“I want it, I want it,” he chants into your mouth, like he’s eager for a release conducive to your early death just so he can say he did that. Awful cocky but you can’t dwell on it. “Just cum for me.”

“Fuck—” He makes you look at him when you do, eyes wide to his imploring ones. He has it in his fingers, a climax that wrangles the most obscene noises from your throat. Your hips grind up uncontrollably, clit a pulsing pain but his thumb rubs it all the same. Jeongguk doesn’t stop till you whine, “God, please—I can’t."

“You’re crying.”

“Am not.” But you feel the sting of heat in your eyes. Jeongguk rubs his nose with yours, wrapped in his arms and affection.

“Was it good though?”

“Was it good, he says.” You kiss him with no bite. “Loved it. Best ever.”

Jeongguk lights up, corners of his mouth lifted into a sated grin. “Woo,” he says. You’re about to ask if he wants one rubbed out but he continues speaking. “So plan’s going well if you wanted to know.”

“Shut up. Shut up!” You make a point of getting up with as much force as possible, disturbing the coils the mattress as Jeongguk laughs. “You’re so gross.”

“You love me.”

Your panties are sticky against you. You turn to see him staring at you already. “I love you.”

The room glows in the last few minutes of red, coated darker and darker. But the look Jeongguk gives you—maybe astonishment, maybe longing—casts a glow that blazes within. Like all he wants is for you to be here and you do too. He breaks the silence with a smile. “You’re the best, you know that?”

You climb back over him, unable to resist anymore. “So I’ve been told.”

“I mean it though.” He shifts so you’re lying down again, head on his chest. Warm again. “Sorry if I’m—pushing the agenda. And I know I say Jimin’s not getting to me and it’s true but it—makes me want you. All the time.”

You settle for the truth with a kiss to his sternum. “I have no free time after today though.” 

“That’s okay,” Jeongguk whispers. “Just love me now and you can always love me later.”

“I can do that,” you say. 

He lets you dig into his side even further. “Are you sure you don’t wanna talk about school?”

“Mm.” You know it’ll help to air your dirty laundry. But knowing Jeongguk has his own shit to deal with is enough for you to hesitate. “Nothing I—haven’t said before. Just stressed.”

“About your last assignment?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re smart. And for whatever reason, really into baby-making in foreign countries.” Jeongguk groans when you pinch him. “But I know you. And you’ll do well. Also it’s official that you’ll do well because you’re dating someone really good at what they do, and I was just inside your body so technically my energy transferred to you.”

“Very solid process.” 

His breathes warmth into your skin. “Believe me. You’re gonna be fine.”

And it’s not the end of the world, not being able to see him for a bit. You both know this. You hug him tighter to you regardless, like making his skin stick to yours was an actuality. You know he feels it too when his arm locks just a tiny bit harder. An unspoken longing for the mold of your body.

You’ll get there.

It’s been four days since you’ve seen Jeongguk, so Namjoon takes the responsibility of keeping you sane. He books a study room for three hours and meets you with a two cups of coffee and three extra pens just in case they run out while you mark your assignments together. He takes the stack of papers from you with a frown, and you work.

The paper is coming along well. You think you have a good five pages to go, but the amount of hounding Professor Kwon has done is scaring you into another late night-in. More and more marks are due, and Namjoon has his own work to deal with. You hate to burden him with your own but now you’re really feeling the Stress from school.

[6:01 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Hey what are you doing [6:02 PM] You: i’m doing work :(( [6:02 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Poo poo [6:02 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I’m bored [6:03 PM] You: 💩💩 [6:03 PM] You: sorry bout it !!!!!!! [6:04 PM] You: wait how can u be bored ur @ practice ?? if ur just…. doin practice [6:05 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: On break [6:05 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: And I miss you [6:06 PM] You: omg!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [6:06 PM] You: my heart

Namjoon’s eyebrows are scrunched. “I can’t tell what this student is saying.”

“Read it out loud.” 

“I will argue that the legalization of crack cocaine will act as a beneficial potential towards the bettering of society. With the advent of legal marijuana usage in Canada—yeah.”

“That’s… an abuse of thesaurus privileges,” you comment.

He hums. “They’re young, let them live.”

Again, Jeongguk texts you.

[6:09 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: When are you free [6:10 PM] You: tonight [6:10 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I’m not 😩😩 What about Wednesday? [6:11 PM] You: i’m only free rn baby :( might have to wait till after friday [6:12 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 [6:12 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Damn [6:12 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I need to go now text me when you’re done k?????? Love you [6:13 PM] You: okay ! 💜

You hear Namjoon snapping at you. “You’re getting distracted.”

“Sorry.” Your pen twitches in your grip. This is your third cup of coffee. “Just—need a goddamn break.

You can sense Namjoon’s nerves grating too. “I get it.” He looks at his watch. “Well. We need to leave in five minutes.”

You graded almost all of your half of assignments. You let yourself breathe a sigh of accomplishment, clearing your work into your bag. “Thanks for helping me out.”

“Buy me lunch someday and we’ll call it even,” Namjoon says. He swipes the papers your way to collect. “And by the way—” he takes one last sip of his coffee— “I caught wind that one of the Commissioner-Generals is coming to the ceremony.”

You stare. “From which agency?” 

“No clue. But I just thought you should know.”

Of course he would. The one time you don’t clear your search history and now Namjoon is up your ass helping you find any potential global PhD programs. And it wasn’t unimaginable either, some higher-up coming to see the semester-end awards the department heads organized, and the student chair had a lot of say in it, current one being Kim Namjoon: a lobbyist, a smart guy, and Twitter-sort-of-famous for being really damn loud about inequality.

But they’re probably not recruiting me, you think. Best not to get your hopes up lest it go to a well-deserved head who apparently doesn’t get distracted by the potential of finally squeezing their boyfriend’s dick. 

Namjoon sighs. “Hey, isn’t the ceremony the same day as the game?”

“Yep,” you confirm. For a split second, an image of Jeongguk giggling pops up into your head.

“Do you think you’ll make it?”

You sling your bag over your shoulder, standing outside the door until Namjoon turns off all the lights. “I’m gonna try.”

The hallway to the main entrance of the Humanities wing is quiet. “Speaking of the game. Any intel about your current… predicament?”

“Jimin?”

“Jimin.”

“About Jeongguk?”

“About Jeongguk.”

“Fuck,” you murmur. And you thought he’d be kind enough to keep your secret, but Namjoon is to Jimin like a big is to a little except they’re both too posh to be in a frat. “Not really. And stay out of it.”

“I will,” he says. He opens the door, winter wind as brutal as ever. You think about Jeongguk walking you to the bus stop but he’s probably already back at his dorm. You shiver. “But if I catch you distracted on your phone again I might have to ask.”

You cower into embarrassment.“Sorry.” 

Namjoon waves you off. “Just get home safe, yeah?”

Getting home isn’t that bad; late enough for the absence of the rush hour crowd and you get to sit on the bus the rest of the ride. You all but book it to your place to escape the frost nipping at your cheeks and into the nest of your textbooks. Plans to demolish at least a tiny bit of your not-so-tiny pile of work come to a stand-still when you hear your phone vibrate.

[7:46 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Hey did u finish yet [7:46 PM] You: fuck sorry forgot to text [7:46 PM] You: yeah i did, i just got home [7:47 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: That’s good [7:47 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Do you have a lot of work to do tonight?? [7:48 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Please say no [7:48 PM] You: ….. [7:48 PM] You: why [7:48 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: The plan [7:50 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Still building [7:50 PM] You: should i be scared [7:51 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: No!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [7:51 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: But [7:51 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I know you wouldn’t like it if I didn’t ask, and I’m a good boy, so [7:52 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Can I send you a picture of my dick?

A boot hangs limply from your toes from when you were trying to tug it off. Dumbly, you’re gaping. Gaping at this transition from shy Jeongguk to… whatever the fuck this was. The pulsing of your sex betrays your shock.

It’s not like things were changing fast, either. That moment in his bed—after he fucked you with his fingers—was the last time you’d been together. A solid evening of knotted arms and Jeongguk’s breath down your neck. He’d only let you go because your complaints to do homework got too loud for him to sleep properly, and you left him in his room like that: heavy-eyed and full of low murmurs for you to come back.

“You’ll miss me, right?” He’d asked. It sounded so innocent. Looked like it too when he stood next to you as you slipped on your shoes. The answer was easy.

“Duh.”

And it wasn’t like you weren’t affectionate. Sure, gaining the impulse to hug and squeeze him was one you had to work up to, but this came with new relationships, that novelty of being someone else’s: one that Jeongguk had no problems getting used to. Took you a little longer to warm up to his kisses in public but you’re here now. Here, slack-jawed at this distant intimacy. Feet mired in your shock, on the carpet of your front door.

You don’t remember feeling this desperate for Jeongguk before. 

[7:54 PM] You: i [7:54 PM] You: definitely wouldn’t be opposed

You lock your screen fast. Fling your shoes off, slap your jacket onto a hanger. You nearly bust your bedroom down in your hurry to get the fuck on the bed, like the rush of a late night with a stranger but Jeongguk is wholly familiar and isn’t even here to touch you. The ding of your phone is enough to keep you on your toes. You don’t swipe yet because already you’re sweating.

Aa…Jeongguk❣️: 1 Photo and 2 Messages

Should you take your clothes off? Or is he supposed to ask you to do that? Should you ask? What the fuck. This was too much.

You open it. It takes one second to download.

That’s his dick. Jeongguk’s dick, flash on, held up by the tips of his fingers at the base like he knows his angles. The tip is flushed with a wetness you’d lick right up if you were there just to feel the way he shivers under you.

[7:55PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Baby I’m so hard [7:55PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Wanna kiss you all over

You squeal. 

This was your boyfriend, mister-campus-hotboy, the one literally everyone got hard over and now he’s sending you his own personal dick pics. Maybe you do need to thank the high heavens one day because

What

The

Fuck is going on.

No matter. 

[7:57PM] You: i want u to [7:57PM] You: want u on top of me [7:57PM] You: with ur lips on my neck [7:58PM] You: getting me wet. u always make me. wet

You can’t wait anymore. Your shirt is off, bra tossed, back bare on your sheets. You shimmy out of your pants just as Jeongguk texts back.

[7:58PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Fcurck baby [7:59PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Can’t stop thinnking abt u [8:00PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: The way u sounded [8:00PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: When I was e ating u out [8:01PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: u tasted so good on m y tonguel fucckkkk [8:01PM] You: are u jacking off rn ??? [8:02PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Yess [8:02PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Touch urself [8:02PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Please?

Panties come off. It’s not a surprise when your finger is soaked in your arousal, teasing your clit and you sigh.

[8:02PM] You: fuck im so wet [8:03PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Yeah??? [8:03PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: What r u thinkgnin about [8:03PM] You: your mouth [8:04PM] You: on my tits [8:04PM] You: my cunt [8:04PM] You: u got me off sooo good [8:05PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Fuucckckk baby [8:05PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: You’re so hot ho ly shit [8:05PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Want u so bad [8:06PM] You: how??? [8:06PM] You: u already treat me so good [8:06PM] You: maybe i’’ll take care of u now hm? ?? [8:07PM] You: mymouth on ur dick [8:07PM] You: taste so good [8:08PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Shit

Everything was jumping out of your head so quick your one hand couldn’t keep up. The two fingers on your pussy dipped again, jolts of sweetness straight through your nerves when you rub yourself faster. Focusing on his texts was as easy as trying to stave your orgasm off, which… really wasn’t going too well, pelvis meeting the palm of your hand in a desperate kick.

[8:08PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Take your clothes off [8:09PM] You: past that

It takes him a minute.

[8:10PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Could you send a pic [8:10PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Pleas e

Oh. Okay.

You lean up on your elbow, push your chest against your bicep in the hopes that your cleavage could somewhat be evocative enough in the weak light of your phone. (You notice you forgot to turn the lights on.) The picture cuts off right above your nipples, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t do that just for the possibility of a desperate plea. You lie back down.

Sent.

[8:13PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: urruhguhgkehrdhfg [8:13PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Baby pleease I want more [8:14PM] You: of what ??? [8:14PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: FUck [8:15PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I want you [8:15PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: On top of me [8:15PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Grnding yuor pretty pussy on my dick [8:16PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: You’re wet ik ur wet

Of course he would. He knows your body better than ever before, and you might tease him but the throbbing you’re attending to is too much of a distraction.

[8:17PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Can you imagine that [8:17PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Teasig my cock into you [8:17PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: But I won’t putnit in yet [8:17PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Bc I want u squirming o n top of me [8:18PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Ik u don’t beg [8:19PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: But I would ask u anyway if u want me to sink u down on my cock

Oh my god. The soft sucking sound of your fingers inside your cunt isn’t enough to drag you out of this reverie. It just sinks you deeper into this bliss Jeongguk spells out for you so well. He has you like putty. Your knuckles curve you into a hopeless whimper.

[8:20PM] You: i want that [8:20PM] You: iwa nt that so bad pleas [8:21PM] You: let me feel your dick inside [8:21PM] You: u want that so bad baby [8:21PM] You: to feel me squeezing around u [8:21PM] You: im so tight and wwt [8:22PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Wanna hear u  [8:22PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Ft [8:22PM] You: just call

You don’t think you could handle seeing his dick now. Especially when the build in your pussy is this close to tipping you into a climax he probably wants to hear.

Your phone blares in the quiet. “Baby—”

“I’m so close,” Jeongguk says. He sounds like he’s panting. “Tell me you are too. Please—!” He cuts himself off with a gasp.

“Y-Yeah.” You burn in his desperation, curling into your cunt in the spot you know would have you keeling over. “Ngh—!”

“I wanna hear you. Wanna—hear you when I fuck you. So—good.”

“Oh fuck—”

“You want that too baby?”

You heave. “Yes!”

“Let me hear you cum. Please. I’m so fucking close—”

“Jeongguk!” You sputter, moaning loud, crying in the extremity. It zips through your core, has you reeling, legs shaking as you rub it out so hard you arch from your bed. You barely register Jeongguk’s own completion.

“Fuck I’m cumming—shit!” He groans, long, noisy on the line but the image of his cum onto his hands has your stomach clenching. Clobbered by his own doing and it’s almost endearing how fucked out he sounds. There’s a moment where you hear fumbling, a distant breath; shifts in the mattress probably. “Baby…”

Your phone lights up again. 

Aa…Jeongguk❣️: 1 Photo

You don’t hesitate this time. 

His dick is wet, probably with his spit, but now his entire first is closed around it, dregs of his cum pooling in the suction of his palm against the pink skin. The urge to put your mouth on him is so over-whelming you groan in frustration.

“Want it in my mouth,” you say.

“You’ll make me hard again,” Jeongguk murmurs with a laugh.

It’s just past 8:30. “So. What got you so hard that had you begging for me over the phone?”

“Hm.” You move until you’re under the covers. A makeshift warmth because you don’t have Jeongguk to cuddle you for post-sex softness. “I don’t know. Just missed you. Again. Sorry if you had work to do.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yeah I’m not.” You think you hear him in the washroom. The vent is loud. “Made a mess.”

“Not my fault.”

“Uh, it kinda was. Hoping for more nipple next time.”

“Now you’re asking for too much,” you sigh. There’s a sleepy pull in your head, dragging you through the waves of feelings that currently bombard your heart. “I miss you too. Hope you’re not working too hard.”

“I have a bruise on my ass! Oh my god I forgot to tell you. But Hoseok checked me so hard for no fucking reason and—boom. Landed right on my booty.”

You coo. “Aw. Want me to kiss it better?”

“Yes please, it’s on my fatter butt-cheek I think.”

It dies down again. “So what stage are we at for your build-up?”

“Close to the finale.”

You can’t stop yourself from smiling. There’s only three days left till your prospective hells come to a head. Then it’s back to loving Jeongguk but closer to him this time, not through the cracked screen of your phone. “Can’t wait.”

