#is his bowtie a nostril here

[f-imaginings]

Asking the real questions here.

[minisugakoobies]

Paradise | JJK - Fourteen

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: smut, neighbors to lovers (not quite friends but not quite strangers), slow burn, love triangle, Stripper!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: drinking, references to blow jobs that happened like 60 seconds before the chapter starts, Jungkook's a bit possessive, Jin's a bit jealous, mentions of pregnancy, references to sex, 2021 AMAs Jungkook is the wedding visual, special guest stars Woosung and El Capitxn

Word Count: 7.5k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: That sexy man on stage - the one currently giving your friend the lap dance of her LIFE - is your super shy neighbor, Jeon Jungkook?!

A/N: Happy two years of Paradise!! 🎉 Two years ago today, I posted the first chapter of what was going to be a five-part series. So to say I can't believe we're here is really no joke!! Thank you to everyone who has read, commented, reblogged, sent me asks or DM'd me about this series - this is all because of you! 💜💜💜

Unbeta'd as usual. Please don’t be a silent reader, I’d love to hear from you! Taglist is open. 💕

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Turns out that impulsiveness looks pretty good on you. 

Or so you think to yourself, catching your reflection in the mirror of the men’s room as you leave Jungkook to collect himself after giving him the best blow job of his life (your words - although, based on the look on his face as you’d swallowed, you might not be far off). 

You hadn’t planned on dragging him into the bathroom like that, but upon seeing him walk out onto the terrace in that grey belted suit, looking like an absolute dream, well, you simply could not help yourself.

You also hadn’t meant to tell him you missed him last night. But you had, because you did. God, when had you turned into this - this massive simp? It was only yesterday morning that you’d woken up in Jungkook’s embrace. You’d barely spent 24 hours apart - so why were you so desperate to get back into his arms?

Of course, none of this matters right now. There are only minutes to go before the ceremony begins, and you need to pull your head out of the clouds and get back to Jennie and the others. Starting by escaping the men’s room sight unseen.

“YN!” 

Or not.

As soon as you close the door, you hear Jin’s voice calling to you. He’s standing at the other end of the little hallway, near the entrance to the reception room.

“Hey,” you reply, trying to be the most nonchalant you’ve ever been in your life, as if you weren’t just gagging on Jungkook’s dick in a public bathroom. 

Jin smiles as you approach, but there’s a gleam in his eye that makes you nervous, and you’re so busy trying to come up with a valid excuse for why he saw you emerging from the men’s room that you apparently forget how to walk, trip over the hem of your gown, and crash directly against his chest. 

“Easy, tiger!” he laughs, arms locking around your back as he helps you stand back upright. “I’m used to ladies throwing themselves at me, but only you’ve taken it literally.” 

You roll your eyes, but you’re pretty sure he’s not lying about fighting off admirers, given that he looks like a supermodel in his crisply tailored tuxedo. His bowtie is a little crooked thanks to being squashed by your face during your ungainly landing, so you gently fix it, and Jin thanks you with a soft grin. 

“I left my glasses at home, so tell me - did I just see you leav-” Jin suddenly stops in the middle of his sentence, his gaze drifting over your shoulder. “Oh. Nevermind, I see.” He takes a step back, arms falling from your waist.

Another hand slips into yours. 

Jungkook didn’t wait very long before following you out of the restroom. He squeezes your hand as you glance at him, but he stares directly at Jin, nostrils flaring slightly, eyes narrowed, lips pursed tightly as if - as if -

Oh, shit. 

“You left this behind, jagiya.” Jungkook turns to you, his face shifting into a softer expression as he produces your clutch like some sort of trophy. You must’ve left it on the counter. “Did you want me to hold it during the ceremony?” 

Your brain is lagging severely at the moment, trying to process two major facts at once. Fact one: Jin obviously realized that you were with Jungkook in the bathroom. Fact two: you completely forgot to tell Jungkook that Jin would be at the wedding. Which, given the events of the last 24 hours, it’s understandable that it slipped your mind, but this isn’t how you’d expected to officially introduce them. And he doesn’t exactly look thrilled to run into him now. 

On top of that, Jungkook has asked you a question. And is now waiting for an answer, while Jin watches in polite silence. 

“Um. Yes. Sorry, yes, can you keep an eye on it for me?” 

Jungkook nods, tucking the clutch into his jacket and patting it lightly. “Of course,” he says, nodding solemnly, as if you’d just asked him to protect precious goods and not a cheap bag full of tissues and mints. 

Jin clears his throat lightly. 

“Oh! I’m sorry, Jin, this is Koo- Jungkook. Jungkook, Jin.” 

Of all the ways for these two to meet, this might not be the most embarrassing, but it’s definitely up there. There’s still a bit of Jungkook’s taste lingering on your tongue as the two men shake hands, Jin wincing slightly. 

You try to quickly fill Jungkook in. “Jin’s the best man.” 

“Sure am.” Jin grins. 

“He and Yoongi grew up together,” you add, ignoring Jin’s little interjection, knowing that Jungkook didn’t miss it based on the way his jaw flexes violently, as if he’s gnashing his teeth. 

“Nice to meet you, Jungkook. That’s quite a grip you have there.” Jin slides his hands into his pockets. “YN’s told me a little about you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Jungkook replies, inclining his head slightly. His hand returns to yours, fingers locking firmly. “Wish I could say the same, but YN never mentions you.” 

You try to control your face as you look at Jungkook. What did he just say?

Jin just grins wider. “So… she said you’re a dancer?” 

“Yeah, I'm a dancer. But I’m also an artist,” Jungkook replies, chest puffing out slightly. 

“Yes! You should see his work, Jin. He’s an incredibly talented painter,” you add, and the corner of Jungkook’s mouth twitches, like he’s holding back a smile. “I might actually have a photo on my phone…” 

Jungkook doesn’t give you any time to check. “Y’know, I think I’ve heard of you. You’re a cook, right? I think my halmeoni watches your show.” 

If Jungkook intended that as a jab, Jin shows no sign that he felt it. “Well, technically, I’m a chef. And a restaurateur. But yes, I do host a successful cooking program - actually, it’s about to be turned into a series for a major network.”

“Right. So like I said. You cook.”

Jin’s the one twitching now, his eyebrow rising slightly at Jungkook’s blasé tone. But rather than looking annoyed, Jin looks amused. Meanwhile, Jungkook is still glowering. You, though? Your smile feels a little strained as you try not to react to the snarky shots being fired off around you. Jungkook seems more rattled than you’d expected by Jin’s presence. You’ve never heard him talk like this. 

“You’re right, I do cook a little,” Jin laughs. “I’d like to think I’m pretty good at it. But YN could tell you, since I’ve cooked for her a few times.” He glances at you, the sparkle in his eye you’d noted earlier back and twinkling a little too merrily for your comfort. “From what I remember, she’s been pretty satisfied every time.” 

And you’d thought this couldn’t get any more awkward than running into Jin post-beej. How silly of you. 

Jungkook’s fingers grip yours tighter. “And yet not satisfied enough to ever bring it up. Huh. Sounds like it was kinda forgettable.” 

Jin’s eyes flicker to yours questioningly and you cringe, still struggling to come up with anything to say that could make this conversation less tense. At this point, you’d be better off wishing for the ground to open up beneath you, as useless as your brain is being.

Jin coughs. “Anyway, YN, Yoongi asked me to tell you to tell Jennie that the officiant is running a little late. Nothing to worry about!” he adds hastily upon seeing your concerned face. “Just caught in traffic. But on his way.” 

Great, another thing for Jennie to stress out about. “Okay. I’ll let her know.” 

Guests are starting to fill up the rows of chairs on the other side of the glass wall. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Lisa heading towards you, waving your bouquet. Thankful for the interruption, you stretch out your hand. 

“Come on, we’re cutting it close on time!” she announces. “Hey, what happened to your lipstick?” 

“Uh…” Rather than answer, you opt for escape, tugging on Jungkook’s hand lightly to urge him to follow you. “One sec, Lis. Come on, Jungkook, let’s find you a seat.” 

“See you at the altar!” Jin calls behind you, and you wince, feeling Jungkook stiffen momentarily. 

There’s an empty chair on the end of a row on the bride’s side. Jungkook folds himself into it, placing your clutch delicately on his lap. 

“Um, so, we already took photos earlier, so I’ll just come find you after the ceremony.”

“Okay.” Jungkook chews on his bottom lip, nodding. 

An unsettling feeling comes over you. Should you apologize for not telling him about Jin? Or say something about what just happened in the hallway? What did just happen, anyway? 

