#i lost the original pic of this shirt from the day i got it

[hatedmaggot]

[punchdrunkdoc]

Part 3, Chapter 19

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness? Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 4 parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

Reference pics

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PART 3

Chapter 19

Calina slid the vial of blood across the table to Yelena. The other Widow looked at it, looked back at Calina, and raised an eyebrow. “But I didn’t get you anything.”

Calina rolled her eyes. “Very funny. I need you to give this to Melina for testing.”

“Why?”

“Its from a new victim of the pheromone drug. We think the formula has changed.” Calina didn’t want to admit that it was her blood sample, taken the night she’d been dosed. After the bath had warmed her up - and after Matt had warmed her in other ways - she’d asked him to grab the well-stocked first aid kit from his apartment. Then, perched on her couch and clad in nothing but his shirt, she’d drawn a vial of blood from her arm.

She wanted answers.

She needed them.

It was personal now.

Before, she’d been invested in the hunt for whoever was manufacturing this drug mainly because it was so important to Matt. And because she empathised with the victims who’d been stripped of their reason and control by an outside force.

But she more than empathised now. She’d lived through it.

The grief. The pain. The heart wrenching emptiness of losing Matt. 

And the anger of knowing that it was a lie. She’d been manipulated - tortured with falsehoods and fantasies - through a trick of her own neurochemistry.

And that really pissed her off.

But she couldn’t explain all that to Yelena. She was still too…raw. Matt’s death may have been a lie, but her reaction to it had been very real. And just thinking about it threatened to reduce her to tears again.

Yelena nodded. “No problem.” She pocketed the small vial of blood then relaxed into her chair and tipped her head back, closing her eyes to enjoy the slight breeze in the air. They were seated at a small table outside a cafe across from Central Park and it was a beautiful spring day. And Yelena looked so…relaxed. Which was not a word Calina usually associated with her sister.

“Are you used to it yet?” she asked.

“Used to what?” Yelena answered, her eyes still closed.

“Life. Freedom. Getting to decide the course of your day - even if it’s just to grab coffee with a friend.”

“Who says you’re my friend?” Yelena mumbled, the slight curve of her lips giving away the joke.

Calina laughed and kicked the other woman under the table. “Yelena!”

Yelena finally opened her eyes and shrugged. “No. I’m not used to it.”

“Well, its only been 6 weeks. Give it time.”

“It’s not that.” Yelena lowered her voice and turned serious. “There are still Widows out there, Calina, and they still need to be freed. Until every last one is woken up from the serum, I can’t start this new ‘life’.” She made air quotes as she said the last work, her chunky silver rings glinting in the sunlight.

Calina dipped her head and stirred her coffee, the familiar guilt rising. Once again, she’d been selfish - she’d ignored her obligation to her sisters and had lost herself in her relationship with Matt. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have asked how that was going. And I should be helping you.”

Yelena waved her off. “If we’re stuck and need your help, we will call. But we’ve got this.”

“Are you sure?”

She shrugged. “It’s hard sometimes. Tracking them down is becoming more and more challenging, and seeing their reaction when they wake is always difficult…but its worth it. It feels like I’m doing what I’m meant to be doing. And when all of this mess is finally cleared up, then I’ll make a good life for myself.”

“Speaking of clearing up messes, have you heard from Natasha recently? Is she still on the run?”

“Yes,” Yelena growled. “It’s been two years, and still they hunt her across the planet. Calling her a traitor.”

“I’m sorry.”

Yelena shrugged, her eyes downcast as she stirred her coffee. “She calls sometimes, to check in. To let me know she’s okay. But she doesn’t want to risk jeopardising the Widows’ freedom - my freedom - by visiting.”

“I’m sorry,” Calina repeated, knowing the words were inadequate. Natasha meant so much to Yelena, but the two women had barely had a chance to reconnect and mend the rift in their relationship before they were separated again.

Yelena shrugged again. “It is what it is. But enough about that. What about you? Have you figured out what you’re meant to do with this new life of yours?”

“Ugh,” Calina groaned and slid down in her seat. “No. I have no clue.”

“You’ve always liked books, what about being a librarian?”

It was Calina’s turn to shrug. “I thought about it. But I want to do something that helps people more directly - like Matt with his law firm.”

“Become a lawyer, then.”

“No. It’s too…confining, working in that kind of system.”

“What about…self defence trainer. Put your skills to good use teaching others how to fight.”

Calina laughed. “We didn’t exactly learn in the most conventional way - I wouldn’t know how to train someone without using Red Room tactics.”

“And that would get you thrown in jail over here.”

“Exactly.”

At that moment, a dog walker jogged passed the cafe with a pack of dogs surrounding her, all of them strapped to her belt by brightly coloured leashes. Yelena tracked her as she crossed the street to enter the park, a slightly wistful look in her eyes. “Maybe you’re overthinking it,” she said. “Just do what makes you happy.”

“Would that make you happy?” Calina responded. “Looking after a bunch of dogs?”

“Not a bunch of them. Just one.”

“You want a dog. Like, a pet?” Calina could hear the surprise in her voice, but it wasn’t really a shock. She’d always known Yelena was a caretaker - and once she finished taking care of all the Widows across the world, she would need to focus that energy elsewhere.

“Yeah,” Yelena said. “In Ohio, the neighbours next door to us had a German Shepherd. She was big and strong and looked scary, but her name was ‘Princess’ and she was the sweetest thing. Nat and I would play with her in the garden all the time…” She trailed off, looking into the distance as if lost in a memory.

“I always forget that you had a life before the Red Room. I used to be so jealous of that - before they brainwashed those kinds of emotions out of us.”

“It would have been easier if I’d been brought to the Red Room as a baby, like you. At least then I wouldn’t have known what I was missing.”

“Yeah, I remember you being so…angry…all the time. And you would take it out on us during practice.”

Yelena winced. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be sorry. We were all dealt a shit hand. And fighting you made us all better - it probably kept us alive and in the program. And what you’ve done to free us all - to keep freeing other Widows - it’s amazing, Yelena. I don’t think I ever properly thanked you for that.”

Yelena shrugged. “I was just doing what was right.”

“But not everyone would have. You had your freedom. You were out. And you risked it all, to come back and save us. Even though you had no loyalty to us - not really. We weren’t raised to be loyal, or develop bonds, or friendships. But you still came back. So thank you.”

Yelena squirmed in her chair, looking uncomfortable. “Alright, alright. Enough.”

Calina had never seen this side of her sister before. She was used to Yelena, the no-nonsense leader. She was used to Yelena, the hard-ass fighter. She was even getting used to off-duty Yelena, who painted her nails blue and wore mismatched prints and fur coats. But this awkward and embarrassed Yelena was brand new.

And she couldn’t help but tease her. She reached across the table, took her hand and gave her a sincere, serious look. “You’re a hero, Yelena Belova. An inspiration to all of us.”

Yelena frowned, looking even more discomforted. Then she saw through Calina’s act. She yanked her hand back, and laughed. “Fuck off.”

Calina smiled. “I couldn’t resist. I finally found your one weakness: compliments.”

Yelena laughed again, the deep husky cackle sounding so carefree. “If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”

“No you won’t,” Calina grinned. “You love me. Admit it.”

“Never. You’re a pain in the ass, Balashova.”

“And that’s why you love me.”

———

Matt was distracted. Again.

Calina had set up a workspace in the conference room, and had spent the last couple of weeks diligently researching the pheromone case.

Karen liked the new arrangement, as it freed her up to concentrate on investigating some of their paid cases. Foggy liked it for the same reason - and because Calina always volunteered to grab them  food at lunchtime.

Calina was enjoying the sense of purpose it gave her. She’d told him just that the other night at Fogwell’s. “I think I need the structure,” she’d said, dodging his left hook. They’d both been gloved up, and had sparred in the ring for a good half an hour -  neither hitting hard enough to injure, but enjoying the adrenaline rush of the fight anyway.

“I thought that’s what put you off working in the coffee shop - it was too rigid for you,” he’d responded, jumping to avoid her attempted sweep of his ankles.

“It was. I can’t do a 9-to-5 job. But I need something to get me out of the apartment each day. A routine…but one I can control.”

“So you want to be self-employed, basically. Freelance.”

“Yeah.”

Trying to figure out Calina’s future career was a common theme to their conversations these day, and they were gradually whittling down her options. But in the meantime, she wanted to focus her time on solving the pheromone case.

Because she had a real and personal stake in it now.

She’d been doggedly reviewing and cross-referencing the mountain of financial information they’d managed to accrue on their main suspects - the men behind the companies that had purchased the main ingredient of the drug: Arsonium bromide.

Matt understood her drive. And he was grateful for her help. He also liked coming in to work with her each morning, and having lunch with her in the middle of the day.

It was just a tad…distracting.

Her scent was now a constant presence, and it’s intensity just seemed to grow and grow with every moment. It layered every surface and saturated every room…but its effect on him never seemed to dull. It was still the same potent stimulant it had always been - since that very first night he’d scented Calina on their rooftop.

The little sounds she made throughout the day were just as hard to tune out - the rustle of her clothes as she shifted in her seat. The tap of her heeled boots as she walked from the conference room table to the printer near Karen’s office. The gentle scrape of her teeth over her lower lip when she bit it in concentration. The soft sigh as another lead failed to pan out…

He was just too aware of her. Every minute of the day, his senses were conscious of her - even when he was trying to concentrate on his work or speak to a client. A small part of him was always tuned to her frequency. And he didn’t know if it was a side effect of their long separation, or if it would always be like this with her. This perpetual…wanting.

They’d given up on his ridiculous ‘going slow’ idea. Every night was now spent in her bed, and most of those nights were spent touching her and kissing her and making love to her. But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough-

“Matt!”

He jerked his head up at the sound of Karen’s voice. Judging by the volume and degree of irritation, she’d been calling his name for a while.

“Sorry, I spaced out,” he replied. “What’s up?”

“Calina has something.”

Matt pressed pause on the transcript he was failing to listen to, pulled his headphone from his ear, and followed Karen to the conference room. He nodded to Foggy, who was already seated around the table, and he paused for a moment to take in Calina’s non-verbal greeting - one she was probably completely unaware of.

It was a kind of biological acknowledgement of his presence. A combination of a slight spike in her temperature, a jump in her heart rate, and a cocktail of chemicals suddenly rushing through her veins, thick with endorphins and dopamine and a whole host of unknown hormones. It was difficult to describe to himself - let alone someone without his heightened senses - so he’d never mentioned it to Calina. He also didn’t want to make her self-conscious about it.

Because he never wanted it to go away.

It was like being warmed by the rays of the sun on a frosty day. Like the relief of resting your head on a soft pillow at the end of a long, hard night. Comfort and affection and a feeling of coming home, mixed with a subtle undercurrent of desire.

It was intoxicating. Addictive. And a relief to know he wasn’t the only one so physically affected by the other’s presence.

“Hey,” she said, offering him a more traditional greeting.

“Hey,” he replied, taking the seat next to Foggy. “What’ve you found?”

“Our bad guy.”

He sat up straight, shocked. “Are you serious?”

“Really?” Karen said at the same time.

Calina took a deep breath. “I think so. It’ll need confirmation…but I think so.”

“So who is it?” Foggy asked.

“Landon Cross. Founder and CEO of Cross Corp.”

Karen frowned. “I don’t recognise that name from the list of Arsonium bromide purchasers.”

“That’s because it wasn’t on it. But you’ll recognise the name Midworld Industries.”

“Yeah, it rings a bell.” Karen opened her battered notebook and started searching through the scrawled pages. “Here it is - Midworld Industries - an independent pharmaceutical R&D company. They were apparently researching the potential use of Arsonium as a ‘nanocarrier for intracellular oncology therapeutics’, whatever that means. But we eliminated them early on - the papertrail checked out and they actually stopped purchasing the chemical last year.”

Calina nodded. “That’s because they found a way to manufacture a synthetic mimic.”

“How the hell did you work that out?” Foggy asked.

“It was thanks to Melina, the Black Widow chemist. She analysed my- a new sample we recently got hold of.”

Matt winced at Calina’s near slip-up. She didn’t want the team to know about her experience with the pheromone. Part of her was embarrassed that she’d managed to get dosed - even though he’d told her that was ridiculous. She was also sick of being viewed as a victim. Foggy and Karen knew about the way she was raised, the mind control serum, the coma…and she didn’t want them to pity her for yet one more episode of trauma.

Which he also said was ridiculous. His friends thought she was amazing.

“I can’t get over how…normal…she is,” Karen had remarked a few days ago, watching from the window as Calina jogged down the street to collect their lunch order.

“What do you mean?” Matt had asked. He could think of a lot of adjectives to describe Calina, but ‘normal’ was nowhere near the top of his list. She still seemed so new to the world. The smallest things would sometimes trip her up, like not knowing what a 401K was, or how to make a bowl of cereal.

“Just…with everything she’s been through, she seems so unaffected. So…nice. As if she really was just a college grad from Illinois, or whatever her cover story was. If it was me, I’d be so angry at the world.”

“You’ve gone through your fair share of trauma, too.”

“Yeah, and I was angry at the world for a long time. I closed myself off from everyone - right up until I met you guys, really. But Calina…she’s embraced this new life so effortlessly.”

Matt wouldn’t call it effortless - he saw how much she struggled sometimes. With her nightmares. Her guilt about her past. Her doubts about her innate goodness. Her uncertainty over her future. But he’d never share that with his friends. He liked the way they saw her - because it echoed how he saw her:

Strong. Determined.

Miraculous.

He just wished Calina saw herself that way.

“Okay, so this new analysis proves the compound is synthetic,” Foggy said. “What does that have to do with this Landon Cross guy?”

“Melina determined that the only way to synthesise Arsonium Bromide in large enough quantities to be useful was with a carbon framework printer, a piece of cutting edge technology. So I traced the companies that recently purchased one of those devices.”

“Couldn’t have been that many,” Karen commented.

“No. Only three, in fact. And when I looked closer at the financials of one of the companies - EnGene, I saw a name I recognised.”

“Midworld Industries?” Foggy guessed.

“No. Sato Holdings, a conglomerate based in Tokyo.”

“I need diagrams and a slide show to keep track of this.”

Calina smiled at Foggy’s joke. “Okay, I’ll cut to the chase. Midworld and EnGene, through multiple layers of shell corporations, are both owned by Sato Holdings. But Sato holdings doesn’t exist. Its a sham company created by-”

“Landon Cross,” Matt said, putting it together.

“Bingo. It’s a good sham - clever enough to fool US Inland Revenue, but if you can read Japanese, and know where to look, the ruse falls apart.”

“It still seems…tenuous,” Karen remarked.

Calina nodded. “It definitely needs confirmation, but my instincts say it’s him. I know bad guys - I know the way they operate, and how they try to hide. But there’s always a stench that clings to them, and I can smell it on Cross.”

“Okay,” Karen said, collecting her notes and getting to her feet, “I’ll start digging into Cross.”

“And we’ll head to the Courthouse,” Foggy said. “We have that hearing at 4, Matt.”

Matt nodded. “I remember. I’ll just be a minute.” When the other two left, Matt pulled Calina into his arms, and kissed her, a soft brush of his lips against hers. “You’re amazing. Have I told you that today?”

She shrugged. “It was just a bit of research.”

Matt reached out and touched the stack of papers on the table. “Judging by the thickness of this pile, it was more than just a ‘bit’. And how much of this is in Japanese?”

She laughed. “Only about a third.”

He shook his head and kissed her again. “Like I said - amazing.”

“All I did was get us a name - a direction to look. Proving Landon is behind all this, and figuring out how to stop him-”

“Is a problem for tomorrow. Take the win today.”

She cocked her head. “Who are you, and what have you done with the real Matt Murdock?”

“This is the new-and-improved, optimistic version.”

“Hmmm, he might take some getting used to.”

“I guess we’ll have to spend more time together then.”

She laughed. “I’m not sure that’s even possible.”

“I like a challenge.”

She laughed again, soft and low, and leaned into his third kiss.

A kiss that was soon interrupted by a wry voice behind him. “I hate to break up this disgustingly sappy display, but I need a favour.”

“Hello, Jessica,“ Matt replied, turning to face the figure in the doorway. “What do you need?”

“I need to borrow your girlfriend.”

————–

Chapter 20

Tag list: @hollandorks @stilldreaming666 @sio-ina-bottle @tearoseart-blog @acharliecoxedfan @freckledbabyyy @chezagnes

If you’d like to be added - let me know!

[roads-to-madness]

concert ramblings under the cut!

The first band, Pistols At Dawn, were freakin awesome! Very fun to watch! Unfortunately we were a little late for their set and had to find our seats, but we got to hear a good two and a half songs. I'm absolutely obsessed with this one:

Mammoth WVH left a very positive impression too! And let me tell you, I learned a very valuable lesson in checking out the supporting acts before the show

(anyway hi Frank it was nice to see you again 👋 last time was probably in 2016 or so with SMKC 😂)

NOW ALTER BRIDGE AAAAAAAAAAA

I just about lost my mind when I saw Myles. It'd been way too long since the last time. I stood up since our section was pretty empty and there was no one behind me to block. The people next to me did not stand up 😂 whatever I was there for a good time

First few songs in the set:

Silver Tongue

Addicted to Pain

Ghost of Days Gone By

Holiday

Broken Wings

NOW GET THIS Broken Wings is one of my absolute favorite songs of theirs. In the middle of it, the lady next to me offered tickets she had to CLOSER SEATS. And when I say closer I mean WOW. The difference was insane. I always say I have the best luck when it comes to concerts and this really proves it. Either that or I was just really annoying them who knows lol

the view in our original seats:

the view in our new seats:

(look y'all I found a blurry Flip 😂) sorry about the blur on all the pics btw, my phone is actually trash with a battery!

the next song was Burn It Down (with Mark's lovely vocals taking lead!! 🥰 He's amazing)

They ended the first part of the set with Cry of Achilles!! Always great!

Then Myles did one acoustic song on his own: Watch Over You, dedicated to someone in the audience wearing an NSYNC shirt. Y'know to make sure they were ok in that crowd lmao. Very brave choice of clothing

Mark joined to play an acoustic version of In Loving Memory. These two dudes actually made me cry

thanks guys 😤

They transitioned the band back in with Blackbird. Genius. Didn't think they could recover from making me cry that fast but they did. Amazing!

the rest of the set:

Come to Life (so much fun! aaaaa fave!!)

Pawns & Kings

Stay (more of Mark's amazing vocals!!)

hold your hands up high and throw 'em in the air / show 'em that you care too much to feel this way again

Isolation

Metalingus

Flip and Brian were introduced during Metalingus! I yelled for them so much my throat hurts!

Encore: Rise Today

Even with the awesome seats I wasn't close enough to catch anything flying into the audience but it's always entertaining to watch! I'm worried Flip is gonna hurt someone with a drumstick eventually 😂

Myles threw one of the setlists out as a paper airplane 🥰 adorableee

It was seriously one of the best nights I've had in a long time. It's up there with my favorite concert I've ever attended (Mike Campbell and the Dirty Knobs). Maybe we'll call it a tie now..?

Anyway AB, when can we do this again??

[p-redux]

What do you think about that time Sam was seen at a dodgers game with caitriona but then met up with MM to walk out with her?

I think you've been drinking the last few sips of the Kool-Aid Extreme Shippers left in the back of the fridge. But boy, did you give me a good 😁🤣🤭

But since you're here and asked so "innocently," 🙄 let me actually answer you, AKA you're about to get your ass handed to you...nicely...on a silver platter, of course...as is my specialty. Here we go!

The Dodger Game you're referring to is the time in June 2016 when Sam and his then girlfriend, Mackenzie Mauzy were seen at a Dodger Game in Los Angeles acting like a couple...and Extreme Shippers LOST THEIR DAMN MINDS...Uhgain. And then proceeded to fabricate a whole convoluted story about "Cait really being the one there with Sam, but TPTB-The Powers That Be decreed Sam and Cait had been bad bairns by going "public" at a Dodger Game, where 50,000 people could see them, so they hired Mackenzie to be the "decoy date," and swoop in at the last minute to be videoed leaving the game with Sam." Um, please make it make sense. 🙃🤯

I posted VIDEO source proof and TWO other separate eyewitness accounts CONFIRMING that Sam and Mackenzie were seen together at the game, definitely acting like a couple. And Extreme Shippers couldn't deal with REALITY, so they scoured the internet high and low and found this random couple 👇 and proclaimed that was Sam and Cait at the baseball game.

Uh, except there was irrefutable multiple third party source PROOF Cait was not with Sam, Mackenzie was. Oh and BTW, the couple above is NOT Sam and Cait. Cait is taller than that brunette, and the shirt Sam was wearing that day had stiching on the collar. Here he is with one of the people who recognized him at the game and got a pic with him. 👇

Notice the light gray stiching. FAUX Sam's shirt didn't have any stitching. Here's a comparison (credit to the owner) 👇

Sadly, as soon as Extreme Shippers got hold of the pic of FAUX Sam and Cait, they then spread it throughout Shipperville. And thus, ALL of my independent and confirmed sources at the game were deemed null and void. And the FALSE NARRATIVE that this 👇 was Sam and Cait at the game became fandom shipper canon forevermore. 🙄

Soooooo, let me hit you with some FACTS...and TRUTH...and actual REAL SOURCE PROOF of Sam and Mackenzie being at the game as a REAL couple.

(FYI: back in 2016, I had my original Tumblr blog, @fortruthseekers . In what I can admit was one of my worst fandom decisions, I deleted all my posts off that blog. 😔 Luckily, people reblogged most of my posts. And Tumblr reblogs are forever, so I can post my previous Dodger Game posts via reblogs. Also, if you see the term Super Shippers, that's what Extreme Shippers used to be called).

PS. I know Sam and Mackenzie are ancient history and she's very happy with her fiance, but I'm posting this because this LIE continues to be spread by Extreme Shippers, and it's important to keep posting THE TRUTH. If this bothers you, don't keep reading. 🤷‍♀️

Anyhoo, buckle up, bitches...here come the reblogs of ALL my posts (both from @p-redux and @fortruthseekers ) that SHOW ALL the source proof of Sam and Mackenzie at the Dodger Game, June 2016. And this includes video of Sam and Mackenzie, screencap pics of Sam and Mackenzie, and copies of the DMs of the people who were also at the game and shared the details of what they saw.

Up first: a refresher I posted here on @p-redux 👇

Below, are the reblogs from my old blog @fortruthseekers of all the source info originally posted in 2016. I can't guarantee they will be in order, but I can guarantee it is PROOF POSITIVE that Sam and Mackenzie were indeed a real couple, that Cait was NOT at the game, and that Extreme Shippers are lying liars who lie.

Put your feet up and dive right in. 👇

Up first, screencaps of videos of Sam and Mackenzie at the Dodger Game June 2016. I posted these before my source gave me permission to post the video she filmed of Sam and Mackenzie 👇 (BTW Dogs and Cats Living in Sin is the name of the Tumblr blog that was reblogging my @fortruthseekers posts back in the day)

Next, the actual video my source filmed of Sam and Mackenzie, as they got up to leave their seats. 👇

Here is the original post reiterating the picture proof that the "Sam" Extreme Shippers sold as real Sam was wearing a different shirt than REAL Sam 👇

Here are the DMs from the FIRST fan, crystalnliu, who saw Sam and Mackenzie and got a pic with Sam. She CONFIRMS Sam was sitting with Mackenzie and they were acting like a couple. 👇

Here are the comments from the second person laallday_ on IG, who saw Sam and Mackenzie at the game and left comments on the IG account of crystalnliu, the fan who go the pic with Sam. 👇

And here are laallday_ 's DMs CONFIRMING Sam and Mackenzie were acting like a couple 👇

In summary, DON'T DRINK THE KOOL-AID. It's verra bad for you. 🤷‍♀️😘

[bireggiemantle]

📸 this I gotta see :)

hii sorry this is so late I just got very caught up in life yk how it gets :(

technically this is one pic but it's a looong one so I cut it into two parts. also this is a jabitha fic, but I hope it's okay with you that I added in some elements of their friendship with archie, since I do like those dynamics :)

The couch already looks worn down and well-loved by the time they stumble across it in the corner of the thrift store, but Tabitha falls in love with it too fast to resist buying it.

