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1kook · 4 years ago

Text

espn & bdsm

this is part 6 of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills. warnings; smut (18+) in the forms of brief femdom, handcuffs, nipple clamps, blindfolding, flogging/use of a riding crop, soft dom kook, cunnilingus, spitting, unprotected but passionate, degradation, as always it starts horny n then turns into I love u kink miscellaneous; kook has a swollen ankle so idk how he did all this, jk abuses the fuck outta pet names part 7, revenge gone wrong tbh, this was honestly a beginner’s intro to vanilla bdsm word count; 12.7k

notes; this is like… a healing fic… for the part before lol. also i did not know what was going to happen next as I was writing. anyway entire smut scene was based off THIS bad boy ur welcome fellas and the Jungkook described here is from in the soop episode 2... cutie... yes every single 1 of those words is a link

lmk what you think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

You're at the nail salon with Doyeon when she first mentions it.

“Have you ever, like,” she pauses, making a vague, swivel gesture with her head. You furrow your brows and she sighs. “Topped him. Have you ever been the one to take control?”

Your nail artist blushes, furiously filing away at your nails until the most perfect stiletto shape stares you back in the face. “Oh. Not really,” you admit, wiggling your wet toe nails around in the styrofoam flip flops issued by the salon. “I mean, sometimes I talk him through it.”

Doyeon snorts. “Babe, talking him through it and being the boss are two completely different things,” she says rather dryly, seemingly unbothered by the fact your two nail techs are being subjected to this more than intimate conversation. But you’ve had weirder talks with Doyeon in public; this doesn’t phase you. “Listen,” she says suddenly, dropping her voice down to a whisper that has you leaning closer to hear her. “You know how I’m a member of that site, right?”

You nod. “Oh yeah— Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide!, right?” She kicks your shin, but the jab is muted by the bottom of her own styrofoam flip flop.

“Yeah, just tell everyone here my credit card number while you’re at it,” she hisses. Her anger fades soon enough. “Well, they’re always sending me all sorts of freebies for my devoted patronage,” she explains. She quirks her lips to the side, throwing one brief glance at the blushing nail artists in front of you. Eventually she seems to come to a conclusion. “Long story short they sent me some cuffs and I’m gonna give you them.”

Your jaw drops. “Woah, really? I don’t know… Don’t those usually run kinda pricey?” you ask tentatively. You’re trying to play it off, act like this isn’t something you want, but the reality is so much worse.

The minute the word cuffs had slipped through her lips it’s like a door opened before your eyes. A big, wooden door with chains strapped across it and a padlock you swore you’d never open.

Somewhere in your mind, you had always convinced yourself handcuffs in bed was something you’d like to have done to you. But, because she was your best friend and by extension a personified version of all your freakiest, often filtered, thoughts, it was like Doyeon had reached straight into your cranium and extracted your most secret fantasy— and that was Jungkook in handcuffs.

Your nail artist pats your hand, motioning you to head over to the drying station. Before you can be separated from Doyeon, you whip around to throw her one desperate look. “I have never wanted anything so bad in my life.”

She cackles loudly, easily garnering the attention of every employee and nail enthusiast in the salon with the evil witch vibes she exudes.

Truth be told, your argument with Jungkook had brought upon a newfound appreciation for him. Weird to say, considering you had wanted to kill the dude when it had originally happened. But the great thing about you and Jungkook was that you were flexible people— both in bed and out. A few long conversations later and you had reached the root of the problem.

And that root was your apparent lack of communicating when something was wrong. It was weird to think that anything could ever be wrong when Jungkook was involved. He was your honeybun, sugar plum, pumpy-umpy-umpkin. Your sweetie pie, for lack of better wording, and he could do no wrong—

—is what you’d like to say. But if there’s anything you’ve learned in the past year of dating Jungkook, it’s that perfection was a made up belief that revolved around the idea that someone’s flaws couldn’t possibly be a good thing. And as you’ve come to realize, Jungkook wasn’t the perfect gentleman you’d initially chalked him up to be. He was human, just like you, with his own list of worries and thoughts, and sometimes those thoughts manifested into flaws. They could be ugly or they could be beautiful, but at the end of the day, they all made Jungkook into the person he was— and you loved that person. Disgustingly so.

You had your moments, and he had his. Everything would not always be sunshine and rainbows for the two of you, but it was fine so long as you learned to play in the rain and stomp in the puddles.

Still.

You were you.

A slightly mean, slightly conniving, petty ass human who had been plotting his revenge since the day the two of you made up. I mean, you weren’t actually just going to let him get off the hook like that, were you? He had saved himself last time with a gooey, heartfelt apology and confession, followed by some extraordinary dicking down that had left you Naked and Afraid for three days after.

But you weren’t that easy! No, ma’am. You had to let him know that some gorgeous demon dick was not enough to satisfy you after a fight like that.

Jungkook was in for a desperately needed reality check, one that jingles in your purse when you step out of the Uber that drops you off at his place. You know he’s home because his front light is on, and also because he’d texted you that he was watching some soccer match on tv tonight. He’s a pretty big fan, especially of the club playing tonight, so you decide it’s a perfect night to strike.

Your copy of his key slips right into the keyhole. Your slippers are in the same place they always are, neatly set off to the side right by the stairs. He’s not in his living room, undoubtedly the most perfect place to watch any type of sporting event with that huge Jumbotron of his. The damn thing made it feel like you were in the stadium itself.

There’s a quiet hum coming from upstairs. You creep up the steps, carefully rounding the corner at the landing until you’re staring right into his dimly lit bedroom.

The way Jungkook’s got his bedroom set up is so that you can look directly at his door from the bed, terribly inconvenient for when that sleep paralysis demon hits in the middle of the night and you’re left staring into the dark hallway. He’s snuggled comfortably over his sheets, about three pillows supporting his back. The light of the tinier, more acceptable television he keeps in his room is dancing across his features in bright shades of green. You almost throw yourself onto his mattress like a starfish until you spot the carefully placed foot on the bed.

“What the hell did you do?” you blurt. A wrong move, considering he hadn’t seen you yet and your sudden appearance makes him jump nearly ten feet into the air, almost knocking down the bag of ice that sits on his ankle. “Oh my god, it was that damned Pilates class, wasn’t it?” you fret, rounding the bed until you’re on his side.

“Oh hey,” he says as if you’re not currently pulling the first eight seasons of Grey’s Anatomy to the forefront of your head to treat him. “When’d you get here?”

“Cut the crap, who did this to you?” you ask, sitting beside him with the utmost care. You drop your bag off to the side, the loud clatter of the inside contents vaguely registering in your head. The ice pack comes off easily, revealing a relatively okay looking ankle save for the slight swell towards the more medial aspect of it.

Jungkook takes the moment to sit up, joining you in your inspection of his injury. “No one,” he answers, using his new position to drop a kiss against the side of your head. “I fell off the ladder helping Mrs. Jung across the street.”

You choke. “You fell off a ladder?” you squawk, eyes wide as your gaze shifts from his ankle to his entire body.

He places a hand on your shoulder, “babe, I was on like the third step. It was one of those old wooden ones,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. “The step just happened to snap on my way down.”

You scoff. “That old lady is out to get you,” you warn him. “Remember the time she almost had you plug in those burnt out Christmas lights for her? The ones that would have electrocuted you to death.”

Jungkook laughs, settling back into his stack of pillows. “In her defense, she’s old,” he offers. He’s wrapped up in a black hoodie, fluffy bangs parted down the middle. He’s got on some blue shorts, a huge difference from his usual dark-toned clothing. He looks so good and warm, and you’re suddenly hit with the fact you can’t possibly handcuff this poor, injured angel to his bedpost and ride his cock into the sunset. “You didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

You deflate, wild fantasies thrown out the window. “Yeah, well,” you sigh, ditching your pants and climbing over him until you’re snuggled into his side. “Wanted to show you my nails.”

It’s a lame excuse. But he buys it, so.

“They’re cute,” he says, taking your hand in his. He turns your hand over, inspects your pretty new acrylics like he actually has any idea how much they cost or how sexy they look. He raises your hand to his face, pressing a smooch against your knuckles that has you heart thumping embarrassingly loud in your chest. God, you hated this fool.

You turn your nose up at him, like you’re some snooty rich girl who couldn’t give him the time of day. Except it’s not like that, and Jungkook knows.

“What’re you watching?” you ask instead.

He’s got that stupid dopey smile on you, the one that takes one nudge against his side to snap him out of. “Ah, just the game.”

You squint at the screen. “Is this Fox Sports?” you ask in disgust.

He pinches your side. “This is ESPN,” he corrects. “And you don’t know shit about sports channels,” he points out. “So sit this one out.” You give in with a huff, cuddling closer into his side while trying to jostle him as little as possible. Jungkook seems to have no deeply rooted concerns about his injured ankle if the way he hauls you into his arms is any indicator. “How did nails with Doyeon go?”

“You know, the usual,” you respond, idly toying with one of the strings on his hoodie as your eyes focus on the little figures running across the screen. He hums, gesturing for you to elaborate. “Talked about sex, how much better than you at life she is, some more sex.”

He scoffs at that. “Doyeon is not better than me, and I have a whole trophy case to prove it.”

“Okay, but have you singlehandedly Twitter beefed with an entire sorority in your freshman year of university and won?”

He frowns. “No.”

You give him a look, one that says stand down now unless you want to lose to my best friend and get your feelings hurt. Jungkook understands. “Anyway,” he announces, turning his attention back to the screen with you. You think his team might be winning—you vaguely remember seeing him wear a similar jersey once—so he’s pretty relaxed for now. “They’re doing pretty good considering they just lost their main striker.”

You have no idea what that means. “Who? Messi?”

Jungkook knows you don’t know. “He doesn’t even play in this league,” he explains anyway.

“Oh, I saw him trending on Twitter last week. Thought he died or something. Whole time it was just a bunch of soccer nerds crying about him leaving his team.”

He laughs. “You should be a sportscaster,” Jungkook decides after your ever-so-eloquent recap, tucking his head cutely against your shoulder. There was a study once that claimed the incessant need to squeeze a baby’s cheeks or hug puppies tightly was actually the innate human response to kill something they felt threatened by. Oddly enough, you find yourself thinking of that as Jungkook’s citrusy shampoo floods your nostrils.

“Oh, speaking of Doyeon,” he says suddenly. “Did you give her my address? I got a weird package from that store she likes that I genuinely don’t remember ever ordering.” You frown, sitting up slightly until you can look at the side of his face, the cute mole on his cheek calling your name.

“What?” you ask. “Was it in her name?” Jungkook nods. You’re about to tear the roof off his house and go hunt that evil wench down when realization dawns on you. “Oh, no, yeah I gave her your address. My mom stayed over last weekend and Doyeon needed to order something nasty. Guess it got delayed until now.”

Jungkook nods and then doesn’t say much else, which is weird considering the circumstances. You expected him to gently scold you for carelessly giving the psycho that was Kim Doyeon his address, but she’s been here a few times to pick you up, even came over for beer night once. She probably knew it anyway, but you still expected some type of reaction of disapproval from him.

Something’s off, and you know better than to leave it at that. You poke his cheek, right where that mole you’d been eyeing was. “Did you open her package?” you ask, grin slowly consuming your features at the fact Jungkook was apparently a mail snooper.

He looks away. You laugh. “Oh my god, you did,” you cackle, sitting up beside him to get a good look at the blush growing on his cheeks. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” he huffs, pretending to be overly invested in his soccer match again, but that ship died the moment you stepped into his room. “Babe, I can't see the match.”

You roll your eyes, purposefully shifting in front of him so he’s forced to look at the maniac look in your eyes. “What did you see, Jeon Jungkook, and are we going to steal it from her again?”

His cheeks bloom impossibly darker at that. “No!” he coughs, pointedly avoiding your gaze.

But your curiosity is at its peak now, his reactions only exacerbating it. You grab him by the shoulders, hands balling the material of his hoodie as you give him one firm shake. “What did you see,” you demand.

“Oh my god,” he gives in. You release him and he flops back onto his pillow mountain. “They were things,” he explains slowly, cheeks rosy. “For your, y’know,” a vague gesture over his chest.

You frown. “A bra?” you guess. “I’m not gonna lie, Kook, think I just lost a little respect for you.”

“No!” he huffs. “They were… little clamps. For your nipples.”

If this was a cartoon, you’re almost certain you’d be that character with the object in question in their eyes, heart fluttering in your chest at the words that leave his mouth.

Immediately, two things become obvious to you.

One, Kim Doyeon was a bigger freak than you’d expected who obviously dabbled in an assortment of trades. Clamps, your brain screams, overwhelmed with the image that appears in your head, the one that has a shiver running straight to your core. You would have to thank her for this gracious, unintentional gift she’s bestowed upon you.

Two, you’re gonna have to write her the best, most plausible apology letter tomorrow when you inform her those clamps have been lost in the mail, never to be seen again. Or you could just straight up tell her you snatched them up the moment you found out what they were, but you doubt that’ll go over well.

Jungkook groans. “You have that look in your eye,” he points out. You snap your attention back to him. “And I just wanna say in advance that I don’t think i can give you the fun night you deserve, baby,” he apologizes, motioning towards his still swollen ankle.

Something distinctly mean switches on inside of you.

You flash him a sweet smile that has him letting down his guard. You lean forward, pressing a soft peck to his cheek as you climb down the bed towards your forgotten purse that’d been resting on the floor until that point. “Who said I needed you to have fun?” you throw over your shoulder, carefully slipping Doyeon’s first gift close to your body so he won’t see.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed look. “Really,” he says dryly, “you think you can have fun without me?” He almost sounds cocky, as if the idea of you even enjoying yourself the teensiest bit without his help seems unfathomable.

You grin, padding over to his bedside, where you carefully pick up his hand. You mirror his actions from before, pressing a sweet kiss against his knuckles that makes that conceited look slip off his features for a second, eyes soft.

Click.

Jungkook frowns. “What the—“ before the sentence can leave his mouth you’re lunging forward, wrestling his hands above his head, until they’re both secured at his headboard by the soft cuffs Doyeon had given you that afternoon at the salon. Jungkook’s wide eyes stare back at you, briefly leaving to glance up at the silver chain that wraps behind one of the rungs of his headboard. “Babe,” he says slowly. “What the fuck.”

You beam at him, leaning down to snatch a pillow from beneath him so he’s better positioned, leaning back more. “So cute,” you gush, taking in the way his raised arms have the hem of his hoodie lifting at the waist. There’s a faint trail of hairs around his belly button that disappear beneath the elastic of his shorts. “Do you like them?”

Jungkook blinks. “Baby,” he says a second time, much slower and a little too calm for your liking. It almost gets swallowed by the roar of the fans on TV. “What is this?”

You ignore him, scampering around his room until you find the hot pink Sexuality Unleashed packaging peeking out from beneath his bed. Sure enough, it’s in Doyeon’s name but his address. A whole complicated mess just for some nipple clamps she’ll never see again. It’s what’s inside anyway, not that you thought Jungkook was lying, but there’s something about the actual, carefully wrapped packaging that makes your heart and pussy flutter.

“Oh! Aren’t these the prettiest things?” you exclaim, whirling around to where Jungkook is shaking up a storm with his cuffs, pout growing on his features the longer you leave him there. The ice pack slips off his ankle, falling onto the comforter beside him from all his movement.

Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit interested in the silver nipple clamps in your hands, too busy trying to free himself from the sudden trap you sprung on him. “Sweetheart, we can play with those tomorrow, alright?” he tries, relaxing his arms and finally looking your way. There’s a frustrated furrow to his brows, one you rarely see but adore very much. “Just undo these cuffs for me, yeah?”

You tilt your head to the side, placing a hand on the inside of his calf that you trail all the way up as you move to stand beside his hip. His thighs flinch at your touch, tensing when you stop just before the crotch of his pants. “Mmm, don’t think so,” you smile, dropping the thin chain beside him.

Your shirt goes first, peeled over your body until you’re left standing in your bra. It’s nothing too special this time, just your average run of the mill comfort bra hugging your chest. But that doesn’t really matter, especially not with the way you’re hoping things play out tonight. You’d discarded your jeans a few moments prior, so the shirt joins them on a pile on his floor.

As much as he tries to act irritated by your refusal to release him, there’s a slow stirring beneath his shorts. It’s emphasized by that bright blue material, cock swelling as he watches you take off your clothes. “Baby,” he warns, possibly for the last time. But you won’t know unless you push some more, you tell yourself, placing one knee on the edge of the bed, the other thrown across his lap.

“Wow,” you marvel, picking the chain up once more. Jungkook shifts beneath you, half hard cock brushing against the cleft of your cheeks. “Don’t you wanna see what it’s like, Jungkookie?”

He says nothing, watching you with solemn eyes that leave no room for reading him. Behind you, the game commentator is chattering up a storm.

Doesn’t matter, especially not when this flimsy metal had you so completely hypnotized. You reach behind yourself, unsnapping your bra with one fluid motion that has the cups falling onto your lap, soft chest on display for the man before you. Your breasts spill out slowly from their cage, pretty hardened buds slowly coming into his view. They make him pause his fussing, half-lidded gaze falling to the swell of your chest hungrily. His hands jerk, the cuffs doing their job of keeping them there.

You grin, placing a hand on his chest, over his hammering heart. “Do you wanna see me wear them?” you croon, tugging the material of his hoodie up his stomach, until your thighs are sitting directly on his tiny waist, thin thong just over his belly button. You trail your hand up, letting it brush up the side of his neck and bury into his scalp. You give an experimental tug that has his eyes squeezing shut. “Yes or no, Jungkookie?”

He’s being a huge brat for you, eyes scrunched up together like the sight of you enjoying yourself sans his touch is unimaginable. Another tug of his hair and he’s exhaling shakily, a quiet, “yes,” slipping past his lips.

The chain drops onto his chest with a quiet thud, shocking him enough to blink his eyes back open. Releasing your hold on his hair, you sit back on his lap, towering over his fidgety body like a goddess at a temple, him the lowly worshipper beneath you.

Your hands crawl over your body, starting somewhere around your waist. The glide up over your tummy, caress the underside of your breasts teasingly. Sure Jungkook knew your body well, but you knew your body best. One hand rubs teasingly over your breast, palm pressing down slightly against where your nipple lies, while the other drops down between your thighs, slowly grinding against your mound.

“Look, Jungkookie,” you gasp, body twitching at your own hands. You take a hardened nub between your fingers, rolling it back and forth until it’s standing at its peak. “I can do it without you,” you tease, rolling your hips against him slowly. The thin material of your thong does nothing to save you from the delicious swell of his cock against you. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, circling a finger over your clit. “It’s, it’s even better.”

His restraints jiggle against the bed frame, an obvious look of distress crossing his features. “No,” he huffs out a whine, tugging at the cuffs as you slowly unravel on his lap. They don’t give, no matter how much he pulls. You know he’s holding back, afraid of damaging his headboard, and you take advantage of the fact as you move to roll both nipples between your fingers. He groans harshly, jaw tight. “Hate you,” he hisses, hips wiggling beneath you. “Hate you, hate you.”

You breathe out an airy chuckle. “R-Really?” you ask, trembling hands finally reaching back for that second gift of the day. Your breath is shallow, so thoroughly wound up from your own playful hands, and you tremble at the mere brush of the cool metal. “Oh fuck,” you whimper, bringing them up to your chest, “I’ve never done this before,” you confess.

There’s a sense of amazement that consumes you at the thin chain you hold in your hands, the pretty gold painted clamps on each end. It makes you shiver, body unconsciously grinding down against Jungkook’s lap where his engorged cock was fighting against the material of his shorts.

“Then let me help you,” he tries, the childish tone from before melting into his usual silky smooth baritone. Jungkook even softens his gaze at you, let’s his tongue peek out to wet his lips as you almost seriously consider his request.

Had it not been for the sudden loud shout from the sports commentator behind you, a long obnoxious gooooooaaal, you probably would have fallen victim to that honey-eyed gaze. You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.

Without a second thought, you bring one of the little camps close to your chest, giving it a few experimental squeezes until the nerves are replaced with an overwhelming wave of horniness that even Jungkook can sense. “Fuck,” he groans, shaking his restraints back and forth like a wild animal as you slowly get to clamping your left nipple.

You’re not sure what you expected; part of you had thought it was going to be an excruciating pain, one that would make you want to scream and shout in sheer agony. The other part had reduced it to a barely there pinch that would never live up to your fantasies. As it stands, the sensation of the clamp around your swollen nipple sits right in between, drawing in a choked gasp that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Baby, sweetheart,” Jungkook gasps alongside you, eyes zeroed in on the pinched off bundle of nerves. There’s a sudden grinding sound that fills the air, like the sawing off of wood that definitely doesn’t sound good, and it’s a direct result of the fight he puts up against his headboard. “Please, please,” he begs, muscled arms tugging back and forth. “I have to touch—“

The second clamp goes on, making your entire back arch as if you were possessed. You're not, just extremely overwhelmed by the prickle of pain on your tits that makes you grind down against his cock, hands fisting the front of his hoodie like it’s the only thing grounding you right now. “Oh,” you shudder, thighs quivering at the heightened stimulation you receive from the clamps sitting on your nipples. “Kook, I-I can’t.”

He growls, hips bucking beneath you in a crazed effort to better situate you on his lap. “You gotta take these off me,” he rasps out. The next buck of his hips makes the chain dangling between your breast brush dangerously close to his face. He’s unintentionally goaded on by the TV in the room, the annoying drone of the commentator shouting something about never giving up. “Can make you feel so much better, sweet girl,” he cooes, jutting his head out like he needs a kiss.

Your head feels woozy, pussy throbbing at the sensations being channeled down into your core. Your eyes flutter shut, and before you can think it through, you're blindly reaching for the chain, giving it one light tug that has you mewling like a kitten. “O-oh, fuck,” you sob, looping your finger around the thin chain carefully. Another tug that pulls against your nipples sends a gush of wetness down between your thighs. “Cock,” you slur dazedly, “need your cock.”

Jungkook shudders out a long breath. “Le-Let me go then, sweetheart,” he chokes out, “let me fuck that pretty little pussy for you.”

“Uh uh,” you disagree, bringing another angry buck out of him, metal cuffs rattling loudly. “Want you to watch,” you pant, reaching behind you for his shorts. “Watch me, Jungkookie.” It takes three tries for you to get a grip, the elastic material slipping from your fingers before you finally gain some semblance of control and paw them down . The shorts and the boxers came off together, his engorged cock springing up to tap against your ass. “W-Watch,” you repeat dazedly, leaning forward with one hand on his shoulder to line him up with your dripping hole. Behind you, the commentator is droning on about core balance or something of the sort. It takes two tries as you blindly have to tug your panties to the side as well, and just as you have his fiery red tip against your entrance, something else happens.

He catches you, pearly teeth biting down on the chain that connects your clamps in a motion you can only liken to a bloodthirsty shark jumping out of the water, jaws snapping to catch its prey. It dangles in his face, the same way his own necklaces have done to you so many times before. But the difference between you and Jungkook was that while you let his assortment of necklaces hypnotize you, drag across your face painfully, he doesn’t. He snaps forward, catches it between his teeth.

You mewl loudly, foggy vision turning onto him. Jungkook’s got this unreadable look on his face, likes he’s pissed off and turned on all at once. “You’re not in charge,” he murmurs around the chain, the s and c sounds all slurred together. “You will never be in charge, silly girl, you got that?” he spits, yanking his head back like an animal, pulling your upper body with him by the two golden clamps on your nipples.

There’s tears in your eyes, lining your waterline and threatening to fall with each tug his mouth gives against the chain of your nipple clamps. He’s got his neck craned back as far as he possibly can with a pillow beneath him, chain links digging into his bottom lip. “Y-Yes,” you sob, your entire body quivering at the way he so easily manages to overthrow you, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, solemn eyes flickering across your twisted features once more. He gives another purposeful tug, head snapping back just the tiniest bit, but it’s enough to tug you forward again, a loud whimper torn from your throat. “Undo these cuffs for me, sweet girl,” he commands softly, jiggling the same restraints he’d spent the better part of fifteen minutes fighting against.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, hands wildly slapping down on his bedside table. You had had half the mind to leave the key there when you had retrieved the cuffs, telling yourself it would be easy access afterwards. It’s not, apparently, the silver pick falling just out of reach. For some reason— it’s probably the sensitivity and horninesss, the pinpricks of pain that originate from your nipples —this fact frustrates you to the point of tears.

“Easy, doll,” Jungkook talks you through, voice low and soft beneath you, “relax and grab it for me, okay?” You nod, angrily blinking away a tear that drips down your face. It splatters on Jungkook’s cheek, bringing a soft huff of amusement from him.

Finally the key brushes your hand, and you sigh in relief, shakily leaning forward to undo the lock above his head. He releases his killer chomp/grip on your chain just as you release his cuffs. “I-I’m sorry,” you sniffle, a sudden need to apologize as you watch him rub at the raw skin around his wrists. “I didn’t—“

“Shhh,” he says, cuddling you into his chest. “It’s alright,” he says simply and you believe him.

Which ends up being a terrible mistake exactly ten seconds later when he’s shoving your face into the sheets, your cries and whimpers muffled by the sounds of the game on TV as he winds your arms behind your back. You struggle for all of five seconds before a soft click resounds from behind you.

“Did you think I’d just let that slide, sweet girl?” he growls against your ear, hot breath fanning across your skin. “I'm not your dog, __,” he spits, suddenly yanking you up by your cuffed wrists. Your chest is heaving, arms aching from the way he’s got you on your knees, blind to whatever he’s doing behind you. “Don’t lock me up, because I’ll always come back to bite.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you stammer, flinching when a hand snakes around your waist, an experimental tug to the chain of your clamps. It sends a shudder down your spine, amplified by the hot press of his body behind you. “I won’t do it again!”

“I know you fucking won’t,” he laughs meanly, trailing his hand down over your mound. One finger circles your clit through your underwear, a shaky sigh exiting your lips at the jarringly light touch. “Because I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve learned your lesson, silly girl.”

“I said sorry,” you whimper, thighs quivering. His cock brushes up against you, the same cock you were about to ride until the sunset. Oh how the tables have turned.

A hand slips beneath your underwear, pad of a finger rubbing against your swollen clit. “Oh,” you exhale, surprised with the suddenly gentle touch following his words. “Th-That’s nice,” you murmur, head lolling forward at the slow rhythm he sets, playing with you like you were a toy that needed warming up.

“Yeah?” he husks out. There’s a yank to your clamps that makes you gasp, chest following the motion as if it’ll reduce the shock. “You think this is about making you feel nice?” he murmurs. Another tug, followed by another, until he’s raining down a series of rhythmic shocks onto your tits that make you shiver and twitch, tongue heavy in your mouth to the point you feel like you’re drooling.

“Wait,” you whimper, arms twisting behind you. “Hurts, hurts” you cry, arching your back like it’ll save you from the steady stimulation against your rock-hard nipples.

“Does it?” Jungkook hums, one hand working away at your clit. He swirls it around his finger, pressing down on the nub in an attempt to distract you. But it only heightens the sting coming from your breasts, the blossom of pain that grows over each mound the longer he plays with you. “Good. Want your pretty little body to hurt for me, baby.”

Right after saying that he releases the grip on your chain, letting it swing back and forth until it eventually rests on your stomach, throbbing nipples spared for now. A breath of relief washes over you now that you only have to worry about the hand playing along your folds. The TV is still flickering to your right, but the commentator's voice sounds fuzzy and so far away, like he’s in a whole different dimension while you and Jungkook are here.

Your reprieve lasts shorter than you expected, as his free hand slowly begins creeping up your waist, fluttering over the little gold clamps pinching your nipples. “Pretty girl,” he compliments, nudging one tender nub with a playful finger. “Pretty, pretty baby,” Jungkook murmurs as he begins massaging the scorching hot skin around your nipples gently. There’s a warm kiss pressed to your shoulder, followed by a trail up the side of your neck. You shudder, trying to focus on the hand that creeps down your folds, teases itself against your entrance.

“Jungkook,” you whine softly, rolling your head to the side so he can suck bruise after bruise onto your skin. You’re definitely drooling, the saliva thick and heavy in your mouth. “T-Too much.”

“Thought you wanted that,” he mumbles, kissing up and up until he’s at your jaw and then he’s at your mouth, languidly kissing you. He’s doing that thing again where he’s hellbent on drowning you in his spit, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was preparing you for something. “Wanted me to watch you bounce that tight little cunt on me while your tits were like this,” he says, punctuating his statement with a light slap against the side of one breast. It makes you jump, a moan catching in your throat.

The finger that had been playing meanly along your wet folds eases itself past your lips, plunges head first into the aching heat inside of you. He works it against your walls, thumb over your clit as he curls his finger inside of you. You moan loudly, shaking in your restraints. The hand over your chest squeezes, pushes the clamp deeper against your breast until your entire body is short-circuiting.

Your first orgasm comes over you with all the grace of a lightning bolt; it’s sudden and jerky, has every nerve ending wildly spasming as you whimper his name. “No more, no more,” you beg, head lolling back against his shoulder. He shows you no mercy, simply rubs furiously over your clit, until you’re jerking into his maniac hand.

When it’s over, he places a kiss against your jaw, curling his finger inside once more “Play with yourself,” he whispers.

“H-Huh?” you stutter, the rattle of your cuffs loud in both your ears, but not as loud as the breath you were trying to catch post-orgasm. You wonder if maybe he got ahead of himself again—he occasionally did that, thinking ahead to a point you hadn’t reached in your normal progression of sex —but suddenly he’s shoving you back down again, the finger that was slowly driving you insane rudely exiting your cunt.

You flop down against the mattress with a squeal, wiggling around like you actually had a chance of doing anything with him watching you like he is. You struggle for a few beats, every shift against the mattress rubbing harshly against your breasts until you nearly want to cry.

Just as you reach that point, he’s rolling you into your back, hands uncomfortably bent beneath you. It leaves you unwillingly arching to accommodate them, tits practically presented for him to see. “Pretty girl,” Jungkook groans, reaching down for the first time that day to touch himself.

His self restraint was truly unmatched, you realize, watching him squeeze the base of his cock. He runs a palm over his abdomen, up his chest. He drags the material of his hoodie along with it, eventually shucking it off somewhere to the side. His hair, so fluffy and soft, flops over his forehead, a few defined strands tickling his eyebrow.

The mere sight of him alone made you shiver, pussy clenching at the wet dream before you. He’s not an idiot either, obviously aware of what the sight of his body does to you, the tattoos littering his entire right arm that hypnotize you. The faint glow of the TV screen against his side makes him look like the cover star of every middle-aged wife’s erotic romance novel. He reaches said arm down, runs a hand along your thigh until you’re spreading them wide for him.

He doesn’t touch you like you want, only slides over your body until he’s toying with the chain of the nipple clamps that were slowly becoming the bane of your existence. “Open,” he says suddenly, and you do. Your mouth drops open, tongue stuck out slightly even if you don’t know why. He’s ingrained the response into you by now, made you into a desperate slut always ready for anything in your mouth.

This time it’s the stupid, stupid chain connecting your nipple clamps. He tugs it until it’s pulled up, the pull against your nipples making you whimper and writhe. The metal is cool when it touches your lips, but his fingertips are warm. “Good girl,” he praises once you bite down; even this sends a shock of nerves down your spine and to your pussy. “Just like that.”

A muffled whimper escapes your lips, tears clouding your vision at the stimulation that was quickly overwhelming you again. Part of you thinks no more, please, I can’t. But the other has you spreading your legs for him, quivering pussy desperate to be filled.