Through the glass, you can see Lisa waving, pointing at her watch. Shit. Whatever happened, you’ll just have to talk about it later.

As you turn to leave, Jungkook grabs your wrist. He threads his fingers through yours, pulling you closer to him, until his lips brush your cheek. “See you soon, jagiya.” He gives you another soft smile, sunlight sparkling in his eyes. The angry scowl from the hallway is nowhere to be seen. 

Your head is a mess as you follow Lisa. How had you not mentioned to Jungkook that Jin would be here? Damn, maybe he was right - maybe you really never talk about Jin. 

Both men had warned you when you started dating them that they could get competitive. Apparently that meant passive aggressive disses and weirdly possessive behavior. If this is how the two of them are going to behave, you’re in for a long day. 

A small room cordoned off from the rest of the rooftop restaurant has been turned into the bride’s waiting room. Jisoo’s doing a last pass on Jennie’s makeup when you arrive. She takes one look at you and reaches for a tube of lipstick sitting on the makeshift vanity. 

“Babe, what happened to you? You look stressed.” 

Rosé hums in agreement. “I expected you to stumble in here looking more satisfied than that. You dragged Jungkook away at lightning speed!” 

“Pucker up,” Jisoo orders you, and you obey, letting her fix your lips. 

“Mmm, well, I found her talking to both Jungkook and Jin in the hallway, so maybe that has something to do with it?” Lisa pipes up, eyebrow raised. 

“Oh shit, did something go down?” Rosé asks, a little too excited for your taste. 

“Well, actually,” you start to say, then shake your head. This is the last thing you need right now. This day is too important to be derailed by your love life. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Oh, but Jin did say that the officiant’s running a little late, Jennie. He’s on his way, so there’s no need to panic, but the ceremony might start a few minutes later than planned.” 

“Oh, see, Jennie? I told you there was no reason to worry - now you’re not the only one who’s late!” 

“Jisoo!” Lisa hisses. Rosé covers her mouth to suppress her giggles. 

Jennie, who has been sitting silently since you walked in, inspecting her appearance in the makeup mirror, lets out a strangled sound that’s a cross between a laugh and a wail, and buries her face in her hands. 

“Girl, please do not make me fix your makeup again,” Jisoo pleads as she crouches next to Jennie. You pull up a chair next to her and sigh, rubbing Jennie’s arm lightly. 

“Ji’s lame attempts at humor aside, how are you feeling?” you ask.

Your best friend is absolutely radiant in her white gown, dark hair tumbling in gentle waves down her back as she turns to you. 

“I’m still okay. I know things were a little… dramatic yesterday, but really, I’m okay today. You guys don’t have to keep asking me how I’m feeling.” Jennie clasps your hands, giving you a soft smile. “I’m excited and I’m nervous but more than all of that I’m ready to marry the love of my life.” She pauses. “I think maybe I should use the bathroom again, though. I guess I have some time.” 

“I’ll help you,” Lisa volunteers, gathering Jennie’s train and following her out of the room. 

You’re quiet until the door closes behind them. “Okay, was anyone else expecting her to freak out about the ceremony starting late?” 

“She’s keeping it together, somehow,” Jisoo shrugs. “I think she’s still a bit in shock, honestly. But she’ll be okay.”

“She’s fine, as long as no one mentions anything about the you-know-what,” Rosé informs you, crossing her arms as she glares at Jisoo. 

“You don’t have to censor yourself when she’s not in the room.” Jisoo rolls her eyes. 

Your friends fall into their usual bickering, but you’re too deep in your thoughts about Jennie to bother telling them to knock it off. Maybe Jisoo’s right and she’s still adjusting. Just another reason to try to stay focused on her and make sure everything goes perfectly for her and Yoongi.

It’s the least you can do for your friend, after the day she had yesterday.

Yesterday

Friday morning brings you a sweet surprise. You weren’t expecting to wake up with Jungkook in your bed. He spent most of the night making you forget all about Taehyung’s joking offer to drop to his knees at your promise to help him, doing such a good job that you’d almost forgotten your own name, too. You’d figured he’d slip out in the middle of the night after you’d fallen asleep. 

You were wrong. He’s still here, all messy bedhead and sleepy eyes, laughing quietly about alarm clocks and wrapping you up in his arms. He follows you like a puppy as you start your morning routine - into the shower, back into your room, and then into your kitchen - and honestly it’s no wonder that you decide to take the day off to spend it with him. The thought of repeating yesterday and hanging out with him all day is too tempting to refuse. Even though you’ll see him pretty much all day tomorrow at the wedding - look, if he’s down for it, then why not?

And then somehow the universe decides that your day has only been maybe a solid eight out of ten so far and decides to kick it up a few more notches, by offering you a possible life boat off the sinking ship that is your job. 

Hey YN!

I know this is ridiculously fast, but my company has an opening, and I think you’d be great for the job! Long story short someone unexpectedly quit yesterday, so now we have a position we  need to fill immediately. I hope it’s okay, but I’ve given your name to our VP in charge of hiring and she’d like to bring you in for an interview! She asked me to reach out and see if you’d be all right with coming in next week - I know that’s fast, but this is for a new project that’s being rushed to production so we really need someone to crunch some numbers ASAP! 

Let me know if you’re interested!

Best,

Wendy

As if that’s not enough, Jungkook offers to help you practice for the interview, and suddenly you can’t see through the hearts in your eyes. Could he be any sweeter? You thank him, and he kisses you, and you melt, lost in his warmth. 

Jungkook’s voice brings you back to reality. “How many more emails do you need to answer?” 

“Um…” you stare at your laptop. “Let me just respond to Wendy and then I’m done.”

“Cool.” Jungkook stretches. His t-shirt rises with the motion, his Adonis belt briefly visible, and you know he’s caught your stare when he smirks. You quickly turn back to your computer, but he just wraps his arms around your shoulders, catching you in a back hug.

“I’m gonna go home and take off these dirty clothes,” he murmurs, teeth nipping your earlobe. “Come find me when you’re done. I’ll be waiting.” 

“Fuck,” you breath. Jungkook laughs, obviously pleased at the effect he has on you. He’s such a tease sometimes. You’re trying to figure out how to flip the tables on him when your ringtone starts trilling.

Be still, my heaaaaart…

“Oh god, I bet that’s my boss, wanting to talk me out of taking off.” You frown as you check the screen. “Shit, it’s Jisoo. I gotta take this.” 

“Hey, do you have a second?” Jisoo’s voice comes through a little strained. And loud. She’s talking over some sort of high-pitched wailing. It takes you a minute to figure out that it’s a person’s voice making that sound.

“Ji! What’s going on? Wait, what’s that sound? Is that Jennie? Is she crying?”

“Yeah, that’s Jennie. She’s - she’s had - well,” Jisoo sighs. “Look, I’m over at her place because I wanted to treat her to a manicure today because I know she’s been too busy to schedule one and you know how she gets about her nails so I thought it would be a nice surprise but when I got here - oh, you know what, this is not important to the story, why am I telling you this?” 

“Just get to the point, Ji!”

“I’m trying! I’m sorry, it’s been a big morning and - what?” There’s a muffled conversation happening suddenly, and you stare blankly at your computer as you wait for Jisoo to return. You don’t know what the hell is going on, but you don’t like any of it.

“Just ask her to come over!” you hear Lisa say in the background. Lisa’s at Jennie’s, too? 

“I was getting to that!”

With a frustrated sigh, you try to get Jisoo’s attention. “Okay, okay, I’m coming over!”

“Do you mind? I know you have to work-”

“No, I’m not working today, I….” You pause, knowing that Jungkook’s just in the kitchen, likely able to hear everything you’re saying, not wanting to embarrass yourself by admitting that you took the day off just to be with him. “It’s a long story, I’ll explain when I get there.” 

You don’t end up explaining anything once you arrive. That’s because as soon as Lisa opens Jennie’s door, she greets you with a tiny white stick bearing two little pink lines. Rosé is right behind her, beaming from ear to ear. 

“Oh my god.” 

“I know!” Lisa grins, throwing her hands in the air. “Baby Min, coming to you soon!” 

You frown, glancing over Lisa’s shoulder. “Where is she?” 

The sound of Jennie’s crying gets louder as you approach the master suite. When Lisa stops outside the bedroom closet, you grab her arm. 

“Before I go in there - are those happy tears or sad tears?” You’re pretty sure you already know the answer, but you need to know what to expect. 

Lisa grimaces. “Somewhere in the middle, I think.” 