It's a much larger sofa than their current one, with thick round arm rests, and three rectangular cushions lining the back. The plush green fabric is faded from age, but there's still hints of that original emerald color buried in there.

They had to call Archie to help them carry it inside later that same day, offering to pay him in free food and a movie (The Sandlot, Jughead remembers it being his favorite) as long as he lugs half of it up the three flights of stairs of them.

The three of them practically melt into the chair when they're finished, collapsing into a pile of tangled limbs and heaving chests as Tabitha switches the TV on.

Ever since that afternoon, the couch has gotten a lot of use.

Jughead's made a small office space on the right side of the couch, covering it in pages and pages of unfinished comics and scrawled out plot points. The shape of his hunched-over back is practically etched into the cushions after a few weeks, and Tabitha can trace the phantom line of his shoulders in the fabric whenever he's gone.

Tabitha's managed to claim the left side of the couch for herself. There's a small stack of her favorite tapes nestled beside the arm of her side, just close enough for her to reach down and grab one for an impromptu movie night. A few of Jughead's go-tos have made their way into the pile, but Tabitha isn't complaining. As much as she pretends to be annoyed by his films choices, she does secretly have a soft spot for Scorsese.

The center of the couch has been left open for any guests that might come by. Their door's almost always open for passerbys, and more often than not Archie, Veronica, Toni, or Betty can be found seated between Jughead and Tabitha, the three of them lost in a conversation together.

Currently, Archie's laying between them, sprawled out the same way he was on the first day they picked up the couch. His forehead is covered in a thin sheet of sweat from the summer heat, and Tabitha watches his chest slowly rise and fall in rhythm with his panting breaths. Their air conditioning broke a couple of days prior, and while Tabitha can tell Archie is uncomfortable sitting there, she knows that he doesn't have the heart to complain about it.

When Harry Met Sally is playing on the TV across from them, but none of them are paying much attention to it. It's one of the few movies they can all agree on, so they've seen it close to fifty times, but between the searing heat and each other's company, all three pairs of eyes keep drifting away from the screen.

Tabitha decides to turn the movie off just before they get halfway through.

Archie and Jughead simultaneously turn their heads to face her, confused expressions on both of their faces.

"I was thinking that we could head to Pop's and make some milkshakes instead of sitting here waiting to get heat stroke all day. What do you think?"

"I thought Pop's was closed on Mondays." Archie frowns.

"Pop's is closed to the public on Mondays. But you're forgetting who has the keys." Tabitha jumps to her feet and retrieves the diner's keyring from the pocket of her apron, which is hanging alongside their front door.

She watches as Jughead and Archie move to follow her. Archie discards his button-up on the couch as he stands, leaving him in just a gray tee. It isn't the first time he's left something of his in their apartment, left alone in the exact spot his blue shirt is positioned right now, and Tabitha knows it won't be the last. Part of the Tabitha wants to point the garment out to him now, but the rest of her rules against it. It'll give him an excuse to come back soon anyway, and she always enjoys seeing her friends.

She lets Archie leave first, and he shoots her a grateful smile as he walks past her. Jughead is trailing shortly behind him, stopping only to give Tabitha a small kiss on the cheek for holding the door open. She waits until they're both midway down the hall before leaving herself, slowly shutting the lights off as she does. It's still early enough in the evening for the sun to illuminate the high points of the apartment, causing the corners of the countertop and the curve of the coffee table to glow the same warm yellow color as the sky outside. It even manages to reach the couch, embedding itself into the cushions and forming a faint halo around the silhouette.

"Tabs? You coming?"

Tabitha turns her head to the side, one hand still wrapped around the silver doorknob. Jughead is waving her towards them, waiting with Archie in front of the elevator.

"Just a sec, babe."

Tabitha smiles to herself as she shuts the door before smoothing out her skirt and catching up with the others. She's already got a new milkshake flavor in her head that she's excited to show them, and maybe she can even convince them to look for some maroon throw pillows to compliment the couch with her afterwards.

[dreamyjoons]

Our ‘Get Along’ Shirt - pjm

⇢ another day, another endless round of you and Jimin bickering. It’s never ending, all-consuming, and your friends have had enough. Namjoon decides to end it once and for all - with help from a shirt for squabbling toddlers.

Genre/warnings: smut, 18+! ‘enemies’-to-lovers, swearing, semi-public smut, mutual masturbation, fingering, honestly at this point a sweat kink, multiple orgasms, light choking, some spitting, unprotected sex, creampie.

Words: 14.2k lol

A/N: well hello! I’m back baby, and to celebrate i had to exorcise some Jimin demons. Did i talk about him sweating a lot? Yes. Did i use my favourite pic of him for the header? Also yes. Don’t @ me, i already know. I hope you enjoy!!!

"You're so wrong about this, it's actually kind of embarrassing."

"No you're wrong, only an idiot would think the way you do."

"Guys, no one - and I really mean this - no one cares about what kind of cups you need for beer pong. You've been arguing this for like twenty minutes now." Hoseok huffs, sitting back into the couch.

"Eighteen minutes." Namjoon sighs, tipping back his cup and gulping down its contents.

"But solo cups are far superior-"

"Jimin, they aren't!" You snap, dragging your glare away from his rolling eyes, deciding you never wanna look at him ever again.

"Please stop." Jungkook sighs, slipping off the chair beside Hoseok. His eyes flick between you before scanning the rest of the people in the room, slowly moving to the thump of the music. "Gonna find Yoongi and Tae." He mumbles before disappearing through the mass of bodies.

You'd been at the house party for less than three minutes before you and Jimin found a reason to have an argument. At first, it was how late you were - even though you found out he only got there five minutes before you. Then when you commented on the music choices to Yoongi, he found a way to disagree - despite you both knowing he loved the artist. On and on it went. Now here you were; Namjoon and Hoseok on the couch watching you both with bored expressions, Jin tuned out and typing rapidly on his phone beside them. Jimin stood to your left, and you made sure to keep him totally out of your sight.

But it was getting harder to hear him, thankfully. And he was losing steam. The house was crowded and loud, lively dancers everywhere and the smell of alcohol rich in the air. It was already way too hot out, but being stuffed inside at this party was causing everyone to sweat. You could see condensation forming on the walls.

The house was huge and expensively decorated, belonging to some producer friend of Namjoon. Marbled floors met white walls, a rug carpet covering the floor that made you wince when you thought about the price. It was sprawling and full of a ridiculous number rooms. Yet still, people had to squeeze between the spaces, excuses and polite taps lost in the fury of heat and confinement.

You held your can to your forehead to cool yourself down but it had grown warm waiting for you and Jimin to finish your current spout. You grimace but take a sip anyway - at least if you get a buzz you can ignore him for a little. You felt a pit of guilt at making Jungkook leave. But you were riled up, and you couldn't back down. Not to Jimin.

You saw Jimin tip his head back to drink out of the corner of your eye, but you daren't look at him. He was as insufferable as he was hot as hell, and not just in temperature.

However, you had managed to take a better look at him earlier in the night. His beige silk shirt was already sticking to his skin, tucked into tight jeans blacker than you had ever seen. Who wears silk to a house party? The necklace that he always wore sat just below his collarbones, and you're reminded of all the times you've wanted to throttle him with that damn chain. He'd been pushing his dark hair back all night - you could tell by how it fell about his face, silky strands falling into his eyes. Was he wearing some kind of lipgloss too? You grumble into your drink. He was too pretty for his own good.

At first the sparring was fun. There was an attraction there, on your part at least. It was spicy, something hot and fast, a way to see how compatible you were. Maybe you had some feelings for him. Possibly, potentially.

But over time it devolved. It felt like he'd say things just to get a rise out of you, to draw your attention into a battle with him. And now here you were, bitterly avoiding the man's existence.

"God, why is it so hot here?" Jin gasps, blotting his face with his sleeve.

"Probably haven't got the air con on." Jimin shrugs, taking a swig from his glass.

"It's on-" You start, eyes flicking to where you thought you could see a vent in the ceiling. It was open, so you assumed it would be on - it had to be.

"I highly doubt that."

Jimin gives you the look he always does - where he tilts his head back and stares into your soul. His plump lips part, tongue pressed behind his teeth, goading you into his trap. He gets his way every time.

"Why would they not have it on? It's burning hot even without a house full of people."

"Then it's clearly a crappy unit." He shrugs, but his words are quick and his eyes are still intensely focused on you.

"Jimin have you seen the rest of this house? Don't be dumb-"

"Shut up!"

You and Jimin spin to your friends who had all shouted in unison. The ones who could still stand to be around you both arguing, anyway. Several of the dancers that were nearby stopped to look at the exclamation but slowly drifted back into the music - albeit before taking a step further away from your group.

"Enough. I'm gonna put an end to this once and for all." Namjoon gets to his feet and strides away with purpose, standing a head above nearly everyone in the crowd.

You shiftily look at Jimin before silently waiting for Namjoon to return, confusion thick in your brain. You awkwardly chewed on your lip as the seconds ticked by, before finally he stalks back, his bag under his arm.

He throws himself back into his seat, flips open the top of his bag and rifles through.

Finally he pulls out a heap of bright yellow material, and with a small noise, he dumps his bag beside him before bolting up. He unravels the material and holds it up to you, grin growing on his face.

It takes you a few seconds to focus on what he is holding out to you and Jimin - but when you realise, you gasp.

"'Our get along shirt'? Namjoon you've gotta be joking." you splutter, scanning the shirt.

It was a sickly yellow, 'our get along shirt' printed on it in what appeared to be black glitter. It could probably fit both you and Jimin in it, maybe Yoongi could slip in too. It looked somewhat roomy, but that was not the point.

"What?" Jimin asks, lips parted as he stares into the glitter.

"You're both gonna wear it and get over whatever bullshit is going on here." Namjoon says so casually, as if he was asking the time or giving directions. But you saw the seriousness in the minute movements of his face. The clench on his jaw, the hardiness of his eyes.

"We're adults Namjoon, you can't expect us to wear that." Jimin's face had gone into a full blush, but his frown was deep as he stared at Namjoon.

"You are both gonna wear it."

"No-" You shout, but Namjoon pointedly huffs at you, and you take the hint.

"Put the shirt on. By the end of the night, either one of you will have killed the other or you have this sorted out. Because if not, you'll end up pushing us all away. For good." Namjoon finishes with a sigh, the depth of his gaze so severe it confirms that he isn’t playing with you.

You look behind him at Jin and Hoseok, and the direction in which Jungkook had walked away. Jin and Hoseok looked deadly serious, no hint of a smile or a cackle of laughter like you'd expect.

He had a point. You knew it. But it was so hard - Jimin couldn't let things lie, and you couldn't back away from a fight when it was him you were fighting. But to see others dropping out from around you...

"Hand over the shirt."

You spin to stare at Jimin. His face was tight, jaw set and eyebrows drawn. It had dawned on him too, just how far this had gone. But he obviously didn't like the idea of it, and neither did you.

"Fine but if I do kill him I’m taking you all down with me as accessories." You sigh, reaching forward and taking the shirt from Namjoon.

“How long have you had this, Joon?” Jimin asks, fiddling with the rings on his fingers.

“Long enough.”

You turn it in your hands and with a deep breath, you pull the shirt over your head, sticking your arm through the sleeve and head through the collar. Your left arm hangs loosely in the shirt, and you begin to fret about what you should do with it. Maybe you should just stick it in your pocket? You don't wanna brush anything-

Before you could follow that train of thought, Jimin tugs you and the shirt towards him. You follow, gulping thickly. He casts one last look at Namjoon before putting his head under the bottom of the shirt. within seconds his head is through the collar, his shoulder bumping yours as he tries to get comfortable.

The air is thick around you, the extra warmth of him being so close to you making the heat rise on your face. You were strongly aware of every microscopic move he makes, your senses keenly aware of his proximity. He lets out a harsh sigh, and you feel the breath ripple over the collar and down the shirt. A pout settles on his lips, glossy and wholly enticing - and entirely too close.

His face was inches from yours, shoulders stuck rigidly together as you subtly wrestle for space. The shirt was obviously made for kids, and much smaller than you had originally anticipated. Two kids would be able to almost comfortably stand side by side. You and Jimin had barely enough excess shirt, but the collar was far too small. His hand grazes mercilessly across your thigh, the hardness of his rings pressing into the material of your jeans.

You hear a click of a camera, and your attention snaps up to see Hoseok taking a photo of you both on his phone. With both you and Jimin glaring at him, he snaps another and giggles.

"One for Jungkook." He grins, before flipping his phone to you.

Instinctively you step forward to look, but the lack of space drags Jimin along with you. He crashes into your back, a steadying hand reaching out for your hip, a strangled grunt by your ear. You choke on your breath, and weakly tug at the collar as if it was the cause of your shock.

His hand is warm, the heat pulsating from his palm across your hip. If you weren't sweating before, you definitely were now. You shuffle back a little, easing the tension in the shirt that tugged tightly against you. Jimin brings up a hand and anxiously pushes his hair back from his face, his jaw set so sharply you could cut your finger on it.

"Well, there's bound to be a few teething problems but I'm sure you'll both work it out." Namjoon smiles, eyes bright and full of mischief. "Come on boys, let's give them some space."

You give Namjoon the fiercest glare you could muster before he walks away, but all he does is chuckle at you. Hoseok waves brightly whilst Jin merely winks - until soon all that remained was you and Jimin, hot, flustered and already tired of it all.

"Okay, now that they're gone-" Jimin mutters, twisting in the shirt so that his back was against you. You shuffle back as not to touch him, your mind a hazy hot mess.

Your hand dances threateningly close to his ass so you snatch it up to your chest, staring at the ceiling and holding back an agonised groan.

He brings his hands up and after a few seconds you hear a loud rip.

You snap your head to him to see that he'd ripped the collar almost to the end of the shoulder, giving you more space. You let out a breath and you both adapted to the space, but his shoulder was still brushing you. At least his face was at a less dangerous distance from yours now.

"Do... you wanna sit?" He asks quietly, A faint pinky blush crossing his cheeks. You forced your eyes away, determined not to be distracted.

"Jimin, Namjoon's gonna flip about the shirt."

"No he won't-"

"Yes, he will-"

"Ah, can we just sit?."

You huff, weighing his words before silently nodding, moving forward slowly to give him time to get his brain in gear. He stepped behind you and you shuffled around so that you wouldn't be sat under him.

"Okay sit." You order, and to your surprise he followed your words. You both crash back into the couch, his arms pressing back against you, his legs spread and pressed against yours.

You sit, the silence stretching. You finally get the smell of his cologne, the silk of his shirt sleeve brushing against your arm. It was filling your senses, and though it had only been seconds, this was stretching for an eternity.

And there were all those emotions you felt towards him, rushing to the surface, bubbling beneath your skin.

"Okay this is dumb, why are we doing this?" You grumble, slamming your head back against the cushions, desperate to be away from his heady scent.

He looks at you out of the corner of his eyes, so you pointedly avoid meeting his gaze.

"Because we don't want to lose our friends." His voice is low, the cogs turning in his head.

"Yes I know that, but why do we have to 'sort our problems' from inside the same damn t-shirt?" You snap.

"I... don't know. But I'm not gonna lose friends. Them or you - so get used to being stuck in this shirt with me."He purses his lips in thought, but you’re struck by his words.

"Well it's you who's stuck in here with me." You snark, unable to stop yourself before you say it.

He huffs out a laugh through his nose, and you can’t help but smile. You finally meet his eyes, and like a kid caught doing something he shouldn’t, he snaps his eyes away.

“So we have to like… work on our problems?”

“Apparently.” He murmurs, throwing himself back into the seat.  

The temperature feels ten times hotter than when you weren’t sharing clothing. Your hair sticks to your skin and you shift uncomfortably. Everywhere you touched him felt like it was on fire, every sensor in your body and edge and firing. You force yourself to breathe, in and out. Park Jimin was not going to get the better of you.

But he seemed affected too.

His swallows are thick, adam’s apple bobbing with each gulp. You could see his ringed finger tapping in his leg whilst his other hand was pushing back his hair a little more aggressively than usual.

“So uh…” He starts, but tapers off when you look at him.

“Yeah?”

The seconds tick on, the gap between you non-existent. You avert your eyes and try to focus on the crowd that swirls around you.

You couldn’t help but notice the fact that things were going well. No issues were being resolved per se, but you hadn’t fought properly for a few minutes. And for you both, that was progress. Even if every word that comes to your mind flights away, leaving the silence to stretch.

“Maybe-”

“How about-”

You both blurt words at the same time, letting out an embarrassed laugh as you squarely avoid looking at each other. The music seems louder, making it harder to think about anything that wasn’t directly in your senses. Essentially you were stuck in a Jimin lockdown.

“You go.”

“Oh, I was just going to say I’m gonna need a drink or two for this.” you confess, heat burning across your face.

“That’s… Not a bad idea actually. Let’s go to the kitchen.” Jimin rushes, a little too enthusiastically. It seems like he’s a little on edge too.

Without thinking he tries to stand up, causing you to get ruffled inside the shirt as he staggers to his feet. You’re ripped through the collar of the shirt, your face getting knocked into his hip. Your eyes widen and your breath catches in your throat as he’s slingshotted back into the chair beside you. Your head reemerges through the hole, leaving your hair vigorously disheveled.

“I-, I’m sorry!” He grits, a reddish blush bursting across his cheeks.

You bring up your hand inside the shirt to touch it to your face whilst the other tries to right whatever mess your hair had become.

“It’s fine, just, we gotta move as one.” You mumble, flicking your gaze at him.

“Agh, this isn’t gonna be easy.” He sighs, shuffling to the edge of the chair.

You take a deep breath and follow his lead. You put a tentative hand on the couch to shuffle yourself to the edge, but jimin had the same idea. He puts his hands on top of yours, but instantly snatches it back. He mumbles to himself before turning and giving you a nod. With a steadying breath you both move, almost effortlessly getting off the couch together. It takes you by surprise at how straightforward that was, until the clatter of a noise reaches your ears over the din of the music.

Following the rattle of the noise you look down, only to watch your phone skittering across the floor.

“Oh, shit.” You murmur, watching it stop out of reach. “Jimin, my phone!”

He follows your gaze to where it lays on the floor, narrowly avoiding being stepped on by dancers. Your heart flutters as people step around it, totally unaware.

“Go, go!” He mutters, placing the palm of his hand at the bottom of your back, steering you towards it.

You flush as you’re pushed through, stopping just above it. You’re both jostled by the people around you as you stand guard above your phone. People were dancing dangerously close to it,and all it would take is one drunken fool to stamp on it or you for this to end in disaster.

“Okay let’s drop, carefully this time!” you order, but Jimin scoffs at you.

“I’m trying to be careful!”

“Just don't thrash me about again, that would be nice-”

“I’m not doing it on purpose! I can if you want me to-”

“Oh my god, stop, just bend over and help me!”

“That sounds dirt-”

He starts, but before you let him manifest that in your mind you start to crouch, the force pulling him down to bump his chest into your back. The heat of him crashing into you is instant, an insatiable warmth that spreads in contact. He puts a stabilising hand on your hips as his breath rolls across the back of your neck. A shiver trickles down your body despite trying to hold it back.

“What did you do that for?” He grunts, his mouth closer to your ear as he tries to rebalance himself.

“Y- you’re taking too long trying to argue!”

He presses himself off your back and shuffles down beside you. You finally get crouched on the floor, tentative hands placed on the sticky surface to stop you from toppling over. Jimin crouches next to you, his body facing yours with his leg behind you, tight against your back. It was hard to stay focused with him pressed against you like that, but you know he was just trying to stay stable. So why were you blushing so hard?

Carefully you reach out, your fingers just brushing the edge of the phone. You’re just able to get your fingers over the edge when you’re slammed from the side. Your phone is knocked out of your reach once more as you’re thrown onto Jimin, both of you landing in a tangled heap.

You let out a yelp as you’re falling, the impact to the side of you bristling with shock. His back hits the floor and you land awkwardly, right on top of him.

“Watch what you’re doing, you moron!” Jimin snaps after your head slaps onto his shoulder.

Your heart slams erratically against your chest, his words stinging. You’d come to blows many more times than you can imagine, but he’d never spoken to you in that way, not ever.

“God, I’m sorry.” you murmur, pressing yourself up off his chest, your face practically aflame.

“What? Oh, no no, not you! Whichever idiot smacked into you. Are you alright?“ He asks, his fingers gently gripping your chin and turning you gently in his hands.

Your eyes are wide as he stares at you, your fingers twitching on the silk covering his chest. Once he’s satisfied that you’re okay, he softly releases you. You bring your gaze back to his, beads of sweat rolling down your face.

Jimin looks down to his hand and back up to you after realising what he had just done, before he clenches his fist closed and puts it down to his side. His forehead is creased, his face burning bright.

“We should… ah, should get your phone.” His voice is low, barely audible above the music. But you hear him all the same, stealing your hand back from his chest.

You swallow thickly, stabilizing yourself as you crouched back on your own two feet. Your phone isn’t too far out of reach, but just beyond the touch of your fingertips. You strain, tugging Jimin along behind you. His throat is pulled against your shoulder, but it was no good, you still needed the stretch.

“Hold on.” You mumble, slipping your head out from underneath the collar.

You keep your arm inside the shirt sleeve for plausible deniability - you’d never be able to lie to Namjoon if he asks if you stayed in. But you pull your head out from the bottom of the shirt and reach out, gripping your phone and snatching it up. You shove it in your deepest pocket of your jeans and pat it, relieved.

You crawl back to Jimin and try to climb back into the shirt. He throws the bottom over your head and you push it through - only to slam your head into his arm.

“Ah, sorry!” You yelp, trying to push yourself past him.

He tries to guide your head back up through the collar but manages to get his rings caught in your hair. You yelp at the tug, your hands flying up to untangle him.

“Sorry, sorry!” He shouts, bringing his other hands up to slide his rings off altogether.

Once they’re off his fingers it’s easier to free your hair. With the rings tucked safely in his pocket and with gentle easing, Jimin moves your head up to the collar of the shirt. You rapidly brush your hair out of your face and look at him out of the corner of your eye.

He’s flustered, roughly pushing the hair that sticks to his sweaty forehead back. His lips are parted and his eyes are fixed away from you.

Briefly, the thought of just running away from him crossed your mind. There’d be no more issues if you never saw his face again. No more embarrassment! Of course it was a silly idea, but it would be better than getting the opportunity to make yourself look like an idiot again.

You huff out a breath, blotting your damp forehead with the back of your hand. Your brush with the floor had left your clothes feeling sticky, and your brush against Jimin had set everything else on fire. You needed some fresh ai-

“It’s too hot for this, I need some air.” Jimin shifts in his spot, gesturing to the backdoor that was through the kitchen and blocked by a thick group of party goers. You follow the direction he points and nod enthusiastically.

“I wanna grab some water too.” You murmur. Ignoring his presence.

The people that stood between the cloying heat that you and Jimin were trapped in and the cooler climate outside were dense. You’d have to fight through, but the reward of fresher air to clear your head of Jimin was too tantalising.

With a look at Jimin, he motions with his hand for you to proceed. You roll your eyes at the gesture but you take a cautious step forward, slow and deliberate.

You started pushing your way through, bodies warm and fluid as you tried to champion the way. Jimin got ganged much closer to you, practically pressing into your back as you moved. You focus on finding a path ahead, ignoring the beads of sweat that form in your hairline.

Something had changed between you. This is the closest you had been together, the most you had touched, the longest you had been alone. And you wanted to hate it. You certainly hated how messy he must think you are. But you didn’t. A trickle of something different slides down your body, all your attention focused on his hand on you.

The music changes to something even louder and riles the crowd up. With a swell of movements in the dancers you’re sent flying, knocked by some erratic dancer’s elbow. With the force of the shirt Jimin is dragged with you, crashing into your back and pinballing you against another person.

Subconsciously you turn back to him - but as soon as you’re pressed together, you realise how big a mistake that was.

Stomach to stomach, his face is barely an inch or two from yours. His fingers wrap around your wrist, chest rising and falling as you stare at him.