The distress must be obvious in your face if the way Jungkook kisses your neck is any indication. He’s got one hand massaging against the underside of one breast, like he’s soothing the striking pain of your pinched nipples for you. If anything, it only strings you along more. “Stupid baby,” he chuckles meanly, a soft puff of laughter against your jaw, “thinking she could push me down.”

He leans back onto his knees, that same careful brush against the inside of your thigh bringing about an embarrassing whimper as he peels your thong away. “But you didn’t really want that, did you?” he eggs on, slowly shifting down against the bed, until his mouth is hovering over your exposed lower lips. His breath is warm, makes you yearn for him to be closer. “You like when I shove my cock into your little pussy, right? Like how it feels when I turn you into my little slut like this,” he sighs, pressing one chaste kiss against your thigh that makes you pull at the cuffs behind your back.

Soon, his mouth is on your clit, the same clit he had previously pampered with his hands but chooses to play with again. He licks an obscenely wet stripe from your throbbing hole to your clit, tongue curling devilishly towards the end. You whimper, though the sound is distorted around the chain in your mouth. Jungkook groans, dives mouth first into your cunt until he’s suffocating himself. His cute nose is pressed against your clit, and he takes advantage of the fact by taking one, dramatic sniff with his eyes rolled back. A soft moan escapes him.

“Fuck,” he shudders, “smell like heaven for me.” You moan at his sweet words, eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll stop the buckets of overwhelmed tears that you’ve been fighting off since the moment the clamps came on. “Wanna give you the world, angel,” he breathes, licking languidly against your folds, tongue occasionally peeking inside.

You mewl and writhe, every movement sending a tug of pain over your nipples. You want that gorgeous cock deep in your cunt, want to feel him in your womb, but you can’t voice any of this with the chain of the clamps between your lips.

Jungkook sits up suddenly, and you’re thinking yes, finally, before the look on his face has you screeching to a halt. There’s something distinctly different about him, a look you don’t think you’ve ever seen in bed before. Your thoughts are only confirmed when his foot slides onto the floor, as if he’s about to leave.

The panic must be evident on your face, because Jungkook is quick to swoop in and reassure you he’s not done with you yet. “Wanna fuck your little pussy,” he admits, carding a hand through your hair. “But the truth is I don’t think you deserve that just yet.”

With that he slinks off the bed, leaving you writhing in confusion as he heads off for the closet behind you. You can’t see what he’s doing, can only hear the shuffling of something back and forth. The TV is still on, the loud cheering of the fans muffling his clattering. You’re suddenly reminded of his swollen ankle, craning your neck to tell him to not overdo it, when something dark covers your eyes.

He’s standing just beside the edge of the bed, his signature teddy bear heat emanating off in waves so thick you could touch them. “Do you trust me?” he murmurs, voice close but not close to your ear.

Something swells in your chest, an emotion so intense your entire pelvis tightens up at the realization that Jungkook was asking for permission to blindfold you. You’re almost certain it’s one of his ties, a silky black thing that covers your vision for the most part, save for a little crack by where your nose juts out. A shuffle to your side, and then he’s gently prying the chain he had pushed past your lips earlier out. “Need an answer, ___,” he says quietly, almost nervously.

“Yes,” you gasp, your entire body set aflame at the sudden turn of events.

If you were being honest you would have never predicted your night would end like this. Maybe you came in a little too cocky, a little too optimistic for the night. It was supposed to be Jungkook handcuffed and powerless, you remind yourself— how on earth did you get here?

“Good girl,” he praises, giving you a little encouraging nudge to raise your head for him to actually tie the knot behind your head. It’s definitely one of his suit ties, you realize, because there’s a distinct cross-stitch pattern that you can feel only when it’s tightened against your skin, pressing against your fluttering eyelids. When he releases you, you’re suddenly all too aware of the sense he’s deprived you of.

“K-Kook?” you call out with a tremble in your voice. The rhythmic pattern of his footsteps rounds the bed again, and then there’s a soft touch against your leg.

“Right here, sweet girl,” he reassures you. The bed dips by your legs as he closes in on you, still tied up and on the verge of a second orgasm that he snatched away before your very eyes; not that you can see it anymore. His hand slides over your stomach, tugs playfully at the clamps. You moan, the sensation magnified tenfold by the fact you can’t see nor anticipate his actions now.

His hands glide like two sailing boats over the broad expanse of sea that is your body, molding against your curves like waves as they go. He hums appreciatively, and you find yourself glad you can’t see him. You can’t possibly imagine with what eyes he’s looking at you now.

You bask in the glory of his attention for another beat before he retracts his touch.

And then, suddenly, something distinctly not hand-like, and weirdly soft traces over the inside of your thighs. “Kook?” you ask tentatively.

No response.

It runs over your skin in the same way his hands just did, a unique shape your brain scrambles to put a name too. It’s soft, so soft. But cold to the touch. Inanimate for sure. It’s a toy, your brain supplies belatedly, but that much you already know.

It’s heart-shaped, you realize, just as it thwacks down against your pussy.

You shriek at the suddenness of it all, thighs clamping shut. Your heart is thundering at a pace of a rabbit’s, chest rising and falling as you blindly piece together what just happened. “Kook?” you whimper a second time, head craning back and forth in a desperate attempt to track his next move.

He’s not touching you anymore, but the bed is still dipping by your feet, so you deduce he must be there. You test your theory by sliding your foot against the sheets, lower lip trembling at the idea of him not being there.

Jungkook catches your ankle with one warm palm, slightly calloused from years of weightlifting. He raises it up, the cold air of his room hitting your exposed pussy. “You liked it,” he says, not a question but an observation. Your pussy throbs, the phantom strike against it lingering. A kiss to your ankle.

“Wh-What is it?” you cry, unconsciously pressing your leg closer to him now that you have his location. (You don’t see the soft smile on his face at your action.) Ever so slowly you let your thighs open again, now anticipating the next touch of that thing— that riding crop, you realize.

Jungkook confirms. “It’s a riding crop,” he explains, excitement curling around his words. Suddenly, it returns, this time against your stomach. He doesn’t strike you like he did before, simply lets it run across your tummy. “Heart-shaped. It’s so pretty,” he sighs dreamily. “Reminds me of you.”

You nod anxiously, stomach muscles tensed the longer it stays there. Jungkook obviously sees this, lifting it to give you the lightest of taps that still manages to make you gasp. “Cute,” he laughs, trailing it back to where it first touched down.

“Oh,” you tremble, thighs twitching as it pats tenderly over your clit. “Wai-Wait,” you warn, body arching as he runs it down, down your swollen folds. “No,” you weep, going to close your legs. But Jungkook predicts your moves, pressing your thigh down harshly against the bed.

“Shh,” he soothes, tracing the heart down your folds, pressing it flat against you. There’s a distinct lining over it that makes your hips jump, a faux-velvet covering the tip that tickles your skin. “Sit still for me.”

“No!” you gasp. Your back arches, body betraying you as it pushes your pussy against the toy. “I can’t, I can’t, Kook,” you sob, lips contracting around the gaping nothingness in your hole.

He condemns your attitude with a harsh swat of the riding crop against your cunt, tearing another high-pitched squeal from your lips. It’s followed by another against your clit that makes your body spasm. “Bad,” he chides. “Supposed to be my perfect girl.”

“I c-can’t,” you whine, the darkness over your eyes making the sensations ten times more intense. You don’t know where he or the riding crop are if they’re not directly touching you. Even then, the image is fuzzy in your head. “Need you,” you pant.

You try to reach for him, try to pull him into your arms. But you’re reminded of the cuffs holding you back, the metal digging into your skin behind you. You sob at the realization, angrily shaking your hands back and forth like maybe acting like a tantrum-throwing child will save you. It doesn’t.

Instead there’s a tug at the chain resting on your stomach, one that makes you cry out in pain when it pulls at your terribly sensitive nipples again. Jungkook uses it to pull you close, just a small inch off the bed that has you gasping for breath nonetheless.

“N-No,” you wail, nipples throbbing from all the sensations you’ve put them through tonight.

A chaste peck against your trembling lips. “Tell me how it feels,” he purrs, nose brushing against yours. Even with the tie obstructing your vision, the latest version of your boyfriend burns itself into your eyelids, force feeding you his sweaty skin and damp hair until even his breath against your face is enough to bring you to the edge.

“I-It’s scary, Kook,” you sniffle, listening for any signs of a reaction. But even if he did show one, your breathing is too loud and the ESPN channel is still blaring on screen. “Scary,” you whimper, lunging forward in a desperate move to feel the familiar brush of his tongue against yours. You miss.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks carefully, like he’s afraid he’s pushed too far.

He has. But fuck, do you love it.

“No,” you wail, lips smushed somewhere along his cheek, near his jaw and not his mouth like you wanted to. “Feels good, feels so fucking amazing,” you babble, cut off halfway through by a hiccup from your sad cries. “Wanna cum, wanna cum for you like this.”

Jungkook chuckles in relief, tilting his head until you can catch his lips with yours. It’s probably an awkward angle you assume, him adjusting for your vision-less whims, but it feels so good. It sends a shock to your pussy, his plush lips against yours. Without him telling you, you’re opening your mouth for him. “Spit on me,” you beg pitifully.

Jungkook groans, and you can almost visualize the look on his face perfectly— the tensing of his jaw, the push of his Adam’s apple, the pucker of his lips. “God, you’re disgusting,” he sighs, a fat glob of spit hitting the back of your tongue. Without your vision, you don’t see it coming, recoiling with a whiny mewl. The thin trail of saliva that follows trails across your chin when he finally reels back. You swallow greedily, wondering how soon is too soon to ask him to do it again.

With your full permission to move forward, Jungkook wastes no time trailing the riding crop over your wet folds, collecting your oozing pre-cum on the tiny heart as he roves it over your cunt. “Fuck, you can probably cum like this too, can’t you?”

You can’t answer, too caught up in the featherlight brushes. Even if you wanted to say something, one sudden strike against your pussy renders you speechless. “Mmh!” you hiss, biting down on your lip.

“Come on,” Jungkook encourages, resting a hand on your thigh. He presses the crop against you again, pushes down until the flat apex of the heart where it meets the flexible stem of the toy is pressing against your cunt hotly. He grinds it down against you, takes a sick pleasure in the pathetic way you arch up into it, rut against the little heart like it can provide even half the pleasure his hands usually would. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Your body is on fire, every nerve, every sensation shooting straight to your most erogenous areas— your cunt and your nipples. Talking seems like the farthest thing from your mind right now, too caught up in the way he roughly pushes the crop against your clit. A whimper rips itself from your throat, shuddering at the sensation. Unconsciously you jerk away from him, only to be scolded with another thwack against your quivering pussy lips. “A-Ahh,” you wail, squirming beneath him like a worm that can’t sit still. “Good— it feels good, Jungkookie,” you weep.

The soft mushy pet name has him raining down two snacks against you in quick succession. “No baby names,” he warns, frown evident in his voice.

Even with you completely under him like this, shackled and blinded with your love, something unmistakably childish and obnoxious curls around your throat, has you biting down on a grin as the coil in your stomach tightens. “D-Don’t like that, Jungkookie,” you choke out hoarsely, wildly bold for someone in your position. “D-Don't like being m-my baby?”

The crop loses its position over your folds, and for a minute you’re left anxiously anticipating its next touch.

It’s on the side of your breast, harder than the rest, combining with the already powerful pinch of the clamps. It makes you cry out painfully, stomach tightening at what is probably the most unexpected orgasm you’ve ever had. It isn’t like your usual ones that overpower you and make cum trickle out between your folds.

No, it comes in waves— literally. Your pussy spasms, pushes one splurt of cum out between your thighs, almost likes your lower lips are spitting it out. And then again, more the second time, against his mattress. He pushes your legs up to your chest to marvel at the cum coating your lips and thighs. “You’re my baby, stupid,” he hisses. He grabs at your clamps then, twisting the little chain in his hand harshly. You sob at the yank, at the way your nipples feel two seconds away from being ripped off. But you can’t even complain, because the sudden touch has your pussy clenching, before a final trickle of cum oozes out of you.

Even still, your mind babbles on. “N-No,” you choke, shaking back and forth. Despite the tie covering your eyes, they flicker like a mad man beneath it, like you’ll somehow get lucky and develop Seeing Through Fabric Ability if you try hard enough. “My, my baby,” you fight weakly, pelvis trembling from aftershocks of that orgasm. “My idiot b-boy,” you smile dazedly, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sting you’ve become familiar with by now. “T-Tell me, Jungkookie,” you croon, biting down on your lip to keep a moan from spilling out mid-syllable. “Still the same, r-right?” you stutter, “still think you’re better than me, don’t you?”

He scoffs. “No,” he vehemently denies, brashly landing an unexpected smack against your hip, no warning in sight. “That’s not true,” he defends. You can hear his pout, the little push of his lips when he grows defensive.

You laugh, every bit the insane lunatic, fueled by your two orgasms and slipping sense of reality. “Ffffuck,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into nothing. “S-Say it again, baby,” you plead, tongue licking across your lips. “Tell me, tell me you don’t care about my problems, Kook-ah,” you whimper.

There’s a hesitant pause on his end, an unexpected lull in your play as he’s torn apart between doing what you want or playing it safe.

You know you’re confusing him, because you’re certainly confusing yourself. You don’t even bother trying to dissect your emotions— you’ve long since accepted your mind was a dangerous place when horny and presented with Jungkook’s sole attention. Well, you knew you were into the whole degradation bit, but this whole having-your-boyfriend-throw-the-words-that-made-you-question-your-entire-worth bit was certainly new and unexpected.

But there’s something in your heart (and in your libido) that needs this, needs him to fix this memory for you that maybe, kinda sorta, has haunted you for days, weeks now, as much as you hate to admit it. Needed him to fix the booboo he gave you with a bandaid, only leave a scar you could look back at and laugh off, not a gaping wound that opened at the slightest mention of it. Because while you forgave, you certainly never forgot*.

(*Unless forgetting meant having your boyfriend overwrite said memory that couldn’t be forgotten with the sheer power of his monster demon cock and wicked tongue. Only then could you forget.)

“Don’t be a fucking pussy, Jungkook,” you spit, feeling the hesitancy in the riding crop that brushes against your skin. It fades away quickly. “S-Say I’ve a dead-end office job; just holding you back,” you beg, trying to pretend the entirety of his little outburst hasn’t been ingrained into your mind for the last couple of weeks. Something flashes in your chest, throat closing off when the toy finally leaves your skin. “Tell me, tell me—“

He looms over you, teddy bear warmth covering the entirety of your body. “Is this what you want?” he asks seriously, lowly, breath fanning across your lips. Your makeshift blindfold feels distinctly damp over your eyes, chest heaving with an exertion that can only be emotional when he speaks so softly to you after routinely raining down brutal thwacks on you for the past half hour. “__,” he says sternly, “is this what you want?”

You gasp on a sob, unsure when these emotions had time to manifest outside your heart like this. You nod your head like a bobble head doll sitting on someone’s dashboard, lower lip trembling on a shameful cry that is not sex-induced like all the other ones until now. “I-I need this, Jungkook,” you admit, voice so tiny and soft, it almost gets drowned out by your shaky exhales and the crowd roaring on screen. “Need to overwrite it.”

He presses a soft kiss to your quivering lips, slow and so devastatingly loving. It’s nothing like the one from before where he’d spit down your throat per your request, and the unbridled adoration he packs into one simple kiss makes you crumble in his arms, sniffles piling on by the dozens.

He leans back after a moment, pulls your thigh over his forearm and finally lets you feel the hard ridges of his cock against your folds. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, trying to sound angry and annoyed, but there’s a lilting tone to his words, a love and trust you wouldn’t have been able to see with or without your blindfold, but can feel nonetheless. He pulls it off you anyway, the warm glow of the TV illuminating his face for you for the first time in about half an hour. Eyes soft, sweat trailing down his body. His body lines up against yours, but so does his heart. You feel it in the way he holds you in his arms, the way he’s careful about sinking into your folds. He slips an arm beneath your waist, uses it to hold you up so you’re not uncomfortably squishing your arms anymore. But if you ask, he’ll pretend he’s doing this for convenience sake only.

“T-Terrible fucking job,” he starts out, the stammer eluding the obvious discomfort he has saying those words, but he does it for you anyway. “Big fucking baby,” he tries again, slowly pushing past your tight walls with a shudder. “C-Can’t look away from you for two seconds because you’re such a fucking kid.”

“Worse,” you choke out. “Meaner. Please, Kook.”

He nods, holds your waist carefully when he finally bottoms out inside of you. “Dead-end office job,” he says, repeating the words that had made you want to crawl into a whole and never come out from. “Got some stupid fucking problems,” he tacks on, slowly withdrawing his hips from your heat. “Always complaining about the stupidest shit,” he hisses, fingers digging into your waist when it’s only the tip of his cock inside of you. “I don’t fucking care about it,” he seethes, forcefully snapping his hips into you.

They’re scrambled fragments of what he’d really said to you that night. Line after line that don’t carry a quarter of hurt or even make coherent sense for that matter. And still.

You whimper, mind fuzzy from the thrusting pace he picks up, body fluttering at the glide of his cock against your walls. But your heart is thundering in your throat, his willingness to help fix this memory for you tightening around your every being until you can’t breathe. “I-I love you,” you cry, clenching down around him.

Jungkook groans, pulls you flush against his cock until the thin hairs around the base of his cock are tickling your skin. “Stupid, fucking child,” he groans, “immature ass nobody,” he grunts, bucking into you like your words don’t mean a thing.

“I am, I am,” you wail, suddenly hit with the cold hard truth that your body was desperately on edge. From the stimulation your nipples had gotten all night, to the ghost of the riding crop that lingered across your skin; your body was tired, so ready for a final orgasm that you’re certain Jungkook will provide. “T-Tell me y-you—“

“Shut up,” he barks, sweaty skin gliding against yours. “D-Don't tell me what to do,” he huffs, nailing you into the bed. He’s pushing you hard into the mattress, like he wants to brand you into it. “Need to fix this— alone.”

You nod numbly, the crowd behind him cheering loudly. It’s like they’re rooting for him— for the two of you —as silly as it sounds, and as bothersome as it would be any other day, today the obnoxious sounds of the ESPN soccer match only serve to fix a bad memory from before. It’s loud and cringey as all hell, but you’ll look back to this moment and laugh.

And that’s what you want most of all. You want that memory from before, that nasty fight, to go away, to disappear forever and be replaced with this one. Of him, pounding you into the sheets as his TV blares beside you, just another day, another round of sex filled with your usual kinks. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Ffffuck,” you whine when the tip of his hard cock prods against your cervix. He’s going deep, he’s going all out, because he wants to fix this too. Wants to do anything to make it right, and he’ll never know how much you appreciate him for it. “S-So deep,” you whimper, hips jumping when he rams back inside.

“Stupid slut,” Jungkook snarls, tucking his head against your neck the same way he always does. “Making me do stupid shit like this,” he bites, but you know he doesn’t mean it, know he never will again. He rocks his hips into you, no longer concerned with holding you up from uncomfortably laying on your cuffed arms anymore as he pistons into your squelching heat. He’s pressed so close over you, lips brushing against your collarbone with each snap of his hips.

All the pushing and jostling about has the chain of your clamps wildly jumping about, sprawling across the planes of your chest, above your breasts, where he snatches it up between his lips again. “Stupid, fucking—“ he slurs, jutting his head to the side like a wild stallion. You sob at the tenderness of your nipples, at the way he pays them no mercy as he continues rutting into you like a mad dog in heat. “Slut,” he spits. “S-So fuckin’ pretty.”

Your mind is in another universe, and when that last word, that devastatingly familiar term, slips from his lips mindlessly, something inside you snaps. “N-No,” you sob, legs fidgeting around his waist at the orgasm that wracks through your body against your will. “No,” you cry in frustration, “didn’t, didn’t want—“

“Stupid, stupid angel,” he babbles, seemingly unaware of your orgasm as he continues fucking into your leaking cunt, ignorant of the cum that dribbles out, creams his cock as he carries on. “Fuck,” he pants, gnaws against the chain of the stupid clamps like he can’t bare this any longer. “Love you,” he says, though he’s still stuck in that mindset from before and his sweet confession sounds more like a threat. “L-Love that childish side of you,” he confesses, finally dropping the chain— much to your relief —and surging forward to kiss you on the mouth. He tastes weirdly metallic, a thought you can’t ponder too long as he continues ramming himself past your clenched lips and into your pussy. “Your fffucking dr-drive to succeed,” he grunts, mouth smushed uncomfortably against your cheek.

“Kook, sweetheart,” you shudder, sensitive pussy spent as he drills on. His cock is still so achingly hard, and he doesn’t seem anywhere near completion. “Take it easy,” you gently remind him, can’t brush your fingers through his hair like you usually would, so you settle for pressing your lips to his cheek.

“Fuck, fuck,” he heaves, pushing so deep you practically feel him in your womb, swollen mushroom head begging for entry. “Give me it all,” he stammers, “want you—want this forever.”

“I know you do, baby,” you coo, nuzzling your nose against his when he sloppily surges forward, panting and gasping over you like a crazed caveman. “I’m yours,” you gently remind him.

“No,” he chokes out hoarsely, eyes screwed shut. “Need more, all of it,” he mumbles. “Give me yourself, ___, need you for the rest of my life—“ he cuts himself off with a shuddered whine, so airy and wispy it makes you shiver. “Ffffuck, shit,” he howls, each thrust into your walls only unraveling him more and more. “Give me, give me—“

“Anything,” you whimper, body trembling from his excessivity. “What do you want, Kook-ah?”

He says nothing, losing himself in the warmth of your pussy as his orgasm rounds the corner. He’s in the final stretch, the final straight until achieving nirvana alongside you at the finish line. And, as you’ve long since come to understand, a true Jungkook Danger Zone. He loses all sense of self, random syllables and phrases slipping through his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, marry me— marry me,” he moans, snapping his hips into you with a ferocious speed that has you bouncing against the sheets, and that’s despite the tight grip his has on you. “Let me— fuck— let me fuck a baby into you, sweetheart,” he purrs, eyes shining like an absolute psycho, but you’re apparently into that because the idea squeezes around your chest and burrows it’s way in. “A baby,” he marvels like an idiot, eyes big and sparkly, “f-fuck.”

“Wh-What?” you choke, flinching when he bites down against your lower lip. He’s got you trapped beneath him, stuffing your brain with these ideas that make your heart enter cardiac arrest, body tingling like in Mario Kart when you’ve got the star power up. “Kook—“

“Sh,” he groans, digging his fingers into your sides as he rolls his hips against you. “Almost,” he informs you, but the blood rushes to your ears. “Oh, fuck,” he pants, jaw clenching, “oh, baby.”

Jungkook cums with a shivered cry, body hunching over you like some entity has just exited out of his spine. Maybe something did, because afterwards he manages to hold himself above you for exactly three seconds before dropping the entirety of his hefty muscles onto you. “Ouch,” you whine, wrists twisted uncomfortably beneath you.

“Sorry,” he huffs, completely out of breath and dazed as he rolls away from you. He ends up spread out like a starfish beside you, completely fucked out and definitely zooming through the fifth, sixth, and seventh dimensions.

He doesn’t say anything for a hot minute, chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon, until you butt in. “Kook. Undo me,” you remind him.

He looks over at you, dark hair falling over his eyes and sprawling around his head like a halo. Oh, he was going to be the death of you. “Oh,” he says, like his brain has just processed the information. “Right.” He sits up, tucking himself back into the shorts he never fully took off. That was his character flaw; never bothers to get completely naked during sex. Anyway, his straight male-equivalent of booty shorts come up around his thighs again, stretching sinfully across the thick muscles.

The five sonnet poem that was gearing up in your head comes to a halt when he touches your breast. “No, no more,” you cry, instinctively withering away.

Jungkook snorts. “I’m just taking them off, baby,” he says, reaching forward again with the same practiced ease you’d use on an animal. The clamps come off, all the nerves suddenly coming back to life. It’s a weird sensation, not having your tits subject to that prickling pain anymore, and it makes you moan softly. Jungkook soothes you with his wannabe masseuse hands, but you think it’s just an excuse for him to fondle your breasts.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks gently, hovering over you like a damned surgeon or something. His voice is so silky and smooth, hands soft against your chest. He’s so careful in the way he turns you over, somehow magically producing the tiny key pick you swore was lost between the sheets after its first use.

Being on your chest makes you tremble like a leaf, the faintest brush of the cotton against your tits enough to make your pussy clench weakly. “ I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, carefully detailing his actions like you’re not watching him with your very own eyes. But it’s oddly comforting, having him walk you through the process of rolling your sore wrists. The inside of the cuffs had a plush lining, but it was a pretty cheap thing. After he’s done massaging the skin, he pads over to his dresser and returns with a shirt and undies for you. “Shirt,” he says, helping you into the clothing.

When you’re all snuggled under the sheets again, the television still loud as hell, he mumbles, “wanna talk about it?”

You exhale against his chest, feeling so light and fluttery from your orgasms and the way he runs his fingers through your scalp and the way his heart thunders by your ear. “Hm,” you hum pensively. “Nah. Think I’m fine now,” you admit.

Jungkook chuckles. “A full miracle recovery?” he teases. You nod, taking in the comforting scent of his fabric softener and just him in his entirety.

“Yep.” A beat of silence, the commentator is back to filling the space between you two. He talks about a mile minute, spewing stats and plays you could never understand in a thousand years. But you know Jungkook will get sucked in soon enough, so you strike while the pot is hot. “Do you wanna talk?”

He cranes his neck a little to look at you. “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up to look at him straight on. “Oh, my mistake,” you drawl. “I seem to have missed the part where we were going to act like you didn’t just ask for my hand in marriage and then offered to get me pregnant—,” you pause, the realization suddenly hitting you like a trash can whipping down a hill on a rainy day at a thousand miles per hour. “Pregnant!” you exclaim, cheeks warm at the fact he really just said that to you.

Jungkook’s cheeks fare no better, a Flaming Hot Cheeto shade dusting his skin. “I, it was just…” he tries, poor tiny monkey brain working overtime to offer an excuse. “It-it doesn’t have to be a thing,” he blushes, big Bambi eyes flickering from you to the television to the heart-tipped riding crop by the foot of the bed. “I was just…”

You raise your brows. “Consumed by the spirit of King Henry IV to have fourteen kids?”

He blinks. “Wait, you actually paid attention to that film?”

“That’s not the point!” you exclaim, shifting onto your knees in front of him. “What,” you inhale sharply, heart beating wildly in your chest, “what was that?”

Jungkook can only play the shocked angel card for so long before he’s sinking back into his pillow stack with the sigh of a man who’s worked in construction for the last sixty-four years. “I just,” he mumbles, “I think about it sometimes.” His admission makes your heart lodge itself into your throat, wide eyes watching him spill out his heart to you.

He misreads the expression on your face. “I-Not now!” he hurries to explain. “Like,” he stammers, rosy hue slowly crawling down his neck, over his ears. “Maybe, y’know? In the future…”

You blink, brain reduced to a series of beeps and clicks like that of an old computer trying to compute information that is simply not processing. “Yeah…” you murmur, unsure of what to do with the film reel that suddenly flashes before your eyes, a look into a doorway you had never considered before. “I— me too.”

Jungkook chokes on his own saliva. “Really?” he yelps, has those sparkly anime girl eyes you always tease him about.

The gulp you do sounds loud in your ears. “Yeah,” you breathe, throat drier than the desert, but more confident than the first peabrain response. “I-I’d like that.”

There’s a bright beam of light that shines right in your face, so vibrant and dazzling it makes you flinch and by the time you’ve recovered you realize it’s his smile. “Yeah?” Jungkook mumbles back, pearly teeth framed by his pretty smile, brows raised at your stuttery confirmation. You nod. His lips twist into a smaller grin, a condensed version of the superstar one he gave you just moments before. Before you can brush it off with a joke, he’s snatching your hand up in his, a soft smooch pressed to your knuckles. “Okay,” he says quietly, dark eyes meeting yours. “One day?”

Your heart constricts in your chest, and all you can do is nod. “One da—“

“Goooooaaaaallllll!�� the announcer on screen shrieks, the loud sounds of the TV killing your mood instantly.

Any dumbstruck, love struck, idiotic, ditzy expression on your face is wiped clean, replaced with an unimpressed glare you narrow on him. His nose is scrunched up like he wants to laugh, lips pressed into a thin line at your annoyance. He swipes the TV remote off the side table, arms spread open for you to crawl back into. You do so with a huff, pout smushed against the front of his hoodie.

“That’s enough ESPN for today,” he chuckles, switching the channel about a thousand times until Rick and Morty is playing on screen. “I’ll just watch the highlights later.”

“ESPN,” you scoff like an evil villain in a movie who’s just been presented with their mortal enemy, fisting the front of his hoodie.

Jungkook nods. “ESPN,” he repeats. A beat passes. “Kinda like BDS—“

“Go get your ice pack.”

epilogue

Because Jungkook couldn’t sit still for that one eventful night following his ladder injury, he ends up in a medical boot for one week, loudly clunking around the place like a reverse pirate. You snap a picture of him that you post on Twitter for your twelve followers to see, just him pouting at the doctor’s office with his new boot and club jersey on to celebrate last night’s victory.

It’s just a cute pic for you and your friends to laugh at.

Until it’s not, and his handsome face is circulating around the entire internet.

He’s being called the Face of FC Seoul, with desperate women messaging you left and right for his information. Other fans are bragging about the beauty that is an FC Seoul fanboy. It gets to the point where his face appears on the next night’s ESPN Nightly Recap, a special on social media stars posting about the game. Except Jungkook is neither a social media star nor did he even post about the game— you did.

But there he is, all five feet and ten inches of him smiling brightly at you from the ESPN Sports channel, wearing the boot he got from hand cuffing and whipping you to completion.

#goldenclosetnet #bangtanhq #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #bts smut #mine

2K notes · View notes

mayansmcsblog · 4 years ago

Text

the prank war has began

sooooo i saw this gif and instantly got an idea but as i wrote it, the idea completely changed and somehow it turned into this.

there is a ton of swearing😂

credit to @thedevilsmoonshine for the gif!

thanks to @withmyteeth for helping me with some ideas of what to add in.

this is the first time I've wrote anything in years and the first time I'm ever publishing my work. sorry in advance for any spelling mistakes

A persistent ringing was what woke you up at 2am for the 3rd time this week. You already knew who it was, let's face it who else would be calling at 2am other than him? Opening your eyes you rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling debating if you should let it ring out or answer

What if he’s hurt? No, that would have happened during the day not in the middle of the night Maybe he just needed someone to talk to? That was the likely option.

You and bishop always had a ‘vibe’ as some people said. You were friends for a few months before he introduced you to the mc, of course it was a shock at first but after a month it slowly became your life. All the parties? you were there. Club events? You were there.

Overtime you and bishop had gotten closer, he would come over to your place all the time, announced or not.

he would come over in the dead of the night when his mind got too loud ,When he needed someone to talk to ,When he simply wanted the company of a friend that did not judge him for the things he did for the mc. He would come over any opportunity he got.

You could swear he was at your place more than he was his own Most of the time he would spend a few weeks at yours, only going back to his to get clothes.

Over the course of the last 6 months you and him had gotten a lot closer, he spent the night a lot, his stuff is all over the place but you two aren't dating , you didn't have any type of label. Why? You couldn't be sure. Most people assumed you two were dating but they were wrong. You two did everything normal couples would yet- you had no label. you were never his girlfriend and he was never your boyfriend.