“Me too,” Jeongguk says. “Guess—I should leave you to your work?”

As much as you want to say no, the pile of essays on your desk is calling for your ass to get moving. It sends a quick ripple of nervous tension down your spine but the sooner you get it done the sooner it is to texting Jeongguk again. You know he’s impatient too. “Yeah. Might stay up.”

“Not too late, okay? You’re almost there. And make that tea I bought you, it’s supposed to help with your headaches.”

You’ll cry. “I love you.”

“Love you too. Text me when you’re gonna sleep.”

You’re probably ovulating because a tear really does slip over your cheek. The stickiness between your thighs rubs your skin when you finally get up, avoiding the offensive stack of work in your periphery when the hints of a new headache start to come up. 

Jeongguk probably knew you were heading straight into another painful night of working. There’s a tin of loose leaf tea sitting patiently for you in your cupboard. And maybe taking on the teaching position wasn’t such a good idea, but then again, dates where everything loomed over you were inevitable. School’s a bitch. But you have an attractive boy waiting for you to finish, and that’s what prompts you to face the music. One more time.

Three more nights. 

The first night is actually okay. You get a page and half done, and Namjoon checks in with a text in the evening to make sure you aren’t pulling your teeth out. Jeongguk has practice the whole day. 

During the second night, you forget to save one of the articles you cited, and you spend a frantic hour searching through all your sources to trace it back. It’s a painful process and you almost cry, but you text Jeongguk and he sends you a selfie of him sending you a thumbs up. Your phone lags trying to scroll through the gigantic box of of hearts he texts you. You find the article. It’s good.

Third night and you’re about ready to give up. Jeongguk and Namjoon are both out of commission because apparently the universe hates all of you and you’re all busy with your respective work. But you have a page to conquer, and the onus is on you to show up with nice skin tomorrow because the department likes to take pictures to post online. The tea Jeongguk got you steams as you type diligently.

One

More

Word

Andit’sdone.

“Oh god,” you whisper to yourself. You scroll through your paper, making sure all your citations are right. Page numbers there. No excessive use of the first-person, your professor’s name spelt correctly. Formatted correctly.

It’s done.

You bask in the harsh light of your desk lamp, weight lifted off your shoulders the instant you save your document to submit online.

The assignment page loads, and you hit the button.

The line of your phone rings twice.

“Hello?” Jeongguk groans. It’s three in the morning. “Babe? Are you okay?”

“I FINISHED I SUBMITTED IT IT’S IN!” You yell. A genuine rise in your throat that has Jeongguk whooping with as much energy as his sleep-ridden voice can allow on the other side of the line.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I wanna hop on your dick right now.”

Jeongguk just snickers. Your eyebrows raise, because for sure he would’ve been choking. But maybe it’s because he’s tired. “Don’t tempt me into a boner, it’s too early for this.”

“Fuck—sorry. You have your game. Okay I’ll hang up. I’m gonna—sleep. Try to. Okay I love you! Sorry bye!”

“Sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You knock out the second your light is off and your head hits the pillow.

You asked Namjoon earlier in the day to call you awake because your ringtone is more annoying than your alarm. And even though the ceremony is later in the evening, you’re scared that you’ll sleep the entire day away. 

Jeongguk texts you before you’re up. A congratulatory message, and another saying that he’ll be at practice the whole day so he’ll try to text you at lunch. But the afternoon sun sees no text from him and you know it’s because he’s sweating his balls off on the hockey rink. Stubborn like you know he is but now you miss him again. 

One thing that sticks in your head the rest of the day: the thought of it being over. Because once you get your awards and hopefully get to see the end of the game, you get Jeongguk to yourself again. Two weeks of agonizing to get to this point all but crashes into your loins to spark a frighteningly hot fire, and now, once again, you’re left to fantasize about Jeongguk’s dick. You force yourself not to dwell on it too much, makeup a risk to your fidgeting and if the reason why you have an ugly picture up online is because you were longing for dick then—well. 

It’s Namjoon who greets you when you get to the conference hall downtown.

“You look good,” is all he says. 

You stick your tongue out at him. You had to redo your lipstick twice. “Shut up.”

He leads you to where he was sitting: the massive table stuck in the middle with the microphones sticking up along the perimeter. Maplewood and entirely unfitting for the green carpet, though Namjoon beats you before you can say anything mean. “If you look up front, that’s the Commissioner-General I was talking about.”

You look. She’s a petite woman, scarily thin, wearing a bright scarf. “Yoon Soomin,” you recognize.

“Correct.”

“Namjoon!” You hit his shoulder, and he winces with a grin. “Why didn’t you tell me!”

“Because I knew you’d get stressed!”

Well he’s goddamn right you’re stressed now. Yoon Soomin, Commissioner-General of one of the programs you had your eyes on for the past year now. Applications are open next week. You’ve had yours done for a solid six months, and now the head of the program is right here. In the flesh. Watching you about to get your award.

The chatter of all the other students is drowned out when the program head gets up for the commencement speech. “Good evening everyone. My name is Bae Joohyun. Thank you—”

Ding.

Namjoon kicks your shin. You silence your phone. It’s Jeongguk.

[7:39PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Hi babe hope u had a good day!!! Sorry I got distracted [7:40PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: But I know ur gna win like fifty awards so advanced congrats!!!!!!! Proud of ur big brain [7:40PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Love you [7:41PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I hope you make it later pls try ur hardest but if u can’t it’s okay but like I would really appreciate if you. Came [7:41PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: OJO [7:42PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Heh Taehyung said that looks like me 

There’s clapping. You don’t know why everyone’s clapping but you do it too.

[7:42PM] You: pls don’t break any limbs while i am here i won’t be fast enough [7:42PM] You: love u. play smart not hard. i’ll be there for ur final goal 🤪 [7:43PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Anything for my scholar [7:43PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: You r so cute please come soon [7:44PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I have to go now I LOVE You

“I will now invite the Student Chair Kim Namjoon forward to deliver a speech,” Professor Bae says.

No last text to Jeongguk because now you join the applause once more. Namjoon gets up with practiced ease, staggered steps of confidence because if anyone is going to get a PhD first, it’s him. And you know he applied for the program too.

It starts simple: “Thank you for coming today.” A celebratory gathering, gratitude for everyone’s hard work and commitment. A call for everyone to continue being ambassadors for the Humanities. Nothing you haven’t heard before. 

“I would also like to announce that the department has decided to award a special recipient tonight for their academic work and contribution to graduate research,” Namjoon continues. “The award will be presented by Yoon Soomin, Commissioner-General of the Anthropology for the Humanities Global Network. Please give your warmest applause to Doctor Yoon.”

Oh god. Your literal idol because she was just as interested in babies as you were and Jeongguk would for sure be goading you into a frenzy because of your shaking. But you clap as normally as normal clapping goes, and Doctor Yoon takes the mic.

“I’ll just head straight into it,” she says with a pretty smile. You catch Namjoon looking at you. He raises an amused eyebrow, and now you’re suspicious. “It is an honour to call upon ___, for their recent submission of pronatalist work based in Europe for the research study funded by the Global Network.” That’s—you. That’s you, and these are your legs moving on their own accord to the beat of the eager applause. You don’t look at Namjoon but you can hear him, because he’s clapping the loudest. “___ has been recognized before: for an outstanding submission in undergraduate research on cultural genocide, as well as active participation in the Anthropological department.”

Yoon Soomin extends a hand to you, as well as a pretty certificate gilded with bold letters in the form of your name. Again: all offered by Yoon Soomin. Again, you are shaking. 

“T—hank you,” you stammer, and her hand is soft in yours and you really just might cry but it’s probably because you’re exhausted. You’d slept for a solid ten hours but no amount of rest would have ever prepared you for her pretty voice congratulating you again. “I—It’s an honour.”

“Picture time,” Namjoon interrupts. He’s got his phone up. “Smile!”

“Congratulations again,” Doctor Yoon says. She grins like she knows something too, and the rest of the ceremony is static in your ears.

Like always, it’s repetition. A name called, award presented. Your name is exhausted three more times, and you’d cower under the attention but you worked too goddamn hard not get to this point. You think of Jeongguk, probably three to none even though it’s only been half an hour into the game. You and Namjoon are practically trembling when Professor Bae dismisses everyone.

Your jacket is on, purse about to swing over your shoulder when someone comes up to you.

“Hello.” Doctor Yoon again. “Oh—are you in a hurry?”

“Not at all,” you rush out. You can feel Namjoon vibrating too. “I—Thank you so much for presenting the award.”

“It was my pleasure. The overseas program application opens next week,” she advises, and you really might scream but you will yourself to stillness. “We don’t know where it’s based yet, but I hope that doesn’t discourage you from submitting your application.”

“Oh she’s been interested for years,” Namjoon offers. You elbow him. Doctor Yoon laughs. 

“I’m glad to hear that. Keep up the good work!”

You all but skirt around her with a quick thank you again! and make a mad dash out the building and to the underground train because Namjoon sucks and can’t drive on highways yet. “Good thing you didn’t wear heels because you’re so fucking slow.”

“Shut up,” you growl. The people on the sidewalk offer no space for you to slither through, and you grind you teeth with impatience. “And don’t give me shit when I beat you four to one.”

“Not everyone’s into babies like you are, genius.” You reach the closest subway entrance, a seedy staircase down into the dirty cement and your fare is paid with a drop of a coin; running for the departing train and you make it by the wisp of your hair. You sigh into an empty seat, Namjoon right next to you. “Time.”

It’s nearing 9:00. “Oh my god it’s almost done.”

“You’ll make it,” Namjoon says. The jostling ride is another twenty minutes, and you know it’s cutting it short but you promised Jeongguk. He’s so close. You’re out of breath. “So you’re free now, huh.”

“Yeah.”

“You worked hard.”

You scrunch your face in embarrassment. “Thanks Joonie.”

“I mean it,” he says. “No one deserves this more than you. Yeah? Cut yourself some slack.”

“I know—it’s just—I couldn’t be there for Jeongguk as much as I could have—” And it’s all coming out now. There’s only one other person on this cart other than Namjoon so you let yourself have the moment, the breakdown. The awfulness of preoccupation and missing your boyfriend and too much work. You don’t want to cry but the screech of the metal tracks makes it easier to hide. “‘M so fucking tired.”

Namjoon pats your back when you heave. “Two more stops. Then you can curse the gods all you want.”

Good incentive, because once the doors slide open on your stop you book it up the escalator as fast as your fatigue can allow. Luckily campus is right around the corner, cars taking up all the space on the road. Probably all here for the final match of the year, your university against the one a city over, and the cheers are so loud you hear it from the two sidewalks over. “Let’s go let’s go!”

And you and Namjoon run again, down to the set of doors of the arena nestled into the corner of your school. The doors are heavyset but you yank them like you’ll die if you aren’t inside within the next twenty seconds, and it’s only now that you feel the buzz of your phone from a text.

[8:58 PM] Jimin Bimin: I’m on the east side with taehyung, third from the bottom bleacher, mostly in the middle. hurry!!!!!!

Namjoon’s no doubt just following the beeline you make because even you can’t feel where your legs are taking you. All you know is the rush of school pride and the deafening yells of the crowd, lost bits of popcorn on the floor scrunching against your shoes as you search for Jimin. You see Taehyung first: warpaint on his face and he waves you over quickly, scooting over with a pull on Jimin to make room for Namjoon too.

“You made it!” Jimin screams and it still sounds like a squeak with the roar of the people everywhere.

But you ignore this, laser-beaming the rink for that familiar 97. You catch Jeongguk closely following the puck, stick clenched tightly in his fists, legs quick in their glide as the offence. You feel everyone’s bated breath, hands grabbing Jimin’s arm—the other team’s members flying past Jeongguk, the raise of the wood, a slap to the puck—

The red blares. The crowd goes wild. 

“HE WON!” Jimin screams and so do you, the wave of excitement passing over you like fairy dust and now everyone’s cheering. You have no idea what went on. But now all the boys off the rink jump over the barrier to grab Jeongguk in a hard throttle, arms tangled around each other, chant lost on your ears but they look so happy. 

Somehow, a body breaks away from the huddle, and now they’re skating in your direction. 

Jeongguk waves. You smile. A wave back, and now you have each other again.

You wait outside the building, watching as the throngs disperse. Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jimin already said their goodbyes, last felicitations from them both and a promise for lunch from you somehow gets squeezed from the conversation too. The brick is hard against your back.

[9:30PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: WHERE ARE YOU [9:30PM] You: i’m outside already!!

A door bursts open. There’s an inhale, then you turn your head. Jeongguk drops his bag the second you charge for him, arms ready for your attack as you jump and wrap your legs around his waist, arms caught on his neck. You think you hear someone gasp but it’s all lost on you now. “Oh my god I love you,” he breathes, and you cry. “Babe—”

“I watched you,” you sniffle, and you frown when he laughs. “Watched you win.”

“I’m glad.”

You kiss him. “Missed you.”

Jeongguk looks like he might cry too. “Mine again?”

“Yours again.” And you mean it. 

“I would—I would invite you over to the after-party but I’m sleepy,” he says in between presses of his mouth, “and I ran out of contact solution the other day so I can’t invite you over and also Taehyung’s probably sleeping right now.”

“Then you come over.” You melt into his tongue, his feet staggering in your grind and he bites your lip.

“R-Really?” 

“Yeah, actually get some shut-eye.” He lets you off when you wriggle your ass against his hands, dragging him to the bus stop before he can put them back against your jeans or else you might really fuck him this time. “Because Taehyung snores too loud anyway.”

The ride to your apartment totals eight minutes because it’s late, and living on the edge of the suburbs means no one’s up this late anyhow. Jeongguk hadn’t even let you find a seat, balancing through red lights on his feet just to fly out the door when you’d reached your stop. You’ve already done too much running today but Jeongguk still rushes you up to your floor, and before you can get the key to your door he has you pressed up on it instead.

“Want you,” he says. Hard against your throat like he means it.

“God—let me—open my door and you have me,” you say through your teeth, gritted because the hallways echo and now Jeongguk has his thigh pressed up against you. “Babe let go—”

He does, but only with a lingering kiss promised by your burning attraction. You don’t fumble with the lock but you do stumble in from how quick you open the door, slamming shut in your haste and you hear his duffel bag meet the ground and now your back meets the hard metal again. “You have to stop shoving me into this thing oh my god.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jeongguk whispers. He’s kissing you again. Lifts you up with no warning and you yelp into his curious mouth, dick grinding into the rough of your pants. “Fuck I—”

“Did—you want to—”

“No—wait yes, yes—I just—” He doesn’t let up. You can feel his cock straining against his sweats, flimsy layers you could just shove down but his hips are glued to your own. “I can’t—cum. Right now. Too much. Wind—wound up.”

Your tailbone is starting to dig into the door. “Then let me down and let’s just—sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. One last kiss, nose meeting yours. “Still on my hockey grind.”

“Ew,” you snort. “Also don’t wear your pants to bed.”

“Oh.” He shoves his shoes off when you do. 

“I don’t like it when people wear their outside clothes on my sheets.”

“Oh.”

“But it’d be nice to wake up to your dick on my ass,” you add. Jeongguk makes a strangled noise, then carries you to bed.

“I’ll brush my teeth tomorrow,” is the last thing you remember him saying. 

The morning rushes in too soon. Your curtains aren’t closed and Jeongguk hogs the blanket, sprawled on your side of the bed no less. You weren’t kidding when you said you wanted to spoon but at least his cock is warm with something just as soft as your ass.

You settle in the calm. Jeongguk isn’t one to snore but his soft breaths are just as jarring, disbelief apparent when you realize this is the first time he’s ever slept-over at your place. As convenient as it is to live somewhere that only needed one bus ride, you’re on campus all the time; making sense meant taking up space in his res instead. But now the lump he occupies in your bed is something you think you could get used to.