The sweat that had rolled down his face had reached his throat, dropping down the column and hovering at his apple. The minutest of smirks pulls at his lips, and you realise you’ve been caught.  

He swallows, purposely. The bead rolls the rest of the way down his throat, dropping below his necklace before disappearing down the neckline of his shirt. The silk was clinging to his skin in the heat, and it took every ounce of dignity you had not to look down. You could see in your periphery, and that was more than enough. The man was hot, in every sense.

Your eyes flick back up, a different kind of heat burning up your face. You anxiously lick your lips, eyes finally meeting his. He has an eyebrow propped, a smugness radiating that let your blood boil. But his gaze drops to your mouth, watching your tongue gloss across your lip before looking back up. You can feel his breath hit your chest as his cheeks flushed more than they ever had. Now you were the one to have an audience.

Maybe this was it - the answer. You just needed a moment for everything to click, you could reach an understanding! It had nothing to do with how his stare left you feeling like you could burst in every way possible. Or that his pupils seemed to be blown wide, big enough for you to swim in. His fingers were hot against your wrist, and it felt almost as if his pinky was tracing the tiniest circles into your skin-

“I need the bathroom.”

The words are blurted loudly in your face, and for a moment you forget what reality is.

“I- what?”

“Bathroom. Gotta go. Bathroom stuff.” Jimin splutters.

Before you can respond - not that you knew how to -  he turns from you. His hand still holds your wrist as he pulls you through the crowd, uncaring as to who he pushes aside. All you can do is stare at the back of his hair and be lead.

“Jimin what the hell?!” You yell, ignoring the glares of the nosy partiers.

Your voice is lost, muffled by loud music and Jimin's deaf focus. You finally break free from the throng of people but your journey doesn't end. You're being whipped past busy rooms until you hit the staircase. The odd person watches you in fascination, some even snickering at what was written so plainly in glitter on the shirt. you felt your face burn, and make a silent note to fight Namjoon at the soonest opportunity.

He begins scurrying up the staircase, and with your wrist still firmly in his iron grip, you're soon flying up behind him. He casts a shifty look behind him to check you were still attached, his face flushed but his eyes focused. You have to remember to regulate your breathing.

"God, careful!" You snap, almost stumbling on the top step.

He doesn't acknowledge that he hears you, but then he slows for a second before darting down the winding corridor. He rushes into one of the rooms, a sprawling guest bedroom, before finally letting your wrist drop from his grip. It was almost bigger than your entire place, with an ensuite and even a door leading out to a balcony.

You close the door behind you before Jimin drags you towards the ensuite. Once he's at the open door he pulls his arms through the sleeve and slips out from the shirt. You know you're in the privacy of a bedroom but you suddenly get nervous, eyes turning to the bedroom door.

"We're gonna get in trouble." You murmur. Namjoon is a mind reader, you’d stake your life on it - he'll know you're separated and find you.

"You gotta relax. We're not gonna be spotted through floors and walls. Unless you wanna come in here with me?" He asks, that trademark smirk pulling at his lips. Your stomach flutters, but it is a relief to have a flash of the jimin who pushes your buttons back.

"I -wha- no! Just hurry up, god." You splutter, turning your back to him.

"I won't be long."

With that he saunters back, his cheeks blown out as he sighs, and finally closes the door for some sweet separation. You step back and move to the balcony - the door was unlocked so you push it open and finally breathe.

The air is still warm, but instant relief from being cooped up inside with Jimin washes over you. You close your eyes and soak up the moment of peace, the shirt hanging off your solitary frame.

Your brain was barely processing the situation you were both in. It was enough being stuck in the same item of clothing as someone, but with Jimin? It was hard.

But then again, it was also easy. It was too easy to get wrapped up in him, to be so close, to let yourself be taken with him. It was a place you had hoped to be before, and somewhere you couldn’t go.

You and Jimin were tumultuous. You weren’t sure why it had to be that way. It’s not like either of you were toxic or nasty people - so why did you have to make a stand on everything? Why does every time you stand off with him make the hairs on your neck stand up, make your heart beat so fast in your chest you swear he could hear it?

Maybe it was because you did, after all this time, like him.  

You're snapped out of your thoughts by an erratic knocking at the door. You dart your eyes to it as if you could see through the solid wood, your heart in your throat.

"Y/N? Jimin? You there?" Namjoon calls through the door, and you swear under your breath.

"One second!" You cry, scrambling back from the door and scurry to the ensuite.

"Jimin! Open up!" You whisper at him, your voice a hurried rasp.

"What?"

"I'm coming in!" You wait a few seconds just in case, and then finally throw the door open.

"Y?N!" Jimin yells, scrambling back against the basin.

He was standing with his silk shirt in his hands, His lips parted in shock as he stares at you. His chest was heaving, the faintest glimmer of abs visible behind the thin fabric. Your face was burning almost as much as his, your jaw dropping. His hair was tousled, strands covering his wide eyes as he stared at you.

"Wh... Why are you topless?" Your breath is barely above a whisper as you fight to keep your eyes on his face.

"It's so hot!”

“I’m hot! Do you see me taking my clothes off?” You rush, using every ounce of restraint in your body to not lick your lips.

The thought of you and Jimin taking your clothes off together flashed through your mind and you internally screamed at yourself. This was not the time to unpack that, though you’d be lying if you said the thought hadn’t crossed your mind before.

“Wah- uh, you... I was trying to cool dow- why are you barging in here?!" He rushes, taking a hasty step towards you. To have to sort through your frazzled thoughts before you remember why you were there in the first place.

"Namjoon! He's at the door!" As if to accentuate your point, Namjoon raps on the door again, calling out to you both.

"Agh!" Jimin cries, rushing forward and grabbing the hem of the shirt you still wore.

He begins to get into it as he pushes you towards the door. You could feel the horror fill your veins as the heat of his body slips in beside you, his hand at the small of your back as he guides you. Your arm brushes against his bare hip, the skin hot and smooth. You snatch your arm up and hold it against your chest as if burned and ignore the rapid change in your breathing.

"Why haven't you put your shirt on?!" You whisper, but he just huffs.

"To save time, Now show me your pretty smile and let's get rid of him so I can get dressed." Jimin's hand is on the door, and all you can do is stare at him, eyes wild.

"My wha-"

The door flies open, but you're still staring at Jimin. Pretty...?

"Well hello." Namjoon is leant against the doorframe, arms crossed as he gives you both a crooked grin. His eyes flicker to the room behind you, his eyes landing on the bed just beyond you both.

"Just needed the bathroom." Jimin rushes, hand once again settling in his hair.

"I didn't ask." His voice is light, but his eyes are fierce as he scans you both thoroughly.

"You were thinking about it, though." Jimin mutters. He tries to cross his arms at Namjoon, but with one arm under the shirt and one over he soon drops it. Your gaze was still stuck on him though. Pretty?

"How's the shirt working out, you both talking?" Namjoon asks, and you finally snap your attention to him. He's already watching you and raises an eyebrow. You scramble to stamp down your emotions, despite every nerve in your body sizzling.

"Oh yeah, we’re the best of friends now, right JimJam?" Your voice is bubblegum sweet, giving Jimin the goofiest smile you could muster.

"Totally! We've been braiding our hair and sharing juicy stories. We're basically besties."

Jimin beams at Namjoon, before stepping close and wrapping an arm around your waist to hug you. It was all part of the charade, of course. But as you're pulled back against his chest, you swear your heart could explode. His hand sits lightly on your hip, his every breath rolling down your neck. It didn’t matter that the move was practically hidden under the shirt.

"Yeah..." you laugh, but it's more of a choke as you pat his hand over the shirt and avoid meeting Namjoon's probing gaze.

Jimin clears his throat awkwardly behind you, his finger twitching on your hip. The heat between you swealters, every inch of your skin electric against his body.

Namjoon's eyes flick between you. You could see his thoughts brewing but they never pass his lips. Instead you and Jimin wait, his hands singeing your skin where they rested, his bare chest like fire against you.

"Well, I can see you're obviously working on something. But until you're actually convincing, you can stay in that shirt." He shrugs, grin widening across his face. With a final flick of his eyes, he pushes off the door frame and heads back towards the stairs.

"This is ridiculous Namjoon!" You yell at his back, crossing your arms across your stomach.

"Maybe - but you're both still wearing it." He smirks back over his shoulder.

You yell incoherent words at his back before huffing out a breath. Your fingers twitch in anger, putting a stubborn hand on your hip, the skin hot under your touch.

Faintly you realise the contact isn’t registering on your hip, and it isn’t until Jimin loosens his grip on you that you realise your hand had been resting on his. His hands fall from your body as he shuffles away, swallowing a throaty gulp.

You couldn’t look at him. It was all fun and games to begin with- oh, who were you kidding? This had been sucky, but something had shifted. You needed air, a chance to breathe, to not be tethered to the man that seems to haunt you.

“Need air.” Your voice a rasp as you step back into the room.

Jimin barely shuts the bedroom door before you’re marching to the balcony, not caring about whether you drag him along or not. Once you’re outside you heave in a breath, letting the air fill your lungs.

“That was too close.” You murmur, fiddling with the hem of the shirt.

“How was I supposed to know Namjoon would be keeping tabs?”

“I’m not blaming you Jimin! Why are you making this into an argument too?” You snap, your eyes fixed on the treeline on the edge of the property.

You feel him wriggling aggressively next to you, only to look back and see him climbing out of the shirt. You watch in horror as he slips out from under the sickly yellow material, keeping his bare back to you.

“What are you doing?” You yelp, scanning over the edge of the balcony for any sight of your friends. They couldn’t see you apart, they would never trust either of you again.

“What are we doing?”

“We’re meant to be working this out from inside the same ugly shirt-”

“No not right now. I mean, kind of. I just… Why did we let it get this far?”

You let his words hang in the air, your thoughts scattered. The thump of the music below drifts up to you, the mass of partygoers that stood out in the gardens laughing and chatting loudly. It seemed a world away from the tension that fills the air between you and Jimin.

He turns back to you with a look on his face so intense you can’t place it. But you could tell he was tightly wound - his shoulders were squared and his jaw was tight. He avoids making eye contact with you for as long as he can. But when he finally does, it was too easy to get lost in what you see there.

“We just argue, I guess.” you shrug, averting your eyes from his chest and stomach. This wasn’t the time to be fawning over him. It was hard - he was beautiful, there was no escape from that. It’s one of a million reasons you had liked him in the first place.

“You can't tell me you’re happy with that explanation.” He huffs, crossing his arms.

“Of course I’m not but what do you want me to say? You don’t like me, you’ve made that plain enough. Not everyone gets along.”

You bite your lip, admitting the words you’d been too scared to think out loud. But when you hear a faint gasp, your eyes shoot up to his face. His lips are parted, a look of abject shock written on his delicate features.

I d- I do like you.” His voice is so quiet you can barely hear him. But you do, and the words strike deep.

You can’t open yourself up to this right now. Namjoon will find a way to know that you’re both separated, and the rest of the guys will drift away. You want to be civil with Jimin, not have your entire soul bared open to him. You couldn’t survive that.

“Can you please put your shirt back on?” You mumble, your eyes laser-focused imploringly on his face, but he doesn't hear you, barrelling on.

“It’s not like I enjoy arguing with you!”

“Then why are you making it so difficult?” Your voice cracks, the hurt of your never ending battles threatening to surface.

“Do you know how hard it is to get your attention-“ he starts, his fast flow of words immediately cut off as he gawks at you, delicate fingers slamming over his lips.

“What?” You blurt, processing his words.

“No no, nothing! Forget it.” he shakes his hands at you, eyes wide and face blushing a deep pink.

“Jimin! What do you mean, get my attention?”

“I… yeah. We’re always with the guys, I guess I didn’t know how else to get you to focus on me.”

“Why?” Your voice is faint, a million thoughts crashing in your head.

“No, forget it!”

“Jimin!”

“Ah, I like you, okay?”

The air around you thickens, the distance between you a thousand miles yet still too close. Your heart thumps rapidly in your chest, your eyes wide as saucers and your skin prickled with goosebumps.

“You- huh?”

“I… like you. A lot. It happened pretty quickly.” He sighs, running a shaky hand through his hair.

"Why have you never told me?"

"Because it's humiliating as hell?" He laughs bitterly, his eyes darting to anywhere but you.

"Jimin..."

"No seriously. If I had told you, you'd reject me because why wouldn't you? All we do is argue."

"You think I'd reject you?" You ask, voice quiet as you step closer to him. His gaze finally snaps back to you at your movement.

"I mean, I... yeah?"

He runs a hand roughly over his face, turning his back to you. He looks so flawless in the moonlight. But he always looked flawless to you. Watching him fret like this was something so alien to you, but so human, so Jimin. You couldn’t let him suffer these feelings alone.

"Well, I wouldn't have." You mumble.

“You- what?”

Your brain scrambles, your heart hammering in your throat. He stares at you, wide eyes and chest heaving as if he was winded. Swallowing thickly you press on, despite the fear that churns in your gut.

“I wouldn’t reject you, Jimin. I… uh. I like you too.” You fiddle awkwardly with the hem of the stupid shirt.

The whole scenario had you feeling like a girl going through a childhood crush again. Though last time you had a crush on a boy who was fighting with you, you punched him in the nose. It was doubtful that would work this time around-

“Jimin?” You ask, watching as he shrinks back on himself.

You watch as he breathes, his chest rising and falling, the rapidly cooling night air raising goosebumps across his skin. It was hard to keep your brain on track.

After a moment he meets your gaze with a softness so potent it was enough to choke you.

In two steps he was on you, his lips crashing against yours. Your entire body threatens to shut down, the shock rippling through you. Before you even had a second to comprehend how good his lips felt against yours he pulls back, fear in his eyes as he worries.

You know then what you want. Who you want. You wondered why you wasted so long arguing to get it.

With your blood thrashing violently in your veins you reach your hands out to his face, caressing the smooth skin of his cheek before you surge forwards. The feel of the gloss on his lips smudges as you let yourself be consumed, the slightest hint of cherry seeping in.

Kissing Park Jimin. You. You’re kissing him. Your eyes slam shut as you sink into him, electricity crackling on your skin.

With no doubt in his mind at all Jimin slides his hands to your hips, fingers curling into the shirt as he moves you back, pushing you into the wall. You moan into his kiss, and he smirks against your lips. To trip him up you press the kiss deeper, letting the tip of your tongue dance at his pretty lips, wanting to taste him.

He does you one better, turning the tides and pressing the kiss back to you, tongue flicking to you.

Just like normal, you weren’t one to back down from Jimin.

Letting a hand move into his silken hair, you brush it back the way you’d seen him do a thousand times. But instead of letting your hands fall out of the soft locks, you let the strands wind around your fingers and give it a tug.

Jimin lets out a low groan, breaking the kiss to pant against your lips. Pride flows through you, but so did a sense of admiration - it was something you wanted to hear from that pretty mouth over and over.

“That’s a dangerous game you’re playing, Y/N.” He whispers, tugging sharply on the shirt so that your body was flat against his.

You try to not let the gasp from you come out too loud, the lines of his body startlingly apparent as you’re pressed together.

“You think that scares me?”

At your words he smiles. It spreads slowly, but soon his whole face is alight, brightness shining out of him. With his fingers at the hem of the massive shirt, he gives you a filthy giggle before kneeling and slipping himself inside of the material.

“What are you doing?” You yelp, feeling the familiar sensation of being stuck in the stupid shirt with him again. But it was different too, it wasn’t suffocating like before.

His head popped back up through the ripped collar, grin still annoyingly plastered across his face.

“Shouldn’t you be trying to get me out of this shirt, Park Jimin?” You whisper, breathless as he presses you back against the wall.

“I can’t deny that you have too many clothes on.” He smirks, delicate fingers sliding up your shirt to rest on your hot skin. “But there’s something… ah, satisfying about having you in this shirt.”

“Seriously?”

“What’s the matter Y/N, don’t think you can handle it?” His fingers circle agonisingly slow on your hips, a mischievous glint catching in his eye. He knows you so well.

“You’re gonna be the one who can’t handle it.”

“Prove it.”

You almost growl at him as he presses your buttons, but the burning in you meets the heat in your stomach. You need him more than ever.

You pull him back against you by the hair, crushing your lips together once more. He moans into you, nails pressing into your hips as your lips collide. You roll your hips against him, the fire in your veins white hot as he stutters against you. He breaks your kiss to gasp needily, eyes shut tight as your stomach brushes against the bulge in his tight jeans.

His eyes finally open, unfocused and swimming. But after a second he fixes his gaze on you, determined. A flicker of anticipation fills you, awaiting retribution.

His fingers move from your skin to the hem of your shirt, tugging it up until you have to help him. The shirt you were sharing was making it difficult, and you start to regret ever letting him get his way. But as soon as you are free he presses back into you, his hot skin flush against yours, his fingers idly tracing the straps of your bra.

Just with the gentle brush of his fingertips he nudges the straps down your arms, goosebumps rising along his trail. He presses his lips to your cheek, pecking slow, soft kisses across your cheekbone as he moves towards your ear. You sigh as his mouth moves lower, plump lips pressing dainty kisses down your neck. With you swept up, his hands move behind you and unclip your bra.

A gasp passes your lips while his own are still planted at your neck, sucking on a soft spot there. Your bra slides off your body, landing with a quiet thud on the floor of the balcony.

His fingers find their way back to your hips, slowly caressing their way up. An excited shiver catches you, and you feel him laugh against your skin. His warm hands find your breasts, thumbs rubbing over the soft skin before finding your nipples.

You suck in a breath as he kisses back up your neck. He pauses to capture your lips again, lulling you into him as his thumbs brush out across your nipples.

With your staccato breathing he smirks once more into your skin. Not one to ever be outmanoeuvred by Jimin, you decide it’s time to flip the switch.

You purposefully run your fingers down his stomach, featherlight and teasing. He hitches his breath, mouth detaching from your neck as he waits, anticipating your every move. His hot breath rolls down your neck, rippling off your chest. You hide a smirk in his hair and focus on your goal.

Letting your fingers rest on his belt buckle - no doubt something obnoxiously expensive - you begin to undo him as slow as you possibly could. You slide it off, inching it so little that you could feel him get restless against you.

“You’re a nightmare.” He whispers, looking up at you through his eyelashes.

“I’m just savouring the moment.” You offer softly, the soft clinks of the buckle resting against his thigh.

“You’ll pay if you tease me like this.” His voice is high, airy. The voice of a man in complete control - though you knew that was far from the truth.

“Mm, sure Jimin.” You smirk, bringing a hand up between you to his face.

You angle him back up to kiss you, which he does with ferocity. You smile into him, the power to provoke him rich in your veins.

Your hand sinks back to his belt, and with him distracted you pull it off him fast, dumping it somewhere on the floor and popping the button of his jeans. He gasps into your kiss, fingers automatically flexing across your breasts. You hold your reaction to yourself, intent on giving nothing away until you are ready.

You tug down his zipper, pressing it back onto him so he feels the teeth unclipping against his boxers. You knew they were gonna be some annoyingly expensive brand too, but the thought of getting him to ruin them for you was intoxicating. He leans his forehead against yours, the desperation rising his face palpable.

With a sharp tug you drop his jeans to his mid-thigh before moving your fingers back to him, running teasingly around his waistband. You didn’t have to look under the shirt to know his boxers were tented, his erection straining against the fabric. You dip a finger just below his waistband, tracing along the lines of his hips. He lets out a choked breath, hips subconsciously bucking into you.

“Y/N…”

“What?” You ask sweetly, moving your fingers to brush along his pubic bone. Your knuckles barely graze the base of his shaft, but he lets out a murmur of swear words as his eyes flicker.

Not one to be overshadowed for long, Jimin lets his hands drop to your hips and immediately flies to your zipper. He presses his crotch into you, and you feel just how hard he is for you. With a flapping mouth you watch him, challenging eyebrow raised.

Everything was a game. One that you were intent on winning.

Plucking at your courage, you slide a hand back down, wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock. His hips stutter in your hand, a gush of air forcing out of his lungs.

He felt good in your hand - really good. Firm skin, warm and pulsing in your hand. You experimentally ran a finger along his underside, tracing the vein all the way to his tip. He lets himself go then, head thrown back, eyes tightly clasped. A low groan rumbles from his throat, his fingers stilling on your zip.

“Feel good?” You whisper, pressing your lips to his.

“Ah, mm…” Is all he can manage as his head falls back.

He’s totally lost in your touch, and you’d barely started. A ripple of excitement darts through you, the sight of having Park Jimin needy and in your hands was too powerful to overlook.

A small giggle falls from your lips, the tiniest of noises. But it’s enough to spur him back to reality with his dark eyes finally refocusing on you.

He takes a breath to center himself before pulling down your jeans slowly. You feel the material slide over your hips and sit above your knees. Your panties quickly follow, thrust down faster than you can blink.

He lets a hand drag back up your thigh, running across to where you want his hand the most. Your touch on him falters as anticipation runs through your body. Ever so slowly he lets a finger stroke across your slit, barely grazing your skin. You wrap your free arm over his shoulder, taking a grip of his soft hair.

He smiles at you, and you let your eyes drag across his face. He drags his bottom lip between his teeth at your scrutiny. You can’t help but admire him: the way his lipgloss is smudged up across his cupid’s bow, the sweat that seemed to be dribbling so aesthetically down his sharp jaw, the blown out pupils of his deep eyes. Your breath catches in your throat as you soak him in - and that’s when he decides to strike.

He slips his fingers between your folds, feeling how wet you are for him, before sliding his fingers up to your clit. He applies only the slightest bit of pressure but it’s enough to have you gasping at his touch. He lets out a soft moan as he feels you, letting his fingers move in the tiniest circles.

You slowly rock your hips on his fingers, knotting your own in his hair. You instinctively flex your hand only to have his hips instinctively thrust his cock into your hand.

Deciding to move things on just a little, you move back just enough to see his cock in your hand. His eyes flutter open at your movements, only to blow wide when he sees a trail of spit drop from your lips onto his tip. You catch it with your thumb and rub it into his tip, rolling it down his length.

A low moan leaves him, his free hand coming up to wipe your bottom lip ever so delicately. You meet his eyes, a fire burning there just for you. He drags you into a kiss, his hand scrunching in your hair.

His hand start to move again, circling you and getting into a slow rhythm on your clit. You moan into his kiss, starting your movements too until both of you were breathless messes.

The kisses became scattered and sloppier as you both let your hands work. The delicate touch of his fingers was enough to blur your vision, and your firm grip that was growing in speed on his length rendered him weak in your hands.

His own hand moves deftly, nimble fingers moving between circling your needy clit to running through your wetness. His jaw slackens each time he feels how wet you are for him, pride drifting somewhere in his lust-blown eyes.

Jimin is slick under your grasp, rock hard as you twist up and down his length. Staggered gasps fall from his lips, getting more and more careless as you drag him higher.

His circling gets a little more pressure, and it’s enough to send your head lulling back, barely able to focus on the task literally in hand. You returned his zeal, putting an extra squeeze on his length. The choke that passes his lips sends pride through your already thrashing veins. His face twitches; his forehead creases, pretty lips part slightly further, eyebrows jolt. You know he’s close, and you have the power in your hands.

But he has you, too. The pressure pulsing from your core builds, your eyes slamming shut as you're barely able to form words. You can feel it rising, teetering on the edge of something good-

-until he jerks his fingers from you. You whimper at the loss of his fingers, orgasms skittering disappointingly away from you. Your eyes open as you snap your bereft gaze to him.

“Fuck, Y/N, too quick-“ he murmurs, grabbing hold of your wrist and gently pulling your hand of his throbbing cock.

“Jimin?”

He’s fully flushed, strands of silken hair stuck to his forehead. His chest rises and falls rapidly with his chest, eyes wild.

“I don’t wanna cum just yet.”

“What if I wanted you to-“

“Don’t argue with me on this,” he laughs, pressing a kiss to your lips. But then his voice drops low, lips pulled into a deadly smirk. “I have to make you cum first.”

You barely have a second to swallow down a gasp before you’re pulled from the wall to crash against his lips.

You hold him against you with the collar of the shirt you were still trapped in, matching his energy as he kisses you desperately. Your hands are held tight against his chest, his cock resting teasingly against your stomach.