Taking a deep breath you reached to your bedside table and grabbed your phone but as you could pick it up, it stopped ringing.

That’s not a bad thing right? Maybe he didn’t want to wake you up. Before you could set it back down you reserved a text, scrolling down your notification panel you read it;

📲: Bishop 🖤

You up?

Two words. That’s it just two short words.

Should you ignore it? Yeah, that's probably the best option. Did you want to ignore it? No

Another ping brought you out of your thoughts

📲:Bishop🖤

The guys are being children and I could either use some help over here or a way out😂please tell me you're awake and not just reading this from your notifications and watching Netflix again.

he knows you too well. Being a night owl you normally go to sleep around 3am, maybe 2am if you have work the next day. Normally you would just ignore bishop till the next morning but somehow he always knew when you ignored him and when you were actually sleeping.

Taking a look at your notifications again you saw you had a lot for snapchat, a few from Coco, a few from Angel along with one single snap from Gilly.

Looks like the trio is having fun.

Opening bishop’s texts you finally reply;

📱: I’m awake just debating on if I should open all the snaps I have from the trio and reply to a seemingly annoyed jefe.

Almost immediately you got a response

📲:Bishop🖤

Ha-ha very funny. Come and sort your boys out, they are messing with that shitty ass car again, trying to do something with the engine

📱: my boys? You're their president, you sort them out. What makes you think they listen to me🤧?

📲: Bishop🖤

They actually like you😂they will listen

📱: keep telling yourself that, they only listen to me when I’m getting them food

📲:Bishop🖤

That counts as listening

📱: whatever

Locking your phone you got up out of bed knowing there was a slim chance you would go back to bed till the early hours now that you were awake.

Putting on a pair of shorts and a shirt you got your phone and went to the kitchen, deciding to get on a bottle of water and find some shitty Netflix show you wouldn’t even pay attention to

Grabbing a bottle from the fridge you heard your phone vibrate on the counter. Pulling down the notification panel once again you saw it was a text from Ez

📲; smart ass😂📚

Please come and get these children, I can't deal with them anymore

Okay something is seriously going on here.

Face timing Ez you set the phone back on the counter, moving towards the window to open it and let the cool air flow thru the room

Within seconds he accepted and his voice came over the speakers

"Ayyy y/n where you at? Come get the children. Me and bishop are going crazy over here" you could hear a hint of playfulness in his voice

Picking up your phone you saw he was sitting on the steps outside the club, his phone in his hand angled so you could just see the side of his head while he was looking at something in the distance.

"I'm at home like all of you should be by now, leave the children alone to play. Are they hurting anyone?" you said as you headed towards the front room and sat on the sofa

"Not yet"

You could hear cursing being thrown around by numerous people in the background along with the clacking on metal and rock music in the distance.

"Yet?" You questioned

"Yeah, I mean other than themselves" he laughed

"Of course"

There was a few beats of silence before you heard Coco shouting

"Boy Scout! Who’s that eh? You got you another girl?" By his tone you could tell he was definitely high

"No it's y/n dumbass" he responded, turning the phone so you could see Coco walking towards him.

"Ohhh damn I thought you was about to get some man" by now Coco had took over the whole screen "heyyyy y/n what you doinnnnn"

"I’m about to hang up on your dumbass"

"No, no, no don’t do that" taking the phone off Ez he stood up "that’s not nice is it"

You could hear Ez asking where he was going with his phone and be replied with a simple "shhhh" as he walked back to where he originally came from

"Want to see something funny?" He said. You weren't sure if that meant he was going to show you Angel tied to a chair again or Gilly attempting a backflip.

Both are amusing but it's doubtful it would happen three times....

"Did you tie Angel to a chair again? What did I tell you about playing nice hmm?" You put on the most sarcastic voice you could

"Ha funny and no...We couldn't find and ropes"

That made you laugh way more than it should have because you knew that Bishop had hid them in the meeting room and under Ez's trailor after the last time they guys got drunk and thought it was a good idea to put rope all over the place like an obstacle course

"Coco you're gonna kill someone at this rate”

"Hush ight? Jesus be quite ino want em to know your here"

"Okay?" Putting yourself on mute you could hear Angels voice in the background along with Gillys and bishops

"Listen," Angel said , slapping something metallic, clearly as high as Coco was and seemingly having one of his 'genius idea' moments

"OI dumbass listen to meeeee" he said again

"What?" Gilly responded along with a sound of something metal hitting the ground "dammit Angel you made me loose the fucking 10mm socket again"

The camera was still pointed at Coco’s shoulder as he walked over

"Boys, boys, boys" damn he sounded like a child "what would you say if I told you I could get y/n to being us food"

You audible groaned as he suggested that, there was no way you was going to get them food this late at night.

You heard both Gilly and Angel say "what" then "tell her to get McDonalds" or "let’s get subway" by they were quickly cut off

"Oi children! Stop it, it's 2:30 in the morning, leave her alone '' bishops' voice was closer than you expected. He was probably sitting in the garage with the others observing what they are doing and making sure they don’t kill each other

You couldn’t help but unmute yourself

"Sorry Obispo but the children need their food" your tone was playful, kind of, half of you was saying it just to annoy him, the other half was wanting to see his reaction

"Gimme that phone" within seconds Coco was gone from the screen and Bishop was in the frame

"So this is why you haven't replied to me hmm?" You couldn’t tell if he was serious or playful

You hadn't missed his text? He never responded to you right?

"Hold that thought" you pulled down the notification panel and saw he did text you.

2:15

📲:Bishop🖤

I’m kicking these guys out in a few minutes

2:20

📲: Bishop🖤

I’m giving them 3 more minutes till I kick them out.

2:23

📲: Bishop🖤

Can I come over if it's not too late after these children leave? "

"Oh, sorry I was busy talking to Ez and then being stolen by Coco"

"Nah you were just ignoring me wasn’t you?" He responded

"No totally not"

"Sure I totally believe you" he laughed

"I think Ez might want his phone back"

"Wow, nice to see you like speaking to me"

"Well then why don't you call me instead? At least smart ass wanted to talk to me, even if it was about the children of the mc"

The line went silent for a moment. All you could hear was the guys cursing about finding the 10m socket and the sound of bishop walking.

"Okay, I’ll be back in like 20 minutes" with that the line went dead, he didn’t even give you time to respond

Wow he deadass hung up on me, how mature.

Maybe it was time you opened those snaps. What else did you have to do?

Opening snap chat you saw there was a purple bubble next to Coco, a red bubble next to Angel and a blue bubble next to Gilly.

You opened Gilly's first

12:22~

"What time does McDonald’s close?"

Followed by

"Nvm its 24 hours isn’t it😂😂"

You quickly replied "dumbass" and moved onto Angel’s chat.

Opening the snap it was a picture of Coco, Gilly and creeper sitting opposite him, beers in hand, while seemingly talking along with the caption

"Come party with us"

Skipping past the snap you was presented with another one, this time a video where Coco was sitting on the roof of a car while Gilly was attempting to push it

"C’mon man it's not that hard" Coco said

"Yeah man come on" Angel said from behind the camera

"Shut up before I make you do this" Gilly responded

What the hell have these guys been up to all night?

The snaps just got worse from there.

Coco’s was full of them doing random stuff, throwing things at each other and even them sitting on Ez trailer roof? How did they even get up there, and how did it not break?

One of them definitely stood out from the others. It seemed like someone else was filming on his phone while Coco was trying to rip off a car door by the handle but it snapped off, sending Coco across the garage and into the wall while Gilly, Ez and Angel laughed at him

His only response was a simple "okay you mother fucker this is war" followed by his practically running like a horse in battle towards the door kicking it resulting in a bent. Unfortunately that's where the snap ended.

Is this what they had been up to? No wonder bishop wanted out.

When the cascade of snaps finished you saw there was still a blue bubble next to Coco's name, clicking on it you could see it was a video around 3 minutes long.

You saw part of it was what you had already seen. Coco trying to pull the door, being flung into a wall, the guys laughing along with Coco kicking the door once again except this time it didn’t end when he kicked the door.

"Bro you’re not doing it hard enough" Angel stated while moving Coco out of the way

"Look you gotta-" he kicked the base of the door "-start from the bottom-'' he kicked it again causing the bottom to cave in slightly "-see? It's easy"

"Shut up man I’m stronger than you let me do it" Coco pushed Angel out of the way

"No" Angel responded, pushing coco slightly

"Yes" Coco pushed back

"No" Angel pushed again

This went on for a few moments before Gilly set the camera down on some type of surface before walking over to them

"Yo I'm stronger then both of you let me do it"

Coco stopped pushing Angel and turned to Gilly "Nah man you will steal all the shit and run off again like last time"

"Shut up man"

All three of the men were too busy arguing to notice Ezekiel had come into the garage in search of something

"Why the fuck are you guys arguing?"

All of them spoke at the same time

"Coco is sayin he’s stronger than me"

"They are children!"

"Angels tryna be a smart ass"

"You guys are fucking stupid" Ez moved towards where the phone was but didn't pick it up, rather opening the draw of the desk that was below it and picking something up, as he pulled back you could see he was holding some keys.

"Move“ He pushed Angel out the way of the door and unlocked it, grabbing a duffle bag out of the back seat, handing it to Coco

"Here"

All of the guys stood in a state of shock. Coco was the first to speak

"Why the fuck didn’t you tell us there was keys!" He exclaimed

"Because watching you guys be idiots and is fun to see you struggle"

"I swear to God I’m going to say no on your patch vote" Gilly butted into the conversation.

Ez just laughed as he walked away, the video ended shortly after all three of them cussed.

Shaking your head you laughed, of course they are dumb enough not to look for keys.

You quickly texted Coco

"You guys are dumb as shirtttt, you’re lucky Ez is around to help your dumbass's. Did the door not want to play nice hmm? Did you put a dent in the wall again with your fat ass? What was so important in that bag?"

Checking the time you saw it was 2:45

Thank god it's a Saturday tomorrow.

Setting your phone on the coffee table you realized you never put the TV on when you sat down, you were obviously too distanced by FaceTime, meaning you were sitting in silence.

Was silence a bad thing? No

Was it somehow deafening? Yeah

Grabbing the remote you turned on the TV, quickly going to Netflix in an attempt to find something decent to watch.

Your watch list was full of horror movies and crime documentaries. Definitely not the best thing to watch on your own. There were a few suspense movies on there but none of them seemed to interest you.

Going to the movie section you passed almost every more option from horror to romance to action because nothing grabbed your attention or seemed interesting.

Going back to the home page you looked at the screen for a few minutes

Was it even worth putting something on? It was almost 3am after all.

Grabbing your phone you decided to scroll through Instagram.

After a few minutes bishop’s name appeared, taking over your screen with an incoming FaceTime.

Accepting the call you were immediately greeted with the site of his kutte, followed by him putting his helmet on. By the angle you could tell his phone was resting between his handlebars and the fuel tank.

"I take it you're still awake then" he wasn’t looking at the screen. Rather he was looking in the distance just above his phone

The background suddenly filled with the sound of bike engines. He seemed to say something but it was overpowered by bikes, so you didn't hear what he said. His bike wasn’t turned on yet because the phone wasn't vibrating.

Suddenly Bishop reached his arm out to someone just out of frame and you saw him lift upwards off the seat slightly, someone’s hand patted his shoulder blade.

By the look of the tattoo on the wrist you could tell it was Coco.

Looking away from your phone you looked back up at the TV. You could still hear engines coming from your phone but now it sounded like 3 of them.

Almost simultaneously they all revved before pulling off. The sound slowly faded out as they got further out the compound.

You were still looking at the TV, you decided to look at the top 10 of the day, maybe there was something good on there.

The Meg

Reading the description it actually seemed like a good movie. Putting it on you set the remote down and looked back at your phone

This time bishop wasn’t in the frame at all. Rather you could just see the length of his bike and the wall behind where it was parked.

Where did he go?

Your question was quickly answered when he picked up the phone.

By the sound of the wind you could tell he was jogging somewhere. The phone was at his side facing outwards, you could see him approaching the steps to the clubhouse. He quickly went up them and opened the door

"Prospect!" He shouted "make sure you lock up, I’m heading out"

You could hear Ez reply with a quick "okay" from somewhere in the back

He picked up his phone so you could see his face. unlike before, you took the time to actually take in his appearance

His eyes looked tired, his beard was longer than it usually is, he looked...well, you couldn’t describe it. He just didn’t seem himself.

You were too busy looking at him to realize he asked you a question

"Y/n"

"What?"

"Did you not hear me?"

"Oh- no sorry I turned my volume down because of the bikes"

"Oh" he paused "I asked if your door was open"

You looked at the screen for a second

"What?"

He placed his phone back on the fuel tank and straddled his bike

"I said, is your door open. You know like your front door.....to your house" he repeated, grabbing his helmet, he must have taken it off while you were looking at the TV, once again he was fastening the buckle.

"No? Why?"

"Do you want to unlock it?" you could see him kick the stand of the bike up by the way his leg moved.

"Why?" You asked he looked at the screen for a few seconds before laughing at the way your face changed as you realized what he meant

"Obispo are you inviting yourself over once again?" You questioned

"Yep"

"What if I don't let you in?" You challenged. Of course you would let him in but sometimes it was fun to mess with him

"What if I climb through a window?" He said, pulling a cigarette out his pocket and lighting it

"Okay now that's just creepy" you laughed. He shook his head as he blew out the smoke from his lungs

"So? Can I come over or not?"

Looking around your front room you saw it was a little messy but you could easily clean it up within 5 minutes.

"Sure"

"See you in 20 querida" he winked as he started the bike before ending the call.

You finished cleaning the front room, kitchen and your bedroom up within 10 minutes

Checking the fridge you saw that there were only 4 beers left, taking a mental note to get more the next time you go shopping.

Sitting back on the sofa you realized you had missed around half of the movie.

Pointless watching it now

You knew by bishop coming over there was a good chance you two would be awake till 4am talking about random stuff and watching something on Netflix or playing some type of game.

You also knew he liked action movies so you went to that section in search of one that sounded entertaining

The platform ~ that didn’t sound so bad right?

Watching the preview, you became interested and wanted to watch it, forget Bishop you can watch it on your own.

"The ones above, the ones below and the one before" the voice of a man came over your speakers, he sounded young but old simultaneously.

You had just got past the introduction when you heard the rumble of a bike in the distance. For a moment you wondered if it was off the TV but as it got louder you realized it was bishop.

Getting up from the sofa you walked towards the door.

You set your hand on the door handle for what seemed like hours as you waited for him to pull up outside. Did you normally meet him at the door? Nope. Most of the time he would invite himself over and just sit down on the sofa with you for hours.

Sometimes you two spoke the whole time he was over until you both went to bed, other times you would sit in a comfortable silence- just happy to me in one another's presence.

You heard the engine cut off just beyond the door. You counted to three before unlocking it, as you did you saw Bishop was parked on the curb, still sitting on his bike while setting the helmet on the handlebars. He was yet to notice you standing at the door.

Taking a cigarette out his pocket he turned towards the street, looking at the houses to see if your neighbor's were awake, you had no idea why he did it but every time he pulled up, whether it was in a car or on his bike he always seemed to look at the neighboring houses.

He lit the cigarette, back still turned to you as he looked down the street. Leaning against the door frame you looked him over you could see that his posture was slouched indicating he was tired, he still had one hand resting on the handlebars almost like he wasn't just looking down the street but also trying to crack his back. The other hand was on the cigarette in his mouth, even from the distance from the doorway to the curb where he parked. You could see his leg was bouncing and so was his hand slightly, now that definitely wasn't normal.

As he exhaled the smoke he turned around towards your house, jumping slightly when he saw you standing at the door. He seemed to compose himself as he took the keys out of the bike and stood up, walking towards you, his head bowed slightly as he tossed the cigarette onto the food

“I hope you are going to pick that up” you said

“I will” he looked up at you, he was just beyond the porch steps. His eyes looked tired, there were clearly bags underneath them. He was definitely tired- if you knew anything about him ,he probably hasn't slept for a few days, and if he did it was for a short time

“You look tired”

“So do you” he cracked a small smile, by now he was standing in front of you

“Maybe because someone woke me up at 2 in the morning then I had to deal with grown ass men asking me to bring them food then suddenly someone decided to invite themselves over?”

“In my defense i thought you were still awake and the children wasn't my fault”

You laughed as you moved away from the door frame and towards the kitchen “just come i stupid before i lock you out”

“Ouch that's harsh” he put a hand over his heart “that insult really hurt” he walked threw the door and shut it behind him, hanging his kutte up on the coat hook in the hallway along with his jacket

“Stop being a wimp”

You heard him move into the front room and sit on the couch.

“Want a beer?” you asked as you went in the fridge for another bottle of water

"Yeah- what's this?" He questioned

“What's what?”

”On the TV dumbass”

Walking back into the front room you saw he had his hand behind his head, his phone was on the table along with his keys.

“Oh, the platform. It seemed interesting so I started watching and only someone distracted me” you said as you handed him the beer and sat on the sofa, leaving some space between you and him.

“What's it about?”

“Not too sure something along the lines of some type of prison system where the food is on a moving platform, I only just started it”

“Hmm” grabbing the remote he pressed play while sipping his beer.

You two sat in comfortable silence while watching the movie but every so often you would look over at bishop, partly to make sure he wasn't asleep and partly to see if he was okay.

Over the time span of 30 minutes you noticed he wasn't watching the movie, rather he was looking at the wall clearly spaced out somewhere in his own mind. He was sitting so his right elbow was on the arm rest and his right hand in his mustache, messing the hair lightly. He always did that when he was thinking about something. His other hand was resting in his lap holding the beer you gave him.

“Bishop?” you waited a few moments but he didn't respond “Bishop'' you repeated, still no reaction. Taking the beer from his hand you set it on the table, putting your hands on his cheeks you turned his face toward you “bishop”

“Hmm?” he finally looked at you. Removing your hands from his face you looked him in the eyes

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing” he said shaking his his head

“Don't lie to me” your tone came out harsher than you intended he raised his eyebrows at you

“sorry didn't mean to sound like i was being mean” you pulled away slightly with the intention of going back to where you originally sat but that idea was quickly thrown out the window when he grabbed your torso and practically picked you up, sitting you on his lap. He put his head in the space between your shoulder and neck while rubbing his hands down your back

“What's wrong Obispo?” you asked once again, putting your hand in his hair, playing with it slightly.

“I'm just stressed” his voice was muffled as he spoke into your shouder

“About?”

“Everything” he moved his head so he was looking up at you “the stuff with Marcus leaving, the mc as a whole with the guys turning against each other ,all the shit going on with other clubs. Everything is just a mess and it's stressing me out” he explained. You kept on hand playing with his hair while the other went to his cheek

“Can you do anything about it?” you asked, he cocked his head to the side slightly clearly not understanding what you meant ”can you do anything about that stuff?” he looked at you for a moment before shrugging his shoulders

you continued “Marcus made his own mind up, you can't do anything there. The mc always sorts itself out, members fight, it's normal, you of all people should know what.” you explained while using your thumb trace the lines across his face caused by the lack of sleep

“Yeah, i guess you're right” he leaned up and kissed you softly “I have to say, I'm a president of a fucking mc and yet your smarter then me”

“I'm not smarter than you, I just look at what's happening and think about in the moment, where as you” you poked his chest lightly “ seem to think its a good idea to overthink stuff and look at consequences a year in advance that will probably never happen” He hummed in response before putting his head back into your neck

“Can i ask you something?” you asked

“You just did”

“Very funny” you moved to get out of his lap but was quickie pulled back down

“What was the question?”

”What the hell was in the duffle bag? coco sent me the video them trying to get it and it seemed like they really wanted it”

“Oh” bishop almost immediately started laughing to the point his whole body shook and his head was thrown back.

“Tell me stoopid” you slapped his chest slightly, playing with his shirt

“Well you see- me and Ez thought it would be funny to lock it in a car that needed scraping while they were getting high and then tell them the doors didn't work to see how long it would take for them to it but Gilly ended up pushing it from the front by the fighting cage to the garage” he managed to get out

“That didn't answer my-”

“Just wait” he cut you off “neither me or Ez knew what was in it but those three are too stupid to just break a window so they were attempting to get it for a good 20 minutes before Ez opened the door and got it out” he explained still laughing slightly “turn out it was just full of junk food and snacks they brought to eat once they get hungry later ”

“You two are evil”

“No we was having fun” he laughed

“Evil”

Just as bishop was about the respond his phone started to ring, you moved out his lap and sat back on the couch while he get up and went out the back to answer it.

looking at the tv you realized the film wasn't interesting you at all. Grabbing you phone you saw you had a snap from coco and one from angel

what did they do now?

opening the app you clicked on to yours and Angels chat only to find a simple text

“if coco send you a video, delete it”

what?

“why” you replied before swiping off the chat and going onto Coco's. inevitably you where present with a video and a chat

“Pease, please watch this it will be the best favor you ever do for me 🙏🏽”

your curiosity got the better of you, clicking on the video you immediately recognized the place.it was Angels front room. Gilly was chuckling lowkey behind the camera while coco was next to the door on a stool with a bucket in his hands while laughing. The camera panned down to show Gilly holding a bag of flour, now you could only assume that the bucket was full of water

surely this couldn't end good

within a few seconds the door opened and angel walked in, coco immediately reacted throwing the contents of the bucket on top of his head while Gilly threw the flour over him.

Angel immediately froze, his face going into a startled expression followed by on of anger. Shutting the door behind him he shook of the excess flour before locking the door.

Gilly and Coco where in hysterics as Angel turned towards Coco and lunged for him, coco had a quick reaction and ran towards the backdoor , only to find it locked

“fuck” he cursed looking for ways to escape, looking at the kitchen window he seemed to weight out his chances. by now Angels attention had gone towards Gilly who was still stood in the same place laughing. Angel lunged for him, tackling him to the ground while coco grab the phone from Gillys hand and made a run for the kitchen.

There was a lot of laughing from Gilly and shuffling in the background along with Angel cussing him out , then there was a bunch of laughing from them both of them but you could make out Angel saying “you think that shits funny huh?” “watch me key your bike” “ I'm gonna get you back so hard man

suddenly the phone was tossed out the kitchen window, shortly after you could see coco's head and body slowly emerging from the kitchen window. after a few seconds he finally managed to crawl out. picking up the phone he began to jog down the front yard

“ha bitchesss I'm freeeee!”he exclaimed “the one time being skinny pays off”

in the background you hear a door unlock followed by Angel shouting “run bitch cuz I'm fucking coming for you”

then the video cut off

you where sat on the sofa crying from laughing so hard you quickly saved the video and texted coco back

“that is the best thing I've seen in months😂”

just as you started to calm down you started to hear bishop laughing from outside the backdoor. almost imminently he walked threw the back door in hysterics

“did you-did you see-” he could barely talk in-between laughing

“did i see the video?”

“yeah”

“yes i saw it” you laughed

taking his phone he turned it towards you, it was a FaceTime from angel covered in flour, his beard was a littler of loose flour and a clumpy mess of flour and water. you couldn't help by laugh at his serious expression

“not funny y/n” he said clearly angry. in the background you could hear Coco and Gilly laughing