Jennie’s curled up beneath the hangers of clothing stuffed into the closet that she shares with Yoongi. She’s wearing one of his oversized hoodies, sniffling into the black material as Jisoo, smushed into the corner beside her, carefully untangles herself. 

“Tag, you’re in,” she says, taking the hand you offer to pull her to her feet. 

There’s not a lot of room for you but you squish yourself in as best you can, and immediately tuck Jennie against you. Jisoo closes the door behind you. 

“Hi, babe.” 

“Hi,” Jennie’s voice is wavery and small, so far from her usual confident, cheerful tone, that it hurts your heart. “Did they tell you?” 

“I saw.” 

Jennie settles against you, hiccuping slightly through her tears. “This wasn’t part of the plan.” 

“I know.” 

Jennie has been mapping out her and Yoongi’s future pretty much since the day they met. They both want to start a family, but Jennie insists that they enjoy their honeymoon period first. And she’s determined to make tenure at the school where she teaches before taking time off to have kids. She wants to have it all, but at her own pace and on her own terms. Which means timing everything out so meticulously. So carefully. 

Gently, you brush a lock of hair from her wet cheek. “So… do you know how…” 

Jennie sighs. “Pretty sure it was the night of my bachelorette party. I came home and Yoongi asked how it went and um, I kinda couldn’t stop talking about my lap dance.” Your friend’s face flushes at the memory, and you bite back a grin. You’ll have to tell Jungkook he left a lasting impression. “And Yoongi… well, you know how he gets competitive sometimes?” 

You can’t help it. You burst into laughter. 

“Yoongi gave you a lap dance?!” 

“God, I wish I’d seen that,” Jisoo says from the other side of the closet door. “I’d love to know if he’s got moves.” 

In all your years of friendship, you’d never known Yoongi to do more than a simple side-shuffle whenever Jennie would drag him onto a dance floor. The thought of him performing an erotic lapdance is too much for even your overactive imagination to conceive.  

Jennie just smiles to herself. “Believe me, he does.” She glances at you shyly. “He’d kill me for telling you this but… you don’t think Jin choreographed his routine all by himself, do you?” she laughs, referring to the night Jin danced for you, and your brain breaks a little trying to picture Yoongi doing the same moves. 

The closet door flies open. 

“I’m gonna need to hear every last detail about that,” Lisa proclaims. 

“Same,” Rosé adds, and Jennie laughs for the first time since you arrived. She sits up, dabbing at her face with the sleeves of Yoongi’s hoodie. 

“Ugh, my face is going to be so puffy tomorrow.” 

“No, it won’t. We’ll take care of you,” Jisoo promises, already on her feet. “I’ll go raid your kitchen for supplies. Do you have any cucumbers?” She’s gone before Jennie can answer, Lisa scrambling behind her.

“Anyway… we always use protection, but you know how they say it’s not 100% foolproof? Yeah, turns out they’re telling the truth.” She stares at her sweater paws, suddenly forlorn again, and you give her a tight squeeze. 

“I’m sorry, babe. I know this is… a lot.” 

“Yeah. And I just…” You don’t say anything, just wait patiently until she finds the words she’s searching for. “I just feel like a failure. You know? Like, it’s so stupid, but…” She shrugs. “I feel like everything’s ruined now.” 

“Oh, Jennie, no!” Wrapping both arms around her, you sigh. “Accidents happen. That’s life! You can make all the plans you want but you can’t control everything. There’s chaos everywhere! And even if you do your best to avoid it, sometimes it gets through. And it’s not always bad! I mean… look at me and Jungkook. He came out of nowhere. I didn’t plan to start dating him and Jin at the same time. I didn’t know it was gonna get serious. I thought…” you trail off, realizing you’re making it about yourself. “Sorry, this is not about me.” 

“No, it’s ok, finish your thought. Tangents and diversions are good right now,” Jennie informs you.

You bite your lip, weighing your words. “Back when Jin and I met, when you introduced us, I just thought… this is it. This is my chance to have what Jennie and Yoongi have. Something real. Something safe and steady.” 

Jennie nods, encouraging you to continue. 

“And then Jungkook… he’d always been so close but I’d never gotten to know him. He came in and opened my eyes to another possibility. To something exciting and different and - and passionate, and, oh god, I sound like a shitty romance novel, don’t I?” Burying your face in your hands, you laugh. 

“No, go on!!” Rosé says. 

“I’m just trying to say - plans don’t always work out. But that doesn’t mean you’re a failure. And sometimes, the unexpected can be exactly what you want. Or need.” 

Jennie sighs, and you can feel her relaxing against you for the first time since you sat down beside her. 

“I hear what you’re saying. And I’d like to believe that. It’s just… really difficult for me to accept that I’m not always in control.” 

“That’s a fucking mood,” Jisoo says, returning from the kitchen with a mug of tea in her hand. Lisa carries a bowl of some sort of cucumber concoction, and the two of them settle on the floor outside the closet. 

Rosé scoots across the carpet until she’s close enough to take one of Jennie’s hands. “Back to your chaos, if that’s what we’re calling it. Is it too soon to ask you what you’re gonna do?” 

Jennie groans, pulling the oversized hood over her head. 

“I’m gonna take that as a yes.” 

“I just want to get through the wedding,” Jennie states, voice muffled by the soft fabric. “I’m getting married tomorrow! And I don’t want anything to - to ruin it. Or make things weird, or more stressful than they already are. I mean, fuck, I think my halmeoni is already upset that we’re not doing a traditional wedding. Imagine if she finds out I got knocked up before marriage!” 

“Okay, then we’ll make sure no one finds out tomorrow.” Lisa glances at everyone and you all nod in a wordless pact. “We’ll do whatever it takes to make sure your day is as perfect as you’ve planned. You know we will!” 

“Does Yoongi know?”

Jennie peels her hood back to look at you. She shakes her head. 

“I took the test this morning, after he left for work. I’ve been so busy lately that I didn’t even realize I was late until today! Ji was the first person to find out when she showed up, and then she called the rest of you.” She pauses, fiddling with her sleeves again. “I think I’m going to wait to tell him until after the wedding. We’ll need to have a serious talk, and there’s too much going on right now.” She glances up. “Is that - do you think that’s okay?” 

Once again, she seems lost. This time, when you go in for a hug, Rosé joins you. 

“Babe, you can tell him whenever you’re ready! It’s your body.” 

“Yeah, but we’re in this together…”

“And you’ll be in it together still, no matter if you tell him today or tomorrow or next week.” Jisoo declares. She holds the mug out to Jennie. “And we’ll be here too.” 

“Yes. Maybe this is good chaos. Maybe it’s bad. It’s up to you to decide how to react - how to move forward. Whatever you decide, you know we’ll be by your side the whole time,” you declare, your sentiments echoed by the other girls. 

Jennie blows lightly on the steaming drink. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you guys,” she says, choking up slightly, and everyone else starts talking at once. 

“You deserve the world!” Rosé coos. 

Lisa shakes her head. “We’re the lucky ones, babe, having you in our lives!”

“How’m I gonna depuff your face if you keep crying?” Jisoo tuts. 

You just rise to your feet, laughing. “Come on. Ji said something about manicures earlier. Let us pamper you today, so you’re ready to knock Yoongi off his apparently very talented feet tomorrow.”

NOW

The officiant is only a few minutes late, and the ceremony goes off without a single hitch. You and the other bridesmaids join the groomsmen flanking Yoongi at the altar. In addition to Jin, there’s Yoongi’s brother Geum-jae, and two of his friends from work, Yi-jeong and Woosung.

As a string quartet plays the wedding march, Jennie walks down the aisle, beaming more brightly than the sun, and you catch a glimpse of Yoongi’s face, bearing such an openly reverent expression that it makes your eyes flood with tears. The officiant begins his speech, and Jennie and Yoongi stare at one another as if the rest of the world has fallen away, with nothing left but the two of them and their love.

Watching them almost feels like you’re intruding on a private moment, so you turn your face to the rows of guests, searching without thought for Jungkook, smiling when you find him already gazing your way. Your chest nearly buzzes as warmth spreads there, matching the glow in his eyes. 

Because Jennie and Yoongi chose to take photos before the ceremony, there’s no cocktail hour after the ceremony. Instead, everyone is seated for dinner. The happy couple sits at a table for two on a small dais in the front of the room. 