His hands let go of you to grab your hips, steering your towards the edge of the balcony.

Once you're spun he pushes you gently, bending you over to lean against the railing. Forgetting that you’re stuck in the same damn shirt, he gets yanked down with you, body flush against your back. He lets out a tiny giggle into the back of your neck and it’s as if your heart could stop from the sound.

The cool of the metal railing presses into your chest, hands bracing it through the shirt. You look to the party happening below, guests hovering out in the garden to escape the heat of the sweaty party. You were pretty well out of sight - as long as nobody looked up.

“There’s quite a few people down there.” Jimin’s lips are by your ear, making the hairs on your neck stand on end.

“Don’t think you can make me loud enough? That’s a shame.” You smirk, unable to stop teasing him.

“You’re gonna regret those words baby.”

The pet name strikes deep within you. It’s perfect coming from Jimin, warmth radiating across your body. And you couldn’t blame that one on the heat.

Jimin presses his body onto your back, thick erection settling just above your cheeks. You feel the heat of his hand smooth from your thigh round to the front of you. He takes a few swipes across your clit to make you jerk beneath him before his fingers drift further back.

He swirls a finger around your waiting hole, agonizingly slow. You gasp at him, pushing your hips back into him. His shaft brushes against your cheeks and you can hear him suck in a desperate breath. Spurred on by his own need, he dips his finger gradually inside.

It’s slow, pushing past his knuckle until his finger sits inside you. You feel your walls pulse around him, desperate for more. His hand stills, taking his time to pepper kisses behind your ear. He nips playfully at your lobe, taking his sweet time with each movement.

You know he’s doing it to make you suffer. And god were you suffering, using every ounce of restraint to not whine for him.

Slowly he turns his finger so it sits better inside of you. The graze of his knuckle causes you to moan, and you feel him smirk into your skin.

“That’s what I was waiting for.”

He slowly begins to pump into you. It’s instantly better than his stationary finger, but still agonizingly slow. You needed him, harder and faster.

“Jimin…” you whine, pushing your rear back into him. He tuts into your ear, stilling his fingers.

“You need to let go, Y/N. I’ve got you.” He punctuates his point by kissing a trail along your shoulder.

You bite your lip, his words hitting a little deeper than just him getting you off. You always had to be in control of yourself around Jimin - you had to win, had to be alert. You couldn’t let your emotions get hold of you.

But it was all out in the open now. He knew how you felt - and he feels the same too. Maybe you can let go, just a little. It didn’t mean you had to start losing arguments any time soon, though.

You nod, turning your head to where he was pressing kisses into your skin. He beams at you, eyes scrunching as he surges up to catch your lips.

His movements cause his thumb to brush across your clit, and you moan wantonly into him. He pulls away to peer over the balcony, the loud noise escaping you both. You follow his gaze, but you’d drawn no attention. Not yet anyway-

He looks back at you and winks, the move cheeky and completely Jimin but he silences by pulling his finger almost completely out of you. Your jaw drops at the sensation, but just as quickly he pushes it back inside you, as far as he can go.

You bite the collar of the shirt to muffle your noise. His skin was still hot against yours, a sheen of sweat building on your forehead as you focused on him.

Mercifully he begins to fuck his finger in you, curling inside you. You inhale sharply through your nose, eyes shut tight as you let yourself go.

He carries on for a few more pups before he lets a second finger coat in your wetness. On the next thrust into you, he gently presses in a second finger, and you feel yourself clamp down at the stretch. Jimin keeps pressing kisses against your skin, but he gets breathless, his own erection pressing tauntingly at your back.

He sits his fingers for just a few seconds, letting you get used to him before he works them back out of you. In and out, in and out. He’s slow again, teasing you to the point of madness. You groan in frustration, but it was just what he was waiting for.

He thrusts his fingers deep into you, fucking you fast. Your hips roll to meet his pumps, the drag of him inside you delicious.

He brings up two fingers to your lips, and instinctively you take them into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digits. You make sure to meet his eye as you run your tip up the crack between his fingers, eliciting a groan from him and a buck of his hips against you.

He pulls them from your mouth and moves them between your legs. His fingers find your clit, and to match the rhythm that he was fingering into you, he begins to circle your needy bud.

It pushes you over the edge, almost literally. You cling onto the balcony as you’re thrust into it, Jimin sucking marks into your neck. You groan, the contact all over your body making you weak. The wet noises that surround you are pure sin, making you bite down on your lip. Jimin groans into your skin, teeth sinking softly into your shoulder as his fingers work fast.

“Fuck!” You yelp as his fingers brush your soft spot inside.

You slap a hand over your mouth as you stare down into the garden below, fear icy in your veins as you hope you’re not spotted.

Jimin doesn’t stop though. He hides his head in your neck, thrusting his fingers faster now that he knows your weak spot.

A few people below scan around them for the source of the swearing, but thankfully none of them think to look up. You bite your lip, eyes closing as you let yourself fall back into Jimin.

“That was a close one, huh?” He whispers, a lilt of a giggle in his voice.

“Shut up.” You murmur, voice cracking as he circles your clit so well you almost see stars.

“That’s no way to talk to the man who’s got two fingers deep in your-“

“Fuck, Jimin please!” You gasp, his next words dancing at the front of your mind.

The circles on your clit get defter, pressure hitting you just right as your hips start to roll uncontrollably. You grip tightly at the railing, unable to stop the flow of moans that echo from you. Being spotted from below is less important as you can feel your orgasm rising, your legs feeling weak underneath you.

Your skin prickles from the heat generating between your bodies, Jimin’s hot breath rolling across your neck as you flush harder.

“I’m gonna...” you whimper, your words lost to pleasure.

“Cum baby, all over my fingers.” His whisper sends shivers through you, a welcome change to the heat that dribbles down your temples.

He curls his fingers on every thrust to bring you closer to the precipice. You push back against him furiously, riding his fingers and your knuckles turn white on the railings. You feel it coil in your stomach, and you know you’re so close.

“Let go Y/N.” He whispers, breath ragged from exertion, but still peppering your marked skin with tiny kisses. You screw your eyes shut as you embody his words, letting yourself give in to the feeling.

“Jimin!”

Your orgasm crashes around you, a litany of swear words moan from your lips. Your walls clench down on Jimin’s fingers, twitching under his fingertips. You slam your hand over your mouth as your moans subside, wide eyes scanning the crowd below.

Heads turn in your direction, and before you can begin to scramble Jimin pulls you back from the balcony to stand flush against him. Your heart pounds in your chest, but the thrill that runs through your veins is undeniable.

He finally pulls his fingers out of you, the gush of wetness and noise make your face heat up. He wraps that arm across your chest and holds you against him, a wide grin wrinkling his eyes. You kiss him, soft and delicate, plump lips locking with yours.

Once you pull back he grins again, before moving the fingers that were in you towards his lips. your mouth parts as you watch him slip the digits inside, taking his time to suck off the taste of you. A light whimper leaves you as you watch him finally slide them out from between your lips with a pop, devilish glint in his eye.

Witha shiver you turn in his grip, pushing him firmly back against the wall.

He hisses lightly as his back hits it, and hisses louder as you're bungied in the shirt against him. He lets out a laugh and you do the same as you right yourself. But you can't keep yourself away from him as your lips are on his again. You flick your tongue at his, the taste of you on him.

“Wanna be inside you...” he whispers between kisses, his hot fingers idling their way up and down your sides. You groan at his words, nodding dreamily at him.

“God, yes please.” you sigh, feeling his lips trace kisses along your jaw.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” He smiles against your skin, grabbing you by the hips and spinning you both.

He pushes you back against the wall, the bite of the wood pressing into your skin.

“I’ve never heard you so passive.” He laughs, thumb and finger coming up to gently grip your chin. You grin at him, a flutter in your stomach.

“Don’t get used to it Park Jimin.”

He tips his head back to laugh, a pinky flush hot on his cheeks. All you can do is watch in awe, soak him in as he glows in the moonlight. But then he looks back down at you with the stars in his eyes and you realise that, yes - this is what you had wanted all along.

You bring his lips crashing back down to yours, letting your fingers knot in his dark hair and you touch him, drink him in. The silken strands flit through your fingers, and you idly think to yourself about him running his own hands through it. You can see why he does it now.

His thumb strokes across your chin, gently pulling your face from his. You open your eyes to look at him, the flush on his face even brighter.

“Ready?”

“Give it your best shot.” you smile, peppering his jaw with kisses.

You’re stopped in your tracks when he hoists one of your legs over his hip, a teasing eyebrow raised at you. Not to be bested, you hook your leg over his ass and pull him against you. You feel his erection sit against your stomach, hard and leaking onto your skin.

He takes hold of himself and strokes across your wet slit, coating himself. A withered sigh escapes your lips as you watch his frown deepen. His face contorts as he concentrates, teasing himself just as much as he was you. You lean forward to let a trail of spit fall from your lips and drip down onto him, coating his cock even more. You don’t know what possessed you to do it again, but the way he stuttered in a gasp made it well worth it.

Then with an agonisingly slow pace, he begins to press himself just inside you. Your mind clears, all that you can see and feel is Jimin. You had waited long enough.

A wimpery sigh strangles from you, Jimin pressing against your walls until he is fully seated in you. He was so warm, stretching you in all the right places, as close to you as he could physically be.

You give him an encouraging squeeze with your leg. He takes the hint and slowly starts to pull out of you, hair flopping in front of his eyes as he looks down to watch himself pull out of you. The drag of him is good, too good, as you let a warble of noises fall out of your mouth. He doesn't seem to mind though, his focus transfixed elsewhere.

"Jimin..." you whisper, fingers digging into his skin as he slowly begins to reach a rhythm.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, any mischievous glint in him gone. He was a man on a mission now, aiming to make you feel as good as possible. You could feel that in every stroke, the way he let you feel the length of him drag almost fully out before he pushes back inside you.

You start to roll your hips back at him, determined to not let him have all the fun. The tentative thrust of your hips had his head snap up to you, a fresh sheen of sweat glowing on his skin. You try to play it off coolly - another attempt to throw him off his game - but he squeezes your ass cheeks and holds himself deep in you, and your resolve melts away.

"Don't start something you can't finish." He smirks, and despite the need to fight him bubbling in you, you tip your head back and laugh.

"I guess that applies to both of us." You smile, pressing forward to kiss his lips softly. "Now fuck me Park Jimin, or we're really gonna have a fight on our hands."

He laughs against your lips, a gentle bubble that rises from his chest. But he takes on your words, pressing you hardest against the wall and hiking your leg higher.

He only goes slow for a few thrusts, getting a feel for you before he decides to ramp it up further. 'Typical Jimin' seems to float through your head, but you just grip him tighter, moving to meet his thrusts. You wanted to savour how full he made you feel for as long as possible.

His speed picks up, a hand moving to the underside of your raised legs and digs in deep. You let your own hands slide to his hair, keeping hold of the soft locks as he starts to hit harder inside you.

The sound of your skin making contact seems to echo loudly, and you barely spare a thought to people below working out what the noise was. You didn't care if they heard any more.

It was so hot inside the shirt together, and you could feel beads of sweat rolling down your chin and down your neck. This definitely wasn't helping the heat problem at all, but there was nothing on earth that would make you stop.  The edges of Jimin's hair were getting damper, and with every tug of his hair he let his head fall back into your touch. His throat was bared to you, salty beads dribbling down his hot skin.

You murmur a series of curses as you watched him, the thrum of him being underneath you almost unbelievable.

But then he pulls out a power move.

With fast thrusts he rolls his hips, his cock dragging almost perfectly across your soft spot inside, and all your senses seem to leave you. He repeatedly manages to hit your spot and you are sure he is planning to end you, it was the only way to explain it. Death by good dick, you could see it now.

"Fuck fuck fuck." you repeat like a mantra, The wet slaps that echoes just adding to the sensation.

"Wanna turn you." He mutters breathlessly, and a part of you is glad he's also feeling so affected.

You can't seem to vocalise an answer so you nod emphatically, unhitching your leg from its vice-like grip around him. He pulls out of you and you almost complain, but then his hands are on your hips.

He spins you and presses you against the wall, lifting your leg up and lining himself back inside you again. You're practically dripping for him, so it doesn't take much for him to push back inside. You push your ass back into his thrusts making his movements stutter, and with a playful squeeze he whines behind you.

A small smirk picks up on your lips as you roll your hips back at him, starting him out of his stupor and back to where you need him.

He pounds his hips into you and you have to steady yourself against the wall. The shirt bunches awkwardly, caught in your grip as the rough wood of the wall digs into your skin. Jimin presses his front against your back, the hotness of his skin pricking against your own.

An arm slides around your waist, guiding you, holding you steady as he ferociously fucks into you. His other arm settles across your chest, his fingers clenching across your collarbone. His mouth is by your ear, ragged breaths blowing across the taut collar of the shirt and hitting the warmth of your body.

“Y/N.” Jimin groans, the lilt in his voice uneven as his hips crash into yours.

Your entire body was tingling, the pleasure from your core and the bite of the wall against your bare skin a fight for your senses. You could feel perspiration form on your forehead making your hair stick to you awkwardly but it didn't matter.

Jimin filled you in every way. The hot touch from his fingertips on your waist and across your chest, the heat of his stomach at the base of your back, the soft moans that he sings by your ears.

"That's it, baby." He groans, his fingers curling onto your skin.

The hand that he has sat on your waist slinks across your stomach to reach between your legs, letting his fingers circle your throbbing clit. The pressure makes your eyes slam shut, letting your head fall back onto Jimin's shoulder behind you.

A small single laugh falls from his lips, but your inevitable clench off your walls around him cuts it short. He thrusts a little harder, rocking you against the wall. You have to brace yourself as he fills you repeatedly, his athletic hips working overtime.

The hand that has been pressed to your chest finds its way to your throat, holding just below your jaw. You let out a moan as you cover his hand with yours, pressing his fingers into your throat.

"Shit..." He gasps, his hips stuttering.

"I bet you've been wanting to strangle me for ages." You rush, voice cracking as he circles your clit a little harder.

"Only when I've thought about fucking you."

The moan that leaves you is barely human. In fact, you were barely human any more. you were turning to putty on his cock and under his fingers. It wasn't going to be long until you reached your peak.

His fingers press into your throat under your guidance, the delicious bite making your vision slowly pool. You gasp, shivers tingling down your body. He lets up his grip a little to let your blood flow one more, your body practically vibrating from stimulation.

"Close, Jimin..." you whine, rocking your ass back into him.

"Let loose for me, Y/N." He whispers, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear.

He lets out one last surge of energy, fucking into you and rubbing your clit with a renewed vigour. you throw yourself back at him without care, chasing the high he was leading to you.

With a few more pumps and circles on your clit, you come undone.

Your body pulses on him, clenching down hard as your orgasm crashes through you. Your fingernails dig into his hand and the wall, a strangled cry of his name bursting from you. You cum hard on him, helping him finally reach his peak too - you could tell by the way his hips stuttered, the way he throbbed inside you.

"Cum, Jimin." you whimper, rocking your throbbing core on him.

He doesn't hold back, pumping a few stuttery thrusts into you as he cums. He fills you, gasping against your ear as your walls milk him dry. He thrusts until he can’t anymore, slowing his hips as the fullness inside of you trickles out past his length.

Both of your movements slowly lull to a stop. Jimin holds your body close against him, ragged breath hot against your ear. Your skin is prickled from the heat but you nestle into him anyway.

He finally pulls his softening length from inside you, a small dribble of your combined juices trickle down causing shivers to cover your body.

Turning your head you smile at him, slightly out of breath and dewy. The sight of him is godly: Messy hair sticking to his damp forehead, a pretty red blush spreading across his cheeks, plushy lips parted and sucking in breaths. He smirks back, a lazy grin growing. He moves closer and kisses you, gentle brushes of his lips against yours.

His hand that sat on your throat moved to stroke your cheek, and you let your hands thread in his hair as your kiss trails off into small pecks.

The air is different around you. It’s still hot, swirling close and untempered. But there’s something else too - a coolness, an understanding. A person behind the battle lines. Someone you could lean on, and someone who could keep up with you in an argument.

You pull back from him and look at him, his eyes slightly starry and his lips swollen from all they had been doing. With a soft smile you rub your thumb across his cupid’s bow, wiping off the last of his lipgloss.

“We should probably go downstairs, right? We don’t want Namjoon sticking that long neck of his out here.” Jimin whispers, his eyes finally focusing on you.

You nod, but not before pressing one last soft kiss to his lips. Now you’ve started, there was nothing in the world that could stop you from peppering him.

“Yeah.” You sigh, voice cracking slightly.

But neither of you move, both unwilling to be the first to break apart.

“I don’t want to leave here either.” He smirks, but it’s softer. Not the smirk he throws out to purposely disarm you, though it still has that effect on you.

“Where do we go from here though?”

“I guess we’ll have to work that out. Maybe we can discuss it if you let me take you out tomorrow?” He asks, eyes darting over your face for an answer.

Excitement crackles through you, electricity rippling through your head to the end of your fingertips. A smile rises on your face, and you can see the relief flow through Jimin.

“I’d love to.”

“Perfect. Now, let’s go and rub in the guy’s faces how well we’re getting on.” He laughs, his eyes crinkling.

He kisses you one last time, hard and fast, satiated for now. With that you finally separate, Pulling your clothes back on before facing each other again.

The shirt felt big now. Too big.

You couldn’t get close enough to him. You both head for the door when you feel Jimin’s fingers interlock with yours. Your entire body flushes as you open the door to the bedroom, the wall of heat from the house hitting you both.

You’re both undeterred though, determined to find your friends. You pull him down the stairs, not caring at who stares at you both in the sickly shirt. The house felt hotter, a visible mist descending over the sea of people.

You find them where they last left you, congregating around the couch. When you stop in front of them with Jimin in tow, they all take it upon themselves to scrutinise you. It was quiet for a long while, and you could feel your resolve buckling. You didn’t want them to see through you, see what happened. But you wanted them to know that things would be okay. For all of you.

You can only imagine how you looked. Out of breath and flustered, both of your hair messy and fully damp. They couldn’t see your hands knotted together inside the shirt, but they didn’t need to. The demeanor change between you both must have been glaringly obvious.

“How’s it going?” Namjoon asks, glaring between you.

“Good, we, uh. We’re getting on. Yeah.” you smile awkwardly, completely lost on why you were being so suspicious. You had more guts than that!

“That was smooth.” Jimin grins. He was worlds away from you, utterly content and calm.

“Oh my god, shut up.” You roll your eyes, but give his hands an extra squeeze under the shirt.

“Where have you guys been? I haven’t seen you all night.” Jungkook asks with wide innocent eyes, and for a moment you feel like if he knew what had just been happening he would have been tainted.

“Oh, just… exploring.” Jimin smirks, and you fight the urge to pinch him. Who knew this would go to his head?

Well, you knew. You shouldn’t be surprised at all.

“About time.” Jin sighs, eyes still glued to his phone. The others laugh and throw in their agreements.

“What?” you and Jimin both yell, eyes scanning your ‘friends’ suspiciously.

“We knew you both liked each other. It got a bit weird towards the end there but we knew you’d work it out - or Namjoon would.” Hoseok shrugs, but his face is bright as he grins at you both.

“The shirt was a bit of a, well… drastic option.” Namjoon's smile was crooked, but his eyes were bright as he grinned at you.

“Oh… I don’t know what to say.” You murmur, heat creeping across your face again.

Jimin, however, throws his head back and laughs, slapping a hand on his chest for good measure. You stare up at him in shock, but you can’t help the smile that grows on your face. He was infectious. And your friends understood. You feel a tightness unfurl in your stomach.

“Well, it worked out. It worked out really well. I mean just so so good-”

“Jimin, shut up!”  You gasp, eyes wide as he winks at Namjoon.

Well, it’s good to know that the fire is still there between you. He was still impossibly infuriating and unendingly Jimin - but it was all for you. And it was only the start.

“Sorry baby.” He whispers as he lets go of your hand to wrap his arm around your waist pulling you into his side. You flush at the move in front of the others, but easily melt into his side. You had been waiting for this, after all.

“I’m glad.” smiles Namjoon, warm eyes flicking over you both in the stained and rumpled ugly item of clothing. “Maybe we should burn the shirt, though. Just for hygienic reasons.”

[masterswrd]

Hannibal Fashion Meta Pt. 4

Now with sexy annotations.

In this installment we’re back to our favorite party vampire, my sweet Hannibal, who is a whole ass meal and always ready to please a crowd. So we’re going to be talking about his Event Looks.

Ya know, these are becoming less like metas and more like me sitting with you on your couch and pausing and pointing at the screen while I dump all this on you. But what matters most is my own happiness so here we are.

Let’s start in order with one of my favorite episodes, 1x07 Sorbet. Where we see Hannibal is a gorgeous double breasted midnight blue Brunello Cucinelli tux. It’s not bespoke, but honey if this is cashmere than this is probably $9000. If it’s wool than it’s closer to $5000 (which is what I estimate he pays for a lot of his bespoke suits).

Hannibal really isn’t the type of person to wear black, I’m pretty sure we never see him in a solid black suit. Black suits are very very formal and unless you’re at a black tie event or a funeral, a black suit is usually overkill. We know he likes to stand out. Blue is a very socially acceptable way to have some flair at a black tie event. It’s very main character of him. He’s also wearing french square cuffs on the shirt (the reason they look almost tear drop shaped around his wrists) which is why he’s wearing cuff links (you need french cuffs for cufflinks).

Hannibal doesn’t seem to wear cuff links very often. Only with tuxedos. On this evening, he pairs this with a $200 a blue silk Burberry bow tie.

Hugh Dancy used to model for Burberry and I lost an hour of work on this due to that little morsel of information.

The next even we see Hannibal at is his own dinner party later that episode. This shit is lux, baby.

This blazer is a dark dark green velvet Canali dinner jacket that I’m estimating to be around two to three thousand dollars. And hey listen. I tried so hard to edit these pics so you could see the green, but it’s the type of material in color where you’d really only see it in person. Canali is a luxury Italian brand that has a shop in Washington DC,which is probably the one Hannibal would go to in canon. There’s also a shop in Milano, Italy so Hannibal could’ve been a fan of this brand for a long time. Under the jacket we have a $600 Gucci button up. A paisley tie, not surprising with it being a staple to Hannibal’s taste, and a three-peak folded pocket square to finish off the look. King of pocket square folds. I love you.

With only one party happening in season two, Futamono is next. Now, I personally love this look but anytime people step up their formal wear with color, I go nuts.

This is a maroon velvet dinner jacket with silk lining and trim. The make is Etro, a very high end Italian fashion house that specializes in bold prints. It’s a gorgeous $1500 jacket, but I want to talk about the cravat. Cravats felt out of a fashion a long time ago (they were originally a military thing way back before aristocracy got a hold of it) and most people could NOT pull them off today. BUT that is only because people don’t modernize the look. People wear them too high on the neck and makes your whole outfit look outdated. But keeping it low to the open collar or using it to frame an open collar makes it look a million times better. This is just another example of Hannibal being a person who wears what looks good on him and not wearing things that follow certain rules. He can pull anything off it he puts his mind to it. If we wore crocs to the opera, everyone would be trying to do it the next day. He’s a trend setter and an icon.

Jumping to season 3, we have another black tie event. Everyone in the background wearing black and our man comes through with a gorgeous burgundy two-peice tuxedo. This is a unique bespoke peice by toronto based Italian master tailor, Nino Cioppa. Nino is the primary tailor for season 3 and he did a fabulous job, the talent JUMPED out. Molto bello.

The silk on the lapels are patterned and the same fabric is used to do an accent strip on the sides of the legs. Silk lapels are one trusty way you can tell between a suit and a tuxedo. Lovely lovely lovely. Not a plain tie either. It’s maroon silk with an embroidered square pattern. He’s also wearing french cuffs with mother of pearl Burberry cufflinks.

Another amazing suit in Antipasto is this baby, a beautiful chalkstripe emerald green three-piece suit. By FAR, one of my favorite outfits that he wears. Like the tux above, this is another bespoke original from Mr. Nino Cioppa.