“you watched the video didn't you” it wasn't a question rather a statement

“yeah” you replied still laughing

“fuck sakeeee” suddenly he cut the call of cause both you and bishop to laugh even harder

~~~~~~~~

so yh this was men to be a fluff with bishop but i got distracted and it just kind of turned into the start of a prank war between Coco, Angle and Gilly.

#bishop losa #bishop losa imagine #ezekiel reyes #angel reyes #ez reyes #gilly lopez #coco cruz #johnny coco cruz

176 notes · View notes

dadoroki · 4 years ago

Text

Reminder [2]

Dabi x F!Reader x Hawks

Warnings: violence, fluff, swearing

Description: After many years, a familiar face decides to make an unexpected visit at your house before your date with Hawks.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

“Hey, you’re the kid that almost died right? I’m Keigo. But they want us to use our hero names so I’m Hawks. But call me Keigo when they’re not around. You’re actually really pretty.”

Boy, did this kid talk a lot. Everyday he’d come up to you, blabbering about some unimportant thing that you had no interest in. One day, something Keigo said had actually caught your attention. “Yo, so I heard there’s gonna be some new kid but he’s not gonna stay here. He’s only here for ‘extra’ training cause his dad teaches him...”

His voice began to trail away from existence as you were met in your own world. This was the first time you’d be meeting another kid who hopefully wasn’t the bland bunch around you, aside from Keigo of course. Curiosity started to fill your mind, excitement slowly rising as you counted down the days.

And here he was, standing right next to his famed father, Endevour. The boy was shy and avoided eye contact with you and the talkative kid beside you. You shamelessly gawked at the boy while Keigo jumped in joy, seeing his favourite hero infront of him.

You were too young, too naive to know what love was. But in that moment, that’s what you thought you felt. Your stomach was filled with butterflies. The boy was like a dream and you swore he looked like a prince in shining armor.

Your confidence rose, walking up to the boy and forcing him to look you in the eyes. Your little hands reached for his and held them tightly. “Hi! You must be Touya. I’m Y/N. You’re my boyfriend now.” Even at that age, you were a flirt. Maybe a little too bold but you still had much to learn.

Touya became flustered, his small cheeks blushing pink. He began to stutter but was interrupted by Keigo ripping your hands apart.

“Hey! You never said that to me!”

You were too distracted, admiring the new boy and that only made Keigo grow more jealous.

“Y/N, pay attention to me!”

“Y/N!”

Your focus went back to Hawks’s irked voice. These days, you couldn’t help but think back to when times were easier. Times where you didn’t have to care about your image, being able to live life freely.

“Yeah, sorry. What were you saying, Keigo?” You dried your hair, exiting the bathroom with nothing but a red robe tied around your body. You struggled to keep your phone between your cheek and shoulder as the man chattered his life away.

Hawks had dialed you to discuss your upcoming “date”. After initiating the hero plan against the villains, Hawks’s heroic face had been plastered on multiple cover pages of magazines, newspapers, and news outlets. The minute they came out published, Hawks had spammed you with multiple calls and messages to rub it in your face, reminding you of the public bet you lost. Unfortunately for you, you always kept your word.

“Yeah, I know.” You reassured the winged-hero, rolling your eyes in annoyance. You made your way to the kitchen, placing your phone and towel on the counter and snatching a bag of chips from the pantry. Sensing a presence within you, your movement came to a cautious halt. You didn’t spare a glance at the figure sitting on your living room couch, already knowing who it was. “Give me a second, Keigo.”

The good thing about Hawks was that he could always sense when something was off. He heard your sudden switch in tone and didn’t question you, muting himself but still listening to your line. You tossed your bag of chips back to it’s original place, walking around the kitchen island.

Reaching up the cupboard, you got two glasses and a half empty bottle of red wine, making your way to the shaded man. The room was dark with the dim lamp barely making him visible to the eye. “You know, it’s funny. I didn’t even recognize you.” You placed the two shiny glasses on the table and poured him and yourself a drink.

You sat on the opposite side and crossed your legs. When you first encountered Dabi, you didn’t really care much for him. But the more you examined his face, the more it felt familiar, even with the burns and staples. “How could I even forget you or those bright cyan eyes?” He didn’t say anything, keeping his eyes on nothing but you.

The lack of communication caused you to pout. Being greeted with open arms was what you expected but this was far from it. You took a sip of your red wine and twirled the glass in a circle, watching it spin like ocean waves. “Not gonna talk? Fine.”

You placed your glass next to his untouched one and repositioned yourself to lean closer to him. “So you side with the villains now, hm?”

Dabi concentrated on your words that were faint in a whisper, barely even audible.

“What would your father say about that, Touya?”

The mention of Endevour sparked the memory of a buried past and ignited a flame filled with hatred in him. He quickly pushed himself up, throwing an immense amount of flame at you. But you knew him too well. You were quick to sense his move and you forced upon a huge gust of wind, ricocheting the fire back to him.

From the other line, Hawks could hear the loud chaos. “Y/N, is everything ok? What’s happening?” He couldn’t figure out what you were saying earlier, as the whole conversation was mumbled.

Smoke was everywhere and you struggled to keep your eyes opened. “Yeah, I’m fine...” You coughed and rapidly blinked to keep the toxic gas from entering your eyes. A huge hole in your living room wall was newly formed with no Dabi to be found. So much for moving in. “But my house isn’t.”

You could say your date started early. Hawks had offered you a place in his house to stay while your’s was under construction. Being the gentleman he was, he offered you his room and that he’d sleep on the couch. But of course, he originally insisted on sleeping in the same bed. He would pester you from time to time, asking what happened and you never told him.

The day of your date, you walked the busy streets of Musutafu together. As expected, many fans surrounded you both and bombarded with questions. Hawks had held a conversation with you while impressively aiding civilians in need of help.

“You just love to show off, don’t you?”

“Can’t help it, babe. It’s my specialty and when we’re officially together, I’ll be sure to show you off too.”

A young boy rushed towards you, tugging on your black cape. “Storm! Storm! I’m a huge fan! Can I please get a picture?!” You crouched to match the same level as the kid. “Of course!”

His mother thanked you as you squeezed the boy in a tight hug, kissing his cute chubby cheek. He giggled in happiness and his mom snapped the picture. Hawks walked up to the kid, teasingly patting his head. “Woah now, kiddo. Don’t go stealing my lady now, ya’ hear?”

Hawks was immediately pulled away by you, as you thanked the fans and left in a hurry. “I can never do anything without you being jealous. Don’t you get enough attention?” He smiled and held the restaurant door open, waiting for you to get inside. “It only matters when the attention comes from you.”

The two of you were guided to your table with Hawks on his best behaviour, making sure to pull out the chair for you. They brought out the yakitori and you both conversated about just everything and honestly, you really enjoyed talking to him.

“Oh, if you aren’t gonna have anymore, can I have it?” Hawks asked, pointing at the last chicken skewers. You nodded and watched him gladly take it. “I just have no self-control when it comes to the things I want.” He took a bite and smirked at you. “You should know by now.”

Since when did Hawks become good at flirting? From the beginning, he knew damn well that he wanted you but it was a struggle. It was a struggle to even get you interested in him and now, he finally had the girl of his dreams on a date with him. Hawks was found attractive by many. He could have any girl in the world but none could compare to you.

“Oh, that reminds me. I almost forgot!” His eyes popped out in realization and he dug into his baggy pants, pulling out a small white box and handing it to you. You stared at the box and he began to grow impatient. “What are you waiting for? Open it.”

You removed the lid of the box, revealing a silver tiara-shaped ring. You were in awe and slid it on your ring finger. Hawks smiled in joy, happy that you loved the gift. The ring was beautiful and you couldn’t help but move your hand around, watching the ring sparkle in every direction you went. “Hawks, this is beautiful.”

He smirked and crossed his arms. “I know. That’s because I chose it.” You laughed and admired the shiny ring. It wasn’t a surprise that he chose a crown-shaped ring because he always saw you as a princess. “And don’t worry...” He continued. “One day, I’ll replace that promise ring with a wedding ring.”

You turned your head with eyes shut in embarrassment, as he laughed at your shocked reaction. He waited for you to speak but your eyes remained closed with your eyebrows furrowed. You felt something was off and just by your reaction, Hawks felt the same. He glanced outside to what seemed to be a normal day. “Y/N...”

“Here are your drinks-” The waitress came smiling and you quickly opened your eyes, returning to your surroundings. “Hawks!” You yelled and he quickly got the message. “Get back, Miss!” A dark flying creature smashed it’s way through the window but you were quick to jump out of the way. The woman screamed and Hawks held her in a protective hold. The creature stared at you with dark piercing eyes.

Seeing that you were it’s target, you matched it’s stare and brushed the fallen dust off your nose. “Hawks, evacuate everyone now!”

“But what about you?” He asked worried.

Your eyes began to glow pearl white as you gradually activated your quirk. “You’re forgetting that we’re heroes, Hawks. I’ll be fine.”

He was hesitant but nodded. You returned your gaze back to the strange creature. With all the collected power, you gave it a strong hook kick to the chest, supported by a huge amount of wind that sent it flying out from where it came from. “I can never seem to catch a fucking break, can I?”

You ran and jumped down from the high story building. Hawks was worried. Not about you losing the expensive ring. Dramatically speaking, it did almost cost him a quarter of his bank account. But he was more so worried about you. He knew very well that you were capable of handling this on your own but the thought of you getting seriously injured made him anxious.

You glided your way down to the falling High-End Nomu, sending and shooting electrical charges at it. The lightning strikes gave you enough time to build up wind power. You were close to ground so you used up all your stored power and sent it to your leg, giving the High-End Nomu a hard stomp to the face on your way down to the empty road.

You released your leg to see the High-End Nomu’s head now entirely crushed. You tried to catch your breath and looked around. Screams were coming from all directions. Civilians tried to escape the chaotic scene but were blocked by multiple Nomus. Your eyes glowed as you raised your hands to the sky that slowly turned into dark clouds. Violent lightning began to appear and striked the Nomus left to right, killing them and giving the citizens enough time to flee.

The distraction caused the High-End Nomu under you to regenerate quickly without you knowing and you felt a hard punch to your stomach, sending you flying up in the air. Your ribs were for sure injured by now, if not broken.

The pain was highly effective and you struggled to keep your balance in mid-air. You didn’t have the strength to gain wind momentum but thankfully, strong arms grasped you tightly. You looked up to see the same annoying arrogant smirk. “Looks like I caught you just in time.”

You groaned and held your ribs. This was not the time to joke around and you definitely weren’t in the mood. “Keigo, give me a boost.” He gazed down at you before getting ready. “Whatever you say, darling.”

Hawks threw you towards ground level, giving you the speed you needed. You shot lightning towards the High-End Nomu but with each strike, it was quick enough to dodge them. You snarled in dissatisfaction and with all the energy you had left, you attempted to give the creature another kick. It was too quick, grabbing you by the ankle and smashing you to the ground.

The harsh impact made you dizzy and gasping for air. The monster was about to finish you off with one last punch before being cremated by hot blue flames. You heavily breathed and held your ribs, rising up to gaze at the figure that you wished wasn’t there.

The streets were packed with dust and smoke but Dabi was able to see you clearly. “Well won’t you look at that. You’re still fighting.” Blood was dripping down from your forehead and lower left eye. Your hero attire was ripped in some parts. But even with the damage, you still remained flawless. He smirked and walked closer to you. “Just like the Y/N I remembered.”

You limped towards him with an angry expression. He had no right to come here, let alone ‘save’ you. He wasn’t the Touya you knew. This wasn’t Touya at all. You didn’t have enough power to use your quirk but you did have enough power to physically punch him.

Or not.

You fell midway but he caught you with a tight grip on your chin. The pain from your body was taking over and you were struggling to stay awake. Dabi looked down at you with pity, pulling you up. “Dying on me now, Y/N? But we barely got to talk.”

You stayed silent, blinking as much as you could to keep you from fainting. A tiny light was shining brightly and Dabi looked down to your hand, only to see a ring displayed on your ring finger. He grabbed your hand and examined it. “That little chicken bastard gave this to you?” You didn’t respond and faded off, pissing Dabi off even more. He snatched the item off your finger and tightened his grip on your chin. “What do you see in him that you don’t see in me? You remember your promise, don’t you?”

“Touya?”

The boy flinched at the sudden call of his name. Your soft voice echoed in the room and the sound of your footsteps gradually got closer. You sat infront of him with crossed legs and scooted closer to him. “Touya, what’s the matter?”

“It’s okay. Everything’s okay. Just go back to Keigo.”

“I don’t wanna see Keigo. I came to see you.”

Your eyes softened, analyzing all the scars and burns of the boy’s body. He hid them behind layers and layers of gauze and you never noticed how much pain he put himself through. You spent most of your time with Keigo and unintentionally pushed Touya away.

You pulled the boy closer in a hug, never wanting to let go. “I’m sorry, Touya. Keigo told me he was feeling left out so I wanted to spend time with him.” Touya was about to speak but closed his mouth, letting you continue.

“I promise to put you first before anything. I promise I’ll always protect you and stay by your side. I promise that one day when you ask me to be your girlfriend or wife, I’ll always say yes. We can be heroes and be together like we imagined.”

Touya was young and kids always had their own wild imaginations of the future. Always having their own crazy perception in life. It was a know fact that you and the boy had strong feelings for eachother. Even at that age, Touya knew he wanted to be with you. For you to become his girlfriend. To become his wife.

He also knew his ‘disappearance’ had to be done. He was sad that he had to keep that secret from you but it was only to keep you safe. It was what he had to do. It would be a while before he could see you again.

“You promise, Y/N?”

“Always.”

“How’d that turn out?” Dabi watched you with eyes full of pain and you did nothing but stare at the ground. Words couldn’t leave your mouth as the memories were too much to handle. Finally, you had the courage to look up to him. “I could never love you. Not like this.”

Those words struck Dabi like an arrow to the heart and he tried to mask the hurt from his face. He slowly pushed you away from him. He stared at you and internally fought with himself, trying to bring himself to hate you, to want to kill you but he couldn’t.

He sighed and his eyes softened, lightly stroking your scratched cheek. “Even if I tried, I could never hurt you. You know how much pain you bring to me?”

Red feathers pierced Dabi’s back, causing him to yell in pain. He released his grip on your chin and before you could fall, Hawks dived in and swooped you into his arms, flying upwards.

“Am I too late to the party?” He jokingly laughed until he realized your unconscious state. Full protective mode was now on and he gathered his feathers back, zooming as fast as he could to the nearest hospital. “Don’t you dare die on me, Y/N. Not now, not ever.”

Dabi plucked the last feather out of his back, furiously throwing it to the ground and getting ready to burn it before it quickly flew up to Hawks. The High-End Nomu fully regenerated and Dabi watched as the winged-hero had you wrapped around his arms. He pulled out the ring he stole from you and stared at it.

“I’m gonna kill you, Keigo Takami. Even if I die trying or in the process of it all. If it’s the last thing I do.”

391 notes · View notes

myhockeyworld87 · 5 years ago

Text

Right One - Josh Anderson

Word Count: 4,063

POV: Josh

Warnings: Language

Notes: Just felt like writing something that wasn’t Tyler Seguin...haha So here you here’s a little Josh Anderson for anyone interested. Happy Reading!

The game against the Devils had been hard-fought, but thankfully you guys ended up with the win. Luckily, you had a couple days before your next game. Once the media finally left the locker room, a more relaxed atmosphere filled the air. "So, where are we celebrating tonight?" You inquired of Seth.

"Sorry man I'm out tonight. I've got plans."

"Gettin' some tonight, huh Seth?" This from Boone, at least you could count on him to party with tonight.

"It's not like that, man. (Y/N)'s one of my best friends and she just got a job at OSU. I'm taking her out to dinner to welcome her to town and celebrate."

"Looks like it's just me and you then Boone. Where should we go?" You threw your jacket on and grabbed your bag, getting ready to head out the door. Seth and Boone a few steps behind you. When you opened the door, there stood the most beautiful girl you'd ever seen. She was wearing a skin-tight white sweater, that showed off her well-endowed breasts and her midriff, with a pair of skinny jeans and heeled boots. But it wasn't just her body that caught your attention it was her smile. She could literally light up a room, with that smile of hers, and at that moment it was directed at you. You felt it all the down to your toes, and at that moment you knew that she was the one you'd been praying to come into your life. That was until Seth moved past you and wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in a huge hug.

"Seth, you played amazing tonight." Her voice was like an angel's, and you wondered what it would sound like simply saying your name. "Though I still think that high sticking penalty in the second was bullshit."

"I know right. Hischier totally lifted it." Seth pulled back from their embrace before saying. "So, you got into town ok, obviously."

"Yeah, the moving company should be here tomorrow."

"Sorry I wasn't here when you got here yesterday." Seth apologized, then slung his arm around her shoulders. "But to make it up to you, I made dinner reservations at the best restaurant in town."

"Excellent, because stale beer and nachos in the second period aside, I'm starving."

They turned to walk out to the parking garage, and you felt her slipping away. You went to say something, but Boone's voice interjected. "Hey Jonsey, aren't you going to introduce us?"

"Oh right. I totally forgot you guys never met (Y/N). (Y/N) this is Boone Jenner and Josh Anderson; guys this is (Y/F/L/N) my oldest friend."

She held out her hand first to Boone, then to you. Her skin was soft and as you whispered hello, you realized you didn't want to let go. She was looking at you finally, her smile warm and inviting, and you found yourself smiling back in return. But then she released you and turned back to Seth. "It's nice to meet some of Seth's teammates finally."

"And how is it that we're only meeting you now?" It was a question you had on your lips, only Boone was the one asking it, as you stood there mute.

"Miss Smartypants here has been teaching at Oxford for the last couple years, but we were finally able to lure her back to the states, though I know she considers it slumming."

"Haha…you're so funny Mr. Hockey. I've been wanting to come back for a while and you know it. Though you haven't convinced me yet, that you didn't make this opening at OSU happen."

"If I was capable of that, I would've done it when I first got here and not a couple years later." You weren't entirely sure that things were platonic between Seth and (Y/N). Comments like that seemed more intimate, than just friendship. "But we can talk about that over dinner. We better get going if we're going to make those reservations."

"You could just come out with us?" They were the first words you uttered, other than 'hi,' and though you didn't want them to leave; you felt like an idiot just standing there when she looked at you.

"And where exactly are you two headed? Out to pick up women I suspect." She giggled. Little did she know other women were the furthest thing from your mind.

"We hadn't really picked a place yet. Just going out to celebrate the win." Her eyes were still focused on you, and you liked having all of her attention.

"Will there be something other than bar food at this yet to be established destination? Because this one promised me an actual meal." She playfully swatted Seth in the chest, and you wished it was you she was touching. "Hopefully that means something that isn't actually made in a deep fryer."

Before you could say anything at all, Seth spoke up. "Why don't we compromise? Dinner first, then we can hit a club."

The whole thing sounded perfect to you, as it meant you would get more time with (Y/N). "Sounds good, though I'm not sure I can be a wing woman for all of you." She sent you a quick wink. Was she feeling the same thing you were? That instant connection.

"Ok now that, that's settle. Let's get going." The four of you headed out of the arena and piled into Seth's car. Luckily, the restaurant was accommodating and able to put you all in a quiet spot. The corner booth provided privacy while allowing you to be close to (Y/N), as you chose to scoot in next her. She smelled of lavender, a fragrance you normally didn't prefer but on her it was intoxicating. Though it was a struggle to just not reach out and touch her. If this was a date, your hand would be on her thigh or entwined with hers, but this wasn't a date; this was the first time you were meeting this woman.

"So Josh, Boone, give me some scoop on this one." Her words brought you out of your musings. "Has anyone captured his attention?" She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at Seth when you wanted it to be directed at you.

"Geez (Y/N), give me a break. Don't you think I'd tell you if I'd met someone special?" She seemed to accept his answer, but Seth quickly added. "Besides I have you as a backup."

"A backup?" The words were out of your mouth before you could take them back, but damnit you wanted to know if there was something more than friendship going on between them.

She playfully swatted at Seth's shoulder. "Please, like you need me for a backup." She turned towards you then. "Sorry, I didn't mean to not answer you. It's a stupid promise we made when we were fourteen." She thought for a moment before continuing. "God, what was his name?"

"Michael Billington," Seth spat out.

"Right, I can't believe you remember that. Anyway, Michael totally broke my heart at the ripe old age of fourteen." She patted your thigh, the contact going straight to your groin. "As you can see I'm still not over it." Her hand left and you thought you'd die from the loss. "I ended up crying on Seth's shoulder that night, and we made a pact that if neither of us was married by thirty we'd get hitched."

"By my calculations, you've only got four years to find Mr. Right or you're going to be Mrs. Jones." Seth quipped back to her.

"Please I have until you turn thirty, which is closer to five years, and who says I'd take your last name. You'd probably take mine." They both laughed at that, though you really didn't find the conversation funny at all. Their friendship seemed to be a bit more than your original assessment. "Besides I have a feeling some puck bunny will snatch you up and you'll be her problem, not mine."

"I save the puck bunnies for these two." Great now your best friend was throwing you under the bus. So you'd been a bit of womanizer in your past; that was only because you hadn't met the right one. Yet that might have changed tonight when you met (Y/N). Though you needed to defend yourself first.

"Come on man, that's not fair. It's not like that, right Boone?"

"No, Seth pretty much got it right. I mean isn't that why we're going to the club tonight?" He was going to pay for that comment at practice in the morning.

"You don't really need to hear about these guys sexcapades." Seth quickly tried to change the subject.

"Sexcapades huh? No, I think I definitely need to hear about this." Her curiosity was piqued and you wondered how to turn this night back around before it went south.

"Oh no we're not going there." You added. "What about you (Y/N)? Seth said you were in England, any British men catch your fancy, so to say."

She giggled, the sound sweet and melodic. "If they had, I wouldn't be here, surrounded by you three hunks." You were relieved to find out that she didn't have some British nob waiting for her, across the pond. The conversation at dinner flowed so easily; you almost didn't want it to end. It was nice just having her here mainly to yourself, instead of fighting off random men for her attention. It was bad enough vying for it with Seth and Boone.

Too soon for your liking dinner ended and the four of you headed to a club that you frequented. The music was loud and the dance floor was crowded, but thankfully there was a VIP section, that you were able to make your way to. Boone ordered everyone a round of drinks and shots. "Here's to a great win tonight and to my best friend finally moving to Columbus," Seth announced, and you all cheers before slinging down the burning liquid.

"Damn Boone, what the hell was that shit?" You asked him, coughing a bit from the bad alcohol you'd just drank. (Y/N) was already chasing it down with her other drink.

"I did not order that shit. I specifically asked for 1942 Don Julio. I'm gonna go see what the hell happened."

"Hold up, I'm going with you because this does not taste like what I ordered either," Seth told him before the two took off, leaving you and (Y/N) alone. She was swaying to the music as she sat on the sofa and you wondered what she'd look like when her whole body moved.

"Do you want to dance?"

"Took you long enough to ask Andy." She quipped, using your nickname, which out of her mouth was completely adorable. You took her hand and led her just past the roped-off area, close enough that Seth and Boone would know where you went. Dancing with a Stranger was playing and you raised your joined hands as you started to move to the beat. Her body swayed to the rhythm and you found your free hand reaching for her waist; pulling her close to you. Her hips gyrated with yours and her arm skated around your neck. She was intoxicating, the way she moved, the smile on her face; just everything about her spoke to you on some other level. You'd only had her in your arms a few moments, but you knew you never wanted to let her go.

She spun around then, her backside now grinding into your crotch; while your arm sat low on her hips holding her close. You leaned down, half tempted to whisper in her ear how much you wanted her; but that damn lavender scent of hers engulfed you, even though the smell of alcohol and sweat permeated the air. You wanted to drink her in, and get drunk solely on being in her presence alone. Instead you were stuck holding her tight against you in a crowded club.

The music shifted and so did she in your arms, as she twisted back around front. "Don't look now, but the girl at your two o'clock is staring at you like a starving dog." You moved your head to see who (Y/N) was talking about, even though she was the only one who you wanted to spend the rest of the night staring at. "I said not to look." (Y/N) chuckled and you joined in. "So should I be a good wing-woman and help you get her, now that you've checked her out."

God that was the last thing that you wanted, for (Y/N) was the only woman who'd captured your attention and there was no one in this club or on the planet for that matter that you wanted to be with but her. An easy 'no' fell from your lips before you even really figured out which girl (Y/N) was talking about. "Really? I don't think it would be a hard sell." This time when you looked your saw who she meant, a groan escaped your lips. "Ah, so that was a death glare she was giving me; I take it?"

"Yeah, probably." (Y/N) cocked her head in question for you to explain further. "Her name is Carmen, and she's one of those puck bunnies you were talking about earlier. She's been trying to get her hooks into me for weeks."

"Oh, well in that case let's give her a show." She wrapped her arms around your neck and grinded down on you, making your cock go from stiff to rock solid. "Put your hands on my ass." You blinked down at her, but who were you to argue with such demands. With her breasts pressed against you and the cheeks of her bottom in your hands, you were struggling not to just lift her up and take her to the nearest quiet corner. "Is she still watching?"

You weren't even paying any attention to Carmen. Why would you, when you had everything you wanted in your arms, but for (Y/N)'s sake you looked over to check. "God, she's actually coming this way."

"Kiss me."

"What?"

"Kiss me, so she thinks we're together." You didn't move, so she reached her hands up to the nape of your neck and brought your lips down to hers. It wasn't how you wanted your first kiss with her to be, yet her lips were soft and pliant beneath yours. You couldn't help how your hands pressed her body even closer to yours. Her lips molded to yours and you felt her melt into your arms. The kiss shifted then, it was no longer about pretending, but purely about two people that wanted each other, no needed each other. The music around you was deafening but you heard the slight moan she gave above it all. You took full advantage, sweeping your tongue inside her mouth to tangle with hers. She tasted of alcohol and faintly of the chocolate cake she'd had at dinner, and something that was purely her. You were lost in her and you never wanted to be found.

You were so focused on (Y/N) and everything about her, that you forgot where were until some drunk bumped into the two of you spilling their drink partially on you both; causing you to break the kiss. It didn't matter that your pant leg was half soaked, all you could do was stare down at the beautiful woman in front of you. Her lips slightly swollen from the kiss, and a look of awe on her face. Neither of you recovered quickly, and you knew you should've said something but all you could think of was how badly you wanted to kiss her again.

She cleared her throat, effectively breaking the spell going on between the two of you. "Well, um…" You weren't sure what else she was going to say, but you knew if it was negative you didn't want to hear it.

"That had nothing to do with Carmen." You told her, being completely honest. Her mouth formed an 'O' yet no sound came out. There was so much more you wanted to say, but it didn't happen as Seth and Boone joined you then.

"Did we miss anything?" Seth asked, as he placed a hand on your shoulder giving you a squeeze and pointedly looked at where your hands were, which happened to still be glued to (Y/N)'s ass. You immediately released her though regretted it.

(Y/N) answered him first. "Just saving Andy here from the wolves." She skated one arm down yours to entwine with your fingers, then took the other to pull Seth nearer to her. "The wolf's name is Carmen." She stated, nodding her head in the direction Carmen previously was, but now was nowhere to be found.

Just the mention of Carmen's name and understanding dawned on Seth, even though there was more to the story than what was being told. "Gotcha. Well we have drinks back at the table."

"Great. I'll be right there, just going to freshen up." She squeezed your hand, then headed off, and though you knew she'd only be gone a few minutes; you felt an overwhelming desire to run after her just so you could kiss her again. Instead, you went back to the table with Seth, where Boone was flirting with some brunette.

Taking a long swig of your drink, you sat down, only to hear Seth say. "So, care to tell me what's really going?"

You set the glass back before you had a chance to down the entire contents. "I like her. What else can I say? But if you tell me right now that, you're secretly in love with her or something; I'll back off."

Seth rolled his eyes. "I do love her." God, you felt your heart literally sink to the floor, and you found yourself picking the glass back up and bringing it to your lips, which still burned from kissing her. "But like a sister." Just like that you brought the drink back down, to look over at your friend. "And before you say anything, that means I won't tolerate you treating her like some one-night stand. She's special Josh."

"You don't think I noticed that." You raked a hand through your hair, more frustrated at yourself for not being able to explain the things you were feeling for a woman you'd only just met. "I saw that the minute I came out of the locker room and she was standing there. It's only been more evident throughout the night. She's amazing Seth." You had to be sure, he knew you'd walk away if there was something between them. "You're positive it's just a brother/sister thing?"

"Look, I won't lie. We tried it once." Now that you knew the truth, you weren't sure you wanted to hear it. "We were eighteen, and I felt like she was slipping away going off to college and all. It was awful." He chuckled and part of you felt relief that you weren't going to be competing with one of your best friends. "We realized then, that we were always going to be friends and nothing more." He slapped you on the shoulder before continuing. "But seriously man, you may be the better fighter of the two of us. Though I'm telling you now, I will literally beat the living shit out of you if you break her heart."

"Noted." You went to say more but he stopped you yet again.

"It took me a long time to convince her to come back to the states. Don't fuck this up."

"Jesus, I don't even know if she likes me."

"She does. I can see it." Now that was something that you finally wanted to hear.

"You really think so?"

"Dude, calm down. You sound like you're five or something." Seth took a long drink before actually answering your question, enjoying making you wait. "Yeah, I really do." He shrugged then. "I saw her kiss you and I saw the look on her face afterward, but you can find out for yourself because here she comes."

You watched as (Y/N) moved through the crowd to make it back to your seats. "What I miss?" She asked as she took the seat next to you.

"Oh, not much," Seth said handing her a drink, and sending you a sly glance.

"Doesn't seem like that." She added with that cute little giggle of hers. "Please tell me you didn't have a run-in with that Carmen girl while I was gone." Actually, you'd forgotten all about her.

"No, thank god," Seth answered. "Though I do see her and her friends staring at us." You followed Seth's vision and sure enough there she was glaring over more at (Y/N) then either him or Seth. "If this wasn't your first night out in Columbus; I'd be suggesting we call it a night." You were inclined to agree.

"Hey no need to stay on my account. I'm literally still on London time, which means my carriage turned into a pumpkin a few hours ago. I'd rather party when I didn't think that it was six in the morning." Both you and Seth laughed at her comment. "Laugh all you want, but one of you two will be carrying me back to the hotel when I fall asleep here." You had no qualms with carrying her anywhere though your bed was your preferred choice.

"In this noise? You'll never fall asleep. I know you and you don't even like the tv on to sleep." Seth quipped to her and you stored the knowledge away. "Let me go see what Romeo over there wants to do and I'll be back." He headed over to Boone leaving you and (Y/N) alone, which provided you the perfect opportunity to talk to her.

"So, about earlier." You started and she nodded. "I didn't want it to be like that…kissing you that is." Her eyes widen and you could tell she misunderstood what you were trying to say. "It's not that I didn't want to kiss you…" You blew out a frustrated breath, before raking your hands through your hair. "I mean I want to kiss you…fuck…I just…well, I like you, and well…I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go out. Just the two of us, where I can kiss you properly." There you'd said it all. It was a jumbled mess, but at least you'd asked her out. The problem now was that she wasn't saying anything in return, and now you were worried you didn't make yourself clear. "So…um…would you like to go out with me?"

A small smile spread across her features and you took that as a good sign. "You're really cute when you're flustered. Do you know that?" You could feel a blush rising to your cheeks. "I like you too Josh, but…" She looked over at Seth and then it occurred to you that maybe she had feelings for him.

"I didn't realize there was…."

"No!" She said quickly. "There's not. Seth is my best friend and that's all. I just don't know how he'd feel about me dating one of his teammates."

"Well if it helps, he told me he'd kick my ass if I hurt you."

She shook her head as a light chuckle escaped her lips. "God, he never changes. He used to say that to every guy I dated growing up, but I'll take that as him giving us his blessing. So, if that's the case, then…Yeah, I'd love to go on a date with you."

"Really?" You were completely elated but wanted to be one hundred percent sure.