(Even if he hogs the blanket.)

You’re still in your clothes from last night, but at least you had the decency to shuck off your jeans. And you’d gotten up well past Jeongguk-sleeping-hours to take off your makeup because it took you forever to pry his ridiculously strong arm off around you. You get up with a kiss to his mane of bedhead and a silent reminder to grab an extra toothbrush.

The next plan to execute on your list after washing the tired off: breakfast. And you know you don’t have eggs but you open the fridge like you’ll see the carton sitting there anyway.

You’re standing, coming to a blank for what feels like forever. You think briefly about ordering in, then remember the guilt of just grabbing groceries instead. The internal battle is cut short when you hear the creak of your bed, a long groan. Then, footsteps.

“You look sad,” Jeongguk croaks two seconds later.

You frown for effect. “I want eggs. And why are you up.”

“Come here, egghead.” Jeongguk is groggy. The sexy kind too, because his voice is a tenor that scratches the needier part in you, the one telling you to bury your face in his chest and you do just that. “I felt you move. Sorry I couldn’t wake you up with my dick against your butt.”

“S’ok. And go shower because you’re stinky.”

He lets you go. “Good morning,” he says for the first time. A domesticity you feel lightheaded from. “You should shower with me.”

“Unless you’re scared of detachable shower heads I think you’ll be fine.”

“Don’t be cocky,” he whines. “And you’re dirty too, you sweat a lot just like I do.”

That’s true. “But it’s not even a hair washing day.”

“Why are you resisting me, woman.” He brings two hands up, wiggling his fingers. “I’ll tickle you.”

“You will not—”

“I will tickle you and if you don’t shower with me I will cry.”

You huff. “Fine.” He leads you down the hall to the bathroom, satisfied in his quick win, back flexing when he takes his shirt off. “And I’m the cocky one.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says. You know he’s baiting but you don’t want to resist him anymore. “You need to turn the shower on because I don’t know how to.”

Getting naked is a different kind of intimate when you’re not in the bedroom. You know this because Jeongguk can’t even look your way when you’ve stripped, but you’re shivering like he’s staring.  You step into the tub before he can back out. He doesn’t come in till the water’s running.

You like it hot. Jeongguk—not so much by the looks of his hesitation, so you compromise with a slight shift of the knob and a switch in place so he’s under the pelt of water. He’s all hard muscle under your hands. “Hope you like cherry blossom.”

He doesn’t say anything. Grabbing the loofah you spurt your pink soap, lathering it on his chest first. Jeongguk just stares. “I really missed you,” he says.

You nod. Nodding fast to keep yourself from thinking too hard because then you might start getting soft. “Me too,” you croak out. “Want me to wash your hair?”

Jeongguk just brushes his lips against yours in answer. You’ve just reached over his shoulders to get the back of his neck but he forces you back into the tiles, back inundated with cold hardness and there’s no room for complaint when your tits press against Jeongguk’s skin like this. He groans a desperate sound into your pliant mouth. “I—I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

You pause. “For what?”

“I don’t—know—I—just having you here again. Makes me want to do everything.”

You are enveloped in mist and so much longing. “Let me finish then we’ll—go back.” You don’t know if you want to focus southward because one look at his dick and you’ll fall to your knees. “Turn around.”

He does. The glass of the divider fogs up in your intimacy. You give a half-hearted scrub along his skin, focusing on the grime you can’t see. Can’t think.

“Okay you know—I think we’re good,” you say, voice tight.

“Come here.” Jeongguk spins to find you again, a hard kiss into you and you feel his dick press up against your stomach. “Towels.”

“Turn off the shower.” You push open the door, shaking legs dripping onto the floor as you scramble to wrap yourself in warmth other than Jeongguk. He grabs the other one, quick passes over his skin before he drops it to the floor and nearly bowls you over to get you out into the bed room.

It’s bright. Jeongguk reads your mind. “Can I—shut the blinds?”

“Please.”

He goes to twist the plastic while you dry off the last remnants of water clinging to your skin, and before you know it Jeongguk has you lain flat across the tangled blankets, legs dangling from the side of the bed. “God I tried really hard to have a normal morning with you but I—just can’t anymore.” He kneels over you. “Please tell me you feel the same.”

You could go on about how quick the one-eighty was. From your thoughts about breakfast to this absolutely insatiable need for your boyfriend to insert whatever valid body part he could use into your pussy. But you and Jeongguk are never conventional, and going too fast is an illusion now. 

You have each other again, and no one’s counting the seconds anymore.

“Will you fuck me?” You ask.

“Yes,” he decides, and he unwraps the towel you’d clung onto before pressing downwards and caving into your lips. “I—have never wanted you so goddamn bad in my life, oh my god.”

“Good,” you choke on your breath because Jeongguk slips down your throat with his tongue and a pucker of his lips. “Ah—!”

A bloom of your slick runs through your cunt when he sucks hard on your skin, thumbs a shy presence on your breasts but they peak under the pressure. “You have the cutest tits,” he says. 

“Shut up.” You flare with embarrassment. “You can—be more rough.”

Jeongguk twists your nipples and you pant. “Like that?”

“Suck on them too. Make it—hurt.” His eyes flutter, determined in your command. Mouth a hot suction, laving you with his spit. His teeth graze in a bite and you moan. “Fuck—yeah. That’s so good…”

He stays like this: feeding into your sounds with sloppy grips of his tongue, suckling till your tits pop out his mouth and your hands find the nape of his neck in desperation. “Ugh—please—”

Jeongguk slurps on a nipple. “Get up there.”

You scramble up the bed, comfortably nestled in the centre and Jeongguk’s fingers go to spread your pussy,   cheeks heating in the sound of wet. He sighs.

“Do you want to cum now?”

You dip your head. “Please.”

He settles on his stomach, diving in to latch onto your clit, sucking that has your head thrown back further with every inch he covers with the jerk of his tongue. Honed in on the dangerous tip that could have you teetering over in a second and your hips pull back, but his hands take your bucking and locks you down to his attention. Too much so and now you wail. “Oh my g—od.”

Curses caught in the grit of your teeth because now he licks the stretch of your cunt like he’s thirsty. Jeongguk’s good at making you want more when you don’t know what means. “Gonna—use a finger.”

“Fuck, yeah. Yeah.” He curls in and up, a sweet crevice touched. Eyes rolling back as you puff. “Holy fu-uck yeah, finger it.”

“Wanna beg?” He suggests. Challenging.

“You’re asking me to?”

“I’m begging you to,” Jeongguk snickers.

“Then—” you settle up on your elbows, watching the minute thrusts into your cunt like a lazy cartoon— “please use another finger. And—make me cry this time.”

His eyes bulge in your confidence. Pulls out; now there’s two hard intrusions and it digs into a sweeter part inside, a touch that has you keening right into the pillow, drool smearing on the sheet. Clit sitting pretty on his wet tongue and you’d let him have it all day if he asked. Then Jeongguk thrusts in a drill so hard you vibrate. “O-O-Oh my fuuuuuuck—”

He curves into your loudness. “So fucking sexy,” he praises, rushing right through you and onto his fingers. “So wet—”

“Ugh—!” Your sobbing isn’t a tearful one but the scratch in your throat is smarting. Jeongguk swipes right over your nub. Leans up, fingers still a consistent presence and now his tongue is teasing yours, a muscle spasm more than anything and you can’t fucking breathe.

“Sit on my face,” he says.

“You—really?”

“I might cum.” Oh. He looks at you, eyes a wonder of pleasured agony. Probably because he’d been grinding into the sheets like last time but now you’re even more gone.

“Okay,” you gulp, and Jeongguk rolls over. Knees above his shoulders, using his elbows to slide along the mattress till you’re settled comfortably over his eager mouth. “You okay?”

“Fuck yeah.” He pulls on your thighs until his neck doesn’t strain up anymore, a stretch you can ignore if only to feel the traction of his rough love on your sensitivity. “This is—so hot.”

“Are you—pulling on pornographic roots right now?”

He hums into a suction. “Yeah.”

“What else have you thought about?” You can’t see his entire face from your view, but his forehead is scrunched. Thinking hard for you.

“Nothing—crazy,” he says. He kisses your leaking cunt. “Always wanna make you feel good. But it’d be hot if I choked you, yeah.”

“Oh—”

“Whatever you like,” Jeongguk decides. “I like whatever you like.”

“I would like it if you made me cry,” you contend.

He doesn’t say anything else. Jeongguk squeezes your ass, neck straining to get you dribbling on the tip of his tongue, pleasure pulled from the bottom of your stomach into moaning so loud you’re worried for the thinness of your walls. “Oh my god I’m close—don’t stop—”

Your pussy grinds right into it. His fingers are lax on your skin like he’s given up if it means you feed into your own demise. And you do: grating all your nerves from Jeongguk’s insistence into your sex and your hands tangle into his hair. “Oh fuck I’m—Jeongguk—!”

The feeling settles heavy in your pussy. Taken with a vehemence you’d praise forever and Jeongguk is nothing but passionate, a power translated through all his work and one he insists on when he paints your cunt like it’s his favourite thing to do. His hands tighten their grip on your ass, nearly falling over when his tongue slides like that—

“I’m cumming—oh my god I’m—fuck!”

Your eyes sting. It bursts—starting on Jeongguk’s tongue and spreading so fast you can’t tell up from down.  Moans wrenched from your chest and you can’t catch your breath, even when you push yourself off from Jeongguk because you can’t stop riding into it. “Ah—oh fuck.” You’re sniffling.

“Babe wait did I actually make you cry?”

“Yes you idiot, come here.” And Jeongguk crawls over you, kiss-ready, lips wet on yours. “Do you—is it—are you okay? Do you wanna try now?”

“Sure,” he says. “I just—might not last too long.”

“We take it slow,” you say. He nods. “Got condoms?”

Jeongguk looks sheepish but he nods again. “Please don’t ask me why I have them on me.”

“I’m asking why you have them on you.”

He groans. “Let me just—get them from my bag.” And he runs, hard penis and all, outside to the bag he’d left outside in your haste to the bed. He’s not even gone for two seconds before he has the string of foil in his hand. “Remember there was a party last night? Taehyung gave them to me just in case—you know. Something happened.”

“Good friend. Do you—have lube too?” 

Jeongguk pales. “No.”

“Come here,” you order instead, because you’re ridiculously wet anyhow. He gets closer, lying down when you push his chest down. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Just wanna kiss you.”

He lets you. You stay in this moment, a precursor to a new era if you were being dramatic about it. But having him so soft and yielding under you like this makes you want to enjoy it, bit by bit. “I love you,” he says.

You mold into him. “I love you too.” Reaching over for one of the foils, you tear it as Jeongguk stares with a still chest. The condom rolls easily. “Okay?”

“Yep.”

Then you sit on top of him, your own breath caught in the butterflies jumbled in your stomach, a flit when his hands come to rest on your thighs. Nerves tangling with his and you feel the low tremors in his body. Your pussy glides along his dick lying pretty on his stomach. You tangle your hands with his. “Don’t be nervous,” you whisper.

Jeongguk gulps. “Just—kiss me again.”

You lean back down, his hands tightening yours when you meet him again. “Are you okay?”

His eyes are closed. “Yes—yes. You can put it in. Please.”

“Just—say the word and I’ll stop.”

He nods.

There’s a lump in your throat. You want it to be good for him. The griping all his friends did had done a great deal for your sex life, yeah. But the point of his comfort was crossed so many times you feared he’d back out by this time. And now he waits: waits for your go, on your own time, because the last thing he wanted to do was pressure you too. You know it in his attention, his quiet insistence on making you cum first. His patience for you to come back to him. Waiting so that you could get comfortable before he did, because he’s only ever comfortable when you are. 

You hold the base of his dick, tip straight below your core, positioned at the height of both your breaths.

You sink down.

It’s a scarcity, to feel this good from the get-go. A prodding that pinches a little stretches you right, Jeongguk’s length gloved in your heat, so much heat because he groans. “Oh my god.”

“Is that—okay?”

“Yes—”

His hands find your hips when your knees drop down even further. Slow, slow, slow; so wet because he makes you feel it—until you bottom out. Jeongguk shivers. “Tell me—when I can move.”

You watch his eyebrows scrunch up, teeth gritting when you shift to ease the weight on your legs. “I’m good. I’m good, please move, fuck.”

You do. You pick up to an easy pace, not straining yourself but enough for the tip of his dick to hit a spot in your gut that has you cooing. Your hands find his chest. “Ooh—fuck yeah.”

“Is it good—for you?” Jeongguk pants, bucking his hips when he watches your tits bounce. 

“Yeah. Feels so good…” You trail off, getting used to the feel of something so much thicker than his fingers. A burn you can’t say you haven’t missed, teasing your insides and you squeeze.

“Baby—that—fuck—” He’s sweating. His forehead shines, hair caught on his skin. His chest is a flushed, wet where your palms meet him because you’re getting a little winded now. But the little grunts he lets out every time you bounce is enough to keep you going. 

“Do you think—you can cum like this?”

His grin is sheepish. “N-No.”

You opt for a closer grind then. “How do you want me?”

“Your back,” he says, hesitant. “Let me—fuck you from the edge of the bed.”

You can do that. You lift up till his dick lies wet on his belly, sheets a mess under your bum when you let Jeongguk get up to move you the way he wants. He stands, one knee on the mattress as he spreads your legs, pussy served like it’s his to take. Makes a grab for his dick; jostles around a bit on your clit to see your hole tighten, stomach clenched. 

He presses in slow just to see you shiver. In control of your pleasure again, and you sigh into the sheets. 

“Oh my god.” You grasp the blankets, elbows strong to watch what you now know is the visual of Jeongguk fucking you. A little stilted in his rhythm, but only because he’s getting used to the feel of your pussy like this. 

You don’t care for the semantics of proper fucking. As long as his hips meet your ass in the beat you can only call nasty. The squelch of your arousal is loud. “Fuck—baby…”

“Yeah—feels so good.” Buried deep in your walls and maybe you could learn the ridges of his dick like this: lain here for him to use, cunt fit only for his pleasure. A position you’d gladly take everyday from now on because fuck if this isn’t heavenly. 

You know he feels it too when his chest picks up in his panting, dick a piston now and you mewl. 

“Yeah—faster, baby—like that—!”

“Shit—” Smearing your walls with your own slick, made for him to dirty. A push so vigorous you would be sliding if it weren’t for Jeongguk’s tight hands on you, and all you can do is take it. “Babe I’m close—”

And he bends down, kissing you with a pant into your mouth because he’s getting spent, efforts all going into your pleasure. He still thrusts. “Cum. Cum when you can, fuck.”

“What about—”

You shut him up with another press of your lips. “I’m fine.”

He leaves it at that. Jeongguk leans up again, adjusting one more time till he’s got both knees on the bed, cock a heady presence inside your sex and he gives it hard now. You’re trying not to squeeze so hard around him but it’s getting difficult; seeing him so focused, his eyes wild, sweat dripping on his shoulders. Sweltering in your heat and love and novelties—defiling him but in the best way possible. “I love you,” he chokes. “Oh my god I might—”

“Give it to me,” you whisper.

He does. Your pussy is still in Jeongguk’s indulgence, his whines escalating until he groans out: “I’m cumming—”

Jeongguk slams into you, a final push for your core and he croons into your neck. Streams of his pleasure in the form of a long sigh, his pulses inside. And maybe you’re dumb but you’re laughing and crying again, arms wrapping around his neck, swaying him back and forth as he calms down. 

“How was that?” You ask.

He’s crying, too. You wipe his under-eye when he takes one more kiss. “Best ever,” he says. “I’ll make you cum.”

“You don’t need to—” But his thumb is already on your clit, still wet from his doing and you force your hips to stillness— “Jeongguk no—”

“I wanna feel you cum around my dick,” he says, and the plea is enough for you to tighten and cry even more. It hurts, a nudge of pain but it’s already beginning to spread into pleasure—

“Jeongguk—”

You cum into his kiss, walls clenching into an orgasm so sweet your toes tingle. A ripple of pleasure running through all of you and he moans like he feels it too. 