The silk blue bowtie brings yet another pop of color. He does color matching and pattern matching very often and does it well. There’s a general rule of two that people follow where they will only wear two patterns at most having one be understated (the chalkstripe and stripes on the shirt in this case) and one being more attention drawing (the bowtie). Hannibal ignores this rule a lot and still looks amazing but this is a good example of the rule in action.

The biggest thing I want people to get out of these is that regular fancy people don’t dress like this. Hannibal Lecter is another plane of fashion. He’s avant-garde and ahead of his time. He is always wearing something fresh and showstopping. This person had to be THE TALK of the baltimore upper class. “What’s Dr. Lecter wearing?” “Who is your tailor?” “Oh my goodness, he’s stunning.” Nobody else is doing it like him and doing it so well. He dresses for the Met Gala everytime he pulls up to ANY function. Why should he be concerned out rules? Why should he be self-conscious or worried what other people think? Take his self confidence and apply it to your style. Wear that peice of clothing you bought but shoved back in your closet because you can’t bring yourself to wear it out. Hannibal will never hold back when he’s serving looks and neither should you.

In conclusion:

[dreamkidddream]

could you do quote 5 with chuuya? congratulations on 200 💖💖

Thank you!! 🙏🏾🙏🏾 the more I write for Chuuya the more I fall in love with him. Reader is gender neutral!

Prompt: “This is why I fell in love with you.” with Chuuya!

Damn he could not take his eyes off of you.

Seeing the way your form stretched and flew through the mob of enemies while still looking graceful was something that he will never get tired of watching. Not to mention how little effort you had to put in to do so. Your way of approaching your problems head held high honestly added on to your attractiveness.

Plus, the way that you carried yourself too. You didn’t take shit from anyone, your loyalty never wavered, and you’re one of the only people who still has morals. Your occupation was rather bloody and dark at times, but even you still had some kind of decency to be human. Chuuya would be dumb if he didn’t fall for you at some point in time.

He couldn’t help it, you’re too damn sexy!

After a long mission and having some time off for the next day, Chuuya invited you out for drinks, claiming it was for a job well done. You accepted it, having nothing else to do and actually enjoying spending time with him. Well, you figured out very quickly why this was one of his favorites way to unwind.

He lets loose and rambles, a lot. Very affectionate too.

You thought that while yes, he’s an experienced drinker, it didn’t make him immune to getting drunk (you thought he got drunk quick because of his height, but you’ll keep that to yourself for now). He popped open of his favorites (something fancy that you couldn’t pronounce and definitely couldn’t afford if not for your current position), and kept pouring for you both. You knew your limit, but it seemed as if Chuuya was just appreciating the time you two could spend outside of work and kept pouring.

Which lead you to now: dragging him to a waiting car to drop him off at his place while he’s going on about something. Gripping your wrist and slinging himself onto you, he was determined to not let you go.

“C’mon Chuuya let’s go. I’m taking you home.”

“Fuuur what? I wanna spend wish you still! Don’t leave me just yeeeeeeet!”, slurring his words and hiccuping through everything he’s saying, he was clinging onto you, both during the ride and after. Had this been someone else, you wouldn’t have been so kind but it was Chuuya, so you didn’t really mind. However, opening his door and getting him to bed was starting to become a problem.

“Keep undressing me, I’ve been waiting for this moment~”

“Chuuya just get in the damn bed-”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yes-uh.”

“You’re just *hic* gonna leave me again...”

Not to mention how emotional he can get in a flip of a switch.

Going against your better judgement, you suggested, “If I lay with you and we go straight to sleep, will you get in the bed?”

You don’t think you ever saw his face light up so quickly, his blush and cheesy smile remaining as he let you switch his clothes for something to sleep in. You could hear his drunken giggles, fighting back a smile yourself. You know he didn’t like being called cute, but he really was. He’s attractive too, very attractive, but his moments where he’s down right adorable were to die for.

“Hurrryyyy (Y/N). I want cuddles and I’m cold!”

There Chuuya was, hair sprawled behind him, face flushed, whining and making grabby hands at you. See, this is one of those moments that are to die for! You might have to sneak a pic or two to remember this moment...

Your original plan was to stay with him until he fell asleep (which shouldn’t take long) and then leave. But he stopped you before you could join him, complaining that you still have on “dirty” clothes (he can be so extra sometimes). Finding a spare shirt and some shorts in his drawers, you went to change in his bathroom (which caused him to whine even more and try to roll of the bed to stop you and he WOULD NOT STOP until you promised to come back). Once you came back, he didn’t hesistate to coil himself around you, snuggling right into your neck.

Yeah you’re not leaving anytime soon.

You don’t know how long you’ll stay in this bed being surrounded by him, and you don’t know how much longer you can deny your feelings for him either. Well they do say that drunken lips spill truth, and you’re hoping with the way that he’s acting that that’s true.

Being lost in your thoughts, you halfway heard Chuuya drunkenly mumble to himself (or maybe it was to you, who knows). He sounded like he was on the brink of sleep, but fighting against it and drastically losing the battle. You situated the both of you to where you could run your fingers through his hair, and properly give him his cuddles that didn’t include him drooling on your neck (no matter how cute it looked). He seemed to sink into you more, and let out a pleased sigh.

“Hm, (Y/N)...you’re always so soft and so nice to me...and so pretty...and so stunning...and bad ass...and funny...and-”

“I get it, Chu. Thank you.”, you chuckled. If this was the only time you could get him to open up without being seen as weak then you’re going to milk it for what it’s worth. “You’re all of those things too y’know?”

“Not as much as you...I like it when you call me that...do it again!”

“Okay Chu.”

He giggled to himself, then yawned. It seemed like he was finally losing that battle. He tighten his grip around you one final time, then said something that made your heart jump.

“This is why I fell in love with you.”

You froze, did he just say-

“G’night (Y/N), love you...”, and as he trailed off, you could hear him softly snoring. Here was Chuuya Nakahara, one of the most feared Port Mafia executives, curling into you like his life depended on it. It felt like a dream honestly, you’ve been waiting for the day for him to confess to you, and while you wished it could have been when he’s not intoxicated, you feel lucky enough that he feels the same way you do.

“I love you too, Chuuya.”

You felt your eyes slowly closing, becoming too comfortable basking in his warmth. You will be having “the talk” in the morning, and if he doesn’t remember this night, you’ll be more than happy to remind him. And you’ll even give him the chance to do a proper confession too, knowing that he’ll more than likely be pissed and punching the air. That’s an issue for the morning, for now, you just wanted to sleep.

Sleeping next to the person that you’re deeply in love with was pure bliss, and it wasn’t something that you would trade for the world.

[lunaekalenda]

heyy congrats on 500! 👄💰🥲 or 💖 (i can’t choose but maybe a mix of both?) with eren plz:)

obv! thank you so much for participating and i hope you like it! <3

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enemies to lovers + mafia au + romantic tragicomedia feat. Eren Jaeger

introduced original characters, mentions of blood.

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Eren Jaeger. The actual and young head of the Jaeger family. He wasn’t an easy prey, his family was one of the most important ones in this city. He moves a huge amount of money every day, heir of all the things his parents made on the past.

Unlucky him they have hired you. 

You’re the secret weapon of the Müller family. The child they trained since little to seduce and play with other’s minds to know all of them. You only need to get closer to him and discover all the Jaeger secrets. With which families are they allied. How many money do they count. How many of them are now.

If they hired an Ackerman to kill the clan that contracted you.

The Ackermans are also a really well known clan, famous for being silent and skilled assassins. Specially two of them. Levi Ackerman. The man who built again the reputation of his family. Mikasa Ackerman. The girl who protects Eren Jaeger, because the Ackerman clan knows how many benefits they can get just from protecting the young man. Your instructions are easy, but you know the plan isn’t it. Entering the Jaeger mansion is really complicated: there are guards everywhere. Eren rarely goes out of the mansion, so it’s almost impossible to make it like a casual encounter, the typical encounter between two people that ends with a coffee. You have to enter like every single soul that had meet Eren before: trough money, contracts and secrets. It’s the only way to treat directly with him. Negotiations. Dirty treats.

"I have information about the Müllers."

That false information is the key to your reunion with Eren. You're dressed for the occasion, really well-dressed. The man in front of you talks to a brown-haired girl, and she leaves, going to tell the info to a person who you suppose it's Eren. He listens the orders once she comes back and you look around, analyzing. There are big paintings on the walls, most of them from really famous painters. The corridor you're waiting in is decorated with huge glass lamps that make all the little cristal drops shine in all directions. You don't know who those two are. The tallest one, who has an undercut, nods to the other.

"You can pass." he says. "But he will make you a control. Please, take out your jacket and all the things we can easily found and claim as suspicious, such as..."

"I know, I know. Knifes, guns or another harmful things. I’m empty.” You put your bag in the tallest’s hands. He revises it while the other touches your body superficially, trying to find any hint of a weapon. The little stylet you have on your boot its cold against your leg, and it could hurt you with any abrupt movement. The boy with the bag gives it back to you. The other releases you arms. 

“Take the stairs and wait on the corridor of the second plant. Someone will call you to talk with him.” You nod quietly and make your way to the stairs. Quickly, a blonde boy appears, opening the door from Eren’s office.

“Come in. Boss waits for you.”

You enter before the blonde man, who closes the door fast, almost getting your leg with it. The movement made the stylet cut a little wound on your leg. You walk cautiously, trying not to get the stylet too close to your skin. The fact that you’re wearing the stylet without case is simple: Is a punishment. You had orders to kill someone on your last mission and doubted, so now they want the stylet to cut you, trying to make you regret the failed assassination. But you’ve learned, and you have strict orders to kill Eren Jaeger if he knows too much. The light of the room surprises you, the curtains moving quietly because of the wind that enters from the open window behind the desk, where a tall figure is sitting.

Even when you’ve seen Eren Jaeger before, on pictures the Müllers shown you, you never thought he’ll be so imposing. His dark hair is tied on a messy bun on the back part of his head, and he’s wearing a white shirt he has unbuttoned until the middle. His green eyes look tired, a little shadow under them. He takes his gaze far from the documents and tilts his head a little to thank the blonde boy, that does the same and disappears. He invites you to sit, moving his eyes from your body to the chair in front of him. You sit, your bag on your knees. Eren seems young, maybe he’s on his early twenties. His sharp jaw tenses when he sees you eyes looking the documents with curiosity. You got to read the title of some of them: they are hiring contracts with Ackermans and some transactions about enterprises being bought by the Jaegers.

During your training, they taught you how to read upside down, really fast. That’s because once you arrive on someone’s office to get info, the papers will be facing them. A normal person would take their time to read, making obvious they’re trying to get something. You can read them fast.

“If you’re here to try to get some information.” His voice sounds bored, maybe too tired, as if he doesn’t enjoy the fact that his family is one of the most important ones. Maybe he doesn’t like this? “You’re going to go back with empty hands”

It’s not time to feel compassion. You’re hired. You have a work. 

“I’m here to give information to you, not to steal it from you.” You talk. You know how to modulate your voice, try to make him think you’re nervous for being there, as if you fear for your life just for opening your mouth. Eren raises an eyebrow, as if he was inviting you to talk. “The Müllers.” Now, it’s time to make a credible story to make Eren feel curiosity. To make him want to know more. He’ll protect anything that would help him to destroy the Müllers, so he’ll probably protect you once he believes you can get information for him. You can make him hire you. Eren leans back on his chair.

“I’m listening.”

“They lost their protection. A bad made pact or something like that.” you don’t want to be really specific, that would just uncover your lie. “The clan that worked for them left because of a better work offer.” This wasn’t a lie after all. The Müller did lost their protection, but they quickly found another one, keeping that pact in secret for everyone. Eren looks to his fingers on the table, his head resting on his free hand. He nods quietly.

“You know this pacts from inside, don’t you?” his question, made with the same deep and tired voice, caught you by surprise. He sighs. “You entered and looked directly to my desk. This could be an unfortunate coincidence, you entered and felt curiosity about the papers, that’s just an human feeling. A normal person that enters my office looks down at the papers and then leaves them be, they’re upside down for them. You read them, quite fast i could say.” He takes the papers. “How many of them were you able to read?” You stay silent. He smirks. “Also, isn’t your leg hurt?” he asks. It’s impossible he knows you’re carrying a weapon with you. “I saw you had trouble landing that foot correctly when you walked in.” 

“Just a bad landing,” You answer. He nods, slowly. He knows something.

“How much do you gain with this mission?” he asks. His green tired eyes are looking directly to you. 

“Wh-what mission?” you ask, trying to act innocent. A sarcastic laugh leaves his lips.

“Stop fucking acting.” he takes out some papers. “Y/N, do you recognize this paper?” he gives it to you. 

“My contract?” You think for yourself. There it is: your name, surname, a photo, quantity you gain with this and your signature. 

“I should say, if this is permitted, that you’re much prettier now that in that pic.” He says, calmly. His smirk hasn’t disappeared. “I’ll give you a counteroffer.” He says. “I’m tired of playing hide and seek with all those bastards.” He knows too much. He discovered your plans.

You’re fast when you take the stylet out of your boot, your blood dripping from the file, getting up and leaning on the table to stab him. You’re fast moving it to his neck, but he’s faster. His hand gets your wrist, stronger than you think, making you unable to move it, and he takes the stylet out of your immobilized hand. He looks at it, with your wrist caged on his hand. You can’t sit, he’s pulling you to stay in that position - legs half flexed, the elbow against the table, his green eyes really close to yours.- It’s uncomfortable. 

“You took a risk, didn’t you, hm?” he asks. His voice is now lower. He stopped your stab. The price you pay for a bad executed assassination is death. 

They are going to kill you.

If Eren doesn’t kill you first. Tears start to run from your eyes. You don’t wanna cry, and less in front of him, but the thought of the consequences once you get home again scare you so much. Eren hisses. 

“The cute assassin is crying?” he jokes, his free hand getting some tears from your face. He doesn’t let your wrist. “I’ve heard the Müller are a really moral-questionable family, aren’t they?” he says. He knows about the consequences. “Once more, I have a counteroffer for you.” he leaves your wrist. You sit again, the skin where he grabbed you starting to change from red to a painful purple. He looks at it. “Sorry, used too much strength.” He takes out an empty contract formulary. 

You try to calm yourself. Should you accept it? The betray is also punished with death. They’ll kill you in any way. The green-eyed boy in front of you is your only way to scape.

“Only if you protect me from them.” Eren smirks.

“Granted.”

He doesn’t want to know the Müller secrets, he doesn’t have interest in that. His older brother, Zeke Jaeger, was the one that searched problems. Eren just wants to stay quiet and make easy money without getting his hands covered with blood. He doesn’t want to get in trouble with other families. He doesn’t want to kill, he’s tired of that.  He sits and starts to make your contract. You look how his hands write fast your information. 

“Why?” you ask. All the shock of the previous events didn’t let you think straight. He raises an eyebrow.

“Why what? Speak properly, hm?”

“Why aren’t you going to kill me? I tried to kill you. That’s how this works. One life for another.” Eren keeps writing, unbothered. 

“That’s how it works in Müller’s rules.” he says. “I don’t like that dynamics. Send someone to kill another one.” he answers simply. You look at him. He isn’t a bad person. He isn’t the man everybody talked about. That’s a fake Eren, made by rumors. The boy in front of you is just someone making business. Maybe not in the cleanest way, but at least he doesn’t kill. “I don’t like to kill. And less if the other person is just following orders, scared about the consequences.” He looks at you. It seems you started to calm down. 

“How are you going to cover me?”

“Faking your death. You know I don’t like to go out of the mansion, I saw you walking around it from the window this last days.” You are really surprised. He’s smart, so smart. “I need someone to help with my investments. You don’t need to go out of the mansion.” 

He was strangely calm to be negotiating with the enemy. 

“I could take out another knife and kill you, you know?” you say. He smiles.

“If you announced it, then you’re not going to do it.” He keeps writing. You nod quietly. “I need you to sign here.” He offers you the fountain pen. You could harm him with that. Your hand takes the pen in stabbing position. He sees you from the corner of the eye.

“I wouldn’t do that.” he says, calmly. “Remember that is your life the one risking, not mine.” He’s right. You sigh and sign the contract. Eren smiles.

“You should read the contract before signing.” he says, his voice being like a joke melody. 

“Whatever you’ve put there is better than the punishment of the Müller.” you say, throwing the pen back to him. He catches it easily. 

“Fine, then. You won’t get a single coin in the first year working here.” He says. Wait, was that in the contract? “You tried to kill me. I’m kind, but not that much.”

“But-” He gets up and walks towards you. His green eyes are now close to yours, his breath almost mixing with yours. He smells good.

“But?” he asks. One of his strands of hair move with him, touching your face quietly. He’s really attractive, and so near... 

“How am I supposed to eat?” Eren thinks.

“There are a hundred ways to gain extra pays, you know? Helping on the kitchen, reading my letters or preparing my baths.” he says. “Maybe I could be extra kind and let you have a bath with me.” You can hear the joke in his voice.

“I would politely decline it.” You say. He smiles.

“I don’t know. Maybe you’ll end enjoying it.”

“They never taught you to not empathize with the enemy?”

❁❁❁❁ ❁❁❁❁ ❁❁❁❁ ❁❁❁❁ ❁❁❁❁ ❁❁❁❁ ❁❁❁❁ ❁❁❁❁ ❁❁❁❁ ❁❁❁❁

Casually, it seems like you didn’t learn it either.

“Eren.” you call him quietly. You’ve been here for months now, almost eight. In that time, Eren avoided three different trials of murder from you and you got slightly punished for two of them. You ended accepting your fate and helping him, learning that he can be a soft and warm-hearted boy once he stops acting as a mature mafia head. This world isn’t for him.

“What?” he says, a little laugh following his words. He didn’t knew what to make with you, a problematic captive enemy that attempted to murder him multiple times. And your angelical aspect and sweet voice confused him. He ended understanding you, understanding the pain and the fear you feel since little, since the Müller bought you and obligated to train as a spy. He listened to your story and you listened to his, how everyone wanted him to became a good leader, one that wouldn’t doubt to kill for his own benefice. That made you understand each other, fall in love with the most human part of the other one. 

“Move.” you try to push him a little, but he offers resistance. He tangles one leg around yours. Your head is resting on his pillow. How did you went from wanting to pierce his heart with a stylet to wanting to treasure it? His arm tangles on your waist and pulls you closer.

“No.” he answers. You laugh and let you head meet his neck curve. You sigh. “You know? A lot of people want me dead.”

“So I did.” you laugh, and he does too.

“So you did.” he says. You remain silent. “At least say sorry, y/n” 

“Sorry for trying to kill you, Eren.” you say. He lets out a little laugh.

“That was the fakest sorry i’ve heard in years.” you hit his shoulder softly before pulling the blanket higher on your body, covering you two. “What would you do if they kill me?”

“I couldn’t kill you, so no one is going to do it.” You say. He caresses your hair.

“They could. And I don’t want you to be here. They could kill you as well.” His voice shows concern. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Some months ago...” you start, but he interrupts you.

“Some months ago we were just two persons with different ideologies.” he says. You sigh.

“I don’t care. I will stay here even if they point you with three guns and two knifes. I’ll be here with you, I’ll stay here by your side in any way.”

“Y/N”... he says.

“If they kill you, they’ll kill a part of me.”

[ming-yu-hao]

Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder | Chapter 3

Pairing: fratboy!mingyu x female reader

Word Count: 6k

Synopsis: When you transferred to a different university, you and Wonwoo promised that you would make long distance work. But distance proves to be more difficult than you both originally thought.

This Chapter’s Tags: angst, protected sex, finger sucking, grinding, light choking/spanking/dirty talk, mingyu just being an ass man, riding, cheating obviously

Warning: THIS SERIES IS ABOUT CHEATING. DO NOT READ IF IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE!

A/N: Y’ALLLLL I’m sorry this took me forever to upload... I just got super busy but there won’t be as long as a wait for the next chapter! As always feedback is appreciated and I hope you guys like this :)

Chapters: Previous | Next | Masterlist

Your knees quivered beneath you as you pulled the soft fabric of your leggings up your thighs and over your hips. You bent down to pick up your shirt that was still balled up on the floor, and when you stood again you could hear the bed rustle behind you as Mingyu shifted his weight.

Guilt didn't hit you until you slipped your shirt back over your head, fully dressing yourself once again.

What had you done?

Without looking at him, you spoke: "I think I should go now."

He was silent.

You stepped over to the door, your hand about to twist the knob when he finally called out to you.

"Y/N."

You looked at him. He was sitting up on his bed; his dark hair was a mess, hanging over his forehead. His lips were parted like he didn't know what to say.

"Um, don't forget your jacket. It's cold outside." He pointed to your jacket that was still discarded on the floor.

"Oh, thanks," you said with your voice wavering. You quickly picked up the jacket and headed for the door again.

"Text me when you get home, okay?" Mingyu rushed to say. The corners of his mouth quirked up into a thin, awkward smile and you nodded your head in response.

Why did he suddenly care? He used to just be some guy you sat next to in class. When did he want to become your friend? When did he start to become protective over you? Was this all really just because of his half-drunken encounter with you at that party? Did the moment you two shared that night cause him to feel some kind of attachment to you? Thinking about it all made your head spin. Nothing made sense to you anymore.

You turned the knob and cracked open the door when Mingyu spoke again.

"Um, also... you know, if you ever need anything... I'm here for you." His voice shook a bit.

You exhaled. "Thank you."

You slipped out of his room before he could say anything else and stepped down the stairs quietly, attempting to dart out the front door before anyone could see you. There was a small group of people hanging out in the living room like Mingyu had said, their laughter and conversations loud and echoing through the house.

When you reached the bottom of the stairs, you kept your gaze down at your feet while you scanned the floor for your shoes.

"Y/N?" You heard a voice call from behind you.

You huffed out a quiet breath in frustration before turning around with an overly sweet smile on your face. Your eyes landed on Seungcheol.

"Oh, hey! It's weird not seeing Jisoo following you around." You joked.

Seungcheol smiled sheepishly. "Yeah..." He trailed off, looking down at the ground.

"Are you guys dating?" You probed with a raised eyebrow.

"I wanted to talk to you about that, actually." He admitted, making eye contact with you. Curiosity plagued you, and you stared at him expectantly as you waited for him to speak. "I wanna do something special for her when I ask her out... just cause, I don't know, I really like her." He stammered nervously, lowering his voice so no one could eavesdrop.

You gave him a genuine smile. You were happy that Jisoo had found someone that truly liked her. Ever since the beginning of the semester, she had been cycling through an array of terrible guys that used and ghosted her. Seungcheol seemed like a genuinely good person; you trusted him to take care of her.

You brought your hand to your chin as you pondered for a moment. "Well, if I'm being honest, she's, like, a huge hopeless romantic. Loves cheesy romance movies and stuff." You started, "If you took her out to a nice dinner and walked around some really pretty, romantic place after, that'd be her dream come true."

Seungcheol nodded, his eyes glazed over in deep thought as he acknowledged your advice. "Yeah, that sounds like her." He smiled. "Thanks."

You nodded. "So... how did the raffle go?"

"It went really good, actually." He responded, shoving his hands in his pockets. "The money's going to a child psychology organization. I've been doing research with them for a few months now."

Your eyes lit up in interest at his story. "That's really cool. Have you discovered any groundbreaking research yet?" You half-joked.

He chuckled, "I guess a little bit."

A lightbulb suddenly went off in your brain. "Hey, do you think I could interview you about all this research stuff you've done? I need to write an article for class."

Seungcheol shrugged. "Sure."

You spent the next few minutes probing him about how he got involved in the program, what he had been researching, his motivation to study child psychology—all while taking down notes on your phone. He explained to you how he had struggled with anxiety his whole life and wanted to find a way to help others. In the back of your mind, this was all affirming why he was such a good match for Jisoo. He was caring, passionate, charitable. Your heart warmed at the thought of Jisoo finally settling down with someone who was actually a good person.

Your interview came to an end and you thanked Seungcheol for helping you out. He nodded before glancing down at the jacket you were carrying in your arms.

"Were you planning on leaving?" He asked.

"Yeah, I need to go work on homework and stuff." You answered.

He attempted to suppress his smirk by biting his lip. "You and Mingyu didn't get much work done together?" He raised his eyebrows at you.