"Yes really. I like you Josh." She reached over and kissed your cheek. "And just so you know. I don't regret kissing you on the dance floor, but I understand that you didn't want it to be our first. So let's just consider that practice, until you take me out."

Seth came back then, with Boone falling behind. "Everyone ready to go?"

You laced your fingers with (Y/N)'s and the four of you headed out the door. Tonight had proved to be more of a win for you than just in hockey and you couldn't wait for your next matchup with the girl on your arm, because for some reason you thought you’d finally found the right one.

#Josh Anderson #josh anderson imagine #Josh Anderson Imagines #Columbus Blue Jackets #Columbus Blue Jackets Imagine #Columbus Blue Jackets Imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction

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zmediaoutlet · 4 years ago

Text

have a cigar

new fic for the Sunday Morning Porn Club; having some s2 feels and thinking about how big and wild and uncertain Sam was in those early days. But also thinking about porn.

title: have a cigar pairing: Sam/Dean rating: E length: 5500 words tags: Season/Series 02, New Relationship, slight D/s, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Post-Episode: s02e05 Simon Said

summary: What happened with Andy and Ansem unsettles Sam. Dean doesn't seem worried.

(read on AO3)

They’re over the state border from Oklahoma into Kansas when Dean indicates that he’s getting off the highway. Sam looks up at the sound of the blinker, looks around. "What, gas?" he says. They’re not that far out from Guthrie, so unless Dean has to pee—

"Nah, we’ve still got a hundred miles left in the tank," Dean says, rolling the car smoothly onto the offramp. Wellington, Kansas: population 8,105, and exactly no reason for them to be stopping. Sam frowns across the bench and Dean glances at him, and then rolls his eyes. "Jeez. A guy can’t want a break? We were up all night, man, dealing with the psychic twins. Plus you got a head injury. Sue me, I’m taking a minute."

"It's not really a head injury," Sam says. Kansas outside the car windows—mid-morning, green. "We told Ellen we’d be right there." He rubs his hand under the edge of his cast, rolling the tendons under his thumb. "What if she’s got a case or something?"

"Then it can wait half a day," Dean says, and it’s a little louder than it needs to be. He’s got a grip at ten-and-two, his jaw square. Sam looks at him and hears his voice in a perfect echo, saying you’re all part of something that’s terrible, and he bites the inside of his cheek so hard that it throbs but he doesn’t say anything, after that.

Outskirts of towns tend to look the same. Truckstop, motel attached. A McDonald’s. Dean pilots them to a vaguely dirty Mexican place that looks like it last had its decor updated in 1987, and when they’re at the dented formica table with their plastic menus Dean lets out a sigh that sounds like it came from his feet. "You think they’d give me a margarita at, uh, 11:32 in the morning?" he says.

He does look tired. Sam sucks the sore inside of his cheek. "Probably goes great with huevos rancheros," he says, and gets Dean to smile at him, so—all right. A little break.

The food’s bland, given the cornfields all around, but comforting too. They don’t talk much. Dean looks over a copy of the Wichita Eagle that someone left behind, in some obituary-scanning reflex; Sam swirls his fork through his larded refried beans and looks out the window, thinking. Andy, and Ansem. Brothers, though Andy didn’t know it until it was too late, and Ansem went bad but Andy—

Dean knocks his boot into Sam’s ankle, and Sam flinches but when he refocuses Dean’s looking at him, kinda soft. Kinda not soft. Kinda defiant, in that weird way that he’s started to do, and Sam feels heat rush into his cheeks, seeing. Dean smiles like he won something, even if his ears go pink, too, and he wipes his mouth with the balled napkin and says, "I’m going to the can," and Sam says, "Oh, great, thanks for the update," because they are brothers, and Dean smirks and walks off with a kind-of swagger and it’s not Sam’s fault that that calls attention to the shape of his ass, but Sam’s looking, either way.

The waitress offers more iced tea, when Dean’s gone. "No, gracias," Sam says. She raises her eyebrows a little but puts down the check. Sam leans back in the booth, spinning his unused knife as best he can in his busted hand, looking again out the window. Trucks, and a cornfield, and blue skies. Plain and familiar, and if he tries to imagine a demon coming here, a darkness swarming over it, somehow it just—doesn’t compute. But there was Andy, and Ansem, just a hundred miles south of here in an easy calm town that had no idea what was coming, and they brought murder with them. Killers, and freaks, and the town and its people hadn’t done a damn thing to deserve it.

"What, you forget how to pay a tab?"

Sam jerks, brought back to earth. Dean’s standing slouched, one hip leaning on the table, rifling through his wallet.

"Swear, you’re a lousy date," Dean says, dropping a pile of cash onto the little plastic tray, but he’s got a smile threatening, tucked into the corners of his mouth, and Sam’s—god, he didn’t know it could—this is—different.

A motel. Corn-themed. "Real original, huh?" Dean says, under his breath, but he gets them a room, and when they’re inside with two queens and steady A/C and the shades pulled, leaving them in privacy, he drops his bag on the closer bed and looks at Sam sidelong and says, "I’m gonna shower first, ‘kay."

The bathroom door closes before Sam can say a thing. He blows out the breath stuck in his chest and sticks out the Privacy Please tag, and then he sits on the end of the bed he guesses is his, and looks at the bathroom where the shower’s hissed on, the pipes clanking inside the walls.

Not so—obvious, usually. They’ve only been—it’s been like this, between them, for—what, a few months. Barely. Since Dad, and the brutal weeks after it, and a weird raw conversation in pre-dawn light that led to Sam putting his hand on Dean’s face and Dean snarling and then practically shoving him onto his back, and—

It’s new. Dean seems to seesaw back and forth between pretending like it doesn't exist, in the light of day, and a raw grasping want that kind of scares Sam, even if it's maybe the hottest thing that's ever happened to him. No one he's ever been with has wanted him this much. He's never wanted it this much.

He washes his face in the sink. When he pushes the damp edges of his hair back he looks—okay. A little tired, but decent. His head does hurt, actually, where Tracy tried to brain him. Where she was forced to.

Sam closes his eyes. Jesus, he is tired. And—pissed off, too. When he thinks about it. Freaks, all of them, and Sam's got the visions and the migraines and this horrible feeling in his gut like something's gonna happen, some tidal wave of shit that's going to crest the horizon, and he's not going to be able to do a damn thing about it.

Andy, and Ansem. Speaking their wants into reality. Max Miller, moving things with his mind. Sam, and his dreams, and it wouldn't have to be bad. Except it always ends up bad. Death, somehow waiting, and he strips off his jacket and his boots and crawls onto the nearer bed, and buries his face into the pillow, and tries to listen to the steady familiar sound of the shower going and tries not to think about that dark wave. Drawing nearer, cresting.

A honk wakes him up. He blinks, drags in muffled air. When he turns over Dean's sitting on his bed, frowning at the curtains. "Just 'cause you can't drive," he mutters, and then looks back down at Sam. "Oh, finally."

Sam drags a hand over his face. No drool, that's something. He yawns, stretching out on the bed. "How long was I out?"

"Couple hours," Dean says. He points the remote and Sam sees the TV on, muted, a newscast—and off, just as fast. Politer than Dean usually is.

"Should've woken me up," Sam says, and Dean rolls his eyes and says, "You need all the beauty sleep you can get," and Sam smiles, can't help it, and he goes to sit up but Dean puts a hand on his shoulder and he stays put. Surprised a little. Dean, looking at him.

"Sammy," Dean says. He's tipped in toward Sam, in a t-shirt and boxers, and the look he's giving Sam is steady, considering. "You didn't have any crazy dreams, right? No big visions?"

Sam blinks. "No."

"No," Dean repeats. "So we don't have to light out of here and haul ass to, like, Weehawken or something?"

"What?" Sam says. "No. Weehawken?"

Dean shrugs. "Tried to think of somewhere that'd suck." He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, looking at Sam, and then throws a leg over Sam's and settles himself in Sam's lap, just like that. Sam grabs his hips, startled instinct, while Dean shifts and his ass sits warm and heavy against Sam's dick. "So. Want to screw?"

Jesus. "How romantic," Sam says, but his mouth's dry. Light of day, just straight-out like that. Yeah, this is new. Dean pops his eyebrows, grins in that goofy way where he's trying to be funny or sexy or something, but for Sam it just reminds him how this is—them, the two of them together like this despite all sense or reason, and his stomach flips like encountering some new nasty thing but it's just—Dean. He gets a steady look, that grin going smaller, and then Dean leans down over him and braces his hand on Sam's pec to balance and kisses him like it's his right to do it, plush and immediately wet, his mouth like something—like a dream—

Sam pushes up on an elbow, kisses back. Dean tastes like toothpaste. His stomach, warm and soft under the warm soft t-shirt, and when Sam squeezes his ass with his good hand Dean makes a little noise into his mouth, tips his hips down. Hard already, pressing into Sam's stomach, like he was waiting maybe, like maybe he'd been fooling with himself hoping Sam would wake up. Sam bites his lip because it turns out Dean likes that, even if he bitches after, and he dips and kisses Dean's throat because it turns out Dean likes that, all his vampire comments notwithstanding, and Dean cups the back of Sam's head and digs his fingers into Sam's hair and Sam flips them over, easy reversal of their weight with Dean's thighs splayed out around his hips, and Dean says fuck under his breath when Sam tugs his shirt-collar down and bites at him there, but his chest pushes up into it like a chick wanting her tits played with, so that's clearly okay. "Vampire," Dean says, predictable already, and Sam grins and then sucks there, slicking his tongue against the little dents of his teeth. Dean's hips kick up and his thighs squeeze Sam's hips, but he groans too, and says, "Moving me around. You're such a control freak."

Their hips grind together. Even through his jeans it feels incredible, his dick chubbed up to match Dean's. "Like you mind," Sam says, even if he can feel the heat rushing up into his face to say it, flat-out like that. When he picks his head up Dean's eyes are heavy, his ears that bright red they always are when he's turned on, and Sam licks his lips and watches Dean's attention drop to them. Jesus. "You want me to stop?"

"Didn't say that." He tugs at Sam's arm and Sam lifts up, kisses him open, and Dean's leg slides against his, his hands framing Sam's waist, dragging up his back. When Sam pulls back to breathe Dean's lips are puffed-wet, red as his ears, and he's—fuck, he's hot. Sam drags a thumb over his cheek, swipes the wet off his lower lip, and Dean smiles a little. Like he knows what Sam's thinking. "Just saying. You gotta be in charge, huh? Never would've guessed, Sammy." He catches Sam's wrist and fake-whispers, like a shared secret: "That was sarcasm."

Sam snorts. "Yeah, you're hilarious." He braces his cast on the bed, tugs out of Dean's grip and slides his hand down to grip Dean's dick. So close it's easy to watch Dean's eyes go a little wide, his lips parting. "You wanna shut up now?"

Dean's thigh slides against his hip. "Make me." Sam squeezes and Dean sighs out hot against his face. He blinks then, a flash of smile. "Hey, maybe you could. Use that mojo."

Sam doesn't understand for a second. He pushes up higher on his elbow, frowns.

"Get me to do whatever you want, huh?" Dean's cheeks are very red. "No control issues then. What Sammy says goes."

With his dick this hard Sam doesn't know how to react. "Dean," he says, helplessly—some mix of turned on, of pissed off. Like Sam could be like—like he could be Andy. Ansem. Some nasty magic, getting Dean to do anything. "I wouldn't."

Dean licks the point of one canine, eyes on Sam's mouth. It's not picking a fight because he's so obviously hot for it that Sam's body reacts like a strange compulsion, stretching out over his brother, pinning him down. He rocks his hips into Dean's, pins one of Dean's arms down by the wrist, and Dean groans, arches into it. "I know you wouldn't," he says, rough. Sam leans back, his stomach flipping uncertainly, and Dean grabs his neck, arches up, wild and intense and amazing like Dean always is in bed—wholly present, wholly wanting, like no one else ever has been. Everyone is always thinking about something else, always holding a little apart. Not Dean—Dean's here, pressing his dick up against Sam's dick, holding Sam close, leaning up and kissing Sam's jaw where he hasn't shaved in a day, breathing hot against his ear, saying tight and sweet, "Tell me, though—tell me, what you'd make me do—what you'd say, Sammy, tell me—"

—and Sam says, coming up from some deep place, "I'd tell you I was gonna fuck you," and Dean groans like Sam punched him in the solar plexus—a deep short breathless grunt, breaking Sam's grip to grab his hips, his ass, hauling him in like Sam's already inches deep. Jesus, jesus, Dean wants it, even here in this little dump of a motel room at three in the afternoon, the light coming in muffled through the blinds. Vivid even in the muted grey, Dean's eyes visible and his mouth wide and his face an open book, a crazy thing. No secrets, anymore, Sam's sure of it. Sam grabs his face, dips his thumb between Dean's lips. "Jesus, Dean—yeah, I'm gonna fuck you. You're gonna let me. Aren't you."

"Yeah," Dean says, deep and ready, and Sam kneels up, drags Dean's boxers down and watches his dick slap up against his stomach, and he rips his jeans open one-handed, feeling wild. Feeling powerful, and right, especially with how Dean's eyes drop immediately to see him get his dick out and his mouth works like he wishes Sam would just feed it in, like he wants it there, wants it bad, wants it—wants Sam—

"You're gonna open right up for me, aren't you?" Sam says, lightheaded almost, and Dean nods dumbly and spreads, grabs one leg up by the back of his knee so Sam can burrow fingers down into the dark place between them—soft a little, damp a little, and when he looks up into Dean's face Dean's bright fuckin red like he knows exactly what Sam's thinking, like he knew what Sam was gonna ask for. Sam spits on two fingers and feeds them in and finds Dean—open, kinda wet, and Dean says—"There was—the conditioner, in the shower—" and Sam groans wild because it's like magic, like some wished-for thing, like he's Andy and he said to Dean open yourself up for me and Dean willed himself fuckable. He feeds himself inside, inch after inch, and Dean's face flinches and his eyes squeeze tight but he's rearing up, gripping into Sam's shirt, his legs wrapping around Sam's waist, lifting off the bed practically with how he's trying to shove Sam deeper, gasping for more than Sam can give.

Sam gets his cast bolstered under the small of Dean's back, keeps his weight tipped up into the perfect place for Sam to grind into. It's not wet enough and Dean's not loose enough but it feels outrageous, and Dean's panting for it, pulling at Sam's shirt hard enough that a button pops. "Fuck, you can hold me up, huh?" Dean says, shuddery, and Sam presses up on his good arm enough that Dean really does go airborne, the strain intense but worth it for the noise Dean makes when Sam's dick jolts inside him at the new angle. Dean's face presses against Sam's, his nose bumping Sam's ear and his mouth wet at Sam's jaw, and Sam curls his hips in these short shallow pumps that wouldn't usually do it for him except that Dean's so wrapped-up close that he can feel every shaking thing it's doing, the insanity of what he can make his brother feel.

That he can make him feel—Sam groans, sits back, and Dean's clinging to him so tight he gets hauled upright and his ass shoves down on Sam's dick through sheer gravity, enough to make him tip his head back on his shoulders and groan out loud. Sam keeps him in place, holding his hips steady, and shoves up, up, watching Dean's throat go bright red, kissing there when he can't stand not to, anymore. Dean's thighs squeeze his sides and his dick's rubbing all over Sam's shirt and he gets both hands in Sam's hair, keeping him in place, and Sam's biting and fucking up and keeping both their balance and so it's a surprise, sort of, when Dean says nearly breathless against the top of his ear, "Tell me—Sammy, tell me something else, tell me what you want me to do."

Fuck. Sam bites Dean's collarbone hard enough that Dean yelps, squirms and yanks at Sam's hair to get him to pull back, and both feel so good that Sam just sucks harder before he lets go. When he tips his head up Dean's looking at him, red-faced and glassy-eyed, and Sam says without thinking much about it, "I'm gonna come in you, and then I want to eat it out. You're gonna let me." Dean's jaw drops further and Sam actually feels the spasm around the root of his dick, Dean's whole body clenching. Anticipation, he's pretty sure. Sam hasn't—they haven't done that, yet, but now it's all he wants, and he knows Dean will practically cry for it. Sam smiles at him, a weird sort of power filling up his chest, watching how his working dick makes Dean feel. "Later, too. If I want you to blow me. Tonight. Or at a rest stop—shit, parked out where someone might see, Dean. You'll do it, won't you?"

Dean groans, when Sam pushes up into him hard, keeping his hips held tight against Sam's so that he's full. The way Sam's learning he likes to be. "All right, Sammy," Dean says, soft, and Sam—fuck, he can't, he can't wait anymore, and he bears Dean back onto the mattress and lets his head bounce, and when he shoves in at just the right angle Dean shouts at the ceiling and then Sam's free to just—fuck him, to get his dick inside that hot friction where Dean's so ready for him, where he wants it because he—because he wants what Sam wants. Something Sam didn't get, when they first started this up, and it was rough and unspoken and awkward in the night. Everything he tried, something Dean just accepted and built higher, and when they kissed for the first time that wasn't like fighting it was something that—that Sam doesn't—god Dean feels good, and he's moaning against Sam's temple like he's getting some kind of dick-based religion, and Sam grips his hips and slams in without care or finesse and when he comes it's brutal, some unloading from the base of his spine, and he says—something—but his ears are roaring and his hips are flexing deep and Dean's nails are digging so hard into his back under his shirts that it hurts but even that feels good, at that second, the world aligning for a half-moment into being for fucking once in Sam's life—right.

He barely holds himself up, breathing hard into Dean's throat. Dean's still twitching, his dick like iron against Sam's stomach. He rocks against Sam, churning Sam's dick inside him where it's still hard, and they groan together, feeling it, but Dean groans louder when Sam slips out. They've fucked like this—a handful, two handfuls, of times, and they've swapped back and forth but Sam's only felt insane this way when he was on top, when he was in charge. With his body still ringing like a struck gong he licks his lips and then bites Dean's throat very deliberately, just below the amulet cord, hard enough that it'll leave a mark, and only when Dean's hissing does Sam think to ask—but. But he doesn't have to ask.

He releases his jaw, stretches it. Licks, against the hurt mark, and then crawls down the bed, kisses Dean's pec and his nipple and his soft belly and his hip, and brushes his cheek stubble and all against Dean's straining dick and feels Dean's thighs jump around his shoulders. When he looks up Dean's watching him, head off-center on a pillow and his eyes slitted, dark. "What am I going to do now?" Sam says.

Dean licks his lower lip. "You—" He swallows. "What you said."

"Yeah," Sam says, and pushes Dean's thighs up in time to watch his sore-fucked rosy asshole flex and drip, a runnel of white that Sam dips and collects with his tongue—salt, and bitter, but good enough that Sam's bones shiver in his skin. He laps across Dean's asshole and feels it so hot and soft, and Dean moans rich enough up above that Sam's own dick twitches, caught in a semi between his hip and the bed. He licks deeper, his tongue almost dipping inside, and then hooks two fingers in easy on the wet he left behind, and Dean cries out but only spreads wider, fisting himself and letting Sam do—whatever he wants, whatever he needs, because Dean is—because Sam is—

Dean comes quieter than Sam expects, every time. His whole body freezes for a second and then he makes this deep sound in his chest, in his throat, arching toward Sam like for comfort, almost. Almost. Sam licks him through it and then lifts up, holding his fingers tight up where he'd buried them, watching Dean's face while the last of it spurts from his dick, while he slowly, slowly relaxes into the bed.

It's—god. Afternoon. Why is that what Sam thinks, but it's what he thinks. Afternoon and the sound of a semi roaring to life in the parking lot, and Ellen waiting a few hours north of here, and the world resettling into something that has to be dealt with. Sam works his jaw, lets his fingers slip out when Dean spasms around them. He doesn't—he doesn't regret this, ever, not since that first time when they both had to take a minute—but he feels… He swallows, and sits back on his knees. Jesus, he's still dressed. Jeans and button-down and socks, sweat and worse griming him up. He zips up, feeling weird.

Dean rubs a hand up his stomach, smearing his own jizz over his belly and undershirt. His amulet's swung around on his neck, laying against the pillow. "Dude, that was sick," he says, but in a way that's weirdly admiring. Sam licks his lips, the remaining afterglow twisting in his belly. Dean lets his heels slip down the bed, his legs splayed around Sam, and he's red-faced still, but maybe that's just because they're both so—out there. Exposed. Even so, Dean touches his knee against Sam's hip, the corner of his mouth turned up. "Seriously. You're like a freight train when you get going, you know that?"

Sam swallows. Thick aftertaste in his mouth. "Shut up," he says, and finally goes for the buttons on his shirt. Jeez, Dean really did rip one off—Sam'll have to hunt for it on the carpet or wherever. He likes this shirt, it doesn't deserve to get ruined by—this.

"Hey, did you hear me complaining?"

Sam keeps unbuttoning, wrestles the shirt off his sweaty arms. He's gonna need a shower before they go anywhere.

"Sammy," Dean says, and Sam swings a leg over, goes to get off the bed. Shower, and clean clothes, and maybe they won't be late enough that Ellen asks questions—"Hey!"

Sam's forearm is grabbed before he can get away and Dean tugs hard enough that Sam'll have to wrench something to get away. He pauses, still on one knee on the bed, and when he looks Dean's up on one elbow, still naked from the waist down, frowning at him. "What," Sam says.

"What." Dean squints at him, and he's not blushed up anymore, not turned on. Looking at Sam like he wishes he could peel back Sam's skull and see what he's thinking, but Dean's never been good at that, really. Sam wishes he were, sometimes. All his life he'd wished for some kind of privacy, but then when he got it everything just ended up—worse. When it mattered Dean couldn't see him, see what counted, and now, with what's happening—

"Come back here," Dean says, firm, but his tug on Sam's arm is gentle as anything. Sam sits, half-on the bed with his hip tucked up against Dean's hip, and Dean's still looking at him with that intense so-thoughtful look, and it's—it's killing Sam, kind of, deep in his gut, that Dean doesn't know, that he can't know, that Sam's by himself here even when like five minutes ago they were about as close as Sam's ever been, will ever be, to anyone.

"You're wigging out," Dean says, after a few beats of silence, and Sam snorts and says, "Yeah, that’s me," and maybe it's bitter and too much and too weird but Sam doesn't know any other way to be, now, but Dean sighs and says, "Fuck, Sammy," kinda quiet. He reaches up and gets Sam by the neck and tugs him down, down, until there's no choice really but to kiss, and Dean opens up soft and wide and easy like they've been doing this for years, like he knows exactly what Sam needs. Sam gets a hand on his jaw, holds his face. His lips a little chapped, toothmarks on the inside like he was biting himself before to stay quiet, and when they stop Sam leans his forehead against Dean's, lets their noses brush together, breathes his air. Dean runs his fingers through the hair at the back of Sam's head, a slow carding pull. Sam sighs.

"I don't know if I need to give you like a signed customer satisfaction survey," Dean says, in his normal voice, "but that was good. For me."

Sam's eyelids squeeze tight without him even meaning to. Purplish sparky bursts against the darkness.

"Hey," Dean says, and pushes him back an inch. Sam doesn't open his eyes, just lets Dean move him, and feels Dean's hand on his throat, his thumb braced right over Sam's pulse. "Seriously. If it's too weird, or—or if you don't—damn, Sam, I know you want it. Talking like that. And I'm obviously good with it too, I just practically came my brains out. So don't let it be weird, okay. It's just you and me."

"Like that's not weird?" Sam says, weirdly croaky and feeling how his voice vibrates against Dean's grip. When he looks again Dean's face is striped with the light from the blinds, the sun dipping just enough. A band of shadow across his eyes, a band of greyed-out yellow across his nose, showing the freckles he pretends he doesn't mind. Sam pushes further up and Dean lets him go, frowning at him while Sam picks the amulet off the pillow, resettles it into its place over Dean's sternum. He fiddles with it, avoiding Dean's eyes. Sharp little horns pricking his thumb. How haven't they blunted, he wonders, after all this time. He presses his thumb harder into one, letting it hurt, and watches his hand rather than look at Dean's face. "I don't know, man. I'm just—that stuff last night, it's not—it's bad. I don't want that. The power. The dreams are bad enough, you know?"

Dean gets a grip in Sam's t-shirt—loose, but enough that if he held fast Sam probably couldn't get away. "If you hadn't had 'em we wouldn't have gotten there," Dean says. "Tracy probably would've died."

"Ansem might've lived," Sam says back, and Dean makes a tch sound, not very under his breath. Sam sucks the inside of his cheek, that sore spot. Still sore. Dean's better at this, Sam thinks. This calculation. Who deserves to live and who deserves to die. Who's good and who's not. Tracy for Ansem, Sam thinks, but Andy still murdered someone. Bullet to the brain, and now who's a monster.

"Sorry," Dean says, and for that Sam does look up, frowning. There's a glimpse of white teeth as Dean worries at one corner of his lip. "I guess it's not really a—I wasn't trying to make like it's not a big deal."

Sam shrugs. "Scares you, doesn't it?" Dean blinks, expression tightening. "You said. Freaks me out, too. I don't think anybody here's saying it's not a big deal." Sam lets the amulet go, rubs the pad of his thumb to feel the deep dents he's made. They look like holes in him. "It just—first it was Max and now Andy. It goes wrong every time."

Dean sits up, fast. "We don't know that," he says, more intense than he really ought to be when he's half-naked. "Sammy. We're not gonna let it go that way, okay? You and me. We can handle it."

He gets his hand on the turn of Sam's jaw, makes Sam look at him, and Sam does because it's not like looking at Dean's a hardship. He tries a smile and Dean nods, like Sam's agreeing to something. He really can't read Sam's mind. Sam wonders if that's something he'll be able to do, soon, coming down the pipe of this shitty year, but before he can tug away at that miserable thought Dean's leaned in and is kissing him, again. Soft, coaxing when Sam's stiff, and he puts one hand solid on Sam's chest, grounding and warm. Sam sighs, leans into it. It's nice, and he might as well let Dean have something.

"Better," Dean says, quiet, when they pull apart, and Sam nods even if it wasn't a question. He's let his hand fall onto Dean's bare thigh and he squeezes the muscle there, trying to say—he doesn't even know what. Dean kisses him again, quick, and then lifts his eyebrows. "You still going to make me blow you at a rest stop? That's nasty, man."

Sam huffs and Dean grins, even if it's small. "Don't need magic powers to know you're easy," Sam says, and even if it feels like an effort he manages to make it sound light.

"Damn right I am," Dean says, and Sam smiles and says, "Okay, okay, I'm taking a shower," and lets Dean pat his chest before he closes himself into the little room, fluorescents and yellow tile, bright and just a little dingy.

Andy said Tracy was scared of him. Sam believes it. He saw her face, this morning in the ambulance. That dim horror. Dean's not there. Scared of the situation, about what might happen, but he's not afraid of Sam, yet. Sam tips his head back against the door, imagining it. Taking Dean's hand and pitching his voice a certain way—that weird tone that he'd heard in Andy's voice but which hadn't affected him—and saying kiss me, and Dean going soft and easy and smiling, and doing it, no questions asked. Doing other things, just because Sam asked.

His stomach turns hard enough that for a second he really thinks he's going to puke. Hits different than it did when his dick was doing the thinking. The things he could do, with that power—he's lucky that it's just the dreams he has to worry about. Although—back with Max—there was that wardrobe, that he moved—

"Hey, get a move on," Dean says, muffled through the door. Sam opens his eyes, shocked back to the moment. "We get cleaned up and out of here, I only got to pay for a half day, and we've got to get up to the Roadhouse by tonight."

"You're the one who wanted a break," Sam says, and Dean says, quieter, yeah, yeah. Sam's breathing hard, remembering. That wardrobe. It came out of Sam like a punch, pure instinct, but—Sam's learned how to do a lot harder things than to throw a punch.

He strips out of his clothes, turns on the shower. Hot. Runs his hand under the water, waiting for it heat up, and thinks that, in the right circumstances, anyone can be pushed.

"Sam, seriously!" Dean calls out.

Sam folds his hand into a fist, hard enough that he feels the tendons strain. They're not going to let anything happen. He might have to ask Dean to swear that's true. For now, his skin's crawling, but that's okay. He gets in the shower. They have road to cover, before the day's done.

#wincest #sam/dean #my writing #ref to mind control but everything's consensual

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midnightelite · 4 years ago

Text

not-so secret boyfriend

Me and @solstilla wrote another one shot!

We wrote this for the love of our life @infiniteinmyownlittleworld world. Sending love and hopes of a speedy recovery your way! <333

Description: After a confusing encounter on the train home from hogwarts, Lily decides to try to clear up any questions that may still exist.

Read it on AO3 or on FFN

Dear James,

I’m really sorry to bother you, but I can’t stop thinking about (Here there was a big blob of ink)

Sorry about that! I must’ve knocked over my ink canister.

Anyways I can’t stop thinking about Quidditch! You’ve got me very interested in the difference between Puddlemere United and the Chudley Cannons and I need more fuel to tease Marly about so please respond asap.

Shame we couldn’t talk more about it on the train, but I guess we were both busy.

Again, sorry to bother you.

Lots of Love,

Your friend,

From Lily

Dear Lily,

When have you ever bothered me? Please write to me as much as you want! Sorry about the train...if you wanted to talk about Quidditch that totally could have been arranged!

As for Puddlemere versus the Cannons, what is there to explain Evans? Puddlemere has the strongest team and has for ages. They are top of the league. What else do you need when picking a team to support? Also, they have Jocelind Wadcock!! She is a force to be reckoned with! She has the most goals scored in both the British and Irish leagues! That's amazing!

Sorry, I’ll stop my quidditch rant before it gets out of hand. It’s nice hearing from you Evans. Please never think you are annoying me by writing to me. Don’t be a stranger.

Hope to see you soon,

James Potter

Dear James Potter,

What’s with all the formalities?

Please don’t apologize for the train. I did exactly what I wanted to in that moment. I hope you did too? I do enjoy keeping busy.

But Quidditch! No, it’s really interesting hearing you talk about Quidditch. Jocelind Wadcock seems really cool. Marly was saying though that there’s an all female team? Are they Puddlemere? Isn’t the Cannons mostly guys? I’m horribly lost. Maybe you should come over and explain it to me?

Hope to see you soon too. Like maybe tonight? Mum’s making steak for dinner, if you wanted to come?

Cordially,

Evans

Dear Evans,

OF COURSE I ENJOYED KEEPING BUSY WITH YOU. I just wasn't 100% sure you didn’t regret it. Merlin you have no clue how long I wanted to do that, but I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything. If you don’t want to pursue anything that's totally fine! I get it! We do not need to talk about it again. It can be like nothing happened. If you want.

I would love to see you! We can talk about anything you want, quidditch, potions, your sister and how done with her you are at this point (sorry if that's rude to say i just figured from the stories I’ve heard you may want to vent). I’d be honored to spend any time with you no matter what we do. I can definitely come by for dinner tonight!

Your friend,

James

P.S. The all women team is the Holyhead Harpies! I’ll explain more at your house!

P.P.S. What time should I come over?

Dear James,

But something did happen and I wanted it to happen for a really long time too. My biggest fear in all of this is that it’s just going to have happened and we pretend that it never did.

I think maybe I might possibly like you a little bit. Or maybe a lot.

Dinner’s at 6 but if you wanted to come over early, we could take a walk around town and talk about stuff. My sister (you’re right, she’s a pill), Quidditch, potions, train rides…

Anything you like.

See you soon,

Lils

The next thing she knew, Lily heard the doorbell ringing incessantly. That could only be one person. She scrambled up from her desk chair where she had been anxiously waiting for another letter, barreled down the stairs past her confused parents, and flung open the door. Her cheeks were red and he looked breathless, and nothing mattered but James Potter standing on her doorstep, still holding her letter in his hand. Lily squealed with laughter, throwing her arms around his neck and jumping into his arms.

He nearly toppled over, but luckily Quidditch gave him great reflexes and he managed to steady both of them and pulled Lily close.

Marie and Thomas Evans shared a look with each other, watching their youngest daughter tackle a man they’d never met. “Should I set another place for dinner, then Lily?”

Lily nodded, not even glancing back at her parents. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s staying for dinner.” Her heart thudded in her chest, staring into his eyes. James was here. He was here and he wanted to talk about what happened on the train. Maybe keep busy again? Lily grinned at the thought, slipping down and holding the door handles. James busied himself by tucking the letter into his pocket, much too nervous to stand around doing nothing. “Going for a walk! Be back later!” The door closed, and Lily’s eyes met his again. She couldn’t stop the little giggles bubbling up from her chest.

Their hands found each other, who initiated it was unclear.

“There’s this spot,” she breathed, swinging their hands between them. Her nerves insisted on doing some kind of erratic dance, much like her heart, and she was trying her best to keep her fidgeting to a minimum. “By the lake, it’s-”

“Let’s go,” James nodded, seemingly unable to stop himself from fidgeting either as he ran his hand through his hair. Lily pulled him along towards the lake, squeezing the hand still linked in hers. He kept messing up his hair, and he looked like he was grappling with trying to find the words to say something, anything. Lily wasn’t much better off. Besides being tongue-tied, she was a little more than distracted by the boy in front of her. She couldn’t stop staring, watching as his hand tousled his hair, but she tried to hide it as best as possible. When their eyes met for what felt like the hundredth time, he stopped walking.

“What?” He asked.

“Nothing. It’s just…” She trailed off before removing her hand from his grasp. He shot her a confused look before she stepped closer, got on the tips of her toes, and mussed his hair up so it was sticking out at all angles. “Better.” She smiled goofily at him, her hands still in his hair. Their eyes locked for a beat, James looked like he was thinking something through before his eyes settled on one emotion. His eyes flicked down toward her lips, and he was leaning in. Lily’s eyes closed on their own accord and she felt the barest hint of pressure from his lips. Before she had the chance to respond, James pulled back and grabbed her hand. James winked down at her dazed expression, before continuing in the direction they were originally headed in.

Lily stood rooted to the spot, and when her arm held him back, he turned toward her with a small smirk on his face and gave a little tug on their joined hands. Lily responded with a tug of her own, pulling him closer.

“I wasn’t done with you yet.” Lily barely registered the shock shining on James’s face before she closed the distance between them. When their lips met all Lily could think was holy shit. This was different from the kiss on the train. The kiss on the train was sweet and quick. Filled with questions. This was definite. This answered all those questions and more.