Out of breath. It’s hot under his skin.

“So. Who do we tell first?”

Jeongguk laughs. “Maybe we can decide over breakfast.”

And you feel something, better than orgasmic bliss, the pleasure of a tryst: the simplicity of being in love. Jeongguk makes you feel like you can do anything.

“Eggs?” You ask.

His tongue is sweet. “Eggs.”

[youranimelover]

The Bakusquad Baby’s crush (GN! reader)

The Bakusquad Baby’s crush

~~~

Genre: fluff :)  Pro Heroes AU!

Pairing: you’ll discover at the end ;) x GN! reader

Word count: 1 669 words

Synopsis: You have been friends with the Bakusquad for years now. They consider you as the baby of the band, although you clearly have a strong quirk. Over the years, you started liking one of them. But what will they think when you finally confess?

Masterlist

~~~

The Bakusquad and you have been friends since you met on your first day at UA. You simply entered the room, big smile, truly showing how happy you were to enter the Hero training, and at that exact moment, Mina and Denki made their mission to make you smile.

You were all in the same class, and you all are the same age, yet, for whatever reason, your friends declared you as the baby of the group back then.

Even after years, they treat you like that, although, all of them know you’re not the youngest of group nor the most innocent. You are literally the only one in the squad who doesn’t mind Denki’s flirtuous habit because you generally out-flirt him, which keep on surprising him until now.

You’re not weak, nor fragile, but the squad treat you like so, and you must admit that you like it, you love all the affection you’re getting from them.

It started when Mina bought you some of your favourites snacks, and when everyone saw how happy you were just from this little action, they kept on doing so.  Mina was always bringing you your favourites snacks, Hanta would give you some cute little plushie or keychain, Katsuki is surprisingly not as loud as usual, but beware because even though he’s softer with you, he still likes to tease you, Eijirou would always give you the best hug and lend you some of his games for your game night with Denki.

Denki and you?

Different.

Your relationship was different.

All the games Eijirou lend you, you’d play it with him on game night.

All the snacks you had from Mina, you’d eat them with him on game night or movie night.

All the little plushie you had from Hanta, you’d lend him to him so he can cuddle them when it’s your turn to play on a game.

And all the hugs you guys were sharing, nothing could compare.

The entire nation knew the Bakusquad and how you would all help each other out, and they all know how they treat you, and most importantly, everyone shipped you with your actual crush:  Denki.

Wouldn’t it feel great to have everyone encouraging you to date your crush?

You thought so at first, until you realised that he wasn’t feeling the same quite early on.

You honestly don’t remember exactly when you started having feelings for him, but you remember exactly how you felt when he admitted to you back then that he truly liked your friend Kyouka. Although it was quite hard for you to encourage him with all of your heart, you got to the conclusion that you’d rather see him happy, even if that means he would be with someone else.

Nothing changed, except for the fact that he had to get over his crush on your friend who rejected him. You helped him through it and managed to like him even more. You clearly started to think back then that you were going crazy ; that was the case, you were going crazy for your best friend.

Eventually the girls started to understand how you felt for him, which led to a lot of teasing but so much encouragement.

It wasn’t so bad.

But when the entire nation began to ship you two, you had no idea what to do.

You wanted things to happen, probably more that you’d love to admit to, but Denki was taking it as a joke.

You were sure of it.

As you were having a rest day, and you were informed by your bestie that he had a live interview, you took the chance to watch him on television.

He was wearing his Hero suit, and looked as charming as ever, making the other guests heroes a bit bland, at least for you.

Questions were fusing, topics were discussed, and here it came: the question regarding your relationship with the yellow-haired hero.

You were anticipating his answers, although you knew all heroes must stay professional, you just hoped that within all the time he wasn’t a pro, this will be one of them.

But he laughed.

“-There is literally nothing going on with (y/n), we’re just best friends.”

Being hurt wasn’t the right way to put it, you were wrecked.

He friendzoned you on national tv and made sure that everyone who know about your crush on him knew what he said.

Right after that instant, your phone buzzed, the girls were storming you with messages on your group chat.

You didn’t feel like reading them, all your energy, happiness, and willingness has been gone.

You put your phone on vibrate after seeing some texts from the boys of the Bakusquad. You let it in your living room, on the table, just in front of the television. You turned the screen off and went to your bedroom.

You wish you could cry, but you knew this was bound to happen, so even if you wanted to cry, you couldn’t. You didn’t have the energy.

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

You woke up when the night had already fall. You lighted the room and saw that it was just 8PM and wished that today had never happened, but sadly it had.

You went to the toilet, made extra sure your hands were well washed (corona times guys, corona times, so please don’t forget to also do this!) and went to your kitchen to grab a bite of something you still had in your refrigerator.

You then proceeded to go to the living room and look at your phone ; the number of notifications you had was insane, all your friends tried to get in touch with you on every app they thought they could.

They were truly worried about you, and this proved again your position as the baby of the group.

But you didn’t know that the fact you didn’t answered worried Mina so much, that she kept on texting and trying to call Denki for him to go see you.

When she got a hold of him, she explained that they were all worried because you were simply not answering, which is totally unlike you, so your best friend knew he had to go see you.

At that time, he didn’t question why his friends didn’t go see you either, you always answer at the door if you’re inside, and Mina definitely has a spare key of your house, just like him. He really didn’t think it through on his way to you, he was just way too worried.

When he finally was in front of your door, he took a deep breath to catch composure, took out his key and opened the door to find you looking through your phone in the middle of your living room, with a piece of food in your other hand.

At that instant, he felt so relieved that nothing happened to you, and somehow, he also wanted to laugh at the sight in front of him ; you looked like a deer caught in light.

You were going to say something when he just looked at you, seriousness in his features which isn’t a common sight.

“-Why weren’t you answering?

-I have got no notifications from you, so how could I-?”

He interrupted you to say:

“-You answered to no one, so they told me to come!”

Your gaze turned back to your phone, looking at your conversation with Mina; you knew she was the one who send him.

“-Well, as you can see, I am alright. So, don’t worry, and go rest, you do have work tomorrow after all.”

He looked at you, dumbfounded.

“-Are you serious right now?

-Well, I do am answering all of their messages now, so everyone can stop worrying.”

Your tone was dryer than usual, as if you had cried. Well that could have been one of the reasons for your dryness if you had actually cried, but right now, you were irritated by him, and he also could tell by now. You two are so close to the point that it is a no brainer.

“-(y/n), I’m sorry.

-What are you apologizing for?”

He looked at you, not knowing what to say.

“-See? You have no idea why you’re apologizing, so don’t do it, it’s meaningless.

-Well maybe, but I can tell you are mad at me. I may not know the reason why, but I still want to apologize!

-Well don’t, it’s useless. I was making up things…

-Making up things? What are you talking about?

-That’s not your problem anymore!”

Your voice had risen for that last sentence, letting him be in a bit of a shock. You were not really the type to get really mad at him.

He knew what to do; you couldn’t resist his hugs. Even if at the moment, you really wanted to, you couldn’t. Your feelings for that idiot were too big. So, you finally let it out all.

You cried.

As he hugged you, he was patting your head to show he was there for you and supporting you whatever was going on.

Once you had calmed down, you let slip these few words:

“-Why? Why do I?”

Not understanding what you meant, he separated you from him, his hands glued to the sides of your arms.

“-Why do you? He took a pause. What do you mean by that?

-Why did I even react like this, I knew it though…I’m so stupid.

-(y/n)? What are you talking about? He asked you, concerned.

-I knew you only saw us as friends.

-Because that’s not what we are? He questioned back, not understanding where you were going.

-Well, you think of us as friends, but I don’t.”

You saw that he was about to retort as his hands left your arms, so you said what you wanted to, it took you years to do so, but at least you would finally tell him, you were done with this weird situation.

“-I like you, Denki.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you liked it :D

It is the OS for the 100 followers!

Thank you guys ^^

I would like to thanks @hikari-writes​ for helping me find the name for this AU ♥♥♥

taglist:

@babykatsu​

@hikari-writes​

[moonlitwings1]

Icing on Top

Christmas cookies were a tradition in the Mayfield house, and Max isn’t going to let two obnoxious Hargrove men ruin it this year. They didn’t do it the year before because someone thought that cookies would be bad for his cholesterol. Old man problems, Max thinks. If Neil doesn’t want his cholesterol to increase or whatever, why doesn’t he just not eat cookies. Seems simple enough to her. 

Thankfully, Neil’s not here right now. He’s with her mom going last minute Christmas shopping. She could’ve gone with them, but she doesn’t have anymore money to buy anything, spent it all on the arcade last week. She’s just going to give Neil and her mom cards, same as last year. Thank you for being the best mom! Max internally cringes. It sounds so fake every time she writes it. It’ll be even worse to write one for Neil. For Billy...well, she doesn’t know what he likes besides music and being an asshole, so he’ll get a card too.

She doesn’t believe in Santa anymore. Stopped believing when Billy ruined that for her literally the day they met. Laughed in her face and told her she was stupid for not realizing her mom’s the one who puts the presents under the tree. She remembers going to her mom and crying because the new boy just told her Santa’s not real. Turns out, when you stop believing in Santa, you also stop getting gifts from him. So for a couple years now, Max has only gotten one gift under the Christmas tree instead of two like she used to. No more presents from Santa, but at least Neil was happy about that. He said that he never thought this Santa business was any good for kids. False idols or whatever. Religious shit she doesn’t care about. Neil acts like he’s oh so religious, but they go to church about five times a year, and the entire time Neil’s only focused on Billy, who is doing everything in his power to annoy Max.

Well, tomorrow’s Christmas and her mom bought a horrible red dress with little white fluff across the edges, the same kind she’s seen too many little girls wear. She’ll have to convince her mom not to let her wear that. Later. Right now, she has a different focus, cook book stuffed underneath her arm as she searches for the ingredients. 

“Flour, sugar, baking soda, butter, eggs,” she mutters under her breath, repeating the ingredients to herself over and over again. Sounds easy enough. She’s never made cookies by herself before, but wherever Neil is, her mom is, and she doesn’t want Neil to get in the way of her Christmas festivities, as he likes to call them. So for now, she’s going to have to figure out how to do this by herself. She’s definitely not allowed to use the oven without an adult, but tonight, she’s planning to prove that she’s not a fucking child. 

She had just gotten started on the wet ingredients when she hears the back door slam shut, making her flinch hard. You’ve got to be fucking kidding. They haven’t even been gone for ten minutes. Neil must’ve forgotten something. She thinks she’s screwed and frantically starts hiding the bowls when she realizes those steps were far too heavy and obnoxious to be Neil’s. Max almost lets out a sigh of relief when Billy struts into the kitchen. He’s an asshole, but at least he’s not Neil. 

She doesn’t know where he went, probably went to hang out with some girl like he always tells Neil, but she swears the cologne he’s wearing smells vaguely similar to the one Steve had on the other day. Maybe they’re friends now? Nah. Must be some new popular teen cologne, she thinks, rolling her eyes. She won’t give it much more attention. 

“The fuck are you doing?” he asks, the scarred eyebrow lifting. He sounds more interested than angry.

“Making cookies. Go away,” she spits before turning her back to him and bringing her focus back to the wet ingredients.

He hums, amused like he always is when he’s annoying her, “Don’t think you’re supposed to be making anything by yourself, Maxi.”

She pauses what she’s doing, closes her eyes, and lets out a long sigh, tries to control her temper. “I’m not a fucking child, Billy. Go away,” she repeats. “I can handle it. And don’t call me that.”

He peers over her shoulder to look at what she’s making. She tries to ignore him, but she can literally feel him breathing down her neck, and he’s standing way too fucking close to her. She knows he’s doing it on purpose. 

“Maaaax,” he whispers. 

She continues ignoring him, mixing the bowl furiously, but after another minute of Billy just standing behind her, he snorts like somethings funny. And that pisses her off because nothing’s funny right now. He’s just an asshole who’s ruining her Christmas. 

So without warning, she spins around, slams two hands into his chest and pushes him as hard as she can (which isn’t saying much, but she’s not going to admit that). Billy didn’t see that coming. She can tell because he actually stumbles a little bit. So she doesn’t stop there, tries to push him out of the kitchen completely before he regains himself. She wasn’t fast enough.

When he realizes what she’s trying to do, he laughs. It’s not even the scary laugh that he made while beating up Steve last year. He’s laughing at her. The fucking asshole’s making fun of her, and it does nothing to soothe her frustration. This time, she aims a slap at his face, but he catches her wrist before she could do anything. She gasps aloud because ow that stung.

“Ouch, you jackass! That fucking hurt!” 

She starts hitting him with her left hand, gets in a few good hits before he snatches that one away too. If he were any closer, she would bite his wrist. She considers kicking him in the dick, but he must see what she’s thinking because he spins her around and bear hugs her from behind, trapping her arms to her side. They’re both panting now, but one from exertion and one from laughter. 

“Jesus Christ, Maxine,” he laughs. “I didn’t fucking do anything to you. The hell blew your fuse?”

“Stop laughing,” she huffs, struggling in his arms and trying to glare at him, because he still has a sleazy grin plastered on his face. She can fucking hear it in his voice. “And get off of me!”

“You cool?”

She’s totally not cool, but she’s not going to tell him that. “Yes I’m fucking cool.”

“You su-”

“YES IM SURE, BILLY.” 

He chuckles one more time before letting her go. “Whatever you say, Maxi-pad.” 

She decidedly ignores his comment and rubs her shoulder from where his arm pressed into hers. “Can you leave now?”

“Not until you tell me what you’re making.”

“I already said cookies.”

“What kind?” Max knows he’s not actually interested in her cookies. He just wants to find a reason to bug her longer. 

“Sugar. What else would I make for Christmas, dumbass.” She’s lucky he doesn’t immediately attack her for calling him ‘dumbass.’ She probably shouldn’t push it anymore. 

“I want you out of the kitchen in an hour,” he snaps, “And you better not burn this house down.” He strides out of the room before she can reply but not before giving her a stony look that warns of death. Asshole. 

Alone at last. Even if Billy’s home, it’s not like he’s going to leave his room anytime soon. He’ll lock himself in there and stay put for hours. She wonders what he does in there for so long and slightly winces when his music starts vibrating through the house. Max lets out a long sigh. She forgot about that. He usually doesn’t put it too loud when Neil’s home. 

She tries to block out the music and focus on the task at hand. Do they have any more eggs? 

---

Twenty minutes later, Max is staring at the oven proudly, hands on her hips. The cookies are currently baking, and she has a good feeling about them. They’re not pretty, and they’re oddly shaped (since they don’t have any cutouts), but she’s sure they’ll come out ok. She’s not, however, looking forward to cleaning up the entire kitchen. Its a mess, bowls everywhere, and the hand mixer is dripping onto the floor, but she can clean it up later, preferably before Billy comes out of hibernation and screams at her about it. But for now, she deserves a fucking break.

She heads off towards her room, and lounges around for ten minutes, looking through some comics, while waiting for the cookies to finish.

Things were going so well. So fucking well until the fire alarms starts blaring and makes Max jump out of her skin. She hears Billy’s music suddenly shut off. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

She’s too scared to move. She doesn’t move when she hears loud footsteps walking towards the kitchen, and she doesn’t move when the fire alarm stops ringing. She definitely doesn’t move when those loud footprints start getting increasingly louder, coming closer to her room. She’s going to die. She’s going to be murdered by her own brother. She shoots a quick prayer to whatever god out there that maybe she’ll survive this one long enough, so she can tell her mom goodbye. 

Her door bursts open. 

“MAXINE.” She recoils from his voice.“ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?”

When she doesn’t say anything, his voice goes deathly quiet. “I leave you alone for barely an hour, and you manage to fuck it all up.” 