You felt your heart drop into your stomach. "What?"

"Relax, I'm just kidding." Seungcheol laughed. "He just seemed comfortable with you earlier, you know?"

The tension in your stomach loosened a little as you realized that he didn't actually know what happened between you two. This is exactly what Mingyu was worried about earlier. So it was true that Seungcheol liked to play matchmaker and get involved in everyone else's relationships.

"There's nothing going on between you guys?" Seungcheol questioned after you didn't respond.

You felt your cheeks grow hot with irritation. "No. I have a boyfriend." You said curtly.

Seungcheol's mouth formed an O-shape at the sudden coldness in your tone. "I-I'm sorry, I was just kidding." He quickly apologized.

"It's okay." You sighed. You glanced around for your shoes, avoiding his regretful gaze.

"Well, I really have to get going. Thanks for helping me out." You said as you slipped on your shoes.

He smiled apologetically and walked you over to the door. "See you, Y/N!" He called behind you as you stepped out into the cold.

You buried yourself in work for the next two days. You figured it was easier to just get lost in the flow of doing assignment after assignment rather than to think about what happened.

But no matter what you did, your mind still wandered back to that moment—when your lips finally met Mingyu's, and his body pressed against yours.

The worst part was that you didn't even try to stop him: you had agreed to it, and God, you even thanked him for it! You weren't even sure if you could regret what happened. You hated yourself for betraying Wonwoo's trust, but at the same time you craved attention and affection. Mingyu just happened to be the one that fulfilled your wishes after all this time.

You would never tell Mingyu that, of course. Honestly, you were unsure if you could even face him about it. He could tell that you felt guilty afterwards. If you just finished this stupid project and avoided him for the rest of the semester, he would probably get the hint and leave you alone.

It was Saturday evening when you typed the last words of your article on Seungcheol and his research. You hadn't talked to Mingyu since you left his room on Thursday night, but you needed him to complete his share of the work. Sighing, you picked up your phone and pulled up your messages with him. You quickly explained what kind of pictures he needed to take and told him to send them to you (so you could avoid seeing him anymore than you needed to).

You clicked out of your conversation, and that's when your eyes landed on the messages that were still unread by Wonwoo. You wanted to ask him what he was doing, but after three days with no response, it felt pathetic to even attempt to strike up a conversation now.

The sound of the door knob jiggling startled you before Jisoo busted into the room a moment later.

"Y/N!" She cheered in a sing-song voice. "We have another party to go to tonight!"

You already knew exactly where this party was going to be, and you felt your stomach drop at the thought of running into Mingyu.

You shook your head. "No way, Jisoo. I'm way too busy." You lied.

She pouted her lips at you. "Really? You've been working nonstop. How're you still not done?"

You shrugged and let out an exaggerated sigh.

"Well, you can take a break for a few hours. I promise I won't leave you this time. You can hangout with me and Cheol." She begged, looking at you with wide, saddened eyes.

Your phone vibrated between your hands, and when you glanced down you saw Mingyu's name on the screen.

Mingyu: I'm actually gonna be out studying and working on some stuff with a friend tonight. I promise I'll get the pics for you tomorrow :) Sent at 7:37 PM

You thought it was a little weird for a guy like Mingyu to be studying on a Saturday night, but when you realized that he wouldn't be at the party, relief flooded over you.

You looked up at Jisoo and saw her still expectantly staring at you, waiting for your response.

"I- I guess I could go for a bit."

"YES!" Seungkwan shrieked as he successfully landed another ball in one of Jisoo's cups. He turned to you and wildly smacked your palm in a high five, nearly hitting you in the face. Your stomach was starting to hurt from laughing for the past ten minutes over the intense match of beer pong in front of you.

The crowd around the table reacted loudly, some cheering and some booing as Jisoo downed another cup of alcohol. She shivered at the taste and Seungcheol came up from behind to pat her on the back. His lips moved as he said something to her, but with music blasting through the house so loud, you couldn't make out a single word.

Your phone vibrated in your back pocket. Without much thought, you pulled it out and quickly glanced at the screen.

Your heart sank into your stomach as you realized: Wonwoo was calling.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath. You had completely forgotten that Saturday's were now reserved for your FaceTime dates.

You looked up at everyone with wide eyes, but they were too immersed in the game to notice your reaction. You pushed your way through the crowd and slipped into the bathroom before Jisoo or anyone else could come looking for you.

By the time you reached the bathroom and locked the door, the FaceTime call had already stopped ringing. Leaning against the door, you scrolled through your contacts and called back, but only as a phone call.

Wonwoo answered after two rings.

"Hey, everything alright?" He asked.

You swallowed. "Uh... yeah."

"Why didn't you FaceTime?" He continued. You hesitated, but then he spoke before you could say anything. "Why is it so loud? Where are you?"

You cursed yourself for not running away to a room that was farther away from all the music and noise outside the door. Fidgeting with your fingers, you answered: "A party."

"Oookay," he scoffed. "You could've at least let me know if you were gonna go out. But it's fine. Have fun, I guess." He responded coldly.

Your brows furrowed together instinctively. Now it was your turn to scoff at him. "You're not serious, are you?" The skin of your face grew warmer. Wonwoo was quiet. "I forgot. Sorry." You admitted through grit teeth.

"Why're you so mad?" He questioned in a defensive tone.

You rolled your eyes. "This is the first time I've ever cancelled on you and it was an accident. Do I need to remind you of all the times you ditched me?"

Wonwoo didn't respond.

"And what the fuck have you been doing the past three days that you couldn't respond to me?" You spat. Blood was rushing through your veins quickly now as anger took over.

He sighed through the receiver. "I was busy."

"Does it really take that much time to send a text to your fucking girlfriend?" Your voice began to rise. "How do you expect this to work if you don't even talk to me?"

"I'm sor-" He began to speak, but you interrupted him.

"You know, sometimes it feels like I'm dating nobody!" You cried. "Do you even realize how lonely I feel?" Your voice shook with each word as your throat grew tighter; tears welled up in your eyes. You didn't want to cry, but all the frustration you had bottled up the past couple months was finally spilling over.

In a calm voice, all Wonwoo said was: "I'm trying."

"Not hard enough." You scoffed.

"What the fuck, Y/N? Where is this coming from?" He cried. The sudden rise in his voice startled you a bit.

The phone shook in your grasp. "You act like I don't even exist! How can you call that trying?"

"Fuck, I'm not dealing with this right now. Go back to your stupid fucking party." He snapped.

"Yeah, just go and ignore me again!" You laughed sardonically.

The three tones of the call ending sounded abruptly. You looked down at your phone in shock. He had hung up on you.

Your hands balled into fists as you threw your head back against the door. Your jaw was tense, but your bottom lip still quivered.

He had done it again. It seemed it was becoming easy for him at this point—abandoning you when you needed him.

This wasn't going to last much longer if the two of you couldn't figure this out.

When you pressed your lips into a thin line, tears slipped down, staining the bags under your eyes with makeup.

Was he giving up on you?

Your head began to pound. You couldn't stand being in this hot bathroom any longer, much less this party in general. You wiped your cheeks with the back of your hand and turned to unlock the door.

As you took a step out of the bathroom, you kept your gaze locked on your feet; you didn't want anyone to notice the state you were currently in.

Not even a moment after opening the door, you collided with a tall, warm body.

"Sorry," you mumbled, pushing past.

"Y/N?" A familiar voice called. Strong hands grasped your forearm, and you glanced up at the figure.

Mingyu.

What force was bringing you back to him once again?

His lips parted in a small gasp as he noticed the redness in your tearful eyes. "Hey, what's wrong? Come here."

Before you could protest, he guided you back into the bathroom, closing and locking the door so no one could bother you two.

You kept your eyes down at the ground, unable to look at him. As he approached you, the heat of his skin radiated against you.

"I thought you were out studying." You spoke, breaking the silence.

Mingyu's hands found your jaw. He ran the smooth skin of his thumbs over your cheeks, wiping the tears that remained. "I finished early," he explained.

"Look at me," Mingyu whispered. You swallowed and blinked before meeting his eyes.

You didn't notice the thin, black-rimmed glasses that were resting on his nose before. His dark hair was pushed back, and his tan skin glowed under the bathroom light. You hated how instinctively drawn you felt to his presence.

You started to think that Kim Mingyu might be the Devil, disguised in the form of a beautiful boy that always knew the right words to say. He was here to tempt you, to swindle you at your most vulnerable moments, to test your fidelity. And you were weak enough to cave in.

"Is it your boyfriend?" He asked.

The gaze he held on you was so intense that you found yourself staring at the frames of his glasses instead of his eyes. You nodded silently in response to his question.

"Talk to me. What happened?" Mingyu cooed as he stroked your cheeks with his thumbs.

"I-" You started, but let out a sigh instead. "We just fought. I don't know. I don't wanna talk about it." You rambled.

"Okay," he nodded. "Sorry if I pushed it." He removed his hands from your face. The skin suddenly felt cold without his touch.

He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. "We can talk about something else."

You stood still, nodding, but couldn't think of anything to say.

"You know," Mingyu started, "You look really pretty. Even when you're crying." Your skin flushed at the compliment.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you wiped the last remnants of makeup off your cheeks. "Is that your go-to line for every girl?" You joked.

"No," he replied. "Just cause I'm in a frat doesn't mean I'm a douche."

You snickered under your breath. "Yeah, but there's gotta be so many girls that hit on you."

"There's some," he shrugged. "Doesn't mean I flirt back."

Your legs were beginning to grow tired from standing, so you walked over to the counter and sat on the edge. You gripped the ledge to keep your balance, swinging your legs back and forth.

Mingyu stood in his same spot, but turned in your direction. He quirked his eyebrows at you. "Are you suggesting that I'm attractive enough to have hundreds of girls swooning over me?" He shot you a teasing grin.

You chuckled and shook your head. "You wish."

Mingyu's jaw dropped in a fake expression of shock as he came closer to you, but he stood to the side to stare at himself in the mirror. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Since when do you wear glasses?" You inquired.

"Since forever." He replied.

Mingyu placed his hands on the edge of the counter, pushing his weight onto them. The muscles in his arms were prominent through his black shirt. Your eyes dragged across his figure, eventually landing on his face again.

"I like them. They look good." You said.

He glanced at you, his eyes laced with hints of suspicion. "Thanks," he said with his voice a little uneven. He cleared his throat and stood up straight. "Did I help get your mind off him a bit?"

You winced at the mention of Wonwoo, but nodded. "Yeah, you did. Thank you." You exhaled.

Mingyu smiled to himself and his eyes met yours once again. "Good. I feel like it's the least I can do to help."

As you stared at him, you admired his features—his soft, clear complexion and plump lips. You suddenly became aware of how close he was to you; his hand was resting only a few inches away from your thigh. Your mind thought back to how it felt when those hands caressed the bare skin of your body. Impulsively, your thighs pressed together at the revisitation of the memory.

The room felt like it had instantly shot up ten degrees, and the heat left your judgement clouded like a foggy mirror. If Mingyu really was the Devil, his plan was working.

You leaned towards him until your face was only a few inches from his. Your breath caught in your throat as you went to speak.

"I really wanna kiss you right now." You admitted quickly, your eyes focused on his lips.

Mingyu backed away. "Are you drunk?" He asked. His eyes were wide with concern as he scanned you.

You remained where you were, embarrassment creeping up on you as you rapidly shook your head. "I haven't drank anything."

Mingyu chewed on his bottom lip. "I- I don't think it's a good idea. After last time..." he trailed off, glancing up to peek at your reaction. "I don't want you to do something you'll regret again."

"I don't regret it." You blurted before you could stop yourself.

You weren't sure what you were doing or where you wanted to go with this, but you couldn't stop. A feeling of lust had possessed you at this point, controlling your every word and action.

Mingyu looked taken aback at your confession, standing up straighter. His lips were parted in uncertainty, but you watched as his eyes flicked down to look at your lips.

"You don't?" He asked, inching closer to you.

Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest now. You quickly shook your head. "No."

His right hand found a place to rest under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him as his face neared yours. He swiped his thumb over your bottom lip.

"Are you sure?" He whispered.

Desire had overcome you so strongly at this point that you couldn't bring yourself to answer him through words. Instead, you crashed your lips onto his.

Mingyu responded eagerly, his kisses fueled with the same amount of force. Your hands quickly found purchase on the nape of his neck, pulling his body closer to yours. Right as you spread your legs to allow him to stand in between them, Mingyu's tongue darted against your lips, slipping into your mouth when you parted your lips for him.

He placed his left hand on your inner thigh, roughly squeezing the flesh between his fingers as he deepened the kiss. You moaned into his mouth, and he dragged his other hand down to the small of your back to pull you closer to him.

Now your core was pressed against his. Mingyu removed his lips from yours, only to place open-mouthed kisses on the area below your ear. You jerked your hips up as he nibbled lightly on the skin, the friction between your thighs growing.

Your jaw hung open as your arousal increased with each moment; your breathing became heavy while you panted into his ear. He sucked on your collarbone, and a chill shot it's way up your spine. You whimpered loudly and you could feel Mingyu smirk against your skin.

"You sound so pretty," he mumbled, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. He lifted his head, his tongue poking out of his cheek while he observed you. Your head was thrown back, eyes half shut, and you were ever so slightly grinding your hips against his for the smallest bit of relief.

Mingyu brought his fingers up to your lips, tapping on the soft skin to catch your attention. "Suck," he said, watching as you obediently parted your lips for him. He shoved two of his fingers into your mouth and pressed them down against your tongue. You could feel wetness building up between your legs. Even though it wasn't anything extreme, Wonwoo never did stuff like this with you in bed. You had to admit, all the new things that Mingyu was introducing to you excited you.

You hummed against him as he stuffed your mouth, almost gagging when his fingers neared the back of your throat. You swirled your tongue around his digits before he quickly pulled them away. You opened your eyes, staring at him in confusion, but his hungry gaze was already locked in on your core. He fumbled with the button of your jeans, and you felt your arousal suddenly spike at the thought of his fingers inside you.

You helped him shuffle your jeans over your ass and down to your knees. He bit his lip as he stared at your clothed heat, his cock stiffening beneath his own jeans, and pressed his dampened fingers to your clit through the fabric of your underwear.

You gasped quietly at the contact, but it wasn't enough. "Mmh, Mingyu," you whined. "Please."

"So needy," he teased with a smirk on his lips. He slipped his fingers beneath the fabric, pressing into your slick folds. His breathing grew heavier. "How're you so wet? I barely even touched you." He breathed against your cheek before he pressed a soft kiss to it. You blushed at his teasing words.

Mingyu rubbed your clit in slow circles, spreading your arousal around your folds. He pressed his lips to yours again, swallowing the moans you were letting out. He dragged his fingers down your heat, teasing your entrance by avoiding it. You clenched around nothing.

"Mingyu, I need you," you muttered against his lips.

"My fingers?" He questioned teasingly, pushing the tips of his digits into your core.

Desire was eating away at you, clouding your thoughts and replacing them with lust-filled ones. You bucked your hips up into his hand, whimpering beneath him.

"No, I want... you." You panted, looking up at him. Embarrassment picked away at you due to your vague request. His eyes appeared even darker than usual as he stared down at you with lust, registering what you were asking for.

Just as he was about to speak, the door knob shook, followed by loud pounding on the door. You jumped, and Mingyu quickly pulled his fingers away from your heat, leaving you with nothing.

"Open up!" A voice called from outside the door. "I have to piss!"

Oh, how wonderful.

You looked to Mingyu with wide eyes, and he motioned for you to stand up. "Pull your pants up!" He shouted at you in a whisper as he wiped his hands on his jeans. He stepped away from the counter, pressing his lips together in frustration as he realized the tent in his pants was painfully obvious.

You pushed yourself off the counter, standing up with shaky legs as you quickly pulled your pants over your hips and re-buttoned them.

The door knob jiggled again. "I'm literally gonna piss myself if you don't open this door in five seconds!" The same voice cried.

"What do we do?" You whispered to Mingyu.

He sighed. "Get out of here as fast as possible and go to my room." Your stomach flipped at the mention of his bedroom; you were really about to go through with this. He reached his hand out for you to grab, and you took hold of it as he led you both to the door.

Mingyu fumbled with the lock, and the door busted open a moment later, revealing a very drunken boy on the other side. He looked both of you up and down. You ducked down slightly, attempting to hide your face behind Mingyu's broad shoulders.

"Fuck, Mingyu? Really? The bathroom?" The boy said with disgust.

Mingyu rolled his eyes, his hand squeezing yours tighter. "Fuck off, Soonyoung." He replied before rushing out of the bathroom with you following close behind.

You couldn't help giggling at Mingyu's comment. He glanced over his shoulder when he noticed you laughing, a smile finding its way to his own lips as he chuckled at you. "Was I too harsh?" He joked.

Mingyu dragged you through the house quickly, and when you reached the bottom of the stairs, he pushed you in front of him to lead the way. You rushed up the steps, and when you neared the top, a sudden smack was delivered to your butt.

You let out a cry, followed by laughter of disbelief. "Mingyu!" You exclaimed with your jaw dropped once you reached the top of the stairs.

Mingyu stood behind you, his hands gripping your waist. He giggled into your ear. "I'm sorry, your ass is so cute." He placed a soft peck to your cheek.

"Let's go," he whispered, his voice suddenly an octave lower. Your stomach twisted, and Mingyu began leading you towards his room with his hands still on your hips.

He let go of you to twist the knob and push the door open, but as soon as you stepped foot into his room, his hands found your waist again and hurriedly pushed you further past the door. He kicked the door closed behind him, pushing you up against the wood. His lips quickly found yours, kissing you with even more intensity than before.

You could barely catch your breath as Mingyu gave you more rough kisses. He was being taken over by lust; he pressed himself against you, allowing you to feel the hardness in his pants. You ran one hand from his shoulder down his chest and stomach, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt tensing at your touch. Finally you palmed him through his jeans and he groaned against your mouth.

"Fuck, you're driving me crazy." He whispered before placing one more messy kiss to your lips. He pulled away to slip his fingers under the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head quickly and tossing it to the floor. His lips found your neck again, and you moaned as his tongue darted out to lick your sensitive spot. His hands were on your ass, pulling you closer to him and squeezing the soft skin.

Your head rolled back. "Shit, Mingyu," you moaned. "I need you now."

Mingyu pulled away to look down at you with a grin on his face. "Yeah?" He raised his eyebrow. He spanked your ass lightly, causing you to whimper and lean into him. "Go to the bed." He demanded, stepping away from you.

You walked to the bed, trying to swing your hips to hide the nervous wobble in your knees. You felt Mingyu come up behind you, his body pressing against yours. His stiff cock was brushing against your thigh. You turned around, sitting on the edge of the bed as you looked up at him.

"When are you gonna take this off?" You questioned while toying with the fabric of his shirt.

He chewed on his lip as he smirked at you. Without a word, he pulled it over his head, exposing his muscular arms and toned chest. Your eyes dragged hungrily over his torso, drinking in the sight of the outline of his abs.

"Better?" He teased, interrupting your admiring of his body. You looked up at his face. His glasses still rested on his nose, but his hair was slightly disheveled and his lips were now pink and swollen from kissing yours. You were breathless. He was beautiful, and you wanted him so badly.

You perked up from the position you were sitting in, a surge of confidence driven by desire guiding you. "Lie down," you commanded. Mingyu looked taken aback for a moment as he processed your sudden dominance, but he just chuckled and laid down without protest.

Once his back was against the mattress and he was splayed out beneath you, you crawled up towards him, straddling his hips. You dragged your hands down his chest, admiring the softness and warmth of his skin while you began to grind against him.

Mingyu threw his head back as he moaned softly, and you felt yourself clench at the sound. You leaned down, pressing your chest to his as you left kisses on his neck. His hips bucked up into your center. The friction between your bodies was so intense it was driving you insane.

You felt his fingers drag across your spine, causing goosebumps to from across your skin. He fumbled with the clasp of your bra and pulled the straps down your arms. You sat up to fully pull it off and throw it somewhere in the room, and Mingyu quickly brought his hands to your breasts. He squeezed the sensitive buds, twisting your nipples between his fingers. You moaned and pressed your hips into his even harder.

"Ride me," Mingyu mumbled into your ear. Unable to form any words, you nodded, reaching for the button of his jeans.

You lifted yourself off him to help him unzip his pants, and once he started pulling them off you kneeled to the side to discard your own jeans. Just as you began pulling your underwear down your thighs, Mingyu reached for the nightstand next to his bed, shuffling around in the drawer and eventually pulling out a condom.

He pulled his cock out of his boxers, and it stood stiffly against his stomach. He quickly ripped open the package, sliding the latex over his shaft. You straddled his thighs again, about to sink yourself onto him when he quickly grabbed your hips.

"No, no." He said. "Turn around."

You looked at him in confusion. "But-"

"Just trust me," he added, pressing a soft kiss to your chest.

You turned around so your back was facing him, still straddling his thighs. He kept one hand on your waist as the other reached for his cock. He guided the stiff head through your folds, wetting his cock with your arousal. When the tip brushed against your clit you whimpered as you clenched around nothing again.

"Please, Mingyu," you whined.

He dragged the head down to your entrance, finally pushing into you. Both of his hands rested on your hips now as he slowly sunk you down onto him.

You moaned at the slight burning sensation the stretch left behind. It had already been months since a dick was last inside you, and with Mingyu's size it was even more intense.

You aided by lowering yourself onto his cock, and once he bottomed out inside you he stayed still to let you adjust. His dick twitched inside you, and you clenched around him in response.

"You're so fucking tight," he moaned into your ear. He began nibbling and sucking at the skin between your neck and shoulder from behind you, and you whined in response.

You lifted yourself off him slowly, basking in the feeling of his cock rubbing against your walls. You sunk down fully onto him before raising your hips again, finally beginning to ride him.

Mingyu allowed you to work yourself against his length while he brought one hand to your breast again. You moaned loudly as he squeezed the flesh between his fingers and bucked his hips up into you.

"Mmmh, shit, you feel so good," you babbled before crying loudly again. Mingyu quickly brought his other hand up to your throat, lightly choking you.

"Shhh, baby." He whispered against your skin. "You can't be so loud." His words were followed by another soft slap to your ass, making you whine quietly.

He let go of your throat, bringing both of his hands to your waist once again to speed up your pace. He angled his hips so he could thrust up into you at the same time, and the angle caused him to hit your sensitive spot every time. You panted loudly as the pressure in your lower stomach grew, and you ground yourself against his cock, clenching around him.

"Shit." Mingyu choked out breathlessly. "Tight little pussy's taking me so well."

Maybe it was the filthy words that left his mouth, or the way Mingyu took hold of your hips to slow your pace and thrust into you especially hard, but you felt yourself tip over the edge, your mind cloudy as pleasure overtook you. You couldn't even tell if you were crying out loudly, but you assumed so by the way Mingyu suddenly pulled himself out of you and pushed you forward until your face was pressed into the mattress and he was kneeled behind you.

He thrusted into you roughly now, trying to reach his own high. Your eyes were rolling back into your head as your core tingled with oversensitivity, and you could feel yourself drooling onto the sheets.

He came with a particularly rough grunt, pausing his movements as his cum emptied into the condom inside you. He moaned breathlessly and he slowly pumped himself in and out of you to milk his orgasm. Finally, he pulled himself completely out, and his hand ran across your spine.

"You okay?" He asked, and you lifted yourself onto your hands and knees, nodding. Mingyu looked down at your legs, his lips dropping in a slight gasp. "Your thighs are shaking." He noted out loud.

Your face burnt with embarrassment as you kneeled back onto your knees. When you finally turned to look at Mingyu, he was tossing the condom into the trash. His hair was now pressed to his forehead with sweat and his cheeks were tinted a shade of pink. When his eyes met yours, his lips quirked up into a smile.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to get rough with you." He apologized. He sheepishly scratched the back of his neck.

You shook your head. "N-no, it's okay," you croaked out, finally able to formulate words now that all the post-orgasm bliss was fading away.

You didn't know why, but you felt like you had to be near him. You crawled up towards him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It felt natural. Comfortable. It reminded you of how you felt with Wonwoo. And despite how much you enjoyed feeling Mingyu's soft lips against yours, that thought terrified you.