There are no tables large enough for the entire wedding party. There are also no seating arrangements for all of you, either. Jennie had worked very hard on the seating chart for all of the guests except the wedding party. (“You guys figure it out. I’m tired.”) So you quickly claim a seat at one of the two empty tables left open, with Jungkook taking the spot next to you on one side and Jisoo the other, with Rosé next to her. 

As the wait staff brings out the first course, you slide your chair a little closer to Jungkook. “Hey. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you that Jin would be here.” 

Jungkook’s eyes widen slightly. “Oh. Jagi, it’s ok.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure it is,” you reply. “That was not the way I wanted to introduce the two of you. It was, uh, not ideal.” 

Jungkook’s silent as he sips his water. He works his bottom lip between his teeth again, and you wish you could see inside his head, could get some sense of what he’s thinking, because sitting here waiting for him to say something makes your stomach churn a bit.  

Finally, he sighs, reclining back in his seat as he looks at you. “I’m sorry if I made that uncomfortable. I wasn’t expecting to see him.” 

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t mention he was part of the wedding. Truly, it slipped my mind.” Repeatedly. You bite your lip, struggling to figure out what to say. This doesn’t have to be a thing, but you also don’t want them at each other’s throats all night. “But there’s no reason it has to be weird or ruin the night. Because I’m here with you, Kookie. Not him.” 

Your pulse begins to pound. It’s like you’ve just laid your heart on the line. Jungkook’s furrowed brows relax, doe eyes blinking slowly as he absorbs your words. 

“Is this seat taken?” 

You turn to find Jin standing with a hand on the empty chair across from you. 

Jisoo lets out a tiny “Yessss, game on,” and you covertly kick her under the table. 

“Uh, I think Lisa is going to -” Glancing around, you don’t finish your sentence as you spy your friend sitting with the groomsmen. Oh, right. Lisa has her eye on Yi-jeong, having basically all but explicitly called dibs that morning when she saw him in his tuxedo. You can’t really blame her. “Nevermind.” 

“Please, join us,” Jungkook offers, gesturing to the table. He says it so kindly that you can’t help but gawk at him in surprise. He doesn’t meet your gaze, but his palm rests on your thigh, rubbing lightly. Reassuringly. 

Your heartbeat returns to normal as Jin smiles. “Thanks.” 

Despite the ceremony being so modern, Jennie and Yoongi opted for more traditional dishes for dinner. For several minutes, there’s mostly an easy silence over the table, as everyone enjoys the janchi guksu and banchan in front of them, only the noise of clinking utensils filling the air. Well, that and the sound of the servers running back and forth to the bar, trying to keep up with drink orders. 

Jisoo, as usual, is the first one to break the silence.

“Okay, Jin, professional opinion on the guksu?” 

Jin chews thoughtfully for a few minutes. “I think they went a little heavy on the spicy soy sauce in the broth, but the noodles are just as tender as the ones I make. Oh, but you’ve had my noodles, YN, what do you think? Do they compare?” 

All eyes focus on you, including Jungkook’s. You swallow quickly. “Um, I think these are just as good! And I really like the broth, to be honest.” 

“You do like it spicy,” Jungkook murmurs under his breath, quiet enough that only you can hear him, and when you glance over, you’re met with that teasing smirk of his. It’s back again. For some reason, that’s more comforting to you than Jungkook’s hand on your thigh. Your heart does a somersault. It’s getting a real workout tonight. 

“You know, I never really thought about it, but it must be hard for you to eat in public. People are probably always asking you for your opinions on their food, or tips on how to make it better,” Rosé says. 

Jin shrugs. “Comes with the territory, I guess. I’m not gonna complain if people value what I think - and I’m always happy to help anyone improve their skills.” He swirls his wine glass before taking a sip. “But I suppose there can be a downside, too. Sometimes I just want to enjoy a meal without being asked to provide a full critique.” 

“I can understand that,” Jungkook replies. Again the other heads at the table swivel. 

“You can?” 

Jungkook nods. “Yeah. Like, right now, I bet you’re all expecting me to be the first on the dance floor, right?” He laughs as everyone suddenly becomes very interested in their meals. “It’s okay. That’s how it is whenever I’m out with friends. I can’t just sit at the bar and have a drink. And I definitely can’t just sway with the crowd. Everyone expects me to show off.” 

“I mean, I’m definitely hoping to see you turn up,” Rosé confirms, and Jungkook laughs again, gesturing at his point being proven. 

“Sure, that sounds annoying. But outside of going out with your friends, how often are you in a situation where you’re asked to dance? People stop me everywhere. When I’m out shopping. When I’m on a plane. I even once had someone ask me for deglazing tips while I was at a funeral! It’s not quite the same as being asked to do the robot at the club.” Jin shakes his head dismissively. 

Rosé mumbles, “I thought you weren’t gonna complain…?”

The two men eye each other for a few seconds as you hold your breath. Then Jungkook huffs out a laugh. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s not the same. That sucks, dude.” 

You exhale, settling back in your seat. 

Jin just hums, eyes darting back and forth between you and Jungkook before he speaks. “I suppose it’s just a small price to pay for being so successful.” He tips his wine glass back, emptying it. “Where are the servers hiding? I need a refill.” 

“See, this is one of the benefits of being a financial analyst - absolutely no one wants to talk to me about what I do,” you grin. 

“That’s because no one understands what you do,” Jisoo declares. 

“She’s right.” 

“Thanks, Rosé.” 

Jisoo points her spoon at Jungkook. “Okay, but real talk, you are going to dance tonight, aren’t you? You wouldn’t deny us a show!”

“Ji, we just had an entire conversation about this!” you groan, throwing your hands up. “Can you not?”

“What? I’m just saying! The man is a born performer. Right?” 

She looks at Jungkook, who nearly chokes on his wine in his haste to answer.

“Uh. Yes?” 

“Right. So there’s no way you’ll leave us disappointed.”  

“Let me get this straight - if Jungkook doesn’t dance for you, you’ll be disappointed?” you ask. “Hold on while I call Jimin and Taehyung real quick. Wait, sorry, I mean Min and Tae.” 

“All I know is suffering,” Jisoo sighs.

“Oh, relax, Kitty Cat,” Rosé giggles, nearly doubling over at the confused look on Jin’s face. 

As Jisoo loudly laments her choice of friends, Jungkook bends towards you, mouth brushing your ear. 

“Don’t worry, jagi, whether or not I dance here, you can still have a private performance later. I’d never deny you.”

Heat works its way through your body as you shift in your seat, squirming slightly from the low rumble of his voice and the promise laced within. There’s a sudden prickling at the nape of your neck, that nagging sensation of someone watching you, but when you follow the feeling and glance over at Jin, he’s staring at his empty wine glass. 

The tapping of a fork against stemware draws your attention to the married couple’s table. To your immense relief, Yoongi and Jennie had decided to nix the best man and maid of honor toasts, opting to say a few words themselves. Normally, Jennie does all the talking for the pair, but to your surprise, Yoongi rises to his feet, and the room falls silent.

“Jennie and I wanted to take a moment to thank all of you for coming. It means the world to us that you took the time out of your busy lives to celebrate with us.” He glances down at his bride, who smiles back, and Yoongi’s gummy grin gets bigger than you’ve ever seen it. “As you all know, Jennie and I have been together since our first year of college. We’ve been through so much together - college, grad school, finding jobs, losing jobs, moving from apartment to apartment - but we weathered it all, because we always had each other.” 

Jennie’s cheeks are wet as she smiles at her husband. Yoongi takes her hand. 

“Jennie, I don’t know what life has to throw at us yet, but I want you to know that I’m never worried, as long as I have you by my side.” He presses a kiss to the back of her hand, and there’s a chorus of awwww’s from the guests, including yourself. Jisoo rolls her eyes, but they’re already spilling over with tears, and you poke her in the side as she laughs.  

“Here’s to you, my love. And to all of you with us here tonight. We can’t thank you enough for your love and support. Geonbae!” He raises his glass.

“Cheers!” his brother shouts, and the cry is echoed around the room as everyone raises their glasses to the couple. 

Just when you think you couldn’t be happier, once again you feel a hand slip into yours, pressing palm to palm, fingers threading through. Jungkook doesn’t say a word, too busy clinking his drink against everyone else’s, but his hand tightens around yours when you look at him, and you feel as though you could float right through the ceiling if it weren’t for his strong grip. 

To think that you nearly hadn’t asked him to come here with you. What a mistake that would’ve been. Thank god you’d ignored the constant fear and doubt in your head and listened only to the steady sureness of your heart. 

You’re getting better at it.