Lily’s hands found their way back into his unruly hair, settling on giving gentle tugs to the tufts found at the nape of his neck. The pleasant slip of their lips spelling out the emotions neither were able to put to words. James traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, asking for permission. Granting him access, Lily stepped closer so there was barely any space between them. Her heart’s erratic beat became even more irregular. James’s hands were resting at the small of her back and he pulled Lily closer, causing their noses to bump together, pulling her back to the present moment.

Lily couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out against his lips. Once it started she couldn't stop. James laughed too, his head dropping into her shoulder. After a moment of recovery, he pressed little kisses into her shoulder, stopped to drag his nose along her neck, trailing kisses up along her jaw til he landed on her cheeks. After a few kisses there he landed back squarely on her smiling lips, a lot more chaste than the one previously.

“We can’t tell the guys,” he murmured in between kisses. “They have a bet going and Padfoot’s not gonna win again.” He emphasized this with a kiss on her nose, to which Lily burst into another fit of laughter.

“So how long do we need to keep it secret?” Now it was her turn to pepper him in kisses, starting by cupping his cheeks and pulling his head down to plant one on his forehead, temple, nose, cheeks, down his jaw. His sharp inhale when she reached his neck made her pull away, but he was grinning at her as if to cheer her on. She stopped, nevertheless, instead tugging him to sit with her underneath the big tree overlooking the lake.

“Only until the first Hogsmeade weekend?” He looked sheepish, but Lily couldn’t help the grin that stretched across her face.

“Think we can make it that long?” The devilish look that was plastered on her face filled him with an equal amount of thrill and terror. He was not sure what she was suggesting, but was very sure that her end goal was to kill him. “Wanna bet on that?” He couldn’t find words, and Lily couldn’t help but think of a deer in headlights. He nodded mutely and the smirk on her face grew. He was rubbing off on her, wasn’t he? “First to spill that we are dating owes the other something.”

“Something.” James repeated, wrapping her up in his arms. “That’s quite open-ended isn’t it?”

“Well I have a few ideas….If you’re up to hearing about them...” She winked at him. Lily watched his Adam’s apple bob and quickly avoided his eye, knowing the blush was spreading down her neck.

“Oh,” He cleared his throat when his voice came out far too squeaky for his liking. “Wha-what, erm, did you have in mind Lils? Remember I am just a young, innocent fawn. What are you suggesting?” He feigned a scandalized look.

“Get your head out of the gutter, Potter! I was gonna suggest the other pays for a Honeydukes trip. Who do you think I am?” Not able to contain the laughter filling her chest, she doubled over, the sound pouring out of her. James’s grin grew and he pulled her closer, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. Once the laughter subsided, Lily dropped her head onto James’s shoulder. They sat cuddled up, looking out at the lake, talking about sweet nothings until Lily noticed the sun starting to set. She turned and hid her face where James’s shoulder met his neck.

“We’re going to be late to dinner,” She mumbled into his skin, placing a kiss there at the end of her observation. Her tone clearly showed she was not concerned about dinner. James let loose a low laugh, turning slightly to wrap his other arm around her and setting her firmly against his chest.

“C’mon Lils. We don’t want to upset your parents.” He rubbed up and down her back before pulling away to stand. She tried to keep the pout off her face, but the ringing of his laugh let her know she failed. He reached his hand out to help her up. She grabbed it gingerly and let him help her stand when she was quickly enveloped back in his arms. James shot her a wide smile, placing a gentle kiss on her nose. They held eye contact for a bit before he pulled away and started heading back towards her house.

Lily whined as James tugged her along, but let him do so anyways. “Hey,” she said, realizing James had never met her parents. “Are Mum and Dad in on our secret or are we keeping them in the dark too?”

“They can know if they promise not to tell any of the boys if they meet them.” He had a very serious expression on, his eyebrows drawn together. It looked wrong on his face. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“So serious,” she teased, cupping his cheeks and rubbing her thumbs along them. “You want to meet and tell my parents we just started dating tonight, and also that they have to keep it secret because our friends placed bets on us? Is that right?” Lily went on her toes to bump her nose against his just like earlier. “For some reason, I feel like that may not set the best tone for how my parents will feel about this relationship.” James had the decency to look apologetic.

“I know. I know, But do you want to deal with Sirius if he wins this? He will be unbearable. Plus, I feel bad that we’d have to ask your parents to keep it a secret, but-”

“But you’re more worried about...the boys finding out?” Lily snorted indelicately, pulling out of his arms and turning away from him to gather her thoughts. “Aren’t my parents gonna be suspicious if we are hanging out all the time? Or are we not gonna do that either?” She tried to keep the bitterness out of her tone.

Lily wanted to tell her parents, she wanted to tell them how wonderful he was, but she wanted them to believe her. If she told them James wanted to keep her a secret, she doubted they would ever be able to get over that. Why wouldn’t he want the world to know their precious daughter was his girlfriend? Besides, Lily realized she wanted to be openly falling more and more for James Potter and the more she thought about this stupid plan she’d come up with, the more she hated it. Sensing her mood change, James nudged her to turn back around, and she did, but her eyes refused to meet his.

“Lil.” Her eyes remained firmly on the ground, not sure she could meet his without getting all emotional. He tilted her chin up slightly, that stupid signature smirk playing along his face. He was about to say something adorable again, wasn’t he? “You can always lose the bet. I prefer blue sugar quills, by the way.”

Lily wrinkled her nose. Yes, definitely adorable. And cocky.

“Oh no, bud, you’re just going to have to be the one to tell my parents to keep it secret and deal with the fallout of that. I can just imagine how well they will take that.” Lily glanced over her shoulder at him, already starting to walk towards the house. “Oh are you embarrassed to be dating my daughter? She is our pride and joy, and you won't even admit you’re dating her in public?”

She could feel James’s eyes boring into the back of her head and when she turned around to see if he was even keeping up; he was rooted to the ground.

“Okay, what color sugar quill did you want?” Lily giggled, gesturing for him to come over to her before holding onto his hand.

“How about this? We split the sugar quills, I’ll help you break it to the boys. You know Sirius is hesitant to make fun of me ever since I told him his hair looked dull and lacked volume back in March. That way it won’t be too bad.” While she proposed her idea, she had started heading towards her house. Lily assumed he would eventually follow her, and with those long legs of his, he would catch up in no time.

“Fine. You know, you’re lucky you’re cute Lils.” She felt his arm snake around her shoulders. Tucking her right into his side, he moved to place a kiss to the top of her head again, but Lily tilted her head up just in time for it to land on her lips.

“You keep missing, silly.” The goofiest grin split James’s face in half.

“Where would I ever be without you?”

“You’d definitely be bored somewhere. Since you wouldn’t have me to keep yourself busy with...I think the boredom would drive you a little bonkers, really. Maybe you’d buy a boat?”

“Ooh! I can buy a boat and be a pirate. Ya know Evans, I take back what I said previously and I think this may have been a big mistake. My true calling was to drop out of Hogwarts and to become the captain of a pirate ship with the lads. I actually think I shoul-” He was pulling away from Lily, and to prevent it she went up on her tiptoes to shut him up. Before he could continue on his tangent, Lily dragged him the last block to her doorstep.

“You better watch what you say, James Potter, because I am definitely better than some bloody pirate ship.” Despite her words, her voice was dripping with laughter, and her smile went on for miles. He couldn’t help but match her enthusiasm. James bent down to possibly keep busy some more, but Lily spun out of his grasp, walked to the front door and leaned against it. She turned and shot him a look that asked are you planning on coming? As if to taunt him more, the way the setting sun hit her face, it made her green eyes shine luminously and her hair looked as if it were ablaze. Who would want to keep her a secret anyway? Besides, she was so brilliant, it wasn’t like he could hide his amazement of her for very long; the lads would see through his act immediately.

He took the stairs two at a time to catch up with her, their hands finding each other once more. When they shut the door, they were greeted with a pair of green eyes staring at them. Now he saw where Lily got them from.

“Lily,” Mr. Evans cleared his throat. “Won’t you introduce us to our dinner guest?” Lily looked sheepish, hugging James’s arm. “Marie, dear? Come meet Lily’s new friend!”

“Dad,” she said, giving James a reassuring smile that he hadn’t even realized he needed until then. “This is James, my...boyfriend?”

Boyfriend. The word rang in James’s ears. If he was her boyfriend, that meant Lily Evans was his girlfriend. If her father weren’t standing right there, James could have swooped her up and kissed her right there. As it was, he merely squeezed her hand tighter before smiling his most charming smile at Mr. Evans.

“James Potter,” he said, holding out the hand not linked with Lily’s. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Lily talks about you and your wife a lot. She really admires you both.”

Thomas shook his hand, smiling faintly. “Strong handshake, son. Glad you can join us.”

A wide grin broke out across Lily’s face, which she would later explain to him meant that Dad likes you. Mrs. Evans, a short blond woman, joined them outside of the kitchen.

“Good evening, Mrs Evans.” James was trying so hard to impress her. Lily thought it was the most adorable thing watching James put on this professional front for her parents. For her.

Mrs. Evans quickly swept James up in a hug, foregoing the handshake. “Call me Marie,” she whispered. The four convened in the kitchen for steak dinner and apple tart for dessert.

“Lily tells us you’re a school athlete?” James glanced over to Lily, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You talk about me?” She nudged his foot under the table, crinkling her nose.

“Like your mum doesn’t know every little detail about me?” Everyone at the table burst into laughter at their banter.

The whole night long, jokes and conversation filled the air. James could see where Lily got her wits from. Both her parents were sharp, quick to joke with James, and overwhelmingly kind. He’d learned Mrs. Evans took great pride in her little garden out back, much like his mother took pride in the large gardens outside their estate. Thomas had invited James on their next camping trip, much to Lily’s surprise and excitement. James had even swapped a recipe with her mother. If there ever was a more perfect parent-boyfriend meeting, Lily would be shocked. James had managed to charm his way into their hearts with ease-not that her father wasn’t still watching him like a hawk.

When the time came after they’d all had dessert and Marie Evans had ensured James would not be leaving without a doggie bag for his brother and parents, Lily found she wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him. Suddenly she wished they were at Hogwarts and she knew she’d see him again at breakfast the next morning. Lily walked out onto the front deck with James and closed the door behind them.

“Your parents are great, Lil. I’m happy I got to meet them tonight. As he said this, he was slowly closing the distance between them. “Though I have to say I’m a bit sad the night is over.”

A rush of relief flooded her at his words. “Me too. I wish you didn’t have to go.” Lily found herself pulled to him like he was some sort of magnetic force. “There’s plenty of night left, how will I ever stay occupied?”

“Ugh Lils, you are going to kill me. I am going to leave right now, and stay in your parents' good graces. Are you sure you're not part veela?”

James’s breath tickled her ear, he was so close. Lily’s eyes fluttered shut at the sensation. James leaned down, and she went on her toes to meet him in the middle when-

Knock knock knock.

They both turned, breaking apart quickly at the sight of her father peering through the window. James’s face now matched Lily’s hair. She was less embarrassed and more frustrated; there was no chance for any goodnight kisses now.

“Ah, yes. I believe that was my fairy godfather giving me the five minute warning. Better hurry up before the magic runs out,” Lily winked up at him, holding back giggles. She felt light, airy, like she could take on the world.

“That’s from Rapunzel right?” The laughter couldn’t be held back any longer and she dropped her head into his shoulder.

“You’re cute,” she said. “When I see you next I’ll teach you about Cinderella, okay?” James grinned, poking her nose.

“You’re cute. Cinderella it is.” He pecked her cheek before pulling away. “Until next time?” Lily nodded softly, her cheeks burning pink. James gave her a little smirk before apparating home.

When she returned to her room that night after some family time, an owl was waiting outside her window. Ora!

Dear Lily,

If it wasn’t apparent before I am head over heels for you. I got home and realized I never responded. I definitely like you and it’s more than a little bit. Sorry about that.

Are you available tomorrow? The lads are coming over, and I distinctly remember someone promising to help me break the news. I’d say we should prepare for a dramatic display from both Sirius and my mum. Any ideas to help cope?

Hope you can come tomorrow!

Love,

Your Not-So Secret Boyfriend

James

Ps. Mum says she wants to have you for tea on Friday too.

#jily #jily*#Lily Potter #Lily Evans #Lily Evans Potter #James Potter #hp #hp fic #mel&kat do things #Mel&Kat write #evotter #marauders era

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tiaragqueen · 5 years ago

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Tatara (Tokyo Ghoul) x shy female s/o ☺️ thanks

Guerdon

✂ Pairing: Yandere! Tatara x Chi She Lian clansman! Reader

✂ Word Count: 1,2k+

✂ Trigger Warnings: Isolation, manipulation, mention of death, possessiveness

[Edited]

***

If you like my writing, please support me on ko-fi!

I know I'm very late, and it's already the end of the month, but let's just pretend today's Valentine for the sake of the plot.

“I could tell you lots of things, they're gonna turn out useless. Sometimes you need to challenge your questions. You don't need to know everything.” - You Don’t Need To Know [Excuse Me Moses]

Tatara was among those people who couldn’t find the importance of Valentine day. He believed it was just a waste of time and money, because why would you present your loved ones chocolates and roses only during Valentine? What happened to surprising them on ‘normal’ days? Wouldn’t the gifts be much more memorable if they were given randomly, when your partners least expected it?

Excluding that pointless and totally unnecessary day, Tatara had never cared much about dating, anyway. As far as he was concerned, having a lover only brought more problems than benefits due to many factors: his nature, the unremitting threats from the CCG and other petty ghouls, the organization he participated in, and the inevitable tragedy. Sure, he wasn’t a workaholic, but he deemed his organization and its objective more important than anything else. Thus, splitting his time – especially for the sake of someone else – would be challenging.

Besides, Tatara was already content with his life. As long as he still had his brother and other members whom he secretly cherished, Tatara wouldn’t complain much.

That was years ago, though. A lot of things had changed since then, including his love life.

Frankly, you weren’t his girlfriend. You were just a member of Chi She Lian; one that he’d never really conversed with, let alone dated. You both had missions to do, and you both had stark differences in statuses. You were far from weak, though, and Tatara had heard some kind words from Yan regarding your proficiency.

However, nobody was perfect. You were shy, so painfully shy you couldn’t keep eye contact with anyone – particularly the higher ones – for more than three seconds. Tatara didn’t mind it, of course. It just proved that you were aware of your place and respect the superiors.

Before long, fate brought the unlikely pair closer than he’d expected.

A CCG investigator managed to locate his organization and eliminated nearly the majority of its members, forcing him to bring you along to Japan for a hideout. You initially refused, insisting on fighting the damned man, until Tatara knocked you out. It was a rather extreme method, but he knew better than to let you contend senselessly to death. An opportunity for revenge would surely come soon and he needed you to be on your best behavior.

But after joining Aogiri Tree and seeing its vast influence to the Japanese ghouls, Tatara realized that he’d gotten a lot stronger than before. He was certain he could easily take down that bastard without your assistance or anyone else in that matter.

No, as the other survivor, it was better for you to remain ignorant.

He didn’t want to admit that he feared your death someday, and how lonely his life would be without you. Eto might be his new leader, but she wasn’t a part of Chi She Lian. She didn’t belong to, nor did she come from his past the same way you did.

That was why he resolved to isolate you in some derelict apartment, although his original purpose was to deflect the enemies' attention.

And it worked more than he’d expected.

You’d gradually learned to crawl out of that poky shell and engaged in a small talk, mainly consisting of his condition and missions. You’d also begun to grow more attentive to his mood and always tried to help him whenever and however you could, even offering a sliver of your flesh when he lied about being hungry. And you did it all with a smile, gleaming eyes void of malice or reluctance.

It was such a heartwarming yet fragile view; one that would surely shatter to thousand pieces if you were to learn about the truth. Tatara almost felt bad for lying to you.

Regardless, he wasn’t completely frigid. He knew how to reward someone, even if it was exclusive to you.

And Eto just had to suggest a present for Valentine day, because it was the most ‘romantic’ event aside from Christmas. Tatara couldn’t understand how an ordinary day could be any more romantic than the others, but as long you got the gift, it didn’t really matter what event today was.

“[Name].”

To say that he felt awkward would be a huge understatement. How could he not? This was the first time he ever gifted someone, and to a woman nonetheless. He didn’t display his discomfort, obviously, instead shoving the present on to your hands as if it was a ticking time bomb.

“Open it.” he ordered simply, coolly because he couldn’t afford to lose his composure in front of you.

You reeled back in surprise and stared at him for further clarification. When he remained mute, you looked down and inspected the heart shaped box. Was this… what you thought it was? You’d assumed he wasn’t the type to celebrate such event – being a busybody he was – and you didn’t truly notice it, either. It was simply a special occasion meant for couples, created by those sentimental humans.

Still, it was nice to receive something once in a while.

Gingerly, you tore the dark pink ribbon and its matching wrapper and peeked in. A choked gasp left your agape mouth as you swiftly opened the lid and found several – and literal – hearts placed in such a way until they formed a heart shape. In lieu of ketchup, blood garnished the ‘candy’ equivalence like crimson strings connecting and binding the hearts together. You wondered if they were meant to represent your past in Chi She Lian, with the first two organs being you and Tatara as the survivors.

But that would be a crazy idea, wouldn’t it?

“This…” Had you were a human, you’d instantly throw the box away the second you sniffed a particular stench. For you, the ghoul, it was the best gift you’d ever gotten in your entire life. “This is amazing! T-thank you so much. You shouldn’t have to…”

“Nonsense.” he retorted. “I didn’t give it to you so you could pity yourself.”

You squeaked. “I-I’m so sorry!”

Sighing, Tatara stepped forward and squeezed your shoulder. It was a subtle and harmless action, but you knew he could crush the bone underneath if he so wished.

If the time when you’d no longer be needed came…

"Keep up the good work.”

… that gentle touch would be the last affection you’d felt from anyone.

Or him, because he was the only person you met every day.

Sparkles waned from your eyes as you bowed, clenching the box to keep the tears at bay. It didn’t matter if today was Valentine, you couldn’t feel anything else other than compliance.

And the reward on your hands was just a rock meant to deter you from leaving.

“Yes, Tatara.”

#yandere anime au #yandere anime #anime yandere #anime yandere au #yandere scenario #yandere oneshot #yandere imagine #yandere request #Request #Anon #Yandere tatara #Yandere tatara x reader #Yandere tg #yandere tokyo ghoul

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rkivepacks · 5 years ago

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TITLE: like waves in my heart, thoughts of you come to me Originally posted on: AO3/dtgloss Pairing: taekook/kookv/vkook (Kim Taehyung & Jeon Jeongguk) Rating: PG13 Genre: Fluff Word Count: 4,728 Trigger Warning/s: Swearing Disclaimer: This work is solely from the idea of the author. Should there be similarities with the works of other respected artists are purely unintentional. This also do not reflect on the real lives of the artists portrayed in this work. Comments, suggestions and any other concerns are accepted in my inbox. Thank you!

Summary: Artist Jeon Jeongguk gets an extended period of rest and the internet is suddenly discussing how he managed to hide the fact that he has a family.

Hello, this is Ganghan Entertainment. This is to announce that Jeon Jeongguk will be having his official period of rest after five years of active work as a singer-songwriter and actor. During this period, we ask you to respect the privacy of the artist and allow him to destress, recharge and spend the allotted period of time to address his personal desires and concerns. Our artist would also like to ask for your unending support as usual for when he returns to his official schedule and for consideration should you encounter him during his time off. This rest period shall last until further notice of official public schedule of Jeon Jeongguk and should allow him to return to you recharged in order to allow him to give back all the love and support he received since debut. Thank you

[NAVER] Ganghan Entertainment announces extended break for Jeon Jeongguk. [PANN] Jeon Jeongguk on official period of rest. Ganghan Ent. denies rumor of retirement. [K-N] Jeon Jeongguk taking a break from performing and filming. See list of dramas to binge during his break. [ALL KPOP] Jeon Jeongguk wraps up filming for ‘Yanghwa Saram’ in time for personal rest period.

[+191, -19] Kyaaa t-t oppa deserves it. He works hard. [+48, - 90] What break? What am i gonna do then?? Really… [+432, -64] Everyone… you all should know that idols/actors are also humans. They deserve to rest too. Jungkookie we will wait !!! keke fighting-ga [+329, -199] Gosh these people heung… Go outside instead of overworking JK.

“My phone will be on do not disturb. Gonna be ruthless for a month and a half, hyung.” Jeongguk says into the speaker of his phone.

“Yes, I know. I will try not to contact you that much you know, I need this break too. “ His manager Hongsoo huffs from the other line, making Jungkook chuckle.

“I know, you guys rest also. I hope I won’t need to see you for almost two months. I’m sick of Hobi-hyung’s face already.” Jeongguk jokes.

“Yeah I know. Now go back to your daughter. I can hear her from the other side of the door. Bye googoo.” Without much ado, they end the call.

True to his words, the child on the other side of the door has been knocking non-stop for almost ten minutes now.

“daddy, come out…”

or after a second of silence because honestly, give the baby some stamps at the back of her hands for trying to wait for a response from her pre-occupied dad, “ daddy, dinner time!! Come !!.” . Hyeon-goo has been whining as her dad-baby time was interrupted.

The actor jokingly knocks on the door before it was roughly banged by his daughter’s tiny fist from the other side of the door, and he deemed it safe to open it as not to anger the tiny human further. Picking Hyeon-goo up, they make their way to the play area where she managed to open the secured pen to keep her safe. He guesses they needed to either get a /taller/ one, or secure the lock. Or to outsmart their daughter.

Although Jeongguk has already officially started his break, his husband, however, was still out and about to finish his work just before dinner time. Taehyung also managed to get a break, which is why he has been rushing to meet with people to finish that part of the job where he had to leave the house and Hyeon-goo, so that he will also be able to rest and do some work, if necessary, at home.

“Let’s call daddy? You want to call dad, baby?” Jeongguk asks the almost- six-years-old who has been trying to unlock his phone, sitting idly on his lap.

“Call daddy, please.” And honestly who is he to even think about not doing just that. “I’m already here.” Taehyung answers the phone on the fourth ring. “No you’re not I do not see you in this house, sir.” Jeongguk replies jokingly, wherein at the same time Hyeon-goo pipes up when she heard the voice of her dad, “Daddy! Please come home.” She chirps, wanting to boss her daddy around and make him knock on the door this instant, while also looking cute pouting at the phone and bouncing with every word she uttered. “Hi baby! Daddy is almost home, wait for me googoo.” “Are you asking me to wait, Tae?” Jeongguk answers instead and Hyeon-goo craned her neck to look to her dad behind her, following the sound of his voice. “I’m talking to little googoo but you can wait for me too, baby I’m finished already.” Tae laughs heartily, shuffling her in the background. “Okay babe. I already cooked rice since you said you will be preparing the soup and some rice cakes but if you’re tired already I can do another dish instead since my soup is not as good as yours.” “No it’s okay I just left the grocery store since the celery we had in the fridge looks gross already. Also did you know that the sunblock I was using was out of stock because they pulled out the stocks for product design changes? I looked for it for fifteen minutes!” Taehyung ranted and Jeongguk notes to remind him to check again in their next run to the stores. “The celery has been there for a long time already. Did you just get on the bus? I heard some bus sounds thing.” Jeongguk replies, his attention both on his husband on the phone and his daughter being busy with the youtube feature of their smart tv. “Yeah I’ve actually been in the bus for some time now. I’m home in twenty minutes tops.” Taehyung replies, voice hushed and Jeongguk has just noticed in decrease lightly caused by the change in surroundings. When Taehyung gets home, Hyeon-goo has already fallen asleep, her head propped on Jeongguk’s thighs on the soft floor mattress they lay out in the living room for times like this, and he quietly pads around to softly and quietly greet his daughter as not to wake her and to appease his babysitting husband who was watching the muted drama airing on Thursday night. “Good thing I won’t be going out in broad daylight starting tomorrow. The sunscreen fiasco stressed me out.” Taehyung sighs, sitting beside his husband on the fluffy cushion, their backs to the sofa.

“I know you got something else in the meantime. Another brand.” “I did. But that’s not the point.” “My sunscreen loving baby. I missed you.” Jeongguk pulls Taehyung closer by the neck and softly kisses his temple. His desire to plant more kisses was halted by the reminder that he has his daughter currently sleeping on him and he makes it a mission to move her to another comfortable position on the mattress. Once successful, he returns to a chuckling Taehyung ready to receive the love Jeongguk has stored from the day they were separated. Jeongguk and Taehyung, ever since Jeongguk was able to receive the news and confirm the official end of his shooting for his latest drama, has made it a point to take a proper rest and days off from their respective works and duties. They also needed the time to spend with their daughter who has been growing up real fast, the parents feel like they have to tie themselves down inside their house just to be able to be there with Hyeon-goo anytime of the day. Jeongguk has been in and out of the country that lasts from weeks to almost a month. Drifting in and out for shoots set in an international location for the same drama he worked on for a god ten months. During his stay at some fancy hotel his management booked for him for the duration of his shoot, he has only managed to see his daughter wearing cute and fashionable costumes for her daycare activities in photos and videos sent by her father. The distance was hard for him and Taehyung, who also find it difficult to miss some days off to attend his daughter’s school activities and juggle his work with his tasks as a father to Hyeon-goo.

⍠⍠

Being with Jeongguk, in Taehyung’s opinion, is quite challenging. Not only is he dating an A-list actor, he is dating one that is Jeon Jeongguk and that alone, for Taehyung is a challenge.

Dating has always been a challenge for Taehyung and Jeongguk. After all, doing so with a biological child already and going out with a celebrity at that. He was putting everything on the line. The two has deemed it necessary to play it safe in the beginning. Meeting through a mutual friend, after all, Taehyung is a not-so-low-profile person. He is an author with books already out on shelves at the local book stores and a series currently in the works. Not to mention they might make a tv-series out of one of his works.

The two met at a birthday celebration of a mutual friend. One which Jeongguk met through his previous drama project and Taehyung’s close friend who helped him find experts to interview for one of his books. The two knew they would be friends despite of the circle both of them were used to. Several hangouts with other people turned into gatherings with less until it was only the both of them hanging out. The two often met in the privacy of their homes, which one would be more suitable for their schedules or often than not, depends on who would offer his humble abode, claiming that “it was your turn last time, remember? We were at your place. I will cook for today, end of.”

Jeongguk was a private person, despite being an A-lister. Although always in the headlines and discussion boards, Jeongguk has kept his close personal friends in private and away from the public and only letting bits and pieces about him known during interviews. Hence, no one knew of his real relationship with Taehyung.

Photos have resurfaced of the two hanging out in public. They are also both smart enough to only hang out with just the two of the once or twice in public, a space visible between them as tabloids and the internet speak of Jeongguk’s whereabouts as a public figure. Maybe it also helped that Taehyung is also a public figure and the people has only been speaking of a possible series that involves the nation’s sought after actor and a best-selling author of the present times.

[ARTICLE] Actor Jeon Jeongguk spotted with Best-selling author of the book ‘Pung-gyeong: Shadow’ dined with friends. Koreaboo : Netizens are buzzing with a possible new drama involving Actor Jeon Jeongguk. Said drama might just involve the works of 2018’s Best-selling Author Kim Taehyung, who was also last seen meeting with award-winning director of several dramas (see article ‘Rising Author Kim Taehyung seen with ‘Tokyo’ Director Han Hwon-ra.) Pictures have resurfaced of the friendly and laid back dinner of the bunch in the area of Bongeunsa-ro Gangnam-gu. The managing supervisor of the seafood restaurant Kkotji was able to confirm the attendance of the prominent names in the industry and assures everyone the warm and kind attitudes of or favorite actor and author. See also below the photo that the manager shared, showing what indeed is a short but lovely message and autograph Jeon Jeongguk and Kim Taehyung left at the restaurant, proudly framed and cherished in the establishment. The manager has also talked about the influx of reservations and inquiries amidst the public outing of the bunch. See more: Jeon Jeongguk on the cover of Vogue Korea + Tour inside his newly-renovated studio.

Krm3949 wrote: New drama? Isn’t he working a little too hard? Moko_ wrote: Don’t work too hard. Rest well! Jeongguk and Taehyung fighting! Ssiiso11: We all know what happens when they turn books into movies… But I trust Kim Taehyung and the Director-nim. Good luck to everyone then Wingjeu_949: You all… It is not even confirmed yet… You all seem to forget that they are also friends so this could only be a friendly outing…

The two were not always private about their friendship. But they were subtle, as subtle as they need and get, about their real relationship. They were able to post photos here and there, a few words when asked about each other, considering friendship between celebrities are always considered a big deal when you are…. Well… celebrities.

Fans of the two have always thought that their friendship was pure and youthful. Both men in their almost-late-twenties. (They are 28 and 29 years old, but Taehyung is not very fond of disclosing that information that much thank you.).

“It must be nice being friends with Kim Taehyung!” Taehyung mimics the voice of the MC as he reads the printed copy of the interview of the latter that was done last month in line with his photoshoot. Jeongguk would like to disclose that the voice Taehyung was using as we speak is definitely not the same as the voice of the interviewer.

“Ah yes, hyungnim has been such a good long-time friend of mine. Although our lines of work are different and far from each other really, we try to help each other a lot. Hyung helps me a lot more than I do for him, really.” Taehyung then mimics Jungkook’s voice (again, not what he sounded like when he answered that. Jungkook easily pokes the older’s tummy as they lay down on the sofa, the older’s head on his lap, arms holding up the magazine to his face, offering his abdomen open for Jeongguk’s attacks.

“Stop it, you don’t even know if it was a written interview.” Jungkook huffs.

“It was not. You don’t have the energy to write long answers like this.” Taehyung knows him well.

“Yes it is. Maybe I was not the one typing then.”

“You hired a transcriber? Such a celebrity. Can I hire them instead?”

⍠⍠

Taehyung and Jeongguk met when Taehyung was in the middle of divorcing his now ex-wife Choi Hyeong-wa. Jeongguk learned of Taehyung’s personal struggles after a few months of being friends, and when he found out, the divorce has already settled. He did not pry although he badly wants to. After all, he’s a friend of Taehyung before anything else. He offered support to Taehyung and anything that he asks without being a hindrance to the other’s daily errands and packed schedule.

Jeongguk never met Hyeong-wa, but based on Taehyung’s stories she was not a bad person.

“Isn’t the divorce extreme, though?” Jeongguk asked over a cup of tea and soft pastries in his home where he invited Taehyung over.

“We were already off for a few months now. We just figured out we stop trying to force ourselves together just because we have Hyeon-goo. It’s not fair to us and to the child, you know? I do not want her asking me one day if you love someone for the sake of other people and not for your own sake. I want her to find someone and be true to herself and that person. Am I making sense?” Taehyung explains in one go, looking at Jeongguk after he was done only to see the younger try to hold his cup with his teeth.

“I’m listening. Many senses, hyung.” Jeongguk quickly replies.

That night Taehyung goes home with a full stomach and a full heart. Jeongguk sends him off with a genuine kiss to his cheeks. One that could be interpreted as a friendly one or as a “I’ll wait for you.” one.

And did Jeongguk wait for him. The divorce took half a year, and the other half for the father and daughter to settle down in a house that is now only meant for two (and a half for Jeongguk who stays over some times). They did not automatically date right after the divorce. They were still the same as before, although if you ask from an outside point of view, they were more drawn to each other, almost as if they lost the barrier (read: marriage that involves Taehyung) between them. The touches were still subtle, but the glances were not. What is not subtle is the more frequent staying over one’s apartment. Sometimes Taehyung brings Hyeon-goo over to Jeongguk for the two’s play date. Articles have resurfaced and the photos of Taehyung waddling with Hyeon-goo around Jeongguk’s apartment area have surfaced the internet and people have been wondering who the child might be and her relationship with the author.

Hyeon-goo has already raided Jeongguk’s bedroom and apparently has fallen asleep on the navy blue sheets and soft comforter, cradling her ‘baby’ named Precious. The elderlies have retreated into the sofa, as it seems like the time is appropriate to bring out the bottles of beers and soju and some chips Jeongguk has in his cupboard.

“The baby is sleeping.” Taehyung sing-songs, plopping down beside Jeongguk where the two have settled to sit on the floor with their backs on the sofa.