"Do you regret this?" He mumbled against your lips.

It scared you—the way you were able to betray Wonwoo so easily. Here you were, in bed with another boy: one that you shared inside jokes with and stole kisses from and ran to for comfort. All that you had built with Wonwoo over the past two years—were some miles apart really enough to tear everything down?

You answered honestly.

"No."

[roessslyng]

I'm really bored so I wanted to do some "OTP questions" for some pairings with Nor (I took different questions from pics I saved years ago and can't find original author, sorry)

Starting with ScotNor since me and @agnessieart have been talking about it a lot lately...

Pls remember that my Nor is totally a bottom hoe so yeah my view of a pairing might be really different from others xd

1. Big Spoon/Little Spoon

Scot enjoys spooning Nor, and him being quite "bigger" than his Norwegian bf helps a lot. Tho it causes problems for Nor who, most of the times, finds it unable to move cause of this.

2. Favourite non sexual activity

They have a lot of activities they enjoy doing together, most of which consist of being among the nature. Like hiking, having picnics or just watching the stars.

3. Who worries the most?

Equally. The only difference is that Scot would actively show how worried he is and Nor tends to keep everything for himself.

4. Who initiates kisses?

90% of the times - Scot. He doesn't care about place, time or other things. If he wants a kiss - he'll make sure to get it.

5. Who reaches for the other's hand first?

Nor. Usually, he does it, cause holding hands makes him feel much calmer during uncomfortable situations. Or, sometimes he does it, just cause he wants to. No reason.

6. Who wakes up first?

If there is work that needs to be done - Nor. He likes to sort out everything early and leave most of the day free. If there's no work - Scot. And don't he even dare to wake Nor before 1 pm. He'll get destroyed.

7. Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines?

Absolutely Scot. (He secretly owns a notebook where he writes his best pick up lines to use them later)

8. Who whispers inappropriate things in the other's ear during inappropriate times?

Both. 100% both. Tho, while both being used to it, whenever Scot whispers smth to him - Nor would remain calm. It's not smth that amuses him. But Scot, whenever Nor would do this to him, would find it hard not to just grab and take Nor into closest free room.

9. Who is the most likely to carry the other?

Scot. Bonus point is that Nor l o v e s to be carried around. Preferably - bridal style.

10. Who proposes?

(All credits go to @agnessieart for making this joke, I can't find a better way for someone to propose)

Scot does. They would sit somewhere drinking coffee and Scot would tell Nor that damn, he doesn't like Nor's surname at all. And as Nor is prepared to splash that idiot with hot coffee, Scot would look in his eyes and say "But you can always take mine" and pull out a ring.

They're idiots, I love them.

11. Who kills the scary bugs?

No one. Nor prohibited it - if he really doesn't like whatever bug or insect he found in the house - he would take it outside. (Also, Scot secretly is afraid of spiders)

12. Who does the others hair?

Both. Tho, Nor does it much more often, since Scot has a hella long n i c e hair. He enjoys just sitting here, listening to music or whatever is on TV and do braids. Sometimes, Scot would do some braids for Nor back.

13. Who would have to bail the other out of jail?

Nor. Probably Scot got drunk and did smth stupid and illegal. Again.

14. Who would sing their child to sleep?

(No, not me already having a design of their lovekid, not me)

Scot. He has a really nice voice for lullabies!

15. Who covers the other person with a blanket, when they fall asleep somewhere other than their bed?

Nor. Simple cause Scot would just carry him back to their bedroom. Nor would either sleep next to him, if the space allows it, or cover him with a blanket and go happily sleep on the huge bed all by his own.

16. Who would have really deep thoughts in the middle of the night?

Both. Probably thinking about their past and history and stuff like this. If the other one would notice this - they would try to comfort them and get them back to sleep.

17. Who is scared of thunderstorms?

None. But Nor feels really uncomfortable during them, if he's alone. So, he'll ask Scot to stay with him, until it's over. And you bet Scot will comply, even if he has work to do. His lover's comfort is more important.

18. Who wears the other ones clothes?

Nor. He steals a lot of things from Scot, honestly. T-shirts, hoodies, etc. He'd wear them around the house, and no, Scot, you're not getting it back even if you'll ask. (Also, Scot, you can try out some of Nor's clothes, but I don't think they're quite your size...)

19. Who sings along the radio?

Scot, if it's a car radio. And he does it very loudly. Like, loudly enough for people in other cars to hear him.

Nor, if it's a radio somewhere in the house. He would quietly hum lyrics, lost somewhere in his thoughts.

20. Who falls asleep while watching a movie?

Nor, if they're watching it at home. I mean, won't you fall asleep, being under a blanket and being hugged by your beloved one?

Scot, if they went to the cinema to watch it. He can't help it, it's like some sort of a habit.

[ivedescoveredheathsjoker]

Adrenaline

L!Joker/Patrick/Eric Draven/reader

Warnings: mentions of death

Note: this wasn't edited i just wrote it and bam posted. This was an idea given to me by @whoslaughingnow-comic while talking about Eric and my two other boys.

(Not my gif)

You had been dating Eric for about 2 years when he was brutality murdered in his apartment on Devil's night.

His death hit you like nothing else had. You felt terribly lonely and missed his loveing embrace. You had a few of his belongings which he had left in your appartment the night before; his guitar, a pic and one of his shirts.

In the weeks of his absence you had turned the pic into a necklace and wore it everywhere. Eventually it became apart of you, never taking it off.

As you tried to move on, you couldn't. Everywhere you went you were reminded of him. The old club you went to to see his band play, the coffee shop where you had your first date, the record shop where you met and eneded up going to every week.

Then there was your apartment. You had everything in boxes, seeing as you were to move in together that week. Too lazy were you to take everything out, yet it hurt to see the boxes piled high.

2 months went by when you decided to move to the other side of Gotham. A nicer area, a bit farther from the dangers of the mob. You eventually settled into the area falling into a routine, enjoying the local pub, going to cafe, and working at the record shop.

One night while you were at the pub you meet a young man named Patrick Verona. He wasn't hitting on you or trying to get your attention, no. He had asked you about the band on your shirt. The two of you talked for a while about music, movies and city life. Eventually he asked you to dance while Plainsong played in the background.

You couldn't help but smile as you danced with him. How could you not? He had the biggest smile you had ever seen!

As the night drew to a close Patrick insisted on walking you home, "It's the right thing to do." All along the way you didn't stop smiling, though in the back of your mind you worried if it was a trap. Ignoring that thought you enjoyed his company until you got to your apartment. That night you gave him your number and agreed to a first date.

As you entered your apartment smiling you frowned when you saw the gutar next to the sofa. "What would Eric think?" You wondered, "would he want me to move on?" That night for the first time in 5 months you desided not to sleep with his shirt. That night you desided to move on.

After sleeping over one night Patrick asked you about the necklace.

"Is it a lucky charm?"

"Yes...and no... It was given to me by somone I loved."

"I see," he smiled and kissed you. "Did they give you the guitar too?" You nodded.

As time went by you and Patrick were a happy couple. Though the guilt of Eric hit you at times; somtimes it was the guilt of hiding him from Patrick, other times it was the guilt you felt for loving Patrick. Those were the times you would take out his shirt and hold it tight. How it still meant so much to you with almost a year having gone by.

By the aniverseray of Eric's death, you still hadn't told Patrick about Eric. You decided that you would have them meet.

You were nervous about it. "What if Pat dosent understand...what if he gets upset." It was the day before your trip when you tell him. At first he's shocked and asks you why you hadn't told him. You explain that you were afraid he would leave you,that it would scare him away. As you told Patrick more, you can't help but cry. He held you close to him, as he rubbed your back. He had lost a few people close to him as well, but he couldn't imagine losing a partner. He could hear the love as you talked about Eric. Patric could also tell that you loved him the same way.

As you went to bed Patrick held you close to him and kissed your head.

The next day you both headed to the subway, making your way towards the east side of Gotham. Once you both arrived you showed Patrick around the area where you used to live. It was so strange being there with Patrick. You were over come with emotions as you passed the boarded up apartment building Eric used to live in. You held Patrick's hand as tightly as you could, holding back tears. Once you arrive at the graveyard, Patrick tells you to go in first and have a moment alone. Greatfully, you head towards his grave only to find an empty pit and a headstone with a crow sitting upon it.

Fearfully you call out to Patrick who comes running over to you. Both staring at the grave you both stand there dumb founded. All you can hear is the quiet echo of the city and the soft piter pater of rain.

A voice in a whisper breaks the silence. "Y/n?" You heard it and turned to see Eric. Seeing you move Patrick turns to see him. The three of you stand there staring at one another for what feels like an hour.

"E-eric? Your-your dead....ho-how...?" You say as you approach him, ever so slowly. "Y/n..." He said as he quickly aproached you huging you for the first time in a year. As he sees the tears in your eyes he wipes them away.

"I don't know what I am. All I know is that I'm back here." Is the response you receive from your previous question.

You slowly break away from the hug, sadly, as you look over to Patrick. "Th-This is Patrick. He's-he's my uh, boyfriend." Patrick nods shakily walking over to you. "Nice to uh, meet you mate." He says shaking his hand.

Eric lead you both to his apartment explaining what he knows. He wants revenge on those who killed him and tore him from his love. You gave a sad smile as you walked into the scorched apartment, seeing a few salvageable items.

You were quick to pick up a polaroid of the two of you cuddleing close. Patrick couldn't help but smile at it when he looked over your shoulder. Eric smiled as well, knowing which picture you were looking at.

You lead Patrick towards a singed black sofa and sat down listening to more of what Eric had to say. He had yet to meet a man by the name of Joker. A man who played by his own rules and was stealing money from the mob. A rumor was going around that he had offered to kill Batman for the mob.

Patrick frowned, he didn't like the idea of revenge, no matter how horrible those people were. Patrick didn't like how violent vigilantes could be, and by the sounds of it, Eric was rather violent. Especially as he heard the tale of how the gangster T-Bird died.

You on the other hand agreed. You felt that justice was finnaly being served. You were glad that your Eric was being a hero and helping to remove the scum of Gotham.

Slowly the conversation went from dark to light as Eric began to ask both of you questions. Eric had originally been taken aback when he saw Patrick with you, but was starting to warm up to him seeing that he truly did love you. As Eric asked more questions Patrick did too. Both men were curious of the other, and were quickly trusting one another.

It made you smile so brightly to see them getting to know one another without any sort of malice.

As night began to approach Patrick was the one who had to tell you that you needed to head home before it got too dark. When you began to protest Eric was quick to agree with Patrick telling you that it wouldn't be the last time you saw him. Despite how badly you wanted to stay, you began to follow Patrick out and started making your way home.

Halfway you began to notice a single black crow following the two of you. When you told Patrick he smiled telling you it must be a sign from Eric, to keep the two of you safe.

Later that night when you your arrived home you found a record from his band on the counter. Neither of you knew how it got there, but you were happy to have it.

After that day the two of you often found small presents from Eric. You also would receive random visits from Eric which slowly began to fall into a routine. Though his visits slowly became became longer and longer.

Eventually he started staying with the two of you. When he wasn't hunting out the evils of Gotham, he was sleeping on the sofa, often without either of you knowing.

When Patrick finds out he suggests that he alternates nights. At first Eric opposes this idea, not wanting to leave either of you unprotected. Though he ended up agreeing to alternate with Pat to sleep in bed. On the nights Pat slept on the sofa, Eric's crow would watch over him; allowing Eric to feel at ease with his decision.

One night you and Pat awoke to a loud thud. Thinking it was Eric coming home from his work, you told Patrick to go back to sleep, and you headed towards the kitchen.

Upon entering the kitchen you can't help but laugh at the color of his hair and coat. Unlike his ussual black attire he was wearing a purple trench coat and had his hair died green. At the sound of your laughter Eric stood up from the fridge abd as he turned you stoped laughing.

The man before you was not Eric, but rather a stranger. White, black, and red grease paint covered his face making him look even more menicing. Not to mention the feirce scars that created a permanent smile, did little to keep you calm.

"Boo." Was all he said to have you running and screaming for Patrick and Eric.

Eric arrived just in time to see you running into the bedroom and to hear the laughing in the kitchen. Eric steadily headed towards the kitchen. He frowned as he saw the clown before him.

"J..."

"Now I know why you said Boo!" J said in between bursts of laughter.

"I told you not to scare them."

Patrick of course hearing all the commotion, walked in with you trembling in his arms.

"Whose this? Howd-"

"This is the one I told you about. This is Joker. He's helping me with the mob."

Patrick looked up at him. "How? I heard he was robbing banks."

"Not just any banks, koala, but the mob's banks." Joker said as his laughing finnially died down. "It's a pleasure to meet you both." He said smiling like a toddler.

Eric gave you a hug. "He's all bark and no bite around us. He won't hurt you."

He had you and Patrick return to bed while he and J stayed up and talked about the mob.

By morning the Joker was gone and you hadn't seen him until the next week, when he jumped out from behind the door and scared you.

Though as time went by you slowly began to get used to his jump scares. His vists to your apartment slowly became more frequent. Patrick, who still felt rather uneasy around him, was beginning to become used to his presence. For Patrick the clown reminded him of a crazier version of Eric.

Eric and Patrick had become rather close in the last few months. Both of whom began to get used to the idea of napping together.

Soon J followed suit, squishing Eric in the middle of the sofa.

For you, those moments were sweet, when your boys were together peacefully. No worries. No fighting. No plans. Just peace amongst them. Somthing that neither of them tended to bring to the table.

Over this time, you too, began to have a closer bond with the crazed clown. He had even began to call you Bunny, thanks to your first encounter.

With his help though, you began to learn how to throw knives, shoot guns, and build a bomb (not that it was needed). On the other hand Patrick didn't quiet agree with J on these leasons, why should anyone know how to build a bomb. Often you and Eric would break up the bickering between the two.

As more time went by the four of you began to fall into a strange relationship. One that was rather unconventional. But then again none of you were conventional.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Horror / Six: The Musical AU (X Reader) || Headcanons

Explanation: So all the songs are being sun by different readers with different Henry’s (The Horror Villains of course) instead of one Henry. I think its pretty straight forward apart from that! I hope to make a second part to this where the readers actually meet up and complain about their times with their respective horror villains. This is fun XD Had the idea a couple months back and I posted it and one blog commented saying Six is their favourite musical, so this is basically for me and them haha XD 

Character Included: Michael Myers, Chucky / Charles Lee Ray (And Tiffany Valentine), Bubba Sawyer, Norman Bates, Mayor Buckman (And Harper Alexandre) and Jason Voorhees. 

Warnings: Murder of the readers (By respective Horror Villains and a non-explicit difficult birth in Bubba’s), birth / pregnancy, toxic / abusive relationships, sexual harrassment / maybe rape (All You Wanna Do- Buckmans), language, suggested mother / son grossness (Norman and Norma of course). 

I laugh in the face of those who would subdue my mad ideas. 

‘No Way’ (Reader as Catherine of Aragon): Michael Myers as Henry

My name's Catherine of Aragon Was married 24 years I'm a paragon of royalty, my loyalty is to the Vatican So if you try to dump me You won't try that again 

You were in a, of course, very unequal relationship with the shape of Haddonfield. He saw you one day, was completely taken by you, and decided to let you live. He would come by and use you however he liked, kill the people you loved when they got your attention over him, etc. Like any other Michael Myers x Reader.

And, years and years later (Because it’s not like Michael finds someone every day that he gives even a bit of a shit about like he does - did, - you) he comes upon a new person. Someone he, like he was you, is drawn to.

And he tries to drop you like a hot potato.

And this infuriates you. You are not about to let go! He has ruined your life! You have no friends, no family, no life, because of him! All you have, is (regrettably) him and you are going to be his for the rest of your life. That’s what he wanted, that’s what the bastard’s going to get.

(Many, many years with him has caused your courage against him to grow spectacularly. You can say nearly anything to him)

|- ‘You must agree that, baby, in all the time I been by your side

I've never lost control’

‘I've put up with your sh- like every single day’ -|

You give him one more chance- if he can tell you one thing that you have done to him to legitimately hurt him… then you’ll leave willingly.

…

But he has nothing. And he doesn’t care.

|- ‘You got me down on my knees

Please tell me what you think I've done wrong

Been humble, been loyal, I've tried to swallow my pride all along

If you can just explain a single thing

I've done to cause you pain, I'll go

No?’ -|

//

|- ‘You wanna replace me? Baby, there's

N-n-n-n-n-n-no way

You made me a wife, so I'll be queen 'til the end of my life’ -|

He ends up strangling you to death when you won’t shut up.

‘Don’t Lose Your Head’ (Reader as Anne Boleyn): Chucky / Charles Lee Ray as Henry (And Tiffany as Catherine of Aragon)

I'm that Boleyn girl and I'm up next See I broke England from the church Yeah, I'm that sexy Why did I lose my head? Well, my sleeves may be green but my lipstick's red 

Chucky and his filthy ass catches sight of you. Young, French and vivacious and he’s got heart eyes on the spot. He wants you, but he also doesn’t really want to lose Tiffany.

So... yeah, you end up living with them both for a while and its very awkward and a very hostile situation.

|- ‘Here we go

(You sent him kisses)

I didn't know I would move in with his misses

(What?)

Get a life

(You're living with his wife?)

Like, what was I meant to do?’ -|

You don’t like it. No one likes this. Chucky! Make up your mind!

|- ‘Three in the bed and the little one said

If you wanna be wed, make up your mind

Her or me, chum

Don't wanna be some

Girl in a threesome

Are you blind?’ -|

Tiffany is of course Catherine, and the fandom (The people of Britain for the sake of this AU) loves her (As we all know), so when you come along and insult her because Chucky is now your man (Supposedly.) and of course you two aren’t getting along with each other in the first place because of him … you get a bad name.

|- ‘Ooh, why hasn't it hit her?

He doesn't want to bang you

Somebody hang you

(Wow Anne, way to make the country hate you)

Mate, what was I meant to do?’ -|

When eventually Chucky is able to grow the balls to boot Tiffany out (My heart hurts writing this, trust me), he pulls a ‘Once a cheater, always a cheater’ kind of shit and has no loyalty to you or respect for the sanctity of your relationship, and starts having one night stands here, there and everywhere. He tries vaguely to tell you you’re being silly and that’s not true- but he has lipstick on his shirt collars and perfume smell all over him.

Its not a nice living condition.

So you, still very much being the vivacious bitch that he ‘fell in love with’, go and flirt with some other guys. Just to make him a teensy bit jealous! I mean, its not like he’ll really care, right? You just wanna spark the fire again!

|- ‘Henry's out every night on the town

Just sleeping around, like what the hell?

If that's how it's gonna be

Maybe I'll flirt with a guy or three

Just to make him jell’ -|

But he finds out as planned… and is p i s s e d. He threatens that if you do that again, he’ll fucking kill you.

You, not going to let him talk to you like that, flirt with one more man. Just to be disobedient. 

|- ‘Henry finds out and he goes mental

He screams and shouts

Like so judgemental

You damn that witch

Mate, just shut up

I wouldn't be such a b-

If you could get it up’ -|

And you find out that he very much meant it when he said he would kill you.

|- ‘And now he's going 'round like off with her head (No)

(No)

Yeah, I'm pretty sure he means it’ -|

‘Heart of Stone’ (Reader as Jane Seymour): Bubba Sawyer as Henry

Jane Seymour the only one he truly loved (Rude) When my son was newly born, I died But I'm not what I seem or am I? Stick around and you'll suddenly see more 

You were an intended victim of the Sawyers, but like with Stretch, Bubba crushes on you instead. The difference here, is that you see the gentleness to him compared to his brothers, and how scared he is when one of them yells at him, and all the other little signs that he’s not as vicious or evil as his first impressions might convey. You have a big, brave heart, and you realise right there that its death and cannibalisation or understanding and caring for this man and you choose to love.

|- ‘You came my way, and I knew a storm could come too.’-|

//

|- ‘You've got a good heart

But I know it changes

A restless tide, untameable’ -|

So you take his hands in yours, all shaky and meaty as they are, and promise him that you will never leave him. You’ll protect him. You’ll take any mess he and his family can throw at you- you’ll always be with him. Your promise.

|- ‘But I took your hand, promised I'd withstand

Any blaze you blew my way

'Cause something inside, it solidified

And I knew I'd always stay’ -|

And he believes you, of course. Its so nice to be looked at so softly, especially by someone as pretty as you.

I- ‘You can build me up, you can tear me down

You can try but I'm unbreakable

You can do your best, but I'll stand the test

You'll find that I'm unshakeable

When the fire's burnt

When the wind has blown

When the water's dried, you'll still find stone

My heart of stone’ -|

And you prove yourself. You prove over and over again that no matter what he, or the twins, or Drayton, or even Grandpa throws at you- you’ll survive and you’ll stay, and you’ll never stop looking at him in that lovely soft way.

|- ‘You say we're perfect

A perfect family’ -|

You get pregnant of course because everyone in the Sawyers / Hewitts family has a breeding kink and you can’t tell me otherwise, and the birth is of course very difficult because Drayton isn’t about to pay for hospital bills. So you’re in their home, in all the mess and the dirt and with no sort of aesthetic, and…

|- ‘Soon I'll have to go

I'll never see him grow’  -|

You don’t make it. Your babies born fine and healthy, and you bring another strong Sawyer boy to the family, but you’re gone.

‘Get Down’ (Reader as Anne of Cleves): Norman Bates as Henry

Ich bin Anne of Cleves Ja! When he saw my portrait, he was like Ja! But I didn't look as good as good as I did in my pic Funny how we all discuss that but never Henry's little- 

So, one day, Norman decides its time to properly settle down (Long after his mother… ah… ‘dies’) and get a partner, and because there isn’t really anyone around where he lives to date or, even, who wouldn’t get creeped out by him and his taxidermy, he turns to online dating.

He meets you there. You own and run your own hotel in the next state over, you don’t mind his taxidermy at all, and your profile picture looks… hauntingly familiar (If you look nothing like Vera Farmiga go by the original movie- she was but a skeleton there so she really could be anyone).

|- ‘Sittin' here all alone

On a throne

In a palace that I happen to own

I'm not fake 'cause I've got acres and acres

Paid for with my own riches’ -|

And you two get along great over messages! You online date for a good year before Norman proposes you elope and come to live with him! You think you’ve known him long enough, and you trust him!

So you fly right over, and he meets you at the airport, and…

He’s disappointed.

Like, ‘sorry, nah, you don’t look enough like mama so this isn’t gonna work’. In a more fidgety, quiet, subdued kind of way though. He’s so awkward with communication that he even suggests that you doctored your profile picture.

I- ‘You, you said that I tricked ya

'Cause I, I didn't look like my profile picture’ -|

And, understandably, you’re p i s s e d, and disgusted! But ya’ll already got married over the internet, so theirs no stopping that! This is your husband. You realise you’ve made a huge mistake and go right back to your home and your hotel to get divorce papers drawn up.  

You’re the queen of your own fucking castle, who needs him?

|- ‘I'm the queen of the castle

Get down, you dirty rascal

'Cause I'm the queen of the castle’ -|

You are understandably, very very mad. And you say some things to Norman about he and his mother, that… may be true… but that he certainly doesn’t appreciate.

When you finally get the papers, and you’ve been separated long enough for it to be legal, you go back to the Bates Motel to get Norman to sign them and stay over a night. You’ve calmed down enough that you’re able to have a pleasant conversation with him, and you decide that you’re too tired to take the plane back home right away so you take up Normans offer to stay in one of vacant rooms (*Cough* So you basically have the run of the place. Or they do. *Cough).

Norman is also pretty calm about the whole thing as well, like you! But… Norma, is still seething.

You don’t wake up the next morning.  