Max still doesn’t say anything. She imagines she looks like a deer in headlights because she’s totally frozen, sitting on her bed just staring at him. It must piss him off though because he starts towards her. Thankfully, something turns on in her brain and she immediately goes and stands on the other side of the bed where he can’t easily reach her. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, I’m not going to do shit to you,” he says, running a hand over his face. When she still doesn’t move, utterly unconvinced, he continues. “I just want you to see what a bang up job you did of making those fucking cookies, so get out here.”

She’s still not totally convinced, but if she stays there any longer, he might try to drag her out himself so she’s just got to suck it up. She moves cautiously towards the door, side-eyeing Billy to see if he’s going to pounce, but he doesn’t. 

Thank God nothing besides the cookies were burnt. If anything was actually damaged, she wouldn’t even be alive right now. 

“I-I don’t know what happened, Billy. I literally followed the recipe so don’t try to blame me for this,” she snaps, turning around to glare at him.

He scoffs at her. “What happened,” he growls, grabbing the open cookbook and stabbing a finger into the page, “is that you didn’t read the fucking directions correctly and set the oven at 450 degrees instead of 350 degrees.”

Max looks at where he’s pointing and her spirit drops when she realizes that he’s right. It says right there, Preheat the oven to 350°F. She internally curses herself. How did she not see that? If she had just paid attention, she wouldn’t be in this mess. 

He watches her reaction and snorts. “Someone can’t read,” he says, and reaches out to ruffle her hair. She tries to slap his hand away, but it just makes him ruffle her hair harder. 

“Now clean-” But before he could complete his sentence, Max storms out of the kitchen, taking a wide turn around Billy so there’d be a smaller chance that he’d try to grab her. 

When she looks over at him though, it doesn’t look like he was going to anyway. She doesn’t know why he’s like this, why he always switches emotions every two seconds. Five minutes ago, he had barged into her room, murderous, and she was sure she was going to die. Now? Now he’s fucking joking with her. He literally just ruffled her hair like she’s his sister. She hates it. Why can’t he just be normal? 

She slams the door behind her and locks it as she walks in. Thankfully, Neil still hasn’t taken away her lock like he’d done for Billy, so she still has a semblance of privacy. She’s almost in tears, and she doesn’t know why. She’s just...frustrated. The sound of heavy footsteps come her way, and she immediately dives under her covers, pulling the duvet up and over her head. She’s embarrassed from her stupid mistake that Billy will inevitably make fun of her for. Thinking about it just makes more tears sting the corner of her eye. She wants to be left alone, but Billy’ll never let that happen. 

He pounds on the door. “Maxine, open up.”

She doesn’t answer, digging her head into her pillow harder. Maybe if she ignores him, he’ll leave. In the back of her head, she knows that that’s not what’s going to happen. 

"Hey shitbird, get your ass out here,” he says again, back to asshole mode and pounding harder on the door. “Did ya see the fucking kitchen? You better clean that shit up before Susan and Neil come home.”

She still doesn’t say anything. 

“Max,” his voice goes deadly quiet, “if you don’t get your ass out in the next ten seconds, I’m going to-”

“GO AWAY BILLY! I JUST WANTED TO MAKE COOKIES WITHOUT ANYONE BOTHERING ME FOR ONCE AND YOU JUST HAVE TO GO AND RUIN ANYTHING!” 

“You ruined that shit for your-”

“Leave me alone, Billy.” Her voice cracks when she says his name, and he must hear it because he does. She knows she’s going to have to clean the kitchen up eventually, but she can’t bring herself to right now. Maybe it’s because she’s going to start her period any second, or maybe it’s because Billy’s just a jerk, but she feels abnormally upset. Unreasonably miserable. Billy’s antics don’t usually put her in this bad of a mood, and she feels stupid for letting it. 

Ten minutes later, she hears him stomping around the house and the jingle of keys. The back door slams shut, and she knows he just left the house, probably to cool himself down before he actually murders her. 

She’s alone. 

----

Max wakes up startled from her nap with the sound of someone picking at her lock. She looks around widely for the time. An hour has passed, who’s-

The door burst open, and there stands a triumphant looking Billy. “HAH,” he shouts. “I’ve opened the door!”

She doesn’t know what to say to that. He sounds more stupid than usual. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t see him with a smile on his face very often. 

“What are you doing?” she asks cautiously because she doesn’t want to accidentally piss him off. 

“Come out here,” he says. Oh, not this again. She huffs and plops her face right back into the pillow, turning to her side so she’s facing away from the door. She’s not dealing with this again. If she wants to be locked up in her room, why can’t she?

“Max,” he calls, walking closer to her. “Get up, I’ve got stuff for you.” That peaks Max’s interests, and she raises her head a little, getting annoyed when she sees the smirk on Billy’s face. He knew saying that would get her to pay attention. 

“What?” 

“I’m not telling you until you get up,” he says, tugging at her blanket now. She smacks his hand away, and plops her head right back down. 

“Then I’m not getting up. You’re literally the fucking grinch so it’s not like it’s going to be anything good anyways.”

He laughs at that. “So if I’m the grinch, who are you? Cindy fucking Lou Who?” 

Max covers her smile with the duvet. “Just tell me what you got.”

“Nope,” Billy says and walks his annoying ass straight out of her room. 

She decides to stay in bed, refuses to give in to Billy’s obvious plan to get her to come out of her room. But curiosity catches up to her when she hears him banging around the kitchen, and five minutes later, she’s dragging herself out from under the covers and walking into the room. She stops when she catches Billy red handed, literally, with two of his fingers dipped into a small bowl of red icing. 

When he sees her watching, he grins at her, teeth stained red and gross. “Oh hey there Maxine. Didn’t see ya there. I’m really enjoying this lovely frosting,” He waggles his fingers at her for emphasis. “Better take it away from me before I eat it all.”

He’s about to double dip his nasty fingers into the frosting again before Max can’t help herself and has to cut in. 

She runs up to him and smacks his hand away. “Oh my God. Billy, that’s literally so unsanitary. Give it here.” She takes the can of frosting from him, and mumbles you’re so gross under her breath. The cover of the can features pretty sugar cookies all covered in red frosting and sprinkles. If only she still had her stupid cookies. Now they’re at the bottom of the trash can, all black and burnt. 

“Why’d you buy this anyway? Not like I’m gonna be using them anymore.”

Billy drums his fingers on the counter. “It’s so you can decorate your little cookies,” he says. “You’re lucky I’m craving sugar right now.” She hasn’t properly decorated cookies since California when she was with her dad. It might not seem like a big deal to him, but she’s getting excited over it. He can probably tell by the smile that has just spread across her face. 

“I’m giving you a second chance, so don’t fucking screw this up. You hear me?” he’s glaring at her now, all threats and ager. Of course, he immediately tries to ruin the moment. 

 “So you’ll let me make them again?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if they come out shit again, though. You can’t cook to save your life.”

She huffs. Totally not true. “We don’t have any more butter though.”

He pats the plastic bag on the counter. “’s all in here.” 

She looks over at the bag he touched. So is that where he went while she was sleeping? 

“You went to the store?”

He grunts in response. “Figured you’d need more shit after your first failed attempt.”

“Ok, thanks,” she says, already making a grab for the hand mixer. “You can leave now.” 

“Ungrateful ass,” he snorts. “Last time I left, you burnt the fucking cookies and set off the fire alarm so I don’t think so.”

Max sighs. “So what? You’re just gonna stand there?”

He smirks at her, leaning against the counter. “Hand me the mixer.” 

---

Apparently Billy’s good at baking because ten minutes later he has all the ingredients combined and the dough rolled out on the table. She didn’t roll out the dough during her attempt so it makes sense now why her cookies were ugly even before they got burnt. 

They only bickered a couple times. Once because Max questioned him about how he smells suspiciously like Steve. She didn’t expect him to get so defensive, but he immediately snapped at her and told her not to get into other people’s business. His defensiveness made her think that him and Steve were friends now, and he’s just embarrassed to admit it. Or maybe they’re...more? When she suggested that though, he nearly shoved her head into the dough so that’s going to be the last time she investigates on that. 

The second time, they bickered over whether or not they should add food coloring to the dough. I payed good money for this, shitbird, so we’re using it. They eventually decided to make different batches, some with dye and some without.  

“Do we need to cut them into circles now?”

“The fuck are you thinking? Circles are boring.”

Max rolls her eyes. “Oh I’m ever so sorry for offending you, master baker Billy,” she says sarcastically.  “What do you suggest we do to spice up this atrocious dough.”

Billy points his head towards the plastic bag. “Look in there, junior baker Maxine.”

She reaches out for the magical plastic bag. It’s already given her butter and red frosting.��What else could be in there? Her entire face lights up when she sees a can of green frosting, four different cookie cutters, and so many sprinkles. 

“Consider this your Christmas present because you’re not going to get anything else.”

She gapes at him. He’s never done anything nice to her in her entire life. Ok, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, but it’s definitely a once in a blue moon occasion. 

“Thank you,” she says, still gaping at him. She doesn’t know what else to say. 

“Yeah well stop staring at me like that.” He reaches across and flicks her mouth shut. “And close your mouth. You’re gonna catch flies.” 

She doesn’t say anything to that, but stares down at the plastic bag again. She’ll decorate a cookie for her mom. A red one with green sparkles. She wonders if Billy’ll decorate one for his dad. Probably not. Guess he’ll go cookie-less. Better for his cholesterol anyways. 

Her thoughts are disrupted when Billy’s fingers smudge bright, red, frosting across her face. She flinches and tries to shove him off but he does it again, icing smeared across both cheeks now. 

“You asshole,” she laughs, reaching inside the plastic bag and pulling out the green frosting. “You’re so on.”

By the end of their frosting battle, they’re both covered in red and green icing. At one point Billy even started showering her with sprinkles. It’ll take forever to get it out of her hair, and there’s barely any frosting left for the cookies, but there was just enough to make it last. 

Their parents were appalled when they walked in on their children covered in sugar, but it was worth it. Neil wasn’t even that upset since her mom was seemed happy enough. Susan followed them around with a camera, trying to convince them to pose together. You guys look so cute! C’mon just one picture. They retreated to their rooms to hide. 

Max ended up with two Christmas presents under the tree that year. 

[miracle-sham]

In the Atelier's Glow the Pupa Phoebus will Eclose.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Week 2, Day 10: Light} |

Chapter 2 of Sheltered by Darkness not yet Moths to the Flame.

| [Ao3 Link] | | [Masterlist Link] | | [Spotify Playlist Link] | | [Chapter 1] |

———

| Even when everything you know splits. When it splinters and shifts, like a chrysalis or a damaged cable. And you're left unfurling your wings, unable to yet fly—circuit broken, fuse melted—grounded, earthed. |

| The rest of the world keeps the current flowing through the wires of everyone else's circuit wings, and they're able to keep fluttering, unfettered by your frayed and exposed wires, even despite the threat you pose to their safety. Too blinded by the luminescence of those with power. |

| Word Count: 7,220. |

| Warnings/Tags: Cyberpunk/Criminal/Gang Au, Explicit Language/Swearing, Hacking, Breaking and Entering, Mentions of Guns, Gun Violence, Mentions of corrupt/shady businesses, Gabriel Agreste's A+ Parenting, Brainwashing, Implied Brainwashing & Torture, Injury, Threats of Violence & Violence, Akumatised!Marinette, Fluff & Angst, Hurt with some Comfort, Angst With a Happy Ending, Gang/Team as family/family dynamics, Found Family. |

———

| A/N: First things first, make sure you've read the first chap before reading this. Second things second, this chapter is a chapter and half. And it's the final chapter! I hope this being 7k more than makes up for it being a day late to posting! I put a lot of love and time and effort into this, so I really hope you all enjoy. And for peak atmosphere, listen to Wonder World by Inova (first song on the playlist) during the first two parts, for optimum atmosphere! Not necessary if you'd prefer not to of course, but still. There's also a ton of light and butterfly symbolism stuffed in this, so try and see how much you can spot! |

| On a sidenote, this fic is dedicated to my friend Saf who listened to me ramble about this fic, and in turn rambled to me whenever I gave her sneak peak snippets. This wouldn't have ended up half as good as it did without her support! Also thanks to Weird for the support, compliments, reaction to the snippets, and kind words as well! And finally, thanks to everyone on the discord who was supportive and kind whenever I rambled in my author's channel! <3 |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

Even when everything you know splits. When it splinters and shifts, like a chrysalis or a damaged cable. And you're left unfurling your wings, unable to yet fly—circuit broken, fuse melted—grounded, earthed.

The rest of the world keeps the current flowing through the wires of everyone else's circuit wings, and they're able to keep fluttering, unfettered by your frayed and exposed wires, even despite the threat you pose to their safety. Too blinded by the luminescence of those with power.

Broken wires cause lights to flicker and dim. They don't glow as brightly as they could—as they should. They crackle and buzz and burn and scorch and smoke, causing only destruction; when light should only be used for creation.

That's why the Atelier Agreste specialise in fixing broken wings and wires. The brightness of tomorrow splinters the darkness of today, the business proclaims.

And Marinette Dupain-Cheng is merely the latest of the poor misguided larvae, with their shade-like masks and unfortunate frayed wires, to be rehabilitated into an enlightened pupa under Gabriel Agreste's watchful care.

Truly, the discarding of a mask that kept the Pupa in the dark, and the Pupa's embracement of the Atelier's radiant glow marks a wondrous occasion indeed.

How glorious it will be, an unveiling of the newest Atelier Agreste designer's début? The welcoming of a new Papillon among the ranks, especially one that shines so brightly. Phoebus, like the butterfly and the god of light. What a fitting name for the butterfly that will glow like the sun.

———

Marinette—no, not Marinette, she is Phoebus. She is light, and her glow has been fixed.

Stitch by stitch, she sews herself a collection of chrysalises. To represent her transformation that has been nurtured by the Atelier, Monsieur Agreste had said.

Stitch by stitch by stitch. She must make him proud, he's done so much for her. He saved her from the darkness, showed her the light and how to glow just as brightly herself. She owes him everything.

Stitch by stitch by stitch by stitch. Lila—no, Rubi, after Macrothylacia Rubi, the Fox Moth—visits sometimes. She's pretty, and likes to keep Phoebus company, telling her all about the incredible things Rubi has done and people Rubi has met. She's like Phoebus, taken in and nurtured by the Atelier Agreste. Phoebus hopes Rubi will be one of her chrysalis models.

Stitch. And anchor, and anchor, then up. Snip. Snip. Snip.

Phoebus hears the sound of the studio door opening but she does not stop. Her chrysalises must be perfect, she must finish them in time. Thread the needle and anchor.

Footsteps stride across the studio floor but still Phoebus does not stray her attention from her work. Stitch by stitch.

“Good morning, Pupa, I hope the final preparations for your début are going accordingly.” Monsieur Agreste greets.

Her hands still, work halting. The Pupa Phoebus turns away from the fashion piece before her, and smiles, as brightly as her namesake, up at him. “It is.”

There's a hollowness inside her. And smiling at him makes the hollowness ache but Phoebus does not know why. Monsieur Agreste does not like it when she asks bad-dark-broken-frayed questions like that, so she says nothing more and nothing less. She will be his perfect protégé. He said so, and so she must.

He nods approvingly. “Good. I expect only perfection from you and your work. Do not forget, once the fashion show starts it will mark your eclosion into my Atelier once and for all.”

The Pupa Phoebus nods her head, eyes shining almost too brightly in the studio's lights.“I will ensure everything is to perfection for my début.”

Her actions and words are as doll-like as her title. For she was once named Marinette, which is close to Marionette. Marionettes are dolls. And Pupa once meant doll. Like a doll, she is so painfully hollow inside. But like a doll, she is perfect. She must be.

Monsieur Agreste does not sneer at her but his lips curl in a way that makes the darkness inside her claim he is mocking her.