YESTERDAY

After you coax her out of the closet, you and your friends turn Jennie’s apartment into a mini spa, trying to help the bride-to-be relax. By mid-afternoon, as everyone is giving each other manicures, you realize that the window on your day with Jungkook is swiftly closing, so you text him to let him know you won’t be coming home any time soon. 

Not long after that, the door to Jennie’s apartment opens, and Yoongi walks in, trailed by Jin. 

Jennie greets her fiancé happily, hugging him with her hands held straight out so as not to smudge her pretty new pink tips. “You’re home early!”

“Couldn’t focus. Decided to call it a day.” As ever, Yoongi seems completely unfazed to see you and your friends at his apartment. Sometimes you wonder what it would take to ruffle him. Probably something extreme like the zombie apocalypse. “Figured I’d grab my stuff and then get some dinner with Jin.” 

Although they weren’t holding to every tradition, Jennie had insisted that they spend the night before the wedding apart. So Yoongi would be crashing at Jin’s tonight. 

Jin nods at the sound of his name. “By ‘get some dinner’, he means ‘take advantage of his friend’s restaurant and score a free meal.’” 

“As if you weren’t the one who offered,” Yoongi drawls, ignoring Jin’s squeaky chuckling.

“Sounds good, baby,” Jennie smiles as Yoongi presses a kiss to her cheek before he shuffles down the hallway towards their bedroom. “Do you guys wanna get some takeout?” 

While Lisa, Rosé, and Jennie argue about what they feel like eating, Jin catches your eye. “Hey, you got a second?” He jerks his head towards Jennie’s kitchen. Rising from the couch, you follow, closing the door behind you. 

“What’s u-oh!” Your question becomes an exclamation when Jin suddenly pulls you in for a hug, long arms wrapping around your waist as he holds you tight. 

“Just wanted to get you alone,” he says, nose brushing yours as he smiles. “Hi.” 

This is where the butterflies should come in. Standing this close to this incredible specimen of a man, this paragon of perfection, would normally send them flittering through you. Shivers should be running down your spine. Any number of excited reactions should be happening right now. 

Right. 

Now. 

Except… they’re not. 

“Hi,” you echo, grinning a bit weakly. Jin doesn’t seem to notice anything wrong with your smile, locking his hands behind your back. 

“I heard you got some good news today.” 

Your eyes widen as your stomach goes into freefall. 

“You know?” 

How? How on earth could he know about Jennie being pregnant?? Shit, did Lisa leave the pee stick out somewhere? Jisoo told her to put it -

“Of course I know! It’s my show.” 

“It’s your show?” What the fuck does that mean??

Jin honks in delighted laughter at your obvious confusion. “The interview Wendy emailed you about - that’s for my show! The one Nosh picked up?” 

The room tilts as gravity returns your stomach to normal. “Oh! Oh, wow!” Of course. The new project Wendy had referenced - it was Jin’s cooking show! “Wait, so we might be working together?” 

“Yes! Er, maybe! I don’t know how closely or whatever, but basically, the Nosh execs told me Wendy’s firm is responsible for budgeting and figuring out revenue streams and - and that’s really all I remember, sorry.” He laughs. “Most of what they said went straight over my head, to be honest. But I spoke to her on a conference call today and she told me they had an open position for the team that’s assigned to my show, and she’d asked you to interview.” 

“Wow, that’s really…” you trail off, lost in thought. “Isn’t it… the other night at the networking reception, weren’t you saying it might be a travel show?” You have a vague memory of Jin telling you what he wanted to do with his show if it got picked up by a network.

“That’s right. I pitched it as an exploration of local delicacies that often get overlooked by tourists. I’ll be going around the country, visiting tiny, off the beaten path restaurants and bars, and learning how to make their favorite dishes.” 

Traveling for work. That was one of the perks Wendy had rattled off when she’d given you the sales pitch for her company. So, if you got this job, did that mean you’d be traveling with Jin? 

Your mind is already wandering, thinking about what this new job might entail, when Jin brings a hand up to cup your face. His thumb traces your jawline. 

“Wouldn’t it be amazing? You and I, on the road together. Me, discovering new meals to cook for you…” His voice drops, a low murmur meant only for you to hear. “Maybe picking up some new dance moves to show off…” 

He rolls his hips slightly, jostling you right out of your tumultuous thoughts. 

“Doesn’t that sound good?” 

“It does,” you reply, mouth moving on autopilot, not waiting for your head to decide if it agrees. 

“I know I haven’t had the time to take you out properly, and I’m sorry for that. But this is my chance to show you that I’m still in this.” He sucks in a deep breath. “I like you. And I’m hoping it’s not too late for me to say that.” 

If this were a romantic movie, the music would swell now, strings soaring as he tips your mouth towards his. It’s a perfect moment, lush lips caressing yours, sweet and unhurried, lingering like he doesn’t care if anyone else walks in. 

It’s a perfect moment, for sure. Just, not for you. 

“Jin,” you begin, stepping out of his embrace, “I need to tell you something.” 

A/N Pt. 2: To be continued!! (Sorry, the chapter was getting a bit long and this felt like a natural stopping point… what do we think so far??)

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

[deardo11]

|| 𝑹𝑨𝑫𝑰𝑶'𝑺 𝑩𝑨𝑪𝑲 ||

Words; 1,083

Contains;

Smut | Violence | Swearing | Drugs | Addictions | Alcohol | Non-Con/SA | Adult/Mature Themes

|| 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑹𝑬𝑬 ||

Angel had let you borrow a skimpy and tight black dress. You had no clue how you were going to walk in it without the back of the dress lifting and your ass being revealed to the whole club. He also lended you some black heels. You didn't have anything to wear to a club in your closet.

When you finished getting ready, you walked out of the room and into the hallway. "How do I look?" You said, placing your hand on your hip.

"Babe, you look awesome!" Angel cheered you on, jumping up and down. It was a fair reaction as you guys hadn't gone out in a long time.

You and Angel left the hotel and soon arriving at the club. You are both sat at the bar, buying rounds.

"I haven't seen you guys in 'fuckin ages!!" Cherri appears out of nowhere and exclaims throwing her hands up in the air.

You didn't expect her to scare you like that but you act like you didn't just jump out of your seat. "Hey Cherri." you wink at her and she winks back.

Angels just run off to get some free drinks from guys checking him out. Cherri soon after gets a room with a guy after you both talk and dance on the floor. You're alone now. You slam your hand on the counter, getting the bartenders attention, and harassing him for more drinks. You're on the verge of blacking out, but you continue on. When you get your drink, you get up and move to the dance floor. Your body begins to sway to the music, your hips roll and shake. The cup in your hand has alcohol spilling from it, you take sips in between your dancing session.

Suddenly, a guy comes behind you and wraps his hands around your waist, grinding against your butt. "Hey there, what's YOUR name?"

You turn your head around to look at him, placing your hand on the side of his face. "(Y/N), what's your name?" You bite your lip.

"Whatever you want it to be, let's get a room." He drags you across the club and you dropped your glass at some point without realizing. Eventually, you and him are in a bedroom. He sits you down at a table where there are baggies of cocaine and paper laid out. He sits across from you, grabbing the mini bag and opening it, pouring a little onto the table in front of you. "Have some. Don't be shy." He smirks, leaning back and watching you.

You pick up the tiny piece of paper, and roll it up. You lean your head down to the table and place the rolled paper to your nostril.

|| 𝑨𝑳𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹'𝑺 𝑷𝑶𝑽 ||

"Does anyone know where (Y/N) is?" He questions.

"Angel and her went to the club a few hours ago." Husk lifts his head from the counter of the bar and says to Alastor.

"Great! Thank you, Husker!" Alastor sinks into the floor and disappears. He reappears in front of the local and nearby club. Fixing his bowtie, he walks in. 'She doesn't seem to be here?' He thinks to himself. Alastor walks up to someone in the club, "Excuse me, have you perhaps seen a young lady with (H/C) and wings of a bat?"

(You look and take the form of a bat.)

The man he went up to runs off screaming. 'Pathetic. I'm just asking a simple question.' He sighs out loud. Beginning to think he would not be able to find you, as he had an important matter to discuss.

|| 𝒀/𝑵 𝑷𝑶𝑽 ||

You scream and kick as your hands are now bound above your head. You're pinned against the bed by the man who had led you to this room. You may have been completely out of it, but you knew you did not want this, or at least him.

A shadow rises through the floor of the room and immediately disappears, sinking back through. The door is flung across the bedroom by Alastors tentacles, he makes his way in. Alastors tentacles launch at the man on top of you, grabbing ahold of him and crushing him into nothing but blood and flesh.