‘All You Wanna Do’ (Reader as Kathrine Howard): Mayor Buckman as Henry (And Harper as Thomas)

Prick up your ears, I'm the Catherine who lost her head (Beheaded) For my promiscuity outside of wed Lock up your husbands Lock up your sons K. Howard is here and the fun's begun 

Right, so, you haven’t had good luck in love throughout your life, so you decide to give up on boys entirely. 

|- ‘So I decided to have a break from boys

And you'll never guess who I met’ -|

… And meet a man, not much later. A man in power; A mayor. A man who’s been married before and has a beard (So you know; He’s a man. XD No little boy.). This is of course Buckman. He calls you love, and you get a job in Pleasant Valley that keeps you comfortably busy. You feel like, finally, you’re where you belong. You feel fulfilled- no committed relationships are necessary.

|- ‘Globally revered

Although you wouldn't know it from the look of that beard

Made me a lady in waiting

Hurled me and my family up in the world

Gave me duties in court and he swears it's true

That without me, he doesn't know what he'd do

He cares so much, he calls me love’ -|

But then Buckman tells you that he cares about you. You have a connection. He doesn’t feel just ‘friendly’ feelings towards you- he wants more. And, though you are a little disappointed that your solitude didn’t last, you decide that he’s decent enough (’He is rather kind to me, and he does makes me smile a fair bit’, you try to reason with yourself that this is a good idea) and so you start to go out. Its not long before you’re married.

|- ‘So we got married Woo…’

Woo…’ -|

But being married to him isn’t easy. Not at all. You’re not use to politics; There are so many rules now, and he’s always too busy to help. And the rest for Pleasant Valley are a bit… odd. And you just don’t fit in. And this is wear Harper (Thomas) comes in.

|- ‘With Henry, it isn't easy

His temper's short, and his mates are sleazy

Except for this one courtier

He's a really nice guy, just so sincere

The royal life isn't what I planned

But Thomas is there to lend a helping hand

So sweet, makes sure that I'm okay

And we hang out loads when the King's away’ -|

And he’s so lovely and caring towards you (Never more then when Buckman leaves for business in other towns), helping you through the transition from your old life to this one. He’s a good friend, to you. And that is most definitely all he is, on your side of it. A friend. You don’t feel attractions towards him at all apart from that, and he doesn’t try to make any moves. Its wonderful!

|- ‘This guy, finally

Is what I want, the friend I need

Just mates, no chemistry

I get him and he gets me’ -|

… Until one day when Buckman has been away for a month, he tells you he cares about you. You have a connection. He doesn’t feel just ‘friendly’ feelings towards you- he wants more.

|- ‘He says we have a connection

I thought this time was different

Why did I think he'd be different?

But it's never, ever different’ -|

Lets just say one things leads to another, despite you at first turning him away and saying no. He’s so insistent, and a little scary, and you’re lonely because your husbands’ has been away so long, and… something happens that you regret and feel gross about.

|- ‘Squeeze me, don't care if you don't please me

Bite my lip and pull my hair

As you tell me, I'm the fairest of the fair

Playtime's over.’ -|

You tell Buckman when he gets home, and you watch as every bit of warmth and love in his eye disappears, just like that.

Its not long after that that his jealousy and betrayed rage takes over… and… you die with a rope around your neck and your feet swaying above the ground.

|- ‘Playtime’s over’ -|

(Alternatively, Sheriff Hoyt as Henry and Thomas as Thomas)

‘I Don’t Need Your Love’ (Reader as Catherine Parr): Jason Voorhees as Henry (Your last love was Jason when he was alive)

Five down, I'm the final wife I saw him to the end of his life I'm the survivor Catherine Parr I bet you wanna know how I got this far I said I bet you wanna know how we got this far Do you wanna know how we got this far then? 

So, you’re like the leader of the ‘Slashers Ex Squad’ because you, unlike the others, survived your time with Jason. This is because Jason did, truly, love you (To an extent- not enough to let you go and live your life without him or be free). None of the others really did. Not like he did.

|- ‘Became the one who survived’ -|

Your story:

You and Jason had an adorable little 11-year-old puppy love relationship when he was alive. You were his only friend, and he had it bad for you because of it. Pamela loved you, too.

When he died you were of course devastated, and years later when you were 30 (Making him also thirty- not that you know that. You still think he’s dead at this point) you’re taken by the need to go back to Camp Crystal Lake and pay your respects to your childhood love / friend. Its just one of those nostalgic days.

When you go, and you set flowers down by the lake, Jason catches sight of you. He thinks about killing you… but then your features start to make sense to him. He recognises you, and for the first time since his mother was killed, he feels his heartbeat speed up and swell with hope.

Jason of course kidnaps you then, and keeps you hostage for himself. He missed you. He doesn’t want to survive anymore time without you. You’re all he has left!

… After you realise that this is Jason Voorhees, you quickly learn that this Jason is, of course, not the boy that you cared, and care, so deeply about. He’s done horrible things, and he is never going to stop; And frankly, deep inside… he scares you.

But its not like you can leave him! He would never let you, he’s made that clear. You are all he has, and now, he is all that you have.

|- ‘I don't have a choice

If Henry says "it's you", then it's you

No matter how I feel

It's what I have to do’ -|

So you write a letter to the old Jason (And your old life), saying goodbye, in admittance to the fact that you’ll never be able to get away from this new Jason. This is you letting go of your freedom and any preconceptions that anything will every be the same- with Jason, or otherwise.

|- ‘It's true I'll never be over you 'Cause I have built a future in my mind with you And now the hope is gone There's nothing left for me to do’

'Cause I have built a future in my mind with you

And now the hope is gone

There's nothing left for me to do’ -|

You never stop hating him for how he’s changed (How he’s taken your Jason away, and wont even attempt to go back) and how he’s stolen away your freedom.

|- ‘I'd say "Henry, yeah it's true

I'll never belong to you

'Cause I am not your toy, to enjoy till there's something new

As if I'm gonna give up my boy, my work, my dreams

To care for you"

"Ha, darling, get a clue”

But I can't say that

Not to the king’ -|

You eventually die of natural causes at, like, 60.

[nonbinarytriscuit]

Aged Up South Park Roleplay! Looking for any the characters listed as cis male; Kenny McCormick, Stan Marsh or Craig Tucker. Message me on here or discord 2tiredboi#1321 if this interests you!

Warning! There will be mentions of blood, violence, and injury. There will be usage of alcohol, cigarette smoking, and Marijuana smoking (just in case someone is actually triggered by it). Kyle will have quite a bit of mental health issues so that's a thing as well to be warned about. _________________ I love South Park and I love playing as Kyle so here I am with an aged up South Park roleplay. I'm looking for a mixture of a lot of shit. Fluff, shipping, a shit ton of Angst, Some Smut (optional tbh).. The characters listed are the people I ship Kyle with. If I need to put a list on who I prefer more I would say Kenny, Craig, Stan, Token, and Clyde. Everyone will either be seventeen or eighteen just so you know.

Headcanons for Ky are his eyes are two different colors, his right eye is brown and his left eye is green. His skin is milky pale and he has freckles scattered all around. He has them on his shoulders, cheeks and across the bridge of his nose. His ears are pierced and secretly his bellybutton is pierced too (he lost a bet). He gets up to be around 5'6ft. He starts to wear his hair back in a ponytail due to him growing it out so it wasn't big and poofy anymore. His sexuality is pansexual since I see him as more focusing on someone's personality than their looks or gender. He is still is a smart kid but because of all the shit that they went through as kids he is somewhat mentally unstable, has PTSD thanks to their childhood.

Personality wise he's still the same. Intelligent, slightly naive, hard-headed, but he can be a huge sweetheart and caring guy. He has gotten a hit more violent in the last couple years due to Cartman messing with him more. He easily gets into fist fights with Cartman and usually they both end up pretty beat up.

He usually wears baggy hoodies that are usually dark green, black, or grey. His t-shirts usually vary on how he feels that day. Ripped dark blue or black jeans, and most of the time he wears black high top converse or worn black combat boots unless it's cold as shit and snowing then he wears dark brown lace up snow boots.

Look Reference Pic- https://i.pinimg.com/originals/c1/26/c8/c126c8335fb9ada2ea2730e6bf4ae352.jpg _______________ Life never once had gotten easier. Not one fucking bit. It got worse and worse til one day Kyle couldn't take it anymore. That day was the day he just got up and left. Leaving nothing behind. Not a note, not a text. Nothing. He was just gone one day and that one day spanned into several weeks. Three to be exact.

Once everyone noticed he was gone his phone started to blow up with calls, voicemails, and texts. His parents, his friends, even Ike blew up his phone panicking about where he had gone. He didn't reply to any of them besides one. It had been from his boyfriend, (y/c). Asking him where the hell he was and demanding answers. All he could simply muster up as a response was 'escaping'. That was it. The last message he ever sent someone for the next three weeks. What happened next was just a huge freaking blur. He couldn't remember what happened at all.

When the third week had passed Kyle finally came back to South Park. He couldn't stay away for ever. This was his life and everyone he knew was here. There was no escaping reality. Once the bus dropped him off he immediately made his way to (y/c)'s house. Trudging along the side walk, under the ugly yellow street lights with his duffle bag over his shoulder. He had to see him and explain what had happened. Why he left and why he had ignored everyone and everything. When he finally arrived he was extremely hesitant, but managed to push down his anxiety and knocked on the door. Waiting patiently and anxiously until the door opened. A nervous, small wave was given along with an apologetic smile. "Hey dude.. I'm back."

[scarah-screeeaaammss]

ITS CLEO TIME!! pt 1

it stopped raining :)

thanks to @madam-melon-meow for asking for more pics, I just love photographing my queen :)

Og versus reboot

first thing I noticed is that the originals were quite diverse i their outfits and colors pallettes, it all still made sense to her style and character yes one Cleo is wearing an outfit that isn't hers, I got her at a peddlers mall. from what I have of the reboot and what I've seen, its kind of hit or miss.

Some of the reboot outfits matched the theme she was given, but don't seem to match Cleo. I dont think ive ever said this but its no secret that the Electrified Cleo is my absolute least favorite. They did her so incredibly dirty. Actually they did all of them dirty, why the hell did they bring back crimped hair!?!?

but back to the clothes really quick, a good chunk of the og outfits had a bandage motif to it or added bandage bits to the overall look. None of the reboot dolls have that. Yes they have the molded bandages on her arm and leg (which i actually like, I think its a neat little detail) but it feels like an after thought, just left out. Shes a mummy!! Its apart of her you can't just leave it out!! Otherwise she looks like a very fashionable normie.

theres also the fact that og Cleos outfits had a lot of detail and were normally multiple pieces to create the look. Reboot ones are like maybe two pieces if that. Yea some og ones were just a dress but at least it looked good and felt right for her.

back to the hair: the quality of the hair also went down significantly. The reboot hair feels cheap and much more plastic-y and never wants to lay how i want it, I mean you can see that some of the bangs are messed up. I mean the originals weren't always the greatest, but overall I never had too much issue aside from some tinsel.

in regards to the face ups, holy heck it was so easy to tell what Cleo was what just by her eyeshadow!! there is so little difference in the reboot faces. Its really only the hair that gives it away. I do enjoy her reboot face somewhat tho, its cute but also Cleo is 5,000+ yrs old and in the reboot she looks like a child, I mean her eyes are so much larger too its almost a little off-putting. I much prefer the more mature looks of the originals. It gave her a more serious im-in-charge kinda vibe.

Also all the lip colors are practically the same. I mean you gotta match it to the outfit and that doesn't seem to be what happened.

Really quick umm I love the og outfit, its probably my fav but the og doll herself was uhh well... the re-release they did it my fav hands down. There was a time I brushed her hair religiously every day bc I was just so obsessed with her which also speaks to the quality. Its so soft and lays how I want it to this day and I've been carrying her around (yes sometimes she just lived in my bag) for years and she still looks good. The re-release outfit is lacking some minor details but nothing too serious.

Og Cleo versus reboot og Cleo. I gotta say, I kinda like it but it will never be anywhere near as iconic as her og outfit. Like nothing can top that tbh.

The details and colors are nice, but it doesn't feel her. Again its that feeling of aging her down and thats reflected in the color choices, not to mention the random pattern choices. That shirt with those pants? Og Cleo would eat you alive. The earrings slap tho, I want those.

You can also tell that the reboot Cleos are a lot more orange. I think they were trying to make her darker and failed in that respect.

Didn't know where to add this but also reboot accessories were seriously lacking in details. Like a lot of modern barbie stuff, its just a chunk of plastic that might have a neat pattern or design but it gets lost bc its just the one color. Also nearly all her shoes were just gold, like I get it but come on aside from the reboot og those were... a choice. quick note, one of the reboot Cleos isn't wearing her shoes which are my favs actually bc the heels are cats. That was the best thing to come from the reboot hands down, like I actually bought the doll just for her shoes. I'll see if I can find them for pt2.

I cant add anymore images, but I did want to talk about a few more things lol this is just an off the top of my head kinda info so consider this part one of two as the title says :)

[myfairladybugg]

First Fanfic ever!

Hey, so this is my first fanfic ever, and my first time sharing my writing at all! It’s an aged up Lukanette one shot. Marinette comes to Luka’s apartment, stressed out about a fashion school assignment. Very nervous sharing this, so I hope you all like it! 

A loud and incessant knocking on his door startled Luka awake. His eyes foggy, he lazily felt around for his phone. He groaned as he sat up on the edge of his bed. He hadn’t meant to sleep this long, but the exhaustion of the past few days coupled with the rain pattering against the roof lulled him into a deep sleep. The knocking continued as he shuffled his way to the door, rubbing the last of the haze from his eyes.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Luka muttered. He swung open the door to find the loud knocker was of course, Marinette. She was drenched from the rain, which had grown from a gentle shower to an intense storm. Her arms were almost overflowing with her sketch pads and bags of various fabrics.

“Marinette?” He blinked in surprise. It wasn’t unlike her to come over unannounced, but given the horrendous weather and how late it was, he hadn’t expected to see her. They’d been close since they were teenagers, and once Luka had gotten his own apartment, she was prone to stop by for a quiet place to study, or come over with the occasional armload of bakery sweets. It came to the point that he got excited every time he heard a knock on his door.  

“Finally you answer! Wasn’t sure if you were actually home or not.” She got on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on Luka’s cheek before walking past him into his living room. Marinette dropped her stuff down on the counter and shrugged her coat off, draping it along the counter as well. She was wearing a dark blue boatneck sweater on top of black jeans; an outfit that would normally keep her warm, had the rain not soaked through her coat. “Thought maybe you were catching a drink with your band or something.”

“They did invite me to go out with them,” Luka walked towards her while ruffling his jet black hair. “But my bed was way more inviting.” 

“Yeah, I can see that.” She giggled, gesturing to his disheveled hair. “The life of a rockstar is an exhausting one.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say rockstar.”

“I would.” Marinette flashed him a radiant smile, making Luka’s heart flutter. She always tended to have that effect on him. He couldn’t help but get lost in her bright, ocean blue eyes. He was drowning in them. He tore his gaze from her eyes and noticed the water dripping off her hair and onto the floor. 

“Oh, wow. You are dripping wet.” Luka let out a low chuckle. “Want a towel?” 

“Oh, shit. Sorry, I’m getting water all over your floor.” Marinette sheepishly looked over at Luka. 

Luka walked to her and smiled as he moved a lock of loose, wet hair behind her ear, causing her breath to get hitched in her throat. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just water. Let me get you a towel. You’re shivering.” If she hadn’t noticed how cold she was before, she was definitely aware of it now. 

“Thanks, Luka.” 

He made his way to his bathroom as she started sorting out her mess on the counter. Instantly she was brought back to her overwhelmed state before she had made the decision to trek over to Luka’s despite the ongoing storm. She groaned loudly as Luka made his way back to her with a teal colored towel. “School stuff got you down?” He asked, handing her the towel.

She draped her hair to one side and gingerly started drying it. “Ugh, yes. Don’t get me wrong, I love learning the ins and outs of being a fashion designer,” She pushed some notebooks over to Luka. “But look at this!”

He opened the sketch pad on top, carefully flipping through the pages. “Wow, these are, uh...what are these?”

“They’re shit, that’s what. I have this big avant garde design I’m supposed to do, and I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.” Marinette huffed.

“Why would you say that? Sure, these are a little out there, but isn’t that what avant garde is supposed to be?”

She made her way to his couch and plopped down. “We’re supposed to make something ‘new’ and ‘experimental’ and then present our designs to the class. I just feel so out of my league.” 

Luka sat down next to her and set the sketchpad down. He gently lifted her head up by her chin, making her eyes meet his. “Marinette, you are an incredibly talented designer with a world of promise ahead of you,” He gazed lovingly into her eyes as he spoke. “A talent like yours is something the world is meant to see.” Wide eyed, she stared at him. Of course, she had noticed in the past that Luka was a very attractive man. He had a strong jawline, piercing blue eyes with soft, black hair that was somehow always the right level of messy. And his lips that would shoot her a smirk when she made a bad joke or sang along badly to one of his songs. Those lips that looked so warm and so kissable right now…

“..Marinette?” 

She blinked back into reality and realized that she had been staring at his lips. “Oh--uh, sorry..thank you, Luka. You always know how to make me feel better.”

“Of course. You’ve always been supportive of me and my music.” He leaned in, and gently kissed her forehead. “I don’t think you’ve missed a show of mine yet.” Every time he walked on stage his eyes searched for hers, and when he finally found her, shouting and clapping widely, a big grin would spread over his face. He was sure Marinette was the reason his band was popular in the first place. When they had first gotten started, she was the one handing out flyers to every single person in Paris, taking videos of their practices and posting them online, and making sure every place was packed. She’d even helped them decide their band name--Static Mist.

Marinette could feel her cheeks getting hot. He was always good at putting her at ease, but every touch by him felt electric. “Not a broblem--uh, problem!” She turned her head away, concealing her blushing face as he smirked. 

He pulled her into a hug, flaring her cheeks even more. “Awe, come on, Marinette. Don’t feel embarrassed.”Marinette grumbled into his chest. She could hear his heart beating and how warm his skin was under his shirt. He flinched, causing her to sit back up. That’s when she noticed a big wet print in the shape of her on his shirt. 

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!.” 

“No big deal,” Luka stood up and pulled his shirt off. “I’m gonna grab a new shirt. Want one? I can toss your clothes into the dryer.” 

Marinette put her hand in front of her mouth. He certainly had filled out since they were young. His shoulders had broadened, showing off his muscular chest. His arms were noticeably strong, and the sinful way his sweatpants hung off his hips was enough to make any woman blush. “Y-yeah, that’d great be. I mean, be great.” Why do I have to make such an idiot of myself in front of him? Marinette scorned herself. He smiled sweetly at her before leaving to his room and returning with two t-shirts. 

“You can change in my room.” She took the t-shirt from him and held it up. It was an old Kitty Section shirt, one that she had made. It was a heather grey color, with an outline of the kitty mask Marinette had made him years ago. Below that, it had the band’s name in blue lettering.

“You kept this?” 

“Well, yeah. You made it for me. Like I’d ever get rid of a Marinette original.” Luka shot her a playful wink. She quickly made it to Luka’s bedroom before he caught sight of her crimson face. He chuckled softly to himself as he put on his shirt. 

She shut the bedroom door behind her and looked around. Truthfully, she’d only been in his bedroom a handful of times. Either grabbing him a new guitar pic from his stand drawer, or a stack of sheet music from his closet while the band practiced in his living room. Much like the rest of his apartment, Luka kept his bedroom simple. His bed was covered in charcoal grey sheets with matching pillows and no blanket, which Marinette found insane. She tugged her sweater off followed by her pants. She pulled the shirt over her head and stood in front of the mirror Luka had off to the side. His shirt was noticeably large on her, hanging just above her knees. She ran her fingers through her inky black hair, desperately trying to smooth it out some. “Thank god for waterproof mascara at least.” Marinette muttered to herself. 

Meanwhile, Luka had meandered towards the stack of sketches still left on the counter and sat down on one of the barstools. He didn’t know much about fashion, but if he could help her narrow down some ideas, he’d be glad to help her with that. He grabbed one at random, a light purple notebook with white polka dots. He flipped open the cover and noticed that this one was filled with male designs unlike the one he had looked through earlier. “Hey, I didn’t know you started designing men outfits.” He called out. 

“What? Hold on, I can’t hear you.” 

He turned a few pages in, and stopped when he saw what she had on a certain page. It was a design of hers--a tall model she had drawn wearing something he’d definitely call avant garde. The drawn model was wearing an elongated ebony jacket with a high collar that sat over an iridescent teal shirt that had what resembled snake scales shimmering on it. The pants were a bright white that were strategically ripped along the knees, with big, black boots that had numerous buckles finishing off the look. The model had thick, black hair swept to the side, with teal colored tips. Luka opened his mouth but nothing came out. Had she drawn him as the model for her design? There was no mistaking it. The sharp nose and piercing eyes were definitely his. He let out a huge grin. 

Luka heard the bedroom door open and her gentle footsteps coming towards the living room. He turned just as she entered, but the grin fell from his face and was quickly replaced with his mouth hanging open. The sight of Marinette in one of his shirts, and in only his shirt was almost enough to make him combust. 

“Thanks again for letting me borrow your dryer,” She said as she leaned against the hallway. “It feels good to be in something dry.” 

“Ah, y-yeah,” Luka cleared his throat. “Not a..not a problem.” Luka, normally calm, cool, and collected, was completely a puddled mess. His eyes trailed down to her smooth, toned legs as he let out an audible gulp. Marinette’s face paled.

“..Luka? What are you doing?” 

His eyes snapped back up to hers. “Uh, noth--I’m not doing anythin--” 

She pointed to the sketch pad that remained still opened in his hands. She let out a small gasp as she made out what page he had opened it to. Luka looked back at the sketch of him, and he looked back at Marinette with a devious smirk.

 “Oh, you mean with this lovely sketch you’ve done of me?” He stood up, slowly making his way to the living room as Marinette’s eyes followed him, her hands over her mouth.

 He held up the design unnecessarily close to his face. “It’s a pretty flattering drawing,” Luka mimicked the pose she had drawn him in. “Although, I’m not sure I’m quite as muscular as this. Are my feet far apart enough, you think?” 

Marinette let out an ungodly screech as she leapt over the coffee table, tackling Luka into the couch behind him. His arm was outstretched, keeping the sketch pad out of her grappling hands. She scrambled onto his chest, desperately reaching for the design. 

“That’s--that’s not you! It’s nobody!” Marinette cried.

Luka stood up while Marinette hung from his back. “You even drew the blue tips I used to have!” He stumbled away from the living room as she climbed onto his shoulders, trying to pull the arm holding the design close enough for her to grab it. 

“If I’d known you liked the blue hair so much, I would have kept it.” Luka’s grin grew wider as Marinette sputtered different reasons for drawing him, none of them cohesive in the slightest. Now perched on Luka’s shoulders, she lunged for her sketch pad, missing it entirely and started to plummet towards the floor.

She opened her eyes, finding her arms wrapped around Luka’s neck, her legs resting in his arms. Inches from each other’s face, neither one took a breath. The notebook had fallen to the floor, their focus now shifted to each other. He slowly put her legs down, moving his hands to her waist. Marinette swallowed, desire washing over her. Her eyes widened in surprise as Luka’s lips crashed into hers. He pulled her closer, his hands clutching her back. Marinette melted into his chest, her own hands holding his face to hers. The passion was like none they’d ever felt before, neither one daring to be the one to break the kiss.  

They finally broke away from each other, breathless. Resting their foreheads on each other, Luka let out a low chuckle.

“You have...no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He said softly.

Marinette smiled. “Me too..” She pressed her lips to his, the flame in her stomach growing hotter every second as their mouths moved together. Luka moved one hand to the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair. Marinette moved her hands under his shirt, feeling his body tense at her touch. His free hand pulled up the hem of the shirt she had borrowed and he grazed her thigh, sending a shiver down her spine. Suddenly, he lifted her up, hitching her legs around his waist, causing a small gasp to escape her lips. He carried her to his bedroom, placing her gently on his bed before moving his lips from hers down to her neck, causing Marinette to elicit a soft moan into his ear. 

Luka paused for a moment to sit up, looking down at Marinette on his bed, her luminous eyes holding his gaze. Luka had dreamed of this exact moment more times than he cared to admit. To see the woman who had his heart look at him with the same love and desire that he held for her was almost too much for him to take. 

“You okay?” 

Luka leaned down, placing a gentle kiss against her lips. “Trust me, I am way past okay.”