“The set designers have informed me the catwalk has been transformed into the river Lethe. Isn't it rather fitting?” He pauses, watching her with sharp eyes for her reaction.

She nods. That is what she is supposed to do. It is fitting because he has said so. And Monsieur Agreste is always right.

“After all,” he continues, seemingly satisfied with her response, “it was once believed that the dead may only be reincarnated upon drinking from the Lethe and giving up their memories. And you gave up your memories of pain to be reformed as a butterfly that will shine ever so brightly, my protégé.”

“Oh,” Phoebus responds, tilting her head to one side as her smile wavers for but a fraction of a second. There's something flickering in the back of her head, behind her eyes; splintered memories, nothing substantial but the ghosts—Fantômes, the darkness whispers—of them linger.

The taste of iron, harsh white lights, cold glowing white strands chaining her fragile wire wings to the ground, lights—so many dancing lights, and the sharp electric zaps. She shouldn't try to parse what they mean, what they herald. Remembering the Before is bad, when she was a poor unfortunate Larva who fell through the cracks into the shadows and gutters. She is a Pupa now, and Pupa change. They become better, brighter, than they ever could achieve as Larvae.

Monsieur Agreste picks up on her moment of lapse, his eyes narrowing in what must be concern. “Is something wrong, Pupa?”

Phoebus shakes her head. “I am just anticipating how my début will go.”

He hums, unconvinced.

Understandable—she is not meant to lie, not to him. It is not how a Pupa should act.

“Perhaps you should take a break so we can ensure you've not damaged your light by working so hard. It wouldn't do to have your glow flicker and dim mid-début.” Monsieur Agreste states, pulling his tablet out already to schedule a check-up.

The Pupa Phoebus widens her bright yet hollow smile. “Oh, that is a good idea! A break would be most appreciated, Monsieur Agreste!”

Monsieur Agreste does not laugh but he huffs in what must be amusement. “How unfortunate that it took so long to rescue and take you under my wing. You will do well as one of my Papillons here.” He pauses to adjust his glasses, the light shining on them in a way that makes the lenses appear opaque. “I didn't think I'd get another specimen such as yourself, so perfectly adapted for becoming a Pupa and then a Papillon.”

His not-sneer unfurls into a grin, one that makes the darkness whisper danger. He steps around her, to get a different angle view of her work, and stares pointedly at the fine detailing. “It is a great shame that my son and my nephew have both become wretched larvae like you once were, instead of wonderful Pupae like you've now become.”

“You deserve a better son and nephew, Monsieur Agreste.” Phoebus recites from the script burnt into her mind, though she does not remember when or why she memorised it.

“I do, don't I.” Monsieur Agreste considers in contempt. “That can easily be achieved as soon as my men rescue him from the clutches of those vile Larvae. We believe the ones who held you captive and forced you to work for them, are the same ones who hold both my son and nephew now.”

“Oh.” Phoebus responds, getting the feel that Monsieur Agreste is testing her. Perhaps to ensure no feelings of Stockholm Syndrome remain for her previous captors? Yes, that must be it. How thoughtful and caring of Monsieur Agreste. “That is awful, hopefully, they can be saved soon!”

Monsieur Agreste hums, seemingly in agreement this time. “Hopefully indeed. And once we rescue them, they can then be taught to embrace the radiance my company brings to this world, just as you were taught.”

He places a hand on her shoulder, and squeezes. “And you, my dear Pupa, can help my son and nephew stitch their Chrysalises. For they are both models, like Rubi. Wouldn't that be nice, two additional fellow Papillons for you to befriend, wouldn't that make you very happy?”

Phoebus nods at a perfectly acceptable speed to relay her happiness and excitement. “Yes! That would be wonderful! I would be so happy if that were to happen!”

And yet, the darkness inside her wails and grieves as she utters each word but Phoebus does not understand why.

“Good,” Monsieur Agreste states, “that is very good to hear. Now, I shall return when your break is ready.” He turns around and strides towards the door, stilling at the threshold. “My wife will prepare high tea for you to join her at, once your break is ready.”

The Pupa Phoebus nods, fingers twitching as she turns back to meticulously stitching her chrysalises. “Thank you, Monsieur Agreste, I cannot wait!”

He huffs in what must be amusement again, “I would hope so, Pupa.”

If she didn't know better, the Pupa Phoebus would wonder why the silver butterfly necklace feels more like shackles than a gift. Why the darkness begs her to break the chains.

———

Three months. Three fucking months. Of nothing. Not a whisper on the news or in the underground, no public proclamations of the capture of one of the co-leaders of the most notorious gangs in the city. Nothing, abso-fucking-lutely nothing. Three fucking months she's been gone and not a word about what happened.

Jason sits crouched on the sofa, head in his hands. A coffee is placed on the table in front of him, he can tell from the smell, and the sound of the liquid sloshing about inside the cardboard cup.

“Marinette used to like coffee…” Jason bemoans, half-serious, half-jokingly.

Something shatters in the next room over, the kitchen most likely from the sounds of it.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God. Jason!” Alix hiss-screeches, from the same place as the shattering, like an angry kitten on roller skates. “You've said that meme every day for the last month! I'm going to murder you!”

Adrien, who's been sitting on top of the side cabinets, throws his head forwards and barely manages to stifle the laugh by slapping a hand over his mouth. He wheezes for a few seconds as he gets his laughter, and breathing under control again.

Félix snorts from where he's curled up in a cushioned armchair. “Alix has a point, you know. We understand you miss her but as do we.”

“Shhh! You'll disturb him!” Roy shushes, grinning mischievously as he stands behind the sofa. Putting on his best David Attenborough impression, he begins to recite, “here we have the rare Jasonarches Toddamentum brooding in his natural habitat. Lamenting the loss of one of his pack, specifically his co-alpha—”

Jason whips around to face Roy and launches the nearest pillow from the sofa at him, before he can continue the mockumentary. “Co-alphas? Really? That's the best you could come up with! C'mon man!”

Yelping, Roy ducks but not quick enough as the pillow smacks him in the right shoulder and flops onto the floor.

Nodding mock sagely, Félix sighs. “We expected better from you, Roy.”

“Yeah, Roy.” Kori teases, passing a second coffee in her hands over to him.

Placing a hand over his heart, Roy gasps. “Wow! The betrayal!” he complains as he grabs at the coffee and cradles it to his chest with the other. “And thanks, Kori! For the coffee, not the betrayal!”

“Ah, friends?” Markov calls cautiously as he hovers into the room, anxiety lacing his robotic voice, claws fiddling with the corner of what looks to be an envelope.

Immediately the jovial atmosphere splinters and everyone stills. Everyone except Artemis and Alix who walk, and roll into the room respectively, at that precise moment. Both hovering by the respective door frames they entered through, coincidentally opposite each other. Artemis crosses her arms, whilst Alix grabs the door frame with one hand to steady herself.

Jason tenses and glances over at the little AI. “Everything okay, Markov?”

Markov fretfully swings his claw arm around. “One of our couriers was handed a letter.”

“Did they bring it here?” Jason questions, brows furrowing in worry.

Markov shakes his head. “The courier handed it to a third-party forger, and created the forgery I am now holding. It is addressed to Adrien, and Félix.”

Adrien sucks in a sharp breath, he turns to exchange a look with Félix. “You don't think it's…” He trails off, unwilling to say it out loud in case it makes it any more likely.

Grimacing, Félix nods. “It has to be. It was rather publicly known when you were "kidnapped",” he states, making quotation marks with his fingers as he stressed the word, “by this gang. Less so when you spearheaded my "kidnapping", with them.”

“Yeah… that's. We didn't think that through.” Adrien admits, scrunching his mouth up in concern. “But! If that didn't happen, I wouldn't have gotten to use Cheval Mallet as my vigilante name, which is a plus at least!”

Félix huffs bitterly. “Oh, because getting to use a vigilante name that fits thematically is completely and utterly worth getting targeted by the Big Butterfly himself?”

“In my defence—” Adrien starts, only to shut his mouth again as words fail him. “Nevermind, you've got a point.”

Jason clicks his tongue. “More importantly, we need to decide what we're doing about this.”

“We need to actually see what is inside the envelope, first.” Félix counters, marching over to Markov.

Markov dips in the air in lieu of a nod and extends his claw-arm to hand Félix the envelope. “Here you go, friend!”

“Thank you, Markov.” Félix responds, nodding his head to the little AI as he takes the extended envelope. He marches back over to Adrien and slips out the disguised knife pen out of his pocket, before carefully slicing the top of the envelope open like one would do with a letter opener. Plucking the letter from inside, he holds it at an angle so only he and Adrien can read what has been written.

Seconds pass.

Swearing under his breath, Adrien glances up at Jason with panic clear in his eyes. “It's… it's from Kagami. She's been compromised, the Big Butterfly knows she was in contact with us. He and her mother have forced her to invite us to the Big Butterfly's upcoming fashion show…”

“She's worried that it's a trap, to capture us both so that they can… do to us what they did to my mother, and all of his Papillons.” Félix continues in Adrien's stead, barely able to conceal the dawning horror on his face.

Artemis moves towards them and asks as softly as she can, brows furrowing in concern. “And what exactly, did they do to your mother?”

He swallows a breath of air thickly. “Adrien's mother went missing a few years ago. And so my mother and I visited Adrien and his sperm donor as we were all grieving. However, I started to notice things seemed off and before either of us realised, the Big Butterfly was parading my mother around in front of the news and media pretending she was her twin sister instead. Even at home, she started treating me like Adrien's mother had.”

“What the fuck! Are you saying the Big Butterfly brainwashed your mom?” Jason exclaims, eyes wide with a mixture of horror, disgust, and alarm.

“Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. The Big Butterfly brainwashed my mum into believing she was Aunt Emilie, purely so that he could keep appearances up in front of the cameras.” Félix confirms, hands balled into fists and shaking ever so slightly. “When Adrien got out and joined here, I stumbled across the Big Butterfly's plans to replace Adrien by doing the same to me. If you all hadn't helped me get out in time…” He chokes up, unable to get the next words out of his mouth.

“That is truly despicable. I'm sorry.” Artemis apologises, looking equally disturbed by the information.

“Shit.” Roy mutters, glancing between Félix and Adrien. “What do we do? We can't just let another innocent get fucking brainwashed!”

Kori purses her lips. “I think,” she starts, giving an understanding look at the two, “we should let Adrien and Félix decide. They are the most familiar with the Big Butterfly, this Kagami, and the situation as a whole.”

Clearing her throat, Alix roller skates a little closer to others. “Guys, you don't think…” she trails off, trying to find her words but also torn over whether saying it out loud will make it true, “you don't think that's what's happened to Marinette? It would explain why we've heard nothing from her or Roaar since she disappeared.”

“Holy fucking shit! I'm going to burn that fucking bastard and his fucking fashion show to the ground if he fucking dared!” Hisses Jason, his eyes flaring toxic green as the fury of the Lazarus Pit burns in his veins. He digs his nails into the fabric of the sofa and his lips curl into a near-frenzied snarl.

“Woah, woah! Jason, calm the fuck down! That might not be what's happened!” Roy intercepts, grabbing Jason by the shoulder.

Jason turns to glare at Roy. “But it also might be what happened to her!”

“We should go.” Adrien cuts in sharply, “Max can get the rest of you in via hacking. Félix and I will be the distraction, and I'll bring Kaalki so we have a quick escape in case things go wrong. Whilst everyone else who goes to the show needs to focus on getting Kagami out. Then once that's done, we can try and look for anything that suggests they've got Marinette. And if we find Marinette, we get her out as well.”

Félix nods. “That's a good enough plan for me.”

Smiling bitterly, Adrien tilts his head to one side. “So, who else is up for crashing the show?”

Kori, Roy, Artemis, and Alix all exchange glances before nodding.

“Max and I are in!” Markov pipes up, hovering up in a swing.

“That leaves, who's telling Luka, and Bizarro they're holding down the fort this time?” Jason mutters.

“Dibs not it!” Everyone but Artemis calls out.

She rolls her eyes at the antics of the others. “I will tell the two of them their roles for this mission. Don't worry.”

Jason hums. “We could also probably call in a favour with the Sparrow kid that you,” he nods towards Adrien, “and Marinette befriended. Not to hold down the fort but to help cover us at the fashion show?”

“Oh! I'm sure Sparrow will be more than happy to help! That's a great idea!” Adrien cheers, perking up slightly.

Moving over to the coffee table, Félix places the letter down in the centre. “Right. Let's get ourselves ready to crash a fashion show.”

———

Adrien and Félix both don a light disguise. One that's easy enough to recognise them on a closer inspection but subtle enough to not attract immediate attention.

The others, in heavier disguises, had arrived early and gotten in already—split between two teams. One with hacked tickets, and the other through breaking and entering, the gang's speciality. Sparrow had also been more than happy to help and had roped in a few others from their gang, the Quantic Kids, into helping watch the outside of the building.

Leaving Félix and Adrien to arrive together, separate from the rest of the gang; they make sure to arrive slightly late to try and avoid the worst of the crowds. Approaching the doors, they hand over their tickets and try to appear as nonchalant as possible.

The nearest android guard eyes their tickets and puts out a hand. “Wait.”

“Is there something wrong with our tickets, sir?” Félix asks, smiling sweetly enough to hide the undercurrent of threat.

The android guard nods their head at another then looks the two up and down in a scrutinising—analysing fashion. “We have explicit orders to escort anyone with these tickets to the seats.”

Adrien grimaces. “Understood, lead the way then.”

The android guards exchange nods once more, then the one slightly further away pulls out a radio and starts quietly reporting into it, too low for either Félix or Adrien to catch anything. Useful or otherwise.

“Follow me.” Says the nearer one as they start walking away.

Félix sighs and lightly knocks shoulders with Adrien as a reminder of solidarity as well as to get ready. Waiting for only a second, they both start following after the guard. Félix adjusts the secret mic and camera attached to his tie, ensuring that it was now transmitting its feed to Max and Markov, as well as Luka back at base.

Next to him, Adrien does the same with his own tie and attached secret mic and camera.

They're led down a few hallways, up a couple of winding staircases, and down a few more hallways before the guard stops outside a door with a metal sign on it reading: Private.

“Your seats are through here.” The android guard says, slotting a keycard into the door, causing a glowing keypad panel to open up in the centre. Then, the android guard scans a digital code into the door and the door swings open before it.

Adrien nods to the android guard and tugs Félix after him as he strides across the threshold, head held high.

There's a shriek, as they pass through the door, and a body slams into Adrien and it's only thanks to his vigilante instincts that he doesn't drop the body.

“Oh, Adrikins!” Chloé cries out, hugging him tightly. “I can't believe you're back!” She lets go of him for a second to step back and check out his outfit. “Urgh, you could do with some better clothes though. It's fine,” she says, waving a hand, “after today's show we can go on a shopping trip together!”

Adrien smiles awkwardly and unconvincingly responds, “yeah… it's nice to see you again too, Chloé.”

Félix, the traitor, snickers at Adrien's predicament and steps around the two to fully enter the room. The android guard does not follow, and the door shuts automatically behind them.

Inside, is a private bar and lounge with double doors on the far wall, opposite the 'Private' entry door.

Kagami glances up from her place from the sofa against the wall with the double doors. She raises an eyebrow. “It is good to see that you made it here safely.”

“As safe as we could.” Félix grunts, delicately dropping into the seat next to her on the sofa.

She hums, tuning out Chloé's screeching with practised ease. “How are the horse-related magic tricks you were working on going?”

“Pretty well, though I don't suppose Father will be all too pleased with the one I plan to practise tonight,” Félix responds.

Kagami relaxes her shoulders in relief for a split second. “Oh? And what sort of magic trick is it?”

“I've dubbed it: Call a Key. And it's like those pull a rabbit from a hat tricks but with a horse from a hoop.” He says, drawing a circle in the air. A circle that just so happens to be the same size and shape as Kaalki's average portals.