You shriek, the mans blood is all over you, along with the bits of his flesh. Of course you were in Hell, you were use to seeing people be murdered. But something you couldn't handle, is their remains on you.

"You're wreck-less, (Y/N)." Alastor gritted through his teeth, straining his smile, he was clearly frustrated with you.

You said nothing, tilting your head down to avert looking at him.

"Can you walk?" Alastor sighs.

In response, you get up and immediately sway left and right and then collapse onto your knees. You feel weird.

Alastor lifts you with his tentacles and then transferring your almost limp body into his arms.

"I'm sor-" You attempt to apologize.

"Don't say a word until we're back at the Hotel." He interrupts.

You're embarrassed, humiliated even. This Joker wanna-be had to come rescue you and see you in this pathetic state.

When you both are back at the Hotel, he brings you both to your room and sits you down on your bed.

All you can do is look at the floor and fiddle with your fingers.

"I want to make a deal with you." He says, staring down at you.

You lift your head and look him in his eyes. "What?"

"I want. To make. A deal." He breaks his words up so you're able to process what he's saying.

"Like what?" You ask, placing your hands on your knees, as you continue to stare at him.

"I can protect you, and in order for me to, I need to own your soul."

You look at him as if he's dumb. "What?" You repeat.

He kneels down and grabs your face with a tight grip. "Listen to me. Pay attention."

You feel butterflies in your stomach, that sure did something to you and you have no idea why, maybe it's just because of how fucked up you are at the moment. You lean into him and cup his face, closing your eyes and pressing your lips against his.

Suddenly, he pushes you off and backs away. "What are you doing?" His smile is strained and his eyes are wide.

You say nothing and turn away.

Alastor walks off, slamming the door behind him.

When you wake up, you'll have to deal with everything that just happened that night.

[thehollowwriter]

Summary: Deuce's first time ever in Mostro Lounge, in which he meets the tweels and sets up an appointment with Azul

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ❤)

The World's Prettiest Restaurant

Deuce decided he would go to Mostro Lounge on Saturday afternoon.

He stood outside the Octavinelle mirror with nervousness and guilt gnawing at him- a side affect of disobeying his dorm leader.

On the bright side, he didn't feel nervous about talking to Jade Leech. The Leech twins were infamous and rumours about them spread across compass like wildfire, however, those were just rumours and Deuce could handle himself just fine, thank you. At least he hoped so.

As he gazed at the shining, silver mirror he realised he had never been in Octavinelle before.

Well, he always did like seeing new things.

Deuce stepped into the portal and shut his eyes to shield them from the blinding light of the transportation magic. When he opened them again he was standing in a long, empty hallway.

Deuce knew Octavinelle was underwater, but the sight of sea floor outside the large glass windows still shocked him.

Feeling like he was in one of those aquarium tunnels, Deuce walked up to the glass and depressed his face against it.

There was an actual coral reef outside. Sunlight streamed down all the way to the soft sandy floor, the light catching on vibrant corals and flashy fish. The flish flitted to and fro, dipping through the seaweed and rubbing against the soft seagrass.

Deuce pulled away from the window and slowly walked to the end of the hall, turning his his haid to stare at everything around him in awe.

He reached a fork at the end of the hallway and blinked. On the wall in front of him hung a black sign with curling purple script.

There were two arrows. One pointed left with "Dormitory (Octavinelle students only)" written above it. The other pointed right with "Mostro Lounge" also written above it.

Deuce turned right and entered the lounge through the open oak doors and stopped short, frozen.

Mostro Lounge was amazing.

Soft jazz flowed into Deuce's ears like honey, the wonderful aroma of delicious food invaded his nostrils, and his eyes were assaulted with perhaps the prettiest restaurant he had ever seen.

The tables were solid oak with smooth white table tops. A pretty lamp in the shape of a nautilis shell sat delicately on each one. The seats were fine leather, a perfectly polished brown complimenting the table perfectly.

A spotless tiled floor reflected the blues of the lights shining above. The lights in question were shaped like jellyfish and carefully attached to curling tentacles protruding from the ceiling.

Stairs, lined with neon blue lightning, led up to more tables. Behind those tables was a huge glass wall, the clarity allowing Deuce to see the beauty of the sea behind it. To the right was a... bar? Did they sell alcohol here? It was long and lined with high stools. The shelves at the back filled with various containers of unknown stuff that Deuce almost wanted to try.

The lounge was crowded with people- students of various dorms and ages talking and laughing, creating a lovely hubbub of muffled voices and distant laughter.

A student created all of this? That was... that was incredible. Deuce was in awe of him.

"Good afternoon, sir."

A soft voice made Deuce jolt. He turned to see a guy who was quite possibly the smallest teenager he'd ever seen in his life, looking at him. He was shorter than Riddle and Epel!

Shocks of turquoise streaked through dark green locks (they looked almost like seaweed) and a pair of turquoise eyes gleamed in the light. He wore the Octavinelle uniform, which was also the staff uniform. Suspenders, a bowtie, the fedora, the whole shebang.

A pair of wireless earphones were just barely noticeable, the little buds hiding well in the dim lighting. Was that even allowed?

"Do you have a reservation, sir?"

It took far too long for the words to fully process, and when they finally did Deuce panicked.

"Huh? Me? OH- uh- no, I've never been here before, I-"

"Alright, then." The staff member sent a close-lipped smile his way. "I'm Finn Clearcove. I will be your waiter for today. Right this way, please."

Deuce wordlessly followed Finn to the nearest open table dazed. It was quite close to the bar and had a good view of the glass wall. Deuce was surprised it was open, given the glass wall spot should be popular, but as he looked around he realised all the tables near the bar were mysteriously empty.

Why?

Deuce got seated there anyways and a menu was placed in front if him. It, just like everything else here, was fancy and pretty.

The pages were black with sleek dark purple writing sprawling nearly across the pages. A gold nautilis was printed on the bottom of each page, and the prices were also printed in gold ink.

The options, paired with incredibly well done photos, made Deuce's stomach growl, his mouth water and his wallet cry out in terror.

Why was everything so expensive?

"Would you like to order?" Finn's soft voice made Deuce jolt again.

"Oh! Uh- for a drink get I get the- uh-" He looked at the menu. "The Crystal Tide please? It looks nice."

Finn sent another close-lipped smile his way. "Excellent choice. Would you like anything to eat?"

"The uh..." Deuce scoured the menu for the cheapest option. "The mushroom risotto, please."

Finn paused, looking at Deuce incredulously, before snapping back to to customer service mode and writing down his order. "Alright, thank you."

Finn turned to leave and Deuce stared after him, watching his tiny form become swallowed by the fray before realising he forgot to ask about Jade Leech.

Damn it.

Well, it was fine. Deuce would surely run into the vice dorm leader eventually . It wasn't like he would be hard to spot. From what hewas told, Jade was uncannily tall, had short, silky turquoise hair with a long thick black stripe framing the left side of his face, gold and olive heterochromatic eyes and a set of sharp teeth.

If Deuce missed someone like that, he would probably go see an optometrist.

The clinking of glasses at the bar suddenly caught his attention.

It was as if the Great Seven themselves heard his plight.

Deuce turned his head at the sound and there, leaning over the bar, was a staff member matching Jade's exact description.

"Ugh..." Jade groaned and half-heartedly fiddled with the various drinks on display, baring his teeth and frowning unhappily.

He... didn't look like a vice dorm leader.

His bowtie was loose and the top buttons of his shirt were undone, leaving his collarbones in the open for all to see. His jacket was completely unbuttoned and loose, showing off the suspenders underneath. The one right suspender thingy was hanging off his shoulder.

"Stupid Azul, makin' me do boring bar duty. I wanna cook."

He didn't sound like a vice dorm leader either.

Deuce stared at him for a long time before awkwardly clearing his throat. "Um... excuse me, Jade-senpai?"

There was a beat of silence.

Jade stopped what he was doing and slowly turned his head in Deuce's direction. Their eyes locked and suddenly every part of Deuce's body screamed at him to run.

"Oi." The Leech growled, voice low. "I'm Floyd, not Jade."

Deuce's jaw dropped open and he wondered how he could be so stupid as to forget that Jade had an identical twin brother?

A very angry identical twin brother at that.

Floyd glowered and leaned forward so the he stretched over the bar table. "The hell do you want, Mackerel?"

Mackerel?

"A-Actually my name is Deu-"

"Don't care." Floyd hissed. "You remind me of a mackerel so Mackerel it is."