“I’m not sleeping.” Jeongguk raises his head from where he has his eyes closed and looks at Taehyung. “Are you the baby?” Taehyung asks, face contorting has he opens two bottles. “Am I your baby?” Jeongguk retorts. Taehyung doesn’t respond. He just hums and drops a soft kiss on Jeongguk’s high cheek bones where a dust of highlighter would look as pretty as him. The two cleans up before drifting the bedroom where Taehyung’s daughter has been resting for the past hour and insists that they transfer to the spare room so the other can rest before his schedule the next day. The three ended up sprawled on the bed after a brief bickering on who will sleep where, Hyeon-goo peacefully asleep in between them, under one thick duvet protecting them from the cold. Taehyung has always protected Hyeon-goo from the public as he was a public figure himself. His baby is cute and that is a fact. However, he has always refused to let the public know of his personal affairs including his recent divorce and his baby. “Hyeon-goo, wakey wakey, mama is picking you up.” Taehyung tickles her baby in hopes to wake her up in a good mood. “What time is she coming again?” Jeongguk asks as he prepares their breakfast and Taehyung settles the sleepy baby on her high chair. “Two hours more don’t worry.” Jeongguk has only met Hyeon-goo’s mother a handful of times and almost all of them consist of when she picks Goo up. However, today is the first time she rings the doorbell to Jeongguk’s home to pick the baby up for their bonding time per week. “She kept on asking if we moved recently because I gave her a different address. Took a long time to convince her to just come. She asks too many questions.” Taehyung retells the encounter. Hyeon-goo was over at her mom’s for 3 days and two nights, to which Taehyung and Jeongguk have carefully planned out their weekend date. The date includes a stay in, a laptop and their phones open to research on a possible family get away. The couple plans for a mini vacation (the sole reason why Jeongguk asked for a break and so did Taehyung minus the grand announcement that was broadcasted on national television during the night time and day time news the following morning of the announcement), which includes Hyeon-goo so the two have been spending their first free afternoon together scrolling through numerous pages that can accommodate their little family. (Jungkook’s heart does NOT clench when he calls them a little family.) (Jungkook loves their little family) “You think Hyeon-goo would not be scared of the large windmills, no?” Jungkook asks as he reads reviews of the tourist spot by the beach. “I don’t think so. The wind must scare her, though. Let’s just let her run around the area where the wind is not too strong if there is.” By the time they have retreated back and forth to get snacks (nobody mentions the lazy hands roaming around each other’s body), they have a flight booked for the three of them, a large hotel room, and a whole two weeks planned away in a foreign island with Hyeon-goo. The next day, the two packs for their trip. Their plane leaves in four days and “I still don’t have a good ass sun block, Jeongguk. Sunblock. It’s important”, so the two makes a run to the nearby mall to do a quick shopping of things they would need. Jeongguk feels they have been spotted if the not so subtle phones slightly pointed at them are any indications but he pays no mind. He was not holding Taehyung’s hand when they are in public. The two have already had this practice of what they are once they step foot outside of their door. Taehyung finally has his sunblock, and gets Jeongguk a new swim short without the other man’s knowledge. Goo also gets a new pair of cute swim wear and sun protector stuff for babies for when they run around on the beach.

⍠⍠

During one of Jeongguk’s filming at the States, Taehyung followed suit for a scheduled book signing in the same state.

The two attended their respective schedules and gets a week off for their own personal rest schedule during their work.

Taehyung comes back to Korea without Jeongguk being physically there to drag him through as the latter still has two more weeks of promotion for his new EP he put out.

Taehyung also comes back as a married man.

⍠⍠

[ARTICLE] KOREABOO: See photos of Jeon Jeongguk on vacation, holding a baby! [ARTICLE] NAVER: Jeon Jeongguk and Kim Taehyung spotted during vacation with unnamed baby. [ARTICLE] SOOMPI: In photos: Jeon Jeongguk on vacation; see what the Idol is up to overseas. [+913, -130] What are these people doing? He clearly said vacation! His personal time and you are all out here taking photos of him and his friend and a baby(?). You all don’t know respect. [+313, -1301] As we speak they are currently getting a hold of information during this trip. How reckless of the two adults to bring an innocent child into this. [+3130, -942] Do not spread around the information going around the internet. Heartless people spreading the information of the child? If Jungkook and Taehyung chose to be silent about this it’s their choice, if they do release statements, it’s also their choice. Stop spreading information about their vacation. See more posts I ship them both! Just imagine their little family omg kkk Jungkookie holding his first born with his husband on the beach is canon. Delusional people, they clearly stated they are friends! Also leave the child out of this.

“Yeah, I’ve seen. No we’re okay, hyung. We’re being recognized but we’re safe.” Jeongguk speaks into his phone.

The little family has retreated to their hotel room with minimal assistance from hotel personnel as there have been journalists (“they’re paps, Tae.”) who have been trying to get a hold of the two (and the child).

“I’ll speak with Tae, our concern is Hyeonie. Thank you, hyung. Let me know, we’ll talk also.” He replies.

Taehyung had just bathed Hyeon-goo and is currently lurring her to get her afternoon nap after a short shower, which will be successful within five minutes of the two adults cease all noise and provide silence for the child. The two had already sat on the sofa just outside the room where Hyeon-goo was sleeping peacefully, ready to speak on the issue. They had known before even stepping foot on the plane that this may happen. They just had to trust that people would actually respect but no. “Worst case scenario, hyung said, is we release a statement.” Jeongguk explains. “I’m fine with telling them about us, but I’m not sure about Hyeon-goo.” Taehyung sighs. “Although it’s already too late for that.” Taehyung recalls reading through the articles with Jeongguk on the information they have gathered (they knew Hyeonie’s name!!! What the fuck!!!). That evening, the two have concluded to just order room service for dinner as they await for the statement being drafted from their agencies, waiting for the go signal from the two parties involved. They could not let this ruin their vacation. Although the two have been secretly reading through the internet’s reaction and theories on their own phones. “Are you reading more, Jeonggukkie?” Taehyung teases. “No? You are.” Jeongguk huffs, eyes not leaving the certain tweet he was reading. How come we did not know that Jeongguk has a child and married? the tweet says (no Jeongguk does not stalk but) which have already garnered thousands of interactions and reactions. The certain tweet also attached the photos from vacation. One photo which has Jeongguk fondly carrying Hyeonie, and the other one has the little family playing with each other but what sends the people buzzing was the not so subtle closeness of Taehyung and Jeongguk and the fact that Jeongguk was nuzzling his nose to Taehyung’s ear and Hyeonie was caught mid-giggle.

Actor Jeon Jeongguk and Author Kim Taehyung are actually, in fact, married and has a daughter. Another win for the gays. We all knew they were more than friends but the way this all played out… pretends to be shocked…. Jokes and memes aside can we all acknowledge the fact this is so brave of them? We support u taeguk <3

The discussion on the internet goes on as more people express the same thought: How the A-lister managed to hide the fact that he is in fact, married and has a child.

There have been tweets going around trying to put a stop on the spreading of the photos courtesy of some fans of the two, although it will be a little too late for that.

Jeongguk had been laying his whole body on the sofa and Taehyung plops down on his times, using them as a cushion as they continue to read through tweets and articles.

The next morning, the statement that will be released by Jeongguk’s agency have already been approved by Taehyung and Jeongguk themselves, and the two are also planning to release small additional comments on their own through their respective platforms, by the afternoon that the little family has returned on their little adventure and vacation (plan: bring Hyeon-goo to the amusement park), the statement has already been released in local time.

“Taehyung! Tae, wear this.” Jeongguk secures the unicorn headband on Taehyung’s head, matching the ones Hyeonie and he were wearing.

“We’re like the colorful horse, daddy!” Hyeon-goo exclaims, wiggling around the unicorn horn(?) on Taehyung’s headband.

“It’s unicorn, baby.” Taehyung corrects gently.

“Dada, let’s go, cotton candy, please?” Hyeonie turns to Jeongguk and the latter makes a big gesture as not being able to see the cotton candy stands a few steps from where they have been standing.

“Say I love you or no candy.” Taehyung teases the child.

“I love you.” Jeongguk says instead and after securing Hyeonie on one arm, grabs Taehyung’s waist with the other to pull him closer and kiss him.

“Love you too but no candy for you.” Taehyung replies, appeasing the older.

“Love you daddy.” Hyeonie grabs her daddy and also gives him a kiss, copying Jeongguk. “Love you more baby.” He carries her, supporting her light weight on his arms.

⍠⍠

Hello, this is Jeon Jeongguk of Ganghan Entertainment.

In light of the recent events and the circulating issue which involves me and two important people in my life, we have decided to proudly announce that I am indeed married to Kim Taehyung, the love of my life. Together we have carefully built our family and protected our love together in order to give our daughter Kim Hyeon-goo a prosperous but private life.

With this and with respect to the previous statement released by my company, and in respect to Kim Taehyung and his party, we wish to ask you to respect our family and as we go on and live our private life. We also ask for your respect and understanding should you encounter us on the remaining days of our vacation as we create memories as a family.

We appreciate your never-ending support and we love you in all forms.

Thank you.

Guk, Tae & Goo.

[end]

[See all works here]

#goldenclosetnetwork #bangtanhq #armysource #kgfxnet #vhopenet #taekook au #dtgloss 4 #taekook #vkook #kookv #bts fic #bts au #bts fanfic #fanfic #bangtan #dtgloss 6 #rkivepacks aus

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sergeanttpoliteness · 6 years ago

Text

➹embroidered hearts➹(ps4 peter parker x reader)

Requested by anon➝ hi! idk if you’re taking requests right now, but if you are, do you think you could write something for ps4 peter parker? maybe like a friends to lovers thing. thanks!

You just... really liked to disappear, huh? To vanish, slip from his fingers. Except that this time Peter found you, caught you before you left once again, which may have just been exactly what you needed.

word count: 2.7k

a/n: holy wowowow, this isn’t a false alarm, y’all-- i actually posted! i’m sososo happy i finally did, and i’m really sorry about how long it took me to do so. school drained all my motivation but exams just finished this friday so i decided to get this done once and for all. i’m shocked that i finally liked something i wrote this month, it’s progress (’: anyway, here’s something for 1 pretty boy whom i love very much, i hope the nonnie who requested it likes it! (: also i had a terrible allergy while editing this so if there are any mistakes pls know that it’s hard to write while sneezing every five seconds. hope this week is great for you bc u deserve it, ok, ily that’s it adios (last thing lol, expect some noir stuff next and that beter sequel eye emoji)

Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes since you told him you were going to the bathroom with a wavering smile, and you were nowhere to be seen. Peter set his empty glass of water on the table for the third time— God, he experienced a déjà vu that left him stumped and everything, and as he watched the crystal liquid stream from the pitcher, he could also sense his bladder protesting against all the suffering he kept putting it through. Nonetheless, he simply thanked the waiter for the refill, or else he was sure that if he didn’t continue drowning himself, the disquiet abounding in his system as a result of your unknown whereabouts would strangle him with its unnerving claws. Perhaps the entrance dish bombarded your stomach (if so, then he hoped you were alright), or the toilet devoured you and swallowed you down the drain. Two-year-old him never trusted the porcelain seat, after all (it... was an actual fear of his, actually). However, past all those justifications and silly fears, he knew something wasn’t right, for there existed no chance you’d simply vanish just like that after the anxiety for tonight nearly eroding you alive, and you wouldn’t surrender an opportunity for a promotion... right?

He scanned the party room, through the many dresses and tuxedos either standing by still or swaying together, awkwardness raining over and staining his skin when he recalled he was the last remaining person in the table after everyone else retired to chat with other fancy people. He surely didn’t fit in that category, neither was he acquainted with anyone — he wasn’t even invited, for crying out loud, rather you were the reason for his attendance; still, you weren’t there. He considered possibly checking the bathroom to make sure you seriously hadn’t died, because you weren’t answering any of his calls and... oh, no.

Your boss walked on stage and tapped the microphone, a muffled thud reverberating through the speakers. “Good evening, everyone! I’m glad the night’s been such a lovely one, I hope you’re all having a great time.” The man — Peter couldn’t remember his name, honestly — spoke, a charismatic grin that paraded his astonishing dental care on his face. Though no alluring smile impeded Peter from panicking further or his limbs from driving him out of his chair and into the tight space in between a cluster of intimidating guests, looking identical to a little kid who couldn’t find his parents at the supermarket.

“Where are you, Y/N?” He muttered to himself, a question he’d reiterated in his head far too often for the past seven months. A haze of amazement and disbelief encompassed his brain when you called him to ask to come as his date— all he could do was blink, his throat clogged up and his heart so unbelieving as if you died and had risen from your tomb, but you might as well have and he wouldn’t have even known, because it’s what it seemed following such a tediously long time of dead silence, of not seeing that lopsided grin of yours, of nothing. It should’ve pushed him away, if anything, although how could it? How could his stunned little heart let you go after you’d embroidered yourself into it, sewn the threads, a perennial string that led back to you, the first day you met? And yet you still gripped it closely, unwilling to detach as he desperately dialed your number again, his stomach diving faster down to the Earth’s core whilst your boss’ speech went on and a high-pitched beep rang in his ear. ‘The person you have called is unavailable right now...’ Not a good sign. No, most definitely not.

“However, I’d like to invite on stage a person who we appreciate greatly in the company,” ‘The person you have called is un—’ Peter hung up, over that goddamn message that always appears to torment him, and grimaced as your boss studied the crowd with proud eyes. “Please, a big round of applause for Y/N Y/L/N!”

The room exploded with sophisticated cheering, but it declined gracelessly, the clapping stuttering, fully ceasing when the moments dragged on and no one entered the spotlight. The leader squinted, visibly distressed, brows perplexed as he leaned closer to the lady beside him. “Y/N... did make it tonight, correct?” He whispered too loudly, gossip escalating in the audience. Peter bit his lip, stepping back closer to the exit door until a rough hand clutched his sleeve.

“Hey, you’re Y/L/N’s boyfriend, right?” An older man with fuming blue eyes and a bald spot questioned, spit flying but thankfully not anywhere near Peter who sputtered, chest warming up when his tongue failed him, became tangled in his mouth.

“Wha... n-no, we’re just friends—”

“I don’t care. Listen, if that idiot is not here right now then I’m gonna be in deep shit.”

Peter’s brows furrowed with anger, “Hey, shut up, man— Y/N’s not an idiot.” He snapped, but the guy barely flinched and rolled his eyes as he let go of the taller young man.

“Just do something!” He hissed, equally as bitter and prodding his chest before disappearing into the crowd.

Peter opened the double doors and sped down the hallway straight to the bathrooms with a sour mood; however, before he knocked, a figure outside the window captivated him and calmed his hammering heartbeat. It... couldn’t be you. Why would you be out there? He surveyed the area, and when he saw no sign of another person or any security cameras, he unfastened the window’s lock and slid it open.

Could he have gone outside like a normal human being? Yeah, sure, except that— first — where’s the fun in that, and second, he didn’t want to walk all the way to the other side of the building— it was an emergency, or at least that’s the excuse he’d use if anyone caught him as he landed softly on the grass. It was indeed you, he realized, sat on a bench, observing nothing in particular unless the building under construction across the street held any trace of beauty in your eyes. He stopped a few feet away from you, mouth twitching. “Is this seat taken?”

You almost jumped into space and out of orbit, your neck whipping around, large frightened eyes gradually lightening when they took him in. There it was. That lopsided grin, unchanging from when you were a sophomore in college apart from the darker under eye circles. And there was his own shy smile, too, accompanied by the blush that stained his face, like red wine spilled over a tablecloth. “Yes, actually, by my imaginary friend Pedro.” You patted the area beside you, on the supposed Pedro’s knee, and he sneaked his hands inside his blazer’s pockets, feigning disapproval.

“You exchanged me for a Pedro?”

“He’s a nice guy.” You giggled as he sat down next to you, your stare fixed on your lap. “Let me guess: I messed up the night and that’s why you’re looking for me.” You said, playfulness faltering and insecurity peeking its head in, and he noticed how it sculpted your expression and body language with its discouragement.

“Not exactly, no. I was still going to look for you, but a jerk who called you an idiot really needed me to do so.” He grumbled, irritation returning as a combo along with remembrance of the incident. You didn’t reach, though; you solely raised your eyebrows, unruffled, your friend more afflicted albeit he wasn’t the one who was called an idiot.

“A short guy that kinda looks like an odd mix between John Stamos and Danny Devito?” You queried. Peter rebuilt the man’s appearance in his head, and you had to laugh at his raw shock when he recognized the accuracy of your comparison. He... really did look like that, seriously, it’s the most bizarre combination you could think of. “Yeah, that’s Jonathan. We’re not exactly best pals.”

“I kinda figured that out, Stavito didn’t look so happy.” A smile flourished on his countenance as quickly as a match is set alight after you cackled, your hand flying up to your mouth to mute your laughter.

“Stavito? Man, now he’s gonna hate me even more because I’m never gonna stop using that one.” You shook your head, rubbing your crinkled eyes. He hummed, loosening his tie, wearing a crooked grin that you fathomed meant incoming pain for you—

“He’s gonna stab-ito you!”

Jesus Christ. You let out a drawn-out breath and picked up your legs, expression similar to a parent seeing their kid’s report card. “I hate you. This friendship’s on hold until further notice.”

“It was a great pun!”

“Was not.” You objected, although both of your bodies shook with hilarity. He looked at you, the moon painting silver strokes on your tranquil frame, the delight in him for just being by your side too much that his stare lingered; though not for long, for your attention strayed up to him and his eyes immediately shifted down to his hands, his leg restless, bustling.

“Why are you out here? We could’ve left if that’s what you wanted.” He said, brows knitted. You changed to a cross-legged position, rolling your lips.

“I originally was just going to take a five-minute stroll, but once I sat down here, I just couldn’t go back inside.” You confessed, shrugging. Gloom reemerged, drooping the corners of your lips, striking a spike of ice in your gut— the frost trickled up and down your body, goosebumps of sorrow growing over your skin. “I’m sorry I’m such a terrible friend. Jonathan’s right: I am an idiot.” You whispered.

He held in his breath, blank on what to say. “Why would you think that?”

You snorted, expression unamused. “They’re facts, Pete. Good friends don’t just… fall off the face of Earth without a warning.”

“I’m… sure you had your reasons.”

“They weren’t good reasons, though. I should’ve at least told you something. But I bet it was nice to get a break from me, huh?” You joked, hurt and self-doubt seeping through your voice.

He frowned, immediately denying with his head. “Why would I want to get a break from you? Y/N, we don’t even get to see each other that much. If anything, I…” He halted, gulping. “I-I want to see you more.” He admitted quietly.

Your bewilderment was dim but still present as you ran your hand up and down your arm. “You’re dumb. You could spend your time with people who are actually great but you want to spend it with me.”

“Yeah, well, if I am dumb so what? I still wouldn’t change my mind.” He argued, a line in between his brows. You sighed, sliding down the metal seat, your eyes shut as you tilted your head back.

“Peter, stop, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I do, though. I mean, yeah, it… it hurt a bit,” Peter raised one shoulder, aware that it hurt more than just ‘a bit’. “I thought you decided to break contact, but it’s okay, really.”

“Give yourself some love, it’s not okay that I hurt you like that.” You momentarily put your hand on his, repentance etched on your features. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“We’re talking again, though, that’s all that matters.” He brushed you off, raising up to his feet. The guilt still held you, played with you like a doll, but the reassuring quirk of the corner of his mouth somewhat relieved it. “We should go back inside, don’t want you catching a cold or Stavito getting fired.”

“He’s not gonna get fired, he’s just way too over dramatic.” You grunted, showing your clear distaste for the John Stamos and Danny Devito love child. Peter lent out his hand but you blinked at it, chuckling uncomfortably. “Don’t you rather stay out a bit more? The sky looks great tonight— I can see a few more stars than usual.” You pointed at the dark blanket of nebulae and astral bodies. He glanced up, close to dropping to the ground to inspect the night sky until he heard the stifled music from the party.

“We can stargaze once the event’s over.” He promised, gesturing with his head to the building. It was then when he distinguished the dread in your eyes.

“...Are you sure you don’t want to do it now? What if it gets too cloudy?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Is everything alright? Why don’t you want to go back in there?”

You tried to utter another excuse, but you couldn’t. The ire at yourself made your hands tremble, set your mouth in a hard line as you were incapable of looking right at him, the humiliation far too much.

“I hate my job.”

Peter sat back down, staring at you, his expression sad. “You know, I spent the entirety of high school and started college with this idea of what I wanted my future to be like. But now that I did it, now that I’m actually there, I’m so… bored with everything. I don’t know what to do. Like, what am I supposed to do now? Go to work and what else? Because if that’s all there is to my life, I don’t know why I should even bother with it.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Peter what am I doing?” You scoffed, scowling. “Look at me: what the hell am I bringing to the world? You’ve got FEAST, and just got that job with Otto Octavius— you’re… so amazing and will do so many great things. The world needs you. I need you. We all do.” You mumbled, voice breaking.

His sight gravitated down to your lonely hand that rested so near to his, that had the string running from his heart encircled around its ring finger, beckoning him closer. His fingers reached out slowly, hesitantly, with great fear. But he wound up grazing your hand, and then he fully wrapped his own around it— around the artist that sewed a handiwork of untouchable adoration into him. “But what if I...” He began, struggling to come clean. “What if I...” He saw your anticipating gaze.

“I need you, too.” He whispered.

Your view averted down to your linked hands and then up at the boy unknowing that he, just like you had to him, had tailored a piece of himself in you long ago. You hugged him. Crumbled, snuggled deep into him, allowing yourself to accept that hand reaching out to you, to surrender to comfort. He hugged you back with as much gentleness and warmth, his chin on top of your head. “You should give yourself some love, too.” He murmured and you let out air through your nose, agreeing with him. “You’ll find your way because you’re incredible, alright? I just wish you could see that.”

Seven months weren’t eons, Peter acknowledged, but perhaps they could be; perhaps they were enough to view everything differently, past that veil that cloaked his eyes, past the doubt and uncertainty, because there was something distinctive in your familiar smile when you pulled away. Something unusual as you sat straight, your eyes drifting sideways to him. “I guess we can help each other with that self-love thing.” You suggested.

He got the hint in your voice, and all of a sudden, he figured out what that something was; but he didn’t want to accept the truth that crashed against him when he realized that it wasn’t new. No, it’d been there all along.

He could try to believe.

“Maybe we could, uh, we could go out for dinner some… some time. Get started with some good food, y’know…” His tone was quiet and he couldn’t have resembled better a nervous teenage boy asking his crush to dance on prom night as he wrinkled his nose in embarrassment.

You faked a cynical expression, despite already knowing the answer in your soul. “Some time?”

“Or never, if that’s what you prefer.” He laughed tensely, his eyes growing wide when he turned his head and cursed at himself internally. You smiled to yourself, moving a strand of hair out of your face.

“How about tonight?”

“Tonight? Like…” He checked his wristband, only to remember it wasn’t a watch. “...tonight? What about the event—”

“Forget the event,” You stood up, and now you were the one stretching out your hand to him. “C’mon, let’s look for some restaurants because why not, am I right?”

Peter clutched your hand, the contentment a welcomed compensation for all those months of not seeing you.

“Yeah, why not?”

#ps4 peter parker x reader #spider man ps4 x reader #spider man ps4 #insomniac spider-man #peter parker x reader #ps4 peter parker one shot #ps4 peter parker imagine #fem!reader #male!reader #gender neutral

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ariadoesntwrite · 5 years ago

Text

The (he)art of Craft | e.k. x reader

Words: 2173

Boys are clueless.

I know this, but for some reason I keep forgetting.

I crossed my arms in front of myself to rest them as Elmer leaped onto his bed like a flying squirrel. "When you asked me if I wanted to 'hang out with you (and the guys)', this isn't exactly what I was envisioning."

Elmer looked over at me as he scrambled to sit up, blinking in confusion. "Why? What did you have in mind?"

In all honesty, shirtless basketball in the park.

"I don't know." I shook my head and sat on the bed beside him.

I watched Elmer boot up the server, staring at the screen with barely concealed excitement. Four users were already online.

This is not exactly my idea of a hot date. Then again, maybe it's my fault for reading into things. On the other hand, I mean really, what usually comes to mind immediately when a really cute boy asks you if you want to 'hang out'?

See, that's what I thought!

You know what, though? All things considered, it could be worse. He could've asked me to play Wii Sports Bowling with him. It's supposed to be so easy the folks in nursing homes love it, right? Well apparently ole gram-grams has more virtual athletic ability in her pinky finger than I do in my entire body.

Elmer scooted closer to me and pulled out headphones, flipping the earpieces outwards so we could share the same set.

I watched as the screen started spazzing out. "Is that..." I trailed off, pointing at the screen and not sure how to put my thoughts into words as I held my part of the headphones up to my ear.

Elmer quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah, it's usual for this section. The reason it's so glitchy is because someone spawned way too many ocelot assets."

"Hey guys, Elmer has a girl ov—" Romeo started to say, but he was cut off by somebody who was way louder.

"You can never have too many ocelots!" A distinctive, high-pitched but still decidedly male voice exclaimed through the headset.

"The queen of the felines has spoken." Elmer rolled his eyes and smiled as his avatar started jerkily walking towards a large light blue and white building that touched the sky. "This is Racetrack's cat castle—"

"A cat-stle, if you will." Racetrack interrupted.

"I will not." Albert shot back.

Racetrack cleared his throat and adopted a 'tour guide' voice. "Business hours are from 9:00pm to 5:00am, or for the low low price of three diamonds you can get an all-access pass."

"Good grief." Albert muttered under his breath.

"Killing one of my sweet, adorable, cuddly babies— I mean, very loyal subjects— results in an immediate ban for life." Racetrack continued, undeterred. "Donations of precious gemstones and fish, cooked or raw, are always appreciated."

"Yeah, good luck with that." Romeo replied with a small snort.

"I'll come tour your catstle, Race!" Crutchie said cheerily.

"Finally, some proper respect around here."

I gave Elmer the side-eye. "Why isn't it pink?"

"Pink? You think I would use pink?" Racetrack asked with an air of disdain, scoffing. "Please. Pink is a strong, masculine color, fit only for the he-est of men. My graceful feminine eyes can only bear the lightest, most delicate shades of blue, as is befitting a most proper young lady such as myself."

Elmer made eye contact with me and shrugged.

"Also, pink is Romeo's color." Racetrack mumbled with a defeated tone.

Romeo let out a triumphant laugh. "Ya snooze ya lose, loser!"

Alerts in all caps popped up on the screen as three more usernames joined.

Elmer nudged me with his shoulder to get my attention. I tried and failed not to blush. "And to our left, we have Henry's trailer park. In Minecraft, imagination is the only limit, and Henry decided to build a trailer park. Why, I have no idea."

"Because heck you, that's why!" Henry said, but there was no bite in his tone.

"Watch your ****ing language on my good Christian Minecraft server!" Crutchie yelled.

The random conversations going on between others in the background went silent.

"oh no." Crutchie said really quietly, but we could all hear it due to the aforementioned radio silence.

Jojo started muttering The Lord's Prayer to himself.

Somebody let out a very loud snort.

"Gross!" Albert shrieked. "Say it, don't spray it!"

"Kiss my butt!" Racetrack shot back.

There was some fuzzy noise, like somebody dropped their headset on the ground and they were wrestling with each other now.

Jack sighed. "Hey, if y'all are gonna hate-boink, can you please mute your channels please and thank you!"

"Shut up!" Racetrack and Albert shouted at the same time.

Jack cackled like a maniac to himself.

"Okay, you know what?" Albert asked, clearly annoyed. "Keep it up, but I'm gonna tell Katherine all about your little problem with–"

Elmer gasped and pulled his earpiece away from his head. He quickly crossed himself before returning to listening in on the conversation.

"No!" Jack protested as Albert proceeded to spill some very personal information. "You wouldn't!"

"—Don't test me." Albert finished.

"I did not need to know that." Jojo said, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Ditto." Henry murmured in agreement.

A notification popped up on the screen alerting everybody that Buttons was online and had joined the server, bringing the total up to eight. "Hey, guys! Know what?" He asked, innocently.

"That the unflappable Jack Kelly apparently has a raging butt rash." Romeo answered matter-of-factory.

Buttons seemed at a loss for words. "...Oh." he said, finally.

"I'm dealing with it, okay?" Jack asked, annoyed. "I have cream and I'm taking oatmeal baths—"

"TMI, bro." Albert interrupted.

"You started it!" Jack exclaimed, exasperatedly.

"Your mom started it!" Albert retorted. The height of maturity, that one.

"My mom is dead!"

"Oh yeah? So's mine, you ain't special!" Albert said breezily.

A chorus of 'So is mine' rang through the airspace.

"Okay, well that's depressing." Buttons commented. "Who wants to duel?"

"Ooh, pick me! I'm always a ho for dying!" Racetrack yelled enthusiastically.

"Race, are you okay?" Crutchie asked, concerned.

There was no response for a few seconds, and then I heard the sound of somebody facepalming.

"Race, you're an idiot." Albert said flatly.

"Oh, wait a second."

Elmer adjusted his grip on the headset. "What'd he do?"

Albert sighed. "He shot finger guns at the screen."

"Woooowww." Jojo said, totally done.

"You're just jealous." Race clicked his tongue.

Jojo scoffed. "Why would I be jealous of an evil leprechaun? Oh wait, no, that's Albert."

"Hey!"

I elbowed Elmer. "Are they always like this?"

Elmer nodded. "Constantly."

"Uh, guys? Anyone else's game bugging out?" Jack asked. "Oh wait never mind, I just wandered a little too close to the crazy cat lady's cottage."

Racetrack huffed. "Heck you, butt rash boy."

Jojo let out a mock offended gasp. "Such language!"

"Frick you, HoHo."

Jojo gasped again. "Frick you!"

"That's gay." Racetrack said, snickering.

"You're gay!" Jojo replied.

"So what if I am?! Gay means happy, and I'm the happiest person I know! So there!" Racetrack punctuated his sentence with a somewhat audible 'blep'.

Elmer fake-coughed and raised his voice loud enough to cover Jojo and Racetrack's 'argument'. “To our right is Mush's giant flower garden." He did a slow pan of the colorful, pixelated blooms.

I leaned forward to examine them. It was quite impressive, if only from the sheer numbers of mass collection.

"Dare you to steal one, Elmer." Romeo piped up.

Elmer shook his head vehemently. "Heck no, unlike most of you, I actually value my life."

"Lives having value?" Albert scoffed.

"In this economy?" Racetrack finished for him.

"Now we're coming up on Romeo's super tacky building." Elmer leaned back against the wall as a large, misshapen, pink, vaguely-heart-shaped structure came into view.

"Look, I had a plan originally, but math and grids are hard." Romeo explained.

Racetrack let out a derisive scoff. "Grids are literally the easiest thing, you wannabe fashion icon."

Romeo blew a raspberry.

"Your mom is literally the easiest thing." Albert commented.

I could practically hear Racetrack's smirk from here. "You know, what I'm gathering from all the 'your mom' jokes is, you just really wanna be my daddy."

Somebody started making vey exaggerated gagging noises.

"Uh, pass." Albert muttered under his breath.

"You coughing up a hairball over there or something, Jojo?" Henry asked.

Jojo ceased his gagging. "No, I'm good."

"I bet Race has rabies." Buttons quipped.

"Don't be ridiculous, Race doesn't have rabies!" Crutchie protested. "I had him tested and everything."

"Interesting." I murmured under my breath.

"This is my house!" Elmer announced with a large grin, completely oblivious. "It's one of those tiny houses!"

"That's a very pretentious way of saying 'dirt hut starter home'." Crutchie teased.

"Wow, that's so funny I forgot to laugh." Elmer shot back. "No, it's like one of those minimalist houses that used to be all the rage, but in Minecraft! See?" He gestured at the small building on the screen, eyes sparkling.

I smiled back, his energy practically contagious. "It's very cute." Just like its builder, is what I did not say to him.

"And fully functional!" Elmer opened the door and started pointing out various features. "In the floor is a crafting table and a bed, to the side we have a furnace and a double-wide chest—"

"Your mom has a double-wide chest!" Racetrack exclaimed gleefully before erupting into laughter.

Elmer snapped his mouth shut with an unamused look on his face.

"Dang you Race, I was about to say that." Albert said, almost whining.

Elmer let out a sigh and moved his avatar to the back of the house. "And here's a small vegetable garden."

"Po Tay Toes!" Albert exclaimed, immediately perking back up.

"Boil 'em, mash 'em, stick 'em in a stew!" Jack added. The first thing he's said in a while, now that I think about it.

"You Irish people scare me." Racetrack commented.

"You're part Irish." Albert said flatly.

"Yeah, and?" Racetrack asked defensively. "I scare myself!"

"That makes two of us." Albert muttered under his breath.

I stole a glance towards Elmer, who was engrossed in harvesting his virtual vegetables. I can't say I understand how or why people invest so much time in this kind of stuff, but at least it makes him happy.

It'd be nice if I could do that.

I don't know what I'm doing, but if I don't ask then I'll spend years replaying this day over and over in my head at 2:00a.m. in the morning overanalyzing every single little detail. Here goes nothing.

I smiled teasingly and nudged Elmer with my elbow, gently. “So, do you invite all the girls out to watch you play Minecraft or am I just special?"

"Say what now?" Elmer looked over at me suddenly, blinking as if he was coming out of a trance as his eyes re-adjusted to the real world.

Uh-oh.

"This is a date?"

"This isn't a date?" We both asked in unison.

There was an awkward silence for about ten seconds, which was then broken by the sound of loud crunching over the headset.

"Henry!" About five or six voices exclaimed.

"What?" Henry asked defensively. "This is entertaining, thus, snacks are a must! Can y'all blame me?"