“I see,” Kagami says, nodding, “well, perhaps after tonight's show, you won't mind showing me it so far?”

Félix grins, “I'd love to, Kagami.”

Their conversation lulls into silence, so Félix hops off the sofa and goes over to the private bar to fix himself and Adrien some drinks. Seeing as Chloé was showing no signs of letting his cousin go at the moment. A potential hazard for the plan, he worries. With drinks in hand, he rejoins Kagami by the sofa.

An announcement rings out over the loudspeakers on the walls as the double doors swing open in a slow and controlled manner.

“That, is our cue that the show will be starting soon,” Kagami mutters to him. She takes a deep breath and raises her voice, “Chloé, Adrien, it is time we take our seats for the show.”

Chloé squeals, forcefully dragging Adrien across the private lounge and through onto the balcony where their booth seats are.

Sighing, Félix follows after the two with Kagami a few steps behind him.

“Oh, I'm so glad you managed to make it to today's fashion show, Adrikins!” Chloé exclaims, clutching at Adrien's arm like a hawk and gesturing wildly with the other. “It's so nice of your daddy to hold this show in the theatre so we could have a private booth together to watch the show! And it's going to be a really special show from what I've overheard, Gabriel's débuting a new and upcoming fashion designer! Isn't that so exciting, I'm sure your daddy will let you model for them now that you're back! After all,” she scoffs, “he's letting that peasant fox model for the designer today.”

“Is that so?” Adrien responds, glancing at Félix with deep-seated worry etched into his stare.

Félix clenches his fists and takes a deep breath.

Frowning, Kagami taps Félix on the arm and sends him a questioning glance.

“We'll explain it later.” He mumbles quietly enough for her to just hear.

Below them, the sounds of people taking their seats echoes. A few minutes pass, Félix and Kagami make minor small talk whilst Adrien is forced to listen to Chloé prattle on.

The main lights dim and then go out, plunging the room into darkness. The curtains rise, from the sounds of the heavy and large swathes of fabric moving on the pulleys.

Classical music starts playing—not unlike the music Adrien used to learn on the piano. And one by one, the lights in the shape of asphodels flicker to life on the stage, illuminating a sea of the flowers surrounding a catwalk designed like a river carving through the land. White marble Greco-Esque pillars and arches litter the flower fields. Framing the scene, is the blank white wall at the back of the catwalk and stage. The lighting shifts to cast spotlights on the wall behind the catwalk.

Félix tunes out the rest of the show starting, instead putting all his focus in searching for any security watching their booth, as well as for any sign of Marinette.

The show continues on, slowly models wearing pieces designed like asphodels, butterflies, and cocoons or chrysalises strut up and down the catwalk. The spotlights follow them, making the pieces and models appear to glow under the light.

Luckily, there's no obvious security paying attention to their booth. But that doesn't mean they're in the clear, for all they know, Gabriel could have bugged the place to the rafters. They had worked out before entering, that they'd have to leave before the end of the show. Otherwise, they'd most likely be captured and brainwashed just like Félix's mum.

A new announcement from the stage gives both Adrien and Félix pause, neither having fully caught what was said other than mentions of the reveal of the designer. They tense and try to hide the signs of their anxious anticipation. The flickering flame of hope in their chests threatens to extinguish from the worry that this could be what they feared it to be.

The lights and spotlights on stage all dim; whilst the music fades to a quieter volume. The almost deafening echoing clack-clack-clack of heels against the catwalk seems so much louder than when the models in heels had been walking across it.

Félix holds his breath and clasps his hands together tightly. Adrien leans forwards to get a better look over at the stage. They should be nudging Kagami and getting ready to go by now but they can't will themselves to look away. Like a tragedy; a car catching fire and about to crash.

A figure in a chrysalis dress steps onto the catwalk. Step by step by step, they slowly walk to the end of the catwalk. The faint glow of the lights still perfectly illuminates the figure's face though.

And Adrien's heart stops. “No!”

“What? Is that—?” Chloé starts, only to be interrupted by the cacophonous roar of a standing ovation from the rest of the audience.

Félix, Adrien, and Kagami all pale in horror.

“That's… that's Marinette.” Kagami whispers to Félix, her panic thinly veiled.

Stiffly, Félix nods and swallows a breath of air thickly. “So. Minor change of plans.”

“I can see why.” Kagami responds automatically, in horror.

On the catwalk below, the dress shimmers and appears to crack. Shadowy mist seeping from the cracks is followed by a blinding glow eviscerating the darkness. From the cracks, the outer layers of the dress splinter away, and the layers below begin to unfurl. Bright white, beautiful butterfly wings edged with black and the odd symmetrical red spots.

Gabriel Agreste, Papillon, joins her on the stage. “Isn't this such a momentous and wonderful occasion? Tonight, we have witnessed the eclosion of a new Papillon within the Atelier Agreste. And I'm delighted by the bright welcome Phoebus has received.”

At the call of her Papillon name, Phoebus bows.

Félix's heartbeat pounds in his ears, nearly drowning out Gabriel's words.

Before he, or Adrien, can react, there's a buzzing in his ear from the disguised earpiece comms.

“Félix. Adrien. Get Kagami and get out! Now!” Max's voice filters through, “they're sending a reinforcement of guards towards your location. I'll try to hack them but it'll be close!”

Standing abruptly, Adrien yanks himself away from Chloé's death grip.

“Wha—Adrikins!” She protests, still too shocked by the revelation of the new designer having been Marinette, to try and stop him.

Adrien backs away into the private lounge, flushing red with embarrassment. “Sorry Chloé, I-uh… need to use the men's room. Be-right-back!”

He turns heel and makes his way over to the opposite door and yanks it open.

Félix stares at Adrien in disbelief before nodding at Kagami and grabbing her by the arm. He does not so much run, as speed walk after Adrien.

The second all three of them are clear of the private door's threshold, Kagami kicks her foot back to shut the door behind them. The three then start sprinting down the halls.

The hidden earpiece crackles again. “You three and Jason are the nearest to the backstage where Marinette will be soon. I'll lead the four of you towards the location, just follow my directions and don't do anything stupid once Jason joins you.”

“No promises,” Adrien mutters in response. “I'm seriously considering committing patricide at this point.”

Max doesn't immediately respond, presumably having switched channels to help deal with the others, or get out himself.

Less than a minute later, the earpiece crackles again, but this time it's Luka who starts relaying the directions to the backstage whilst keeping them updated on both human and android guards as well as security camera positions.

“You're halfway there, Jason should be just through the third door on the right.” Luka informs, sounding calm but they know him too well to not hear the veneer of fury beneath every word.

Adrien yanks open the third door on the right open, and lo and behold, Jason is sprinting past the open door in the corridor it leads to.

“Wait up!” Félix hisses after Jason.

It seems Jason manages to hear him and skids on the balls of his steel-toed boots, scratching up the wooden flooring, to stare at them with his green eyes blazing. “Alix was fucking right.” He bites out.

“We are coming with you, to save her.” Kagami states, looking equally furious.

Jason cocks his head to the side. “Then c'mon, we need to run.”

The four exchange nods and glances and burst into a sprint down the hallway, following Luka's directions.

Direction after direction after direction. It feels like Luka relays to them hundreds of those endless directions before the four of them reach a long hallway with double doors at the end that has a large sign above it, labelled: Backstage.

Skidding to a stop again, Jason holds out an arm to stop the others as well. “As much as I want to run in, laser guns a-blazin', who knows what kinda fucking security shit they've got ready for us.”

Adrien grimaces. “But they knew we didn't know that they have Marinette. So why would they prepare security for us rescuing her when they're trying to capture us?”

“Have you forgotten how much security the Big Butterfly placed around my mother, after brainwashing her? Public spectacles like this always involve far too much security around the shining star of the show!” Félix spits acerbically, fists shaking, breathing shallow.

Adrien places a hand on his shoulder. “Worst case situation, we can get Kaalki to get us out and we can try and rescue Marinette another time.”

Jason scowls. “If we're forced to do that, I want to shoot that fucker's skull in first.”

“Technically, shouldn't Adrien get right of shooting him before you?” Kagami asks, half-smiling that awkward smile of hers.

Huffing, Jason nods to Adrien. “Fine, but I dibs second shot then. And if you go for the skull, I'm shooting that bastard in the fucking dick.”

Adrien makes a choking noise and doubles over, barely managing to stifle his laughter. He takes a few deep breaths and wipes tears away from his eyes. “Deal!” He wheezes, “please, I'd like nothing more than for you to get the second shot and do that!”

“Good fucking choice,” Jason mutters in response, a cheeky grin crossing his face for but a second before it falls back to the furious snarl. “Now, let's see what's behind the doors and get our anthill tiger back!”

The earpieces Jason, Félix, and Adrien are wearing, buzz again. “Might want to hurry up.” Luka smoothly informs. “Three human guards are coming your way. And as far as Max can see through his hacking, there's no android guards or drones backstage.” He pauses, “the rest of our gang won't be able to reach you four in time, neither will Sparrow's. You're going solo.”

The four exchange quick glances among themselves. “That's a risk we're willing to take if it means getting Marinette back.”

“I'll keep you updated on any changes. Break a leg or three, especially try to break the Big Butterfly's legs if you can.” Luka responds.

Jason snorts. “We'll try our best.”

The channel goes silent, as Jason quietly opens the backstage doors and the four of them sneak through.

———

The show has ended, by the time the four of them arrive through the backstage doors. Jason spots a rack of clothes and gestures to the others to follow him as he creeps over to hide behind it.

She's there. Marinette—or Phoebus, as the Big Butterfly had called her. There in the centre of the backstage. Standing stock-still. Still dressed in that fucking chrysalis—butterfly dress. Like a creepy human-sized doll.

Jason focuses on his breathing, in and out, in and out, in and out. Trying not to let the sickly radioactive green flood his vision and veins.

He freezes as he watches the Big Butterfly himself stride up to her and circle her like a vulture.

“You did very well today, Phoebus.” The Big Butterfly says, with a sneer on his face. “Unfortunately, my son and Nephew have so rudely absconded from their booth before the show ended.”

The Papillon Phoebus dips her head, and ever so hollowly sounding, replies, “that is most unfortunate.”

It takes all Jason's concentration to not be sick at how empty she sounds and acts. He glances at the others and Kagami, Adrien, and Félix all look sickened by the sight.

The Big Butterfly's sneer morphs into a scowl. “It is indeed. However, Mademoiselle Bourgeois was able to inform us of something very interesting.”

Tilting her head to one side, the Papillon Phoebus stares blankly at him. “Oh?”

“Apparently, my son had quite the reaction to the sight of you on stage, my Papillon. Isn't that interesting.” The Big Butterfly taunts.

She blinks at him then nods slowly and stiffly. “Yes. That is very interesting, Monsieur Agreste.”

His scowl curls into a victorious sneer. “That's what I thought, my dear Papillon.”

Jason shakes, he can't watch any more of this fucking creepy-ass bastard messing with his gang co-leader. He whips both of his recently upgraded guns from their holsters and grips the handles with whitening knuckles.

Before the others can think to stop him, Jason dives out of cover and shoots his twin guns. Pew-pew!

The laser bolts slam into the back of the Big Butterfly, frying two circles into his suit and melting the material to his skin.

The Big Butterfly screams in pain and fury. He pivots in place to turn and glare at where the shots had come from. The light flashes across his glasses again, making the lenses appear opaque. As his gaze latches onto Jason, his victorious sneer splits and twists and unfurls into a monstrous smirk. He starts to laugh, like poison bubbling and frothing from his lips.

And as the Big Butterfly does, Jason catches sight of the glint of small purple flapping around the Papillon Phoebus'—Marinette's—neck.

The bubbling and frothing poison of an Akuma's transformation swirls around her, staining every speck of her and forming a glimmering chrysalis once more.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Jason chants under his breath. Eyes wide with instant regret, he taps his earpiece. “We fucked up! Holy fucking shit, we fucked up!”

“What?!” Comes the frantic response from Luka. “What do you mean? What's happened? What did you do?”

Jason laughs nervously, “she's an Akuma! She's been fucking akumatised.”

“Hold on as long as possible, the others got swarmed by guards and can't reach you yet.” Luka frets.

At that, Kagami, Adrien, and Félix all burst out from behind the clothes rack, each with laser pistols also in hand. Zap-zap-zap.

The three more shots ring out but only one hits, Adrien and Félix both shaking too much for theirs to land.

“We shall try.” Félix responds to Luka.

The chrysalis-Akuma-poison coalesces around the Papillon Phoebus before cracking and dripping away. Revealing two large butterfly wings exactly like the dress. Phoebus wings. She flutters her wings and begins to float a metre or so above the ground.

“Fuck!” Jason curses, and behind him he can hear the other three echoing the sentiment. He stares at the purple butterfly chain around her throat. “Akuma is in the necklace!”

A bright light, not dissimilar to a flashbang, pops off. Immediately blinding all four of them.

“Capture them!” The Big Butterfly orders.

Kagami yelps.

The blindness caused by the light fades, and Adrien gasps. Jason swears under his breath again, and he and Félix both fire off more shots. This time towards the Akuma object, as the Big Butterfly has vanished.

Cocooned to the ground, Kagami squirms, trying to free herself from the Akuma's trap.

“Fucking shit!” Jason helpfully says on the earpiece channel. “She's trying to fucking capture us for the fucking bastard! And he's disappeared!” He bodily throws himself to the ground to dodge a mote of brilliant radiance lancing towards him.

The Papillon Phoebus tilts her head to the side, wings glittering with bright golden light like her namesake. Safely blocking the laser blasts towards her object with her massive wings.

Thankfully, only one of Kagami's hands is trapped. And not the one with the gun. As quietly as possible, she shoots the gun to slice through the cocoon and free herself.

The wings start to glow brighter and brighter and brighter.

“Flashbang!” Jason yells, diving behind cover in the form of a cluster of mannequins and slapping a hand over his eyes.

Kagami grabs Adrien and the two duck behind a different rack of clothes. Whilst Félix leaps over a stack of boxes and hides there.

The radiance flares once more, but fails to blind any of them.

“We need to shoot the object. I'll draw the attention at the front. Kagami, get behind and get ready to shoot her in the back as a distraction. Adrien and Félix, you two flank her on opposite sides.” Jason plans quietly into the earpiece channel.

Jason leaves his hiding spot first, vaulting over the cluster of mannequins and shoots a laser bolt at the Papillon Phoebus' necklace again. It's blocked by the wings, as to be expected.

Félix leaps back over the stack of boxes and flanks the Papillon Phoebus on the right. Whilst Adrien rolls out from behind the clothes rack and flanks on the left.

The three in position, shoot simultaneously at the Akuma, as to distract her.

Kagami bolts from her hiding spot and flanks behind the Papillon Phoebus.

The wings start to flutter and glow brighter once more.

“Now!” Jason yells.

Zap!

The blast slams into the Papillon Phoebus' back, right between where her wings connect to her shoulder blades. Instinctively she splays her wings out in pain and curls backwards.

Zap-zap!

Two more blasts slam into her, one in each wingtip.

Zap!

Finally, Jason shoots last and his aim is true. Crackle-snap!

The blast sears through the chain necklace, warping the metal and snapping it in twain.

The two parts of the object clatter to the ground and a purple butterfly claws itself out from the broken chains.

Jason spins his gun in his hand and shoots a final laser straight through the moth. Burning a perfect hole through its wings and killing it instantly. Purple Akuma-goop leaks from its injuries and then fades, leaving behind the scorched corpse of what was once a white butterfly.

He sighs in relief, and quickly taps his earpiece. “Akuma dealt with.”

As he says that, the Akuma de-transforms midair and Marinette collapses to the ground. Limp, like a puppet with their strings cut or a discarded doll—a cracked Pupa.

“Thank fuck.” Luka's responds over the channel, sounding tired.