Before Deuce could even think of how to answer that Finn arrived with his drink, silent and startling (but polite) as ever.

The Crystal Tide was- just like everything else at Mostro Lounge- a fancy, beautiful and pricy drink that made Deuce salivate.

It was filled with flavoured ice and the liquid was made up of three colours

Light red at the bottom, pink in the middle, and purple and blue at the top.

Floyd had gone silent, watching the exchange with a bored expression before focusing on Finn.

"Blue Angel, why don't you give Mackerel here your million madol smile?"

Finn shot Floyd a dirty look. "Hello, Floyd. And no. I will not." Despite the irritation seeping into his tone, his voice remained soft and subdued, but firm.

"Aww, but your teeth are sooo petty~!"

Deuce took Floyd's change of focus to take a sip of his drink and his eyes widened. A wonderful, fruity flavour flowed onto his tongue and made his taste buds dance in joy. How did they even make this stuff?

"Floyd, I don't have time for this, I have work to do." Finn hissed, and then he quickly turned around and left before Floyd get another word in.

Floyd glowered, disappointed, before focusing on Deuce again. "Anyways." He said, teeth glinting dangerously. "The hell do you want with Jade?"

Deuce swallowed. "I uh- I wanted go talk to him about making a contract with the dorm leader. I was told you need to go him to schedule a meeting."

Floyd went quiet once again and stared at Deuce for an uncomfortably long time before tilting his head back and letting out an exaggerated, mocking laugh.

"Hah! I see, I see. You want those study notes cause you ain't got the brains to pass those baby level first year exams?"

"Hey!" If Floyd didn't set off so many warning bells Deuce would've gotten up and punched him. "That's a terrible thing to say! How do you even know I'm a first year?"

Floyd shrugged. "You've still got that spark of life in your eyes." He said cryptically.

"Oh." Deuce said, like an idiot. He awkwardly drummed his fingers against the table, unsure of how to proceed.

"So- uh- anyways, when can I talk to Jade?"

Floyd rolled his eyes. "Dunno. He's busy. Currently in a world of bliss cause some poor moron ordered the mushroom risotto."

Deuce blinked at him, confused. "You say that like it's a bad thing..?"

"Well yeah, it's-" Floyd stopped mid sentence and squinted at Deuce. Then there was a spark of realisation in his eyes. "Oh shit, you ordered the risotto, didn't you? Hah! That's a riot!"

Deuce glared at him. "Y-"

"Here is your mushroom risotto, sir." Finn's sudden appearance made him jump out of his skin.

"Great Seven, how do you do that?!"

Floyd laughed again. The high-pitched, wheezey sound rattled Deuce's ears.

"Ehehe, Blue Angel's a sneaky cookie." He drawled, smirking at Finn. "He's so tiny and quiet nobody notices him!"

Finn let out a huff, but his expression was more fond than annoyed like before. He ignored the Leech, instead turning to Deuce.

"Do you need anything else?"

Deuce shook his head. "No, it's okay."

Finn bowed his head and promptly left, leaving him alone with Floyd once more.

"As I was saying." Deuce took a sip of that lovely drink. "Why's ordering mushroom risotto so bad?"

Floyd pulled a face. "Cause mushrooms are gross and the more people order it, the more mushrooms'll be put on the menu. And also, Jade has a weird kink for watching people eat his mushroom dishes."

Deuce balked. "He what-"

A soft chuckle stopped Deuce from fully voicing his horror.

"Now now, Floyd, you needn't be so crude."

The actual Jade Leech stood next to Deuce, smiling in amusement. He, unlike Floyd, wore the uniform properly- neat and pressed and so perfect it could give Riddle a run for his money.

Olive and gold eyes settled on Deuce, shining with something sinister.

"Go on." Jade coaxed. "Take a bite. I would love to hear your feedback.

Deuce obediently raised a forkful of risotto to his mouth and Floyd made a loud noise of disgust.

Deuce took a bite and for a second be was sure he had died and gone to heaven.

It was delicious! What was Floyd talking about? This was amazing!

Jade eyes gleamed in the low light and his sharp teeth just barely poked out from his lips. Eager.

"What do you think?"

"It's delicious!" Deuce said, delighted.

"I'm glad you think so." Jade's smile was a just a smidge more genuine and his voice sounded floaty. "Those mushrooms were grown and harvested by yours truly."

"Woah!" Deuce gaped. "That's really cool, Leech-senpai!"

"Why thank you."

"Ugh." Floyd gagged. "Enough with the mushroom talk! Jade, Mackerel here wants an appointment with Azul."

"Oh I see." The smile became fake again. "You just need to fill in a little form so that I may contact you with a date and time."

Deuce nodded and when Jade left to get the form he took the opportunity to shovel more delicious risotto into his mouth, much to Floyd's dismay.

Jade returned swiftly and handed Deuce a sheet of paper.

It didn't take too long to fill it in. Name, grade, class, club, cellphone number, and so on. That sort of thing. Deuce handed the form back to Jade with a thank you and the Leech disappeared yet again.

Floyd let out a groan and slumped on the bar table, watching Deuce finish the risotto with a look of disgust.

Finn reappeared to take Deuce's empty plate and glass- giving him another fright- and then offered him the bill.

Deuce mourned the chunk taken out of his pocket money, thanked Finn and Floyd for their help, and left to his dorm with a spring in his step.

Just as he arrived in his room, his phone went off, and he checked it to see a message from Jade.

"Good day Deuce-san. This is Jade. You my come to Mostro Lounge on the 15th of July at 18:30. Don't be late."

Deuce put his phone down and just barely stopped himself from squealing, opting to laugh and fall back on his bed instead, smiling in relief.

Finally, things were looking up. Once he got those study notes his life would be nothing but smooth sailing.

He was sure of it.

-End

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

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed! I had a lot of fun with this one! Still, not too confident with my Deuce writing, hopefully I'll get better though!

[unboundtravels]

SHORT TRIPS; UNBOUNDNOVEMBER 9/23: CONFINEMENT

After being left behind on Earth, the exiled Doctor contemplates life in confinement following his sentencing by the timelords.

A clock ticked across the laboratory at the UNIT headquarters. It was late, most of the men on the night watch were playing cards, heading to the pub, or at their very usual nightly activities. Most of the lights within the hallway dimmed. Not many of the troops lived on base, but they lived close enough to where the walk or drive wouldn't be very tedious. Spirits were high, but the hour was late. Another successful operation to defend the planet against invaders had gone swimmingly thanks to UNIT's scientific advisor. He always seemed to know what to do, just at the right moment, before things got too terribly bad. Then, once everything was settled, he just went back to his laboratory to work on his fancy car or his dull little police box. Usually, he was always very humble about it, but there was a certain charismatic flair to it. Most of the time, anyways.

Not tonight, though.

There's a record spinning, the needle scratching against the vinyl as music drowns out the impending nighttime rain from outside. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 is sitting at the edge of a table, elbow propped up and his cheek resting against his fist. He looks absent, not entirely there. He's replaying a conversation in his mind, over and over again. He had poured a drink for himself, but he hadn't taken a single sip of it yet. He realized he might not be a fan of whiskey. So instead he starts circling the edge of the glass with his finger and just sighs through the nostrils. He's wearing a black dress jacket over a white collared shirt that's tied together with a black bowtie, with black trousers, and shoes making up his bottom half. A black cloak with a red silk lining hangs on the nearby coat rack. There's silence, except for the ticking of the clock in his laboratory. He's mostly just staring at the wall, right now. Occasionally, he sighs to relieve a pressure on his shoulders he feels is weighing him down.

He'd had a farewell, recently. He's had them before, of course. Goodbyes weren't new. He hated them, but in his life, they were very frequent. Some goodbyes were by choice, others were not. Some were mutual, but others... Like this one, was not. She was an offworlder. She belonged in the stars. He couldn't keep her down here, but he'd wished that he could've followed. He finally looks down at his whiskey glass, seeing his reflection in it. Sharp features and dark eyes stare back, followed by dark hair with a bit of faded green in it. He looks up at the wall again, hands interlocking and resting just under the nose as he looks toward the corner of the laboratory. The ticking of the clock in the laboratory is the tempo in which the silence plays against, the melody of his thoughts. His eyes are locked on a Blue Police Box that sits in the corner of the room. The dust has collected on its features, and he can't feel any sort of warmth when he's close to it.