"Elmer," Racetrack sighed, "when you ask a girl to quote, 'hang out', unquote, that's code for a date. Just like Netflix and Chill is—"

"Stop! Don't ruin his innocence!" Buttons interrupted.

"I'm just saying, he's not gonna get very far if he doesn't know—"

Elmer pulled the headset down and placed it on the bed between us, hitting mute at the same time. "Look, this didn't go the way I planned, 'cause I was gonna ask you out for real, but then I panicked, so no wonder you've been getting mixed signals, but..."

He stared down at the floor and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "Can we just finish out today platonic and like, start fresh tomorrow? And I promise, if it's what you want, I will ask you on a real, proper date then."

I grinned and turned back to face the screen so I wasn't staring at him and making him even more uncomfortable. "Sounds good to me."

"Cool." Elmer returned the grin and did two thumbs up at me, shoulders scrunched up, then picked the headset back up and held it up to his ear.

I leaned in to unmute it and was greeted with a cacophony of all the boys arguing with each other over what exactly was happening on our end.

I hesitantly reached over to place my arm around Elmer's shoulders. "Do you mind if... is this okay?"

Elmer beamed from ear to ear and leaned into my touch. "Yeah."

"What's going on?" Romeo asked loudly, effectively putting a damper on the moment. "I need visuals!"

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antman-56 · 5 years ago

Text

The Long Night Pt. 9

Qrow and Raven had finally arrived at the Troy district. To cover more ground they decided to split up. If they found Butch then they would message the other and then attack.

Raven was by herself and didn't like the way some of the locals were looking at her. She had her guard up, just waited. If the tribe taught her anything, it was to never let your guard down in unknown land.

"Hey sweet thing why not come over here. I'm lonely."

She turned around to see three guys. All of them having matching leather jackets with a King Taijitu on the back. (//addressed as KT 1 and so)

Raven just turned around and walked away.

KT 1 : Hey i'm talking to you!

He and his two cronies ran toward her. They swarmed her, one behind her and one on each of her sides.

KT 2 : Yeah don't you know how to talk.

KT 3 : Maybe she’s a mute.

KT 1 : Well that makes things eas ...

He felt something around his neck. The last thing he saw before the darkness took him was Raven holding Omen. His head fell from his shoulders and his body fell with a thump. The two goons still around her jumped back at the sight of her with a bloody blade and their leaders head on the floor.

Raven (serious) : Where is Butch Falcone?

KT 2 pulled out a switch blade and ran at Raven.

KT 2 : You BITCH!!

Raven effortlessly cut his arm and was about to kill him. KT 2 fell to the floor holding the stump that once held his right hand. Raven raised her blade aboove him when KT 3 spoke.

KT 3 : He's at Silicone ave!! Three blocks down then a right. Big building, lights, girls, everything!!

Raven put her sword away and walked to her new destination. All the while KT 3 was picked up KT 2 and his hand and ran away.

***Elsewhere***

Qrow was not having any luck finding Butch.

He has passed by pimps, hookers, dealers and all kinds of matter of people who come out of the gutter when the sun goes down.

Hooker 1 : Hey baby, you wanna keep a lady company?

Qrow : No.

Hooker 1 : Your lose.

He continued walking when he noticed he was being followed.

Qrow purposely walked into a dead alley and when he turned around he couldn't believe who he saw.

It was the same guys who’s asses he kicked when he first met Willow.

Charles : Well, well, well, Looky what we have here, Blaine.

Blaine (thug 2 i.e. from Pt. 1) : It looks like a rematch huh, Davey.

Davey (thug 1) : Yeah, and this time we know who we’re fighting. Right Boys?

When Davey said that 10 more guys showed up right the original trio behind them.

Qrow (drawing out his weapon) : Do you really want to do this?

They didn't answer they just rushed him.

Apparently they didn't learn their lesson. Qrow got in a stance and waited with Harbinger in hand. As soon as one of them was close he brought the behemoth of a blade down on him. It split him across his chest, leaving him into two pieces.

Qrow was swinging his blade left, right, up, down, front and back. He was a red blur to them and he was not stopping.

Five minutes later Charles was the only one alive crawling away from the massacre. He saw Davey's head get split open and Blaine lose his entire arm before he died.

He only survived this long because Qrow kicked him to a trash bin, while he dealt with the other guys.

Qrow noticed him grunting and walked towards him. He grabbed his collar and dragged him back into the alley.

Charles was trying to grab the floor hoping to stop the inevitable. When he realized that was not happening he just closed his eyes waiting for his demise.

Qrow : Where can I find Butch Falcone?

Charles opened his eyes at the question to see a bloody Qrow Branwen. He could see how cold his eyes were and the glistening of Harbinger. If this was a chance for him to live, then he would take it.

Charles (grasping at straws for life) : Silicone ave. down five blocks! Big lights. "Excalibur" is the name. Ask for a girl named Candi and the password is "Blue balls" for VIP.

Qrow looked him in the eyes and saw the life drain from them when he brought Harbinger above his chest. Charles took his last breath, thinking about what could have been.

Qrow didn't necessarily liked killing, it always left a bad taste in his mouth, but found it to be a necessity. The tribe showed no mercy to it’s enemies and recruited anyone that wanted to follow them. He always tried to give his enemy an out, even when they were dangerous. To a bandit, that’s leaving problems for the future, but to him it meant something. That he was still human, that he ... could be free.

He was about to leave the scene, when he noticed the amount of blood he and Harbinger was covered in.

Qrow knew he needed to change clothes and fast otherwise his cover would be blown. He looked around and saw that some of the guys he killed still had clothes without blood stains or slash marks.

After 10 minutes of browsing what survived, he walked away with a black shirt with a red A on it, a red and black hoodie with a checker themed, and navy blue jeans.

He threw his clothes away in the nearest sewer drain and walked to his new destination, “Excalibur”.

***30 minutes later***

When Qrow was near the place he noticed Raven waiting in line.

Raven in question has been in line for a good 10 minutes and was about to get ballistic.

She had seen 4 girls skip to the front of the line just because they were wearing clothes that barley covered them. And when she was in front of the line she was sent back because the bouncer told her she was "too scary".

The line was moving slowly and sometimes if would stop for no reason.

She was trying to control her anger not really paying attention to who was around her that she didn’t notice the footsteps behind her.

Qrow : Hey what happened to sending information?

Raven jumped and was about to punch the source of the voice when it caught her fist.

Raven : God damnit! Don't do th...

She saw what Qrow was wearing something entirely different.

Raven (confused) : What happened?

Qrow : Ran into trouble and it looks like we need to blend in.

He saw how the locals dressed to enter Excalibur and he knew he was in the clear, but Raven was not.

Qrow : You need to change or your not gonna get in.

Raven groaned, but for the sake of the tribe she would swallow her ego.

Raven in general hated skimpy outfits, She believed that a woman should be judged for her intellect, not for her body. so, when anyone tried to make a move on her she outright declined them or ignore them. The only man she has ever met that saw her for her mind was the one that kept on persisting for a date. and now she was in a happy relationship with him.

Raven : Fine, but follow me.

She led Qrow to abandoned alley. She knew it was there when a she saw a couple go there and there hair was a mess. She knew she had to dress like aslut to get in, but she wanted to have some class while doing so. She started by taking off her armor and clothes and made sure Qrow was watching the only way in. She then took out Omen and started to cut into the black fabric.

She made her new dress to into a sleeveless two strap dress. She made sure cleavage was their, enough to tease but not enough to show everything. By the time she put the finishing touches the “dress” was able to complemented her figure.

She put the "dress" back on and put her armor next to the nearest trashcan. She then gave Qrow Omen because they were not gonna let them in if she had it.

When they were walking back Raven made sure to be step up to her dress. She made her walk, her posture, her face look like she owned the place.

Bouncer (excited) : Damn babe! You in!

Raven walked inside smiling that she got in.Qrow was about to enter the Bouncer put out his arm to stop him.

Bouncer : Not you.

Qrow just slowly turned to the man and glared. He slowly put his hand on Omen, getting ready to force his way in until Raven stepped in.

She walked up to the bouncer and hugged his arm, making he had a good view of her ‘assets’.

Raven (cute voice) : What seems to be the problem?

Bouncer (stuttering) : Uh ... no.. nothing miss.

Raven : Why can’t my bodyguard come in?

Bouncer : He can’t bri-

Raven (leans her face closer to his) : But I need a strong man to go inside with me.

The bounce didn’t know what to do. Raven was a few inches away from his face and her could feel her warmth of her bosom.

Raven (cute voice) : Daddy says i'm not allowed to go in alone and I needed a bodyguard. If he doesn't get in i’ll have to call daddy. (Serious cute voice) and if daddy's mad he does things that gets him unmad.

The bouncer was now sweating. He knew some of the people who went here and their was no need for him to die.

Bouncer (nervous) : Sure go on in! Hey you won't tell her dad will you?

Qrow just gave him the cold shoulder.

When the bouncer closed the door. The twins turned to look at each other and smiled.

This was the fun part.

#qrow branwen #raven branwen #long night part 9 #rwby au #rwby

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glitchinthesystemspiderbyte · 7 years ago

Text

[37] Glitch in the System - Lost & Found

By K.

Tentacles happen. _ Despite its reputation as the world’s foremost authority on unpredictable acts of insurrection, day-to-day life for even the most elite of Talon’s operatives was shockingly mundane given its organizational ethos. While the events which bookended individual deployments were suitably chaotic, the days between them were less so. Barring any exceptional circumstance or need for debriefing, the inner council left its constituency well enough alone, their expectation that each agent perform their due diligence regarding physical and tactical training providing structure to their days.

As such, routine was the ironic norm. In addition to establishing considerable predictability, it meant that when something was out of place, it was almost immediately apparent to everyone. What “something” was could be anything: an employee, a case report or dossier, weapons, tech. For those working and living in closer quarters, it was often the most inconsequential of everyday objects.

“What’s this?”

One such object appeared without fanfare, unheralded and unremarkable in absolutely every way but for its location. Left anywhere else, its presence would be anything but suspect; in fact, many would welcome it with curiosity, if not excitement.

Children and adults the world over adored Pachimari, after all. Its image was practically ubiquitous, right alongside those of Rikimaru’s various mascots and even Hana Song. But what a palm-sized, stuffed version of the famous tentacled onion was doing on the kitchen table of Talon’s Venetian headquarters was as much a mystery as it was a thematic non-sequitur.

Gabriel stood before the toy, his midnight excursion for junk food interrupted by its baffling existence. Though it was fundamentally harmless, he couldn’t help but entertain the instinctual suspicion it aroused

“Strange,” he muttered, tugging idly at his goatee as he racked his brain in search of the operative who’d be so childish as to purchase the thing, nonetheless leave it in a communal space. His mental rolodex proving fruitless, he considered a different, more harrowing reason for the toy’s placement.

Picking it up in scarred hands, Reaper turned the plaything over and over, appraising it with pointed scrutiny better reserved for fresh recruits. As he ran his fingers along its surface, he searched for any signs of tampering: sewn patches inconsistent with the rest of its craftsmanship; unnecessary seams; strange scents or, worse, ticking. Toys, after all, were a common plant for both explosives and illicit substances, and Gabriel was renowned for being a man disinclined toward easily-earned trust.

His review lasted less than two minutes. Finding nothing, he returned the plush to its original spot on the tabletop, its pristine off-white and kelly green a marked contrast to the dark oak and the looming void of night filling the estate’s corridors.

“Fucking stupid,” he growled at last, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt more tightly about his neck before turning his attention to the refrigerator.

Widowmaker found it the next morning, pausing in the kitchen doorway beside Sombra to level a critical eye on the stuffed toy. Sombra, hardly awake and far from functional, only acknowledged the sniper’s questioning glance with a yawn.

“Is this yours?” the taller woman asked, padding lightly across the room toward the item in question. When no answer came, she scooped it off the table and turned back to her colleague, head canted in silent reiteration. It certainly seemed like something the hacker would own, and of the agents stationed in Venice with on-site living quarters, Widowmaker couldn’t think of anyone else who might.

Blinking against the heavy cling of sleep, Sombra shook her head. “Nah. S’cute, though.”

“It still has a tag,” the assassin observed as her partner began to drowsily rifle through cabinets in search of the requisite ingredients for breakfast.

“He gonna’ help you make these pancakes?” Sombra asked over one shoulder.

Widowmaker sighed in a shadow of annoyance. “Still with the pancakes?” she asked. Setting the plush aside, she joined the shorter woman at the counter to assist with the procurement of certain ingredients placed further overhead: flour, baking powder, and vanilla extract.

“Jeez, spider. Why all the pancake-hate?”

Turning the bottle of extract over to check its use-by date, the sniper shrugged. “They’re just so terribly American.”

Sombra chuckled at Widowmaker’s nigh-tangible derision, laughing even as she shooed her away from her workspace. She grabbed the little Pachimari en route, tracing the embroidered lines of its smiling face with her thumbs as the sniper set to washing her hands. “You gonna’ keep this thing?” she asked after a spell.

Widowmaker’s sole response was a sideways glance that declined the suggestion more loudly than words ever could, one eyebrow cocked in the most vociferous incredulity she could muster. As she reached for the hand towel hanging off the oven door railing, however, a single flicker of thought crossed her mind: an idea as asinine as it was uncomfortably amusing and, either way, bound to bear interesting fruit. “Actually.”

Sombra blinked. “Actually?”

“I have a better idea.”

The hacker inclined her chin expectantly. “Go on.”

“I am bringing it with me to see Moira.”

Sombra’s delighted peal of laughter was interrupted only briefly by the cheery, artificial squeak the stuffed onion produced when she squeezed it incidentally. Its chirp lit up the kitchen anew — a small, innocent blip on the radar of the world’s most feared terrorist organization The contrast wasn’t lost on either of them, and even Widowmaker couldn’t help the bemused chuckle that slipped past her lips.

“She’s gonna’ shit,” Sombra grinned. “You have to tell me about it.”

Nodding her agreement, Widowmaker tossed the towel across the counter to her partner and set to work. “I will deliver a full report.”

Though it didn’t alter the cold war of their rapport, Widowmaker acknowledged that Moira’s begrudging directive she return to a modified training regimen was offered with the implicit understanding the sniper’s initial weeks of recovery had been miserable. The geneticist offered no outward indication the alternating routines of intense physical therapy and endurance training were anything but standard, yet the fact their work often ran well over the scheduled handful of hours indicated something like consideration, if not a shadow of sympathy.

That said, there was nothing easy about the work given her. Despite Widowmaker’s commitment to reclaiming mastery over her own body and Moira’s willingness to facilitate it, the increments by which the doctor increased the difficulty for her patient were broad. This was the norm, and had always been the norm: Moira, pushing each agent to the extremes of their ability while they, in turn, pushed to meet that expectation out of some combination of spite and muted professional detestation.

It was Hell, but it worked. The nanotechnology that expedited healing was of remarkable benefit, reducing what would in decades past have been months of recovery to fewer than one. But the actual work - the hours of alternating sprints and distance runs, of acrobatics and weight training and aerial silks and climbing - was entirely Widowmaker’s responsibility.

“Excellent,” Moira murmured, waving the sniper down from below as she, one leg crooked around a length of silk, hung suspended from the ceiling above. With a few, deft adjustments, Widowmaker followed the scientist’s cue, tumbling with controlled grace to a few feet above the ground. “If only everyone we kept on retainer were quite so determined.”

“‘Retainer’ is not entirely honest,” the assassin sniffed.

“Regardless,” Moira continued, waving off her commentary as if it were some irritating gnat, “you are cleared for active duty. I would recommend you spend some time with your rifle, but I doubt you need my encouragement. I will apprise Akande of your progress.”

“Merci,” Widowmaker replied, watching coolly as the taller woman terminated their conversation by stalking wordlessly toward the console against the far wall of the room. Assuming her departure as dismissal, the sniper stooped to pick up the small collection of belongings she brought: water bottle, towel, and, beneath it, the Pachimari plush she and Sombra discovered earlier that morning. Draping the towel over her shoulders, she glanced about the facility in search of a drop point. The whole thing was excessively silly, but placement was absolutely crucial.

“Amélie. One more thing,” Moira rejoined, turning on her heel suddenly. “The recoil on your rif— what the bloody hell is that?”

Glancing between the toy in her hand and the doctor before her, Widowmaker froze for precisely one second, and, thinking as quickly as possible, hung her head in mock mourning of a surprise well-thwarted. “A thank you,” she said, perfectly straight-faced as she approached the other woman. “I am an abysmal patient.”

Without so much as another word, she leveraged Moira’s flabbergasted silence as an opportunity to deposit the wayward toy in her free hand, turn on her heel, and move with mechanical precision toward the exit. As the doors whispered open, she heard Moira’s voice, weighted with uncertainty, behind her:

“…the recoil on your rifle may aggravate your shoulder…”

Then:

“These idiots.”

True to Moira’s prediction, Widowmaker spent the rest of the day outside, reacquainting herself with the Widow’s Kiss while Sombra logged hit/miss percentiles at the sniper’s request. Doubly true was the doctor’s warning that the rifle’s recoil, normally so innocuous - comforting, even - grew irritating with time as the butt stock hit the still-tender shoulder that only a few weeks ago had been firmly dislocated.

“Damn,” the she hissed, pressing ungloved fingertips against the nexus of joint and socket as she switched the gun to her off-hand.

Waving her holoscreen out of existence, Sombra sidled up beside the other woman, looping an arm about her waist. “Call it a day. There’ll be more angry holographic men for you to murder tomorrow.”

“Probably for the best,” Widowmaker admitted, allowing the hacker to lead her up the graduating stairs toward one of the estate’s many entrances. Warmth greeted them beyond the threshold, immediately easing the hacker’s shaky grip as they traversed the network of halls toward the westernmost wing serving as their living quarters.

“You give Moira that thing?” Sombra asked, glancing up to meet the taller woman’s eye from the corner of her own.

“I did,” she replied. “It was sufficiently uncomfortable.”

“For you?”

“For everyone,” Widowmaker said, trying and failing to suppress the smile threatening the corner of her mouth. As Sombra’s chuckle began to give way to some further inquiry, they turned the corner toward the hacker’s room and ran, almost bodily, into Gabriel. The man’s expression was unreadable - somehow removed from his usual, passive scrutiny and irritation. On anyone else, it may have read as muted delight; on him, it seemed like discomfort. Widowmaker recognized it well and immediately as his default expression of lukewarm amusement.

“What?” she asked suspiciously, eyes narrowed.

Shrugging broad shoulders, Reaper merely cast a long glance over his shoulder, as if expecting some shadow other than his own to follow. “Nothing.”

“You are making that face.”

“What face?”

“The face you make when something is funny.”

Sombra glanced between the two of them, brows raised. “Jefe?”

Shaking his head, Gabriel only shouldered past them with a grunt.

“Everyone here is fucking weird,” Sombra murmured at the exact second Akande turned the far corner, hands curled around a small, white and green object.

“How convenient,” he said, stopping before them. “Just who I needed to see.”

The silence that attempted residency between the three of them never had a chance against Sombra’s gleeful cackle. Akande, stifling his own smirk, averted his gaze to the object in his hands.

“Lacroix,” he began, voice broken by the faint lilt of laughter trying to break through. “Is this yours?” He unfolded his hands with the question, revealing the smiling face of the mysterious Pachimari.

“No,” Widowmaker replied tonelessly. “It is Moira’s.”

Snickering, Doomfist shook his head. “Moira, it seems, finds its presence particularly distracting” he said. “Which, frankly, I think is her way of saying she liked it but doesn’t have a place for it.”

“Like everything she likes,” Sombra murmured beneath her breath - a statement both Akande and Widowmaker seemed perfectly capable of acknowledging without actually acknowledging it via an exchange of glances.

“I think it’s prudent I return this to you for the time being,” he continued, proffering the stuffed creature with a degree of delicacy that seemed infinitely at odds with the strength he both possessed and embodied “In the future, I recommend scotch if you’re in need of a gift for Doctor O’Deorain.”

Before Widowmaker could even think of accepting the toy, Sombra scooped it deftly into her arms. “Gosh, araña. How thoughtful,” she grinned. “Just what I always wanted.”

Shaking his head, Akande simply stepped aside and allowed them to continue on their way. “Thoughtful, isn’t she?” he smirked.

“Shut up.” Widowmaker replied, waving him a lazy goodbye.

*Read from the beginning or check out our intro post! All stories tagged under #glitchfic. Table of contents located here.

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impendingexodus · 7 years ago

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Leave Your Number on a Candy Wrapper

Sheith, 2.6k

Here’s my gift for @j-ranked as part of the @vldexchange! It’s trick-or-treating shenanigans packed with fluff and so. many. puns. I hope you like it!!

Read it on Ao3 here!

Thunder growled in menace over the darkened streets, prompting a varied crowd of demons, superheroes, and fairytale princesses to look up anxiously. The night had been going well for Shiro, at least in terms of his haul, so he wasn’t as upset as he might have been at the threat of rain. Thanks to his and Matt’s dorm backing up against a wealthy neighborhood, they’d been some of the first ones to make the rounds and had gotten all the best candy.

That had lasted until Matt had somehow succeeded in making himself scarce. The streets around here were lit only intermittently by flickering streetlights decked out in fake spiderwebs and skeletons. It added to the spooky atmosphere but made visibility a slight problem.

Shiro reached up and flipped his eyepatch to the top of his head so he could see better. At least his pirate costume was easy to move in -– no more complicated than a white shirt, red sash, the eyepatch, and a stuffed parrot safety pinned to his shoulder. Not the most original, maybe, but it was simple and easily affordable by a college student whose sole motivation was to put himself in a sugar coma for the rest of the night.

Which made it all the more aggravating that Matt had disappeared, since Shiro was ready to head home now. He had been walking the twilit streets for a while, going against the flow in search of a crappy homemade ghost. Seriously, what was Matt thinking? If he went to the same houses again, someone was sure to recognize him. There weren’t many ghosts out on the streets tonight, and the few that were certainly weren’t wearing ill-fitting sheets that lacked proper eye holes.

Therefore it came as something of a relief and something of an annoyance when Shiro came around the corner of a house and saw a lost-looking sheeted figure standing by the porch. From the look of it, he’d had a good haul, his pillowcase sagging heavily, and it was time to go home.

“I’m beat,” Shiro said, coming close enough to tug on a cloth-covered shoulder. “Plus a storm’s coming.”

The ghost shrugged away from his hand and muttered something rebellious, but another clap of thunder muted his words. Shiro shifted his grip down to close around a wrist.

“C’mon.”

The ghost reached up with his free hand to pull at the sheet, trying in vain to align the holes so he could see out.

“I won’t lead you into traffic or anything. Let’s go.”

A squad of Avengers came around the corner, football players in logoed t-shirts and masks, and muscled their way past. Keeping a firm grip on the ghost’s wrist, Shiro made the most of his broad shoulders and pushed his way through the crowd.

Behind him, the ghost trailed like a lost comet. At some point he’d wriggled his wrist free of Shiro’s grasp and now they were holding hands with no sign of letting go even after the crowd had passed. It wasn’t like Matt to be this clingy but Shiro found that he didn’t really mind; at least this way it was easier to keep track of him.

Lightning arced overhead, throwing vivid shadows across the landscape just long enough to create spots in Shiro’s vision. Thunder followed, making people pause in the streets and glance upward before scurrying for cover.

Slowing down, the ghost tugged at his hand and said something, quiet enough to be drowned out by the ambience of late night college parties. Shiro frowned at the delay and pulled him along. No way he was going to let Matt talk him into something stupid at this hour. All he wanted was to get back to their dorm, safe and sound and dry.

They were just crossing the parking lot to the dorm when the skies opened. Sheets of rain fell, nearly blinding them, plastering Shiro’s dark bangs to his forehead. The ghost stumbled along and let Shiro guide him as his sheet became heavy and clung to his legs, making walking difficult.

Shivering from the sleety rain, they finally made it into the building. The ghost stayed close to Shiro, cold fingers almost frozen in his grasp, as they left a trail of puddles on the way down the hall.

It wasn’t until they were back in their shared bedroom, the door shut against the storm and Shiro grimacing as he peeled off his soaked sneakers and socks, that the ghost’s behavior struck him as a little off.

“Hey,” Shiro said, coming closer to where the ghost, shivering and dripping, had stopped just inside the door. “You maybe wanna get out of that sheet?”

The ghost pulled the cloth off over his head and dropped it in a wet, heavy heap on the floor. “I’m... sorry.” He ran a hand through damp black hair and looked ashamedly up through his bangs at Shiro. “I kept trying to tell you you’d got the wrong guy, but...”

The boy was wearing a thin t-shirt, testament to how warm the evening had started out, but it was now completely soaked and sticking to him, showing off his lean frame. Crossing his arms over his chest, he tried to disguise how much he was trembling.

“It’s my fault,” Shiro said. He took a step back and hoped it wasn’t obvious that he was staring. “I’m sorry. I was in such a hurry to get back. But I can offer you a shower and a change of clothes if you want?”

“Sure. My dorm’s all the way on the other side of campus.”

“Freshman?” That would make sense. Shiro would have noticed such a pretty face immediately if he’d ever shared a class with this boy.

“Yeah. My name’s Keith, by the way.” He held out a hand.

“Shiro. Nice to meet you.”

They shook hands and Keith glanced down selfconsciously at the puddle pooling at his feet. “I think I’m gonna take you up on that shower.” He sneezed, and Shiro was aware of just how chilled the rain was. His own clothes clung like an arctic embrace, and the boy was looking miserable.

“Good idea,” Shiro said. “I’ll have some clean clothes laid out when you’re done.”

-–

While Keith was showering, Shiro grabbed a towel and rubbed at his hair, drying it off as best he could. He changed into a clean shirt and sweatpants, and although he was still a bit cold, he wasn’t in any danger from pneumonia (he hoped). His own shower would have to wait until later.

Shiro’s cell rang and he picked it up, grumpily noting that it was from Matt.

“Got lost?”

“Got invited to a sleepover. Just wanted to let you know I won’t be back till morning.”

“Have fun.” Shiro snorted. “I’m making new friends too.”

“Good for you!” There were other voices in the background and Matt sounded distracted.

“Go have your fun. See you in class tomorrow.”

Shiro hung up just as Keith stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in a NASA shirt that was slipping off one shoulder, and a pair of sweats that was barely clinging to his hips and threatening to ride down at every step.

“Sorry about the clothes. I figured I’d lend you my stuff instead of digging through the dark recesses of my roommate’s closet.”

“Ah, it’s fine,” Keith said, sitting down crosslegged with his back against Matt’s bed. He looked much better now that he wasn’t shivering and color had returned to his cheeks. Glancing out at where rain was still pelting the window, he frowned. “Guess I’m not getting home any time soon.”

Shiro opened his mouth, about to apologize again for dragging Keith into this, but the younger boy smiled. “Can’t say I’m too upset about it though,” Keith commented. He nodded toward the candy-filled pillowcases dumped on the foot of Shiro’s bed. “Want to sort through and trade for the good stuff?”

“Depends on your definition of good,” Shiro said. He grabbed a large bowl and set it on the ground as he took a seat opposite from Keith. “Let’s see what we’ve got.��

Their combined hauls were predominantly chocolate. Keith immediately claimed any and all candy corn, and he sat there munching on that as Shiro organized the candy bars into categories based on his own personal opinions.

“There’s no way Snickers are better than Kit Kats,” Keith argued. He reached out and rearranged the messy piles.

“Says who?”

“I mean, peanuts and chocolate? That’s just gross.”

Shiro knocked his hand out of the way. “My dorm, my rules.”

With an exaggerated groan, Keith back off, sneaking a pack of cherry gumdrops. Shiro finally had the candy sorted out to his liking, and gestured to it like a king showing off his treasury. “Half is yours.”

“That’s awfully generous of you,” Keith replied around a mouthful. “I’m surprised you’re not charging me ten pieces just for use of your shower and clean clothes.”

“Just what kind of person do you think I am?”

Keith chuckled and started to reply, then paused and gave Shiro a calculating glance. “You’re a pirate,” he proclaimed at last. “You’re only after my booty.”

“No!” Shiro’s response was automatic. “No, I --” Then it registered on him that Keith was grinning, teeth candy-corn-orange, and a chuckle rumbled in Shiro’s throat. “That was terrible!”

“Arrr,” Keith replied, flinging a Milky Way at the other man’s face.

Shiro caught it effortlessly but set it aside instead of tearing into the wrapper. “So then if you’re a ghost, that means you’re boo-tiful.”

This time it was Keith’s turn to blush and stammer openmouthed. “Okay, enough,” he mumbled. “Go eat candy to stop that big mouth of yours.”

“A lollipop, maybe?” Shiro raised an eyebrow as Keith facepalmed.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because you’re one of the nicest ghosts I’ve ever met. No, honestly -– I... kinda like you.”

Keith drew his knees up to his chin and wrapped his arms around himself. “What exactly am I to make of that? You thought I was your roommate up until twenty minutes ago.”

Sighing, Shiro gave a small shrug. “I’m not really sure myself. I mean, you’re welcome to leave whenever, I’m just thinking that I’d like to get to know you. It’s still raining and we’ve got plenty of candy in here; there are a bunch of monster movies on my computer if you’re into scary stuff.”

“Movies and a sleepover on the first date? Isn’t that kinda desperate?”

“It’s not every day that a cute boy shows up on my doorstep dressed in a sheet and little else. I can’t help it that I’m...um...”

“Interested?” Keith scooted closer on hands and knees. “Attracted? Because I think I might have something for dollar-store pirate costumes.”

Suddenly Shiro was very much aware that he was no longer the instigator of this situation. Keith’s lost expression and passivity had given the initial impression of naiveté, but it was becoming clear that he knew what he was doing. First, cheesy pickup lines that Shiro would never have dreamed of using. Then, Keith had kept goading him on, teasing him with the possibility of something, and now... Now the ex-ghost was six inches from Shiro’s face, an impish smile on his lips, his gaze warm and clear as he leaned closer.

“So, Captain, do you have room on your crew for one more?”

Shiro licked his lips. He couldn’t help the way he glanced down at Keith’s mouth, or the way his own mouth turned up in a grin. “I am in need of a first mate.”

Keith stared at him for a beat before he cracked completely. Throwing his head back in laughter, he all but collapsed into Shiro’s lap, arms shaking too hard to hold himself up. Shiro put an arm around Keith’s chest for support, but the touch quickly morphed into greedily pulling the smaller boy closer to him.

Keith ended up in Shiro’s lap, hands braced on his shoulders and surprised faces so close they were almost touching. Lowering his head, Keith leaned in until they bumped noses.

“Is this okay?”

Shiro nudged him back. “More than okay.”

Keith pressed even closer, one hand slipping up to cradle the back of Shiro’s head, as he touched their lips together. Shiro couldn’t help the way he was still half-smiling and he nibbled along Keith’s lower lip, tasting sugar and artificial cherry.

The smaller boy pressed into the kiss eagerly, chasing Shiro’s mouth when he tried to draw away.

“Don’t you think this is going a little fast?” Shiro managed to say at last. Keith’s mouth frowned where it was pressed against his cheek and he draw back far enough to make eye contact.

“No?” Keith tilted his head in confusion. “We both like each other, right? I’m not... Oh. I’m not suggesting anything more than what we’re doing now. I didn’t mean to lead you on, but I’m not interested in...” His nose wrinkled and his whole body got tense before he could finish the thought.

“No booty. Gotcha.” Shiro gave him a wink that had them both laughing again, and it felt good to have Keith’s body relax in his arms.

“And here my friends were warning me away from upperclassmen,” Keith mumbled. His breath was warm against Shiro’s collarbone.

“There’s no reason that pirates can’t be gentlemen too.” Shiro shifted so Keith’s weight was propped mainly on one shoulder, freeing his other arm to grab the laptop off of his bed. “Now, any preference of what to watch?”

“Wolfman is pretty good. The original, not the remakes.” Shifting around to see the screen better, Keith wrapped his arms around Shiro’s middle and rested his head on the bigger man’s shoulder. “I used to watch it every Halloween.”

“One wolfman, coming right up.” Shiro slung an arm around Keith’s back, as much for warmth as for friendly touch, and tapped on the keyboard.

They snuggled into each other as the storm continued outside and the room got darker and colder. Shiro dragged the blanket down off his bed and wrapped it around them. Keith yawned and lay down, head in Shiro’s lap, blinking tired eyes at the screen. By the time the movie was half over, both of them were asleep, side by side as monster music played quietly from the flickering black and white screen.

-–

In the morning, Shiro woke to the shrill buzzing of his alarm clock. It was disorienting to wake up on the floor, but he wasn’t sore thanks to a pillow wedged under his head and the blanket pulled up to his chin. He sat up in a bit of a panic, but there was no sign of Keith.

“Too good to be true,” Shiro muttered, leaving the warm cocoon of the blanket and forcing himself to his feet.

His laptop was closed on his desk, with a folded piece of paper propped up on top of it.

Had to get to class early and didn’t want to disturb you. Want to catch dinner? I’ll be in front of the library at 6.

P.S. Thanks for everything! You’re really cute when you’re asleep btw.

Shiro smiled to himself, good mood already returning. That lasted until he turned around and caught sight of the candy bowl from last night, from which significantly more than half was missing. Narrowing his eyes at it, he groaned. No way he was letting all that hard work vanish. Luckily he knew exactly where to be, and when, to get all the sweetness he needed.

And maybe a boyfriend to boot.

#Voltron legendary defender #voltron #keith #shiro #sheith #my writing #fanfic #this was so much fun to write #they need to be dorks more often

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