Jason drags a hand down his face. The green poisoning his vision dissipates for the time being, and he hurries over to Marinette. Ever so carefully, he scoops her into his arms—bridal style—and pulls her close to his chest.

Kagami drops to her knees and breathes.

Adrien weakly punches the air with his gun in hand. “Wooh! Luka, we're calling a key home. Disable security please?”

Félix snorts, moving back to lean against the stack of boxes.

“No need, there's no security cameras backstage. I'll hear your songs when you back at base.” Luka relays, tone light with happiness and relief despite the tiredness. “The others have dealt with the guards, so they're on their way back too.”

Adrien transforms with Kaalki, becoming Cheval Mallet. He walks over to Kagami and offers her a hand. Félix, and Jason with Marinette unconscious in his arms join them.

The portal opens up before them, and they walk through together. Today, they've won another battle. Tomorrow they'll try to find out what has been done to Marinette. But tonight, tonight all the conscious members of the gang huddle together in the lounge. And among themselves, they build a pillow and blanket fort, and relax.

They're all together, and they're all safe, for once.

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| So title dissection, Atelier meaning Fashion Studio comes from the Latin "Astula" meaning "Splinter", Astula also is the Genus for the flower Asphodel. Phoebus as mentioned in the fic is the god of light but it also means "Bright". Eclose is the leaving of a cocoon/chrysalis. Pupa is another term for cocoon/chrysalis when the butterfly/moth becomes soup and goes through metamorphosis. But it also comes from the Latin meaning Girl or Doll. So In the Fashion Studio's Glow, the Bright/Light Doll will be Released. |

| Fun Fact: Larva/Larvae mean Mask or Ghost in Latin. Also the suffix "Arches" means Leader/Ruler. So Jasonarches means Jason-Leader :3 |

| Also feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I'll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

[slutabed]

intro to valentines

I really wanted to finish this episode-style Valentine’s Day fic by tomorrow but that’s NOT going to happen, especially because I wrote the last scenes first and now have no incentive to write whatever leads up to it. But I liked the end scene and wanted to share it because idk holiday spirit and trobed love and all that <3 

General plot idea (none of which is actually in this scene lol): Abed is chock-full of grand gestures for Valentine’s Day but has no date, so Shirley and Annie set out to find him one. Jeff demands Abed tell him how he’s so good at wooing women (and men, for that matter), and Abed gives him all his grand ideas for the holiday. Troy is weirdly, inexplicably livid at the idea of Abed getting a date for the holiday, and Britta helps him work through his feelings. 

MUSIC CUE: “Greendale Is Where I Belong” by Ludwig Goransson

Troy approaches Abed, hands in his pocket and posture stiff. He smiles nervously.

TROY

Hey.

  ABED (equally nervous, hands fidgeting at his side)

Hey. 

  TROY

So...that valentine was pretty cool. 

(beat)

Was it supposed to look like one of those giant valentines you always see in cartoons? Because - 

  ABED 

(knowing exactly what Troy is going to say)

Because you love when things look the way they look in cartoons, yeah.

  TROY (smile growing)

Yeah, I do.

  The boys smile at each other for a moment before Troy glances down, shuffling his feet. 

  TROY

So I, uh...I never really had a Valentine before.

  ABED

Neither have I. And TV holiday specials usually end with the acquisition of the Valentine, so I don’t really have a script for what comes after this part.

(He pauses for a beat, then, more quietly:)

But I really like you, Troy. 

  TROY (a soft, looking-at-Abed expression on his face)

You do?

Abed smiles and nods. 

  TROY (quietly)

I’ve never dated a guy before.

  ABED 

I know.

  TROY (after a deep breath)

But if there’s anyone I trust to be my first boyfriend, it’s you.

  ABED (eyes wide)

You want to be boyfriends?

  TROY (foot in his mouth)

Uh, no!? Not if you don’t want that! Did I say boyfriend? I meant, uh, koi friend. Like, we could be friends that just chill out by koi ponds together, and - 

  Abed puts a hand on Troy’s shoulder comfortingly. Troy visibly relaxes.

  ABED

Troy. I really, really want to be your boyfriend. It’s why I orchestrated this whole thing.

  Troy gestures to where Jeff is frantically lighting a fuse that connects to his entire firework display.

  TROY

So the whole firework show...even though Jeff is setting it up now, that’s still for me?

  Abed looks over his shoulder, as if surprised to find the rest of the study group still there. 

  ABED

Oh, that? No, I think that’s going to be a total trainwreck. I’m not sure those fireworks are even legal.

  TROY (eyes wide)

What!? Then why did you give them to Jeff!?

  ABED

Because I needed everyone to be distracted so I could do this.

  Behind them, Jeff’s fireworks erupt in a cacophonous, disastrous-sounding symphony. Onlookers wince and cover their ears. One misfiring firework veers sideways and launches itself directly into a garbage can, the contents of which immediately burst into flames. Jeff runs to the garbage can, panicked, while Britta doubles over in laughter, Shirley’s hands cover her mouth in horror, and Annie shrieks. The onlookers are in various states of disarray, some calling 911, some screaming for help, some running toward or away from the fire in panic.

In the midst of the pandemonium, while everyone is distracted, Abed gently cups Troy’s face in his hand and leans in to kiss him softly. Troy gasps, then melts into the kiss, his hands coming up to grip Abed’s arms. After a moment, Abed pulls away.

  TROY (eyes even wider now)

Woah. 

  ABED (smiling, almost in disbelief)

Yeah.

(beat)

Before, when you said first boyfriend, is that because you’re already planning on having more boyfriends in the future, or -

  TROY (emphatically)

Uh, absolutely not, you can be my forever boyfriend if you’re going to kiss me like that again. That was awesome.

  Abed smiles wider and pulls Troy close for an even deeper kiss. When he pulls away, Troy is looking at him like Abed put the stars in the sky just for him.  

  ABED

Want to go watch movies and probably make out a lot?

  TROY

Get out of my brain, dude. That sounds amazing.

  They perform their handshake, then Abed grabs Troy’s hand with a shy smile. Troy looks nervous, but then grins and nods. They walk toward Abed’s dorm, away from the pandemonium in front of the library, hand in hand.

  END TAG 

Troy and Abed are sitting next to each other on a couch in the library, just as they are in the end tag of “Spanish 101” (season 1 episode 2). Abed beatboxes and taps out a rhythm on his textbook with his pencil. 

TROY (rapping)

¿Dónde está la biblioteca? Me llamo T-Bone, la araña discoteca.

  Cut to: Jeff, Shirley, Annie and Britta are watching. Shirley looks bewildered, Britta looks bored, Annie taps her foot impatiently and Jeff checks his watch. 

  BRITTA

Come on, guys, is this really what you wanted to show us?

  JEFF

Yeah, we’ve heard this stupid rap already.

  (Troy and Abed ignore their friends and continue rapping.)

  The rap ends. Instead of waiting for applause, Troy and Abed just grin at each other and lean in. Abed grab’s the back of Troy’s neck and pulls him in for a loud smack of a kiss. 

  SHIRLEY

Oh, Lord have mercy…

  BRITTA (laughing in disbelief)

Woah! 

  ANNIE (gasping)

Do you mean you two -

  JEFF (with a shit-eating grin)

Well, I’ll be damned.

  Abed smiles at the group. Troy can’t pull his heart-eyes away from Abed. 

  SHIRLEY

Well, you two better treat each other right, you hear me? I’ll kick both your asses if you do anything to hurt each other. 

  JEFF

Shirley, look at them. I think they’re gonna be fine. 

  Troy slips his hand into Abed’s, while Abed’s smile grows. 

  ABED

Happy Valentine’s Day, everybody. 

  FADE OUT.

[tentimesthecourage]

Mail Through Time And Space

To whoever gets this,

Hello! My name’s Rinku and I’m 8 years old! I have decided I want to send letters to people and you get the first one!

I don’t really know what to put, there’s so much I could say. I’m practicing sword play with my twin, Link. We... don’t really like it, but we do it because we want to protect everyone, especially mom and Aryll, she’s our baby sister!

I hope I can hear from you soon!

Rinku

---

Dear Rinku,

You might find this a little strange, but my name’s also Link, like your twin. I am 9 years old. Sounds like fun, sending letters to strangers, and I’m glad I got to be the first to get one!

I think you two practicing for that reason is… noble. I think that’s the right word. I’m pretty good with a sword myself! Been practicing since I was 7, how long have you been practicing?

I hope this letter finds you well.

Link

---

Dear Link,

Wow! I didn’t think I’d reach someone with the same name as my twin! Link says hi by the way. Aryll probably would too, but she can’t really talk yet.

Noble? I asked mom what that means and she said having good morals, whatever those are, but I guess that means good things so thank you! 

Link and I have been practicing since we were five. Dad Father wants us to become knights when we’re older.

I… I don’t want to… but

Nevermind.

Rinku

---

Dear Rinku,

I’m sorry to hear that being a knight is being forced upon you. Sounds like your father is a bit stubborn.

I know how that feels, my father is the same, though more about teamwork than my plans for the future. Still though, I hope things can become brighter, maybe he’ll see that you and your twin’s passion lies somewhere else.

Take care,

Link

---

Dear Link,

Thanks, that really makes me feel better. Lately things have been getting… bad. I wanna tell you, but Link, my Link, doesn’t think it’s a good idea. So let’s talk about other things!

Our birthday is coming up soon! October 30th! When’s your birthday? Is it soon? I wanna be able to send you a gift!

Write back soon!

Rinku

---

Dear Rinku,

I’m sorry to hear things haven’t improved for you, but as my grandfather says, keep a stiff upper lip. There’s always a storm before a rainbow. He says strange things but he means well.

I don’t know if this’ll arrive before your birthday or after, but happy birthday regardless! I’ve put something in the envelope and hopefully it’ll stay safe.

It’s half of a kinstone, when you find the other half and fuse them together, something good will happen.

As for my birthday, it’s still months away. Mine’s March 4th

Looking forward to your next letter,

Link

---

Dear Link,

I don’t think I’ll be able to send letters as often anymore. Somehow Link and I pulled something called the ‘Master Sword’ and it split in two. Everyone’s calling us the ‘Chosen Heroes’ and telling us that we have to begin training soon.

I’m scared… I have a really bad feeling…

I hope I’ll be able to hear from you soon.

Rinku

---

Dear Link,

Hah… I don’t even know why I’m writing this. It’s been so long… a century. I doubt you're even still alive, but something in my heart urges me to write this anyway.

So much has happened, where do I even begin?

Link became the Hylian Champion at the same time that I became Captain of the Royal Guard. We barely saw each other after that, he always had to follow the princess while I had to train the troops to prepare for Calamity Ganon.

Even with everything, it didn’t matter.

We still failed.

That beast took everything from us, Hyrule is in shambles. I hope wherever you are, you’re safe. 

Link was shot by a guardian, these huge metal monsters, they put him in the Shrine of Ressurection, an ancient piece of Shiekah technology that would supposedly heal him.

I fell in Kakariko… yet, here I am. Apparently they put me in a room that had some sort of Stasis similar to the Shrine.

The difference however… I remember everything.

Link remembers nothing. Not even me.

But we managed, we survived, we took on so many trials together.

And then we took on Calamity Ganon.

It’s gone now, Hyrule is finally safe, we fixed our mistake.

So why does it still feel like we failed?

I wish I could have met you…

Like I said, I don’t even know if you’re alive, I might be sending this to a dead man. But on the slim chance that I’m not…

I really hope I can see you.

Rinku

---

Fiddling with the kinstone half that he had fashioned into a necklace, Rinku sighed heavily. Nearby he could hear Link fiddling with the Slate. The two of them were relaxing on the Plateau, needing some peace and quiet.

A snapping sound caught both of their attention, as one they looked over at the source of the sound, dumbfounded to find themselves staring at a group of people. How the hell did they get up here?

“Pardon us… but would either of you be named Link?” Rinku bristled faintly, defensive as he felt Link tense beside him.

“Who wants to know-?” His terse reply was suddenly caught off by a quiet gasp from seemingly the smallest of the group.

“Rinku…?” His ears flicked and he looked over at the speaker, the guy looked like he’d seen a ghost, the way his gaze kept flicking between his face and… his necklace?

“That’s me, yes…?” He replied cautiously, well aware of the confused looks both of them were getting. He tensed as the other approached after murmuring something to the supposed. The other raised his hands passively, showing they were empty and that he meant no harm.

“Your birthday’s October 30th.”

Rinku stiffened in surprise, he was not expecting him to say that.

“You didn’t want to be a knight and neither did your twin, he has a passion for baking while you had one for sewing.” The stranger continued softly. “On your ninth birthday, you drew the Master Sword together-” They were both aware of the sharp gasp from the group behind the smaller male, but neither acknowledged them.

“Just mere days before then, you received a letter holding half a kinstone.” A soft, hopeful smile crossed his face and Rinku could swear his eyes shone with four different colors. “Kinstones are special… if you fuse two halves together…”

“...Something good will happen.” Rinku managed to finish, staring at the other in disbelief. He managed to stand and half walk, half stumble to the other. He had hoped, he had wished… could it really be…?

“Link…?”

A small laugh escaped him before he held out his arms.

“You said you wanted to meet me, right…? Hope I don’t disappoint-” He grunted softly as Rinku slammed into him, knocking them both over as he hugged him tightly.

Four winced slightly as they hit the ground together, he knew the others would be completely confused about what just happened and he’d definitely owe them an explanation, but right now, he was more focused on finally being able to meet him. Finally focusing back on him, he paused before his heart melted at the mumbling he could barely hear.

“You’re safe, you’re safe, thank the goddess, you’re safe.” 

“I’m safe.” He agreed softly, gently rubbing his back. “I’m safe and you’re safe…” His voice lowered as his grip tightened slightly. “And you didn’t fail.” He felt Rinku stiffen in his arms, but pushed regardless. “Listen to me, you didn’t. You, your twin, you did everything you could, I know you did. And in the end you won.”

“But Link-” He started to protest and Four shushed him sharply.

“But Link nothing.” He replied sternly. “Yes, it took awhile, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that Hyrule is safe. You’re safe, Link is safe. You won.”

Rinku sagged against him, burying his face against his shoulder. Four settled with a small sigh before blinking as his gaze met Link’s, Rinku’s Link, his twin.

-You… know my brother?- He asked, cocking his head. -You are… the one he writes to?-

“I am.” He confirmed with a nod. “My name’s Link, just like you. But they-” he nodded to the group behind them. “Call me Four.”

Link seemed to process this before he smiled and raised his hands again.

-Thank you.-

Four blinked, confused as the other continued.

-He told you what happened to us, right? About the Calamity?- At his nod, Link continued. -I think the only thing really keeping him going was the letters he had from you from a hundred years prior. He keeps them in the slate- At that, he pulled up the stone slab from his hip and turned it around so Four could see a screen. On it was the symbol of an envelope and the numbers 523. Internally, he could hear the colors flustering.

“We really wrote that much?”

“Some of them were before us, when it was just Link.”

“Yeesh, all of that…”

“...he kept them all…”

The colors quieted at Red’s words and Four fought back a shiver at the realization. Every letter from their childhood to now, Rinku had found a way to keep them all safe and sound. He tightened his hold on the younger male, overwhelmed at the emotion engulfing his heart.

A soft clearing of someone’s throat caused the trio to jump and finally turn their attention to the group once more.

“Four… perhaps it’s time for introductions?” The smith flushed faintly at the amused glint in Time’s eye.

“Ah… yes.” He managed, fighting back a pout (he did not pout, he did not) when Rinku pulled back to look at the group with a wary eye. Just because he trusted Four, didn’t mean he trusted the rest of them right away.

“Everyone… this is Link and Rinku. Twin brothers and the heroes of this Hyrule.”

His gaze met Rinku’s and he gave a half smile.

“We have a lot to talk about.”