You will be sent back there. In exile. Was it the rejection that left him feeling this way? Or was it a matter of simply being reminded that he's stuck here? In one place. At one time. Despite not having a home to go back to, he enjoyed his freedom. Maybe life on the run wasn't as appealing to others as it was to him, but with his freedom came the opportunity to see all sorts of strange new wonders and meet all sorts of lovely people. The offworlder had been a reminder of all the things he'd lost when he was sentenced here to exile. Perhaps that's why he had attempted to plead with her, against his better judgment, to either stay or to take him with her. Now that she had left, the only thing that lingered around him was the constant reminder that he was stuck here, unable to leave. Unable to chase those long-desired wonders and sights. 

His fingers suddenly grip the whiskey glass before he chucks it at the wall with as full force as he can. The glass SHATTERS against the wall, whiskey spilling everywhere. The Doctor runs his hands through his hair, turning to exit the lab in an almost aggressive huff. Large steps are taken through the hallway before he pushes through the emergency door, walking out into the pouring wet rain amidst a deadly and violent thunderstorm. Out in the pouring rain, he raises bunched fists as high as he can and just shouts. Until his throat is torn. His composure thrown completely out the window.

"YOU COWARDS!!! ALL OF YOU!! YOU'RE COWARDS!!!"

Curses toward the skies meant for his fellow timelords who'd sentenced him here. They'd taken not only his freedom, but they'd forced him to change his appearance as well. They'd opened the cabinets of his mind and stolen secrets from it he treasured very deeply. Secrets that aided him in making dire repairs to his ship, as well as piloting her. The connection he'd had with his ship had been severed, aiding the feelings of loneliness that swelled inside. Like the caged animals at the local zoo, he felt confined in a cramped space. He felt the turn of the earth beneath his feet— and he knew, much like someone traveling— that this was not where he was from. He knew how small he was in the grander scheme of the universe, and knew that he could not see all that there was to see— knowing that his connections that spanned across lightyears were hindered and diminished because of what he no longer had. It filled him with true pain. Unbearable pain.

"YOU PUT ALL THE OTHERS TO DEATH!!! YOU SHOULD'VE PUT ME TO THE SWORD, TOO!!"

He spread his arms out wide, thunder crackling across the grey of the darkness. The Doctor panting outwardly as he rides the high of his fury as far as it can go. The heat in his body swells to an unbearable point, before finally, the silence causes his arms to drop to his side. The realization sets in that he must look like an utter fool... standing out here in the rain and shouting to the sky. He closes his eyes, letting the rain soak him for a long moment before more words from his sentencing replay in his mind. You have a part to play in that battle. The battle of good vs evil. While it bemoans him to admit that they're right, he does so anyway via an exhale through the nose. His brows furrow and his eyes soften as he looks up toward the sky. "I understand. I understand." He mumbles, slamming his fists against his chest.

"But I want to be free. Free to fight the battles I have to wage—" His teeth grit together and the rain hides further emotions that start to emerge, "I want to chase stars, again." The Doctor cries quietly against the rain before standing there again... exhaling. He's being silly. He's throwing a tantrum that no one is going to listen to. He just closes his eyes and listens to the sound of the rain amidst the beating of his hearts, which drum loudly due to his outburst. His breathing slows, no longer does he pant— but now he just stands and listens to the rolling thunder and the pouring rain.

Before something interrupts the rain. His eyes open, and he looks towards an umbrella being held out by one of the UNIT soldiers. Benton, and there— near the door— is another soldier, named Yates. The Doctor looks at them, not quite sure if they're here to tell him something or not but— he sees concern in their eyes. Shame for showing such vulnerability and emotional immaturity wash across his features. Though they seem not to judge, just to show concern. 

"We uh—" Benton stammers, "We heard some glass... shatter in your lab, Doc—" He catches himself, "Doctor... We uh. Brought you some coffee." Benton explains from under the umbrella, "Just... thought maybe you'd... like to come play cards with us or something." 

The Timelord stares, a shaky smile and a dry chuckle hides a break in his voice. He looks towards Benton, then towards Yates. Humanity. Somehow they always find ways to humble him with their empathy. Despite the darkness in the history of their species, they find a way to extend a hand to those who need it. The Doctor finds himself reminded of the good in all things. Perhaps Humanity is not the worst race to be stuck in exile with. There's worse, out there. He speaks, finally, in response to Benton's offer.

"I think that'd be nice, Seargent."

[lavenderboneswrites]

it’s me, kitty 🥺

👉🏻👈🏻 Shizuo and Izaya having a self care day?

they try face masks, watch movies, do their nails, eat junk food, anything that comes to your mind 🥰

Maybe they even have a bubble bath together 👀👀

I LOVE YOU BB YOURE THE BEST 💖💖💖💖💘💘💘🥰🥰🥰

Of course my beloved got her request in first <3 <3 I hope you enjoy it bb, I tried to fit as much as your fav tropes in as I possibly could. Thank you for always supporting me and letting me share my ideas with you <3 <3

I Feel it Coming

Words: 5352

Rating: Explicit

Tags: smut and fluff, shizaya, established relationship, self-care day, possessive Shizuo, light dom/sub (please check AO3 for a comprehensive list of tags)

AO3

When Shizuo gets home Izaya is nowhere to be seen.

It’s been a long day of chasing down debts and deadbeats. Shizuo sighs as he toes off his shoes at the entrance and loosens the clip on bowtie. Making a trail up the stairs and to his bedroom, Shizuo pulls off his vest off along the way. He takes care to hang it gingerly on the hanger behind the door, certain he can get a few more wears out of this one before it needed washing.

He rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows, loosened buttons showing off a white undershirt and the hint of defined pectorals. Most of the lights in the apartment were on, the bedroom lit by low lamplight. Izaya is obviously around, and yet he normally greets Shizuo boisterously; often from his desk because he’s forgotten to stop working.

Shizuo untucks his shirt, slipping out of his pants and letting white fabric slip below his thighs. He’s thinking he needs a shower, or maybe he’ll just fall straight into bed, but he follows the sound of running water to the en suite.

Izaya really has a ridiculous apartment. His bathroom is off his bedroom, and if you pass through it you’ll find yourself in a large walk-in wardrobe. For someone who only wears the same ugly coat everyday Izaya sure has a lot of clothes. Shizuo’s not complaining, when Izaya wears that cream oversized turtleneck it does things to him.

Shizuo follows the rush of water to the bathroom. Steam clouds the air, mixed with a pleasant floral smell. It’s dark in here, the only light an illumination of candles on the basin and other various other spots. Water is filling the bath, a mix of bubbles and rose petals on the surface. Heated tiles warm Shizuo’s feet and he can’t help but feel the tension of the day lifting slightly at the relaxing atmosphere.

Until he almost has a heart attack.

Standing in the entrance to the wardrobe is a man with a white mask over his face.

Shizuo stumbles back, heart racing a million miles an hour as the figure emerges from the dark.

“What the fuck!?”

Shizuo clutches his hand in his shirt as he tries to force his rabbiting heart to calm down.

“You look like a fucking serial killer!”

He’s still trying to calm down from the shock as the masked man attempts a grin.

“Welcome home to you too, Shizu-chan.”

Izaya’s dressed in a maroon bathrobe and on his face is one of those stupid beauty masks he loves so much. Though, the serial killer look is slightly dampened by the fluffy white headband with cat ears Izaya wears to keep his hair back.

Izaya slinks up to him, arms going to wrap around his neck and Shizuo’s hands automatically go to his waist. It’s almost like a pavlovian response at this point.

“I’m not kissing you when you look like this,” Shizuo grumbles out to which Izaya replies with only a chuckle.

It’s disconcerting. The mask has holes for his mouth and eyes, and a slit for his nostrils, but other than that he looks completely macabre.

Shizuo ignores his own words when he allows Izaya to place a small peck on his lips.

“What’s all this?” Shizuo asks, rubbing circles into Izaya’s hips absentmindedly.

“Mm?” Izaya makes his usual noncommittal noise. “I thought Shizu-chan would like some pampering after a long day at work.”

Honestly, that sounds absolutely wonderful to Shizuo right about now. He eyes the bath off, noticing two glasses of lemon and mint infused water on the hob next to it. No doubt one of Izaya’s own ‘self-care’ creations.

Izaya doesn’t do anything without an ulterior motive and a sprinkling of manipulation, Shizuo thinks with his eyes narrowing back to his currently psychotic looking boyfriend.

“What’s the catch?”

“My, my … can’t I just be doing something nice for my boyfriend?”

“No,” Shizuo deadpans back to Izaya’s fake as shit voice.

He attempts to pout, but he can’t move his face muscles well without messing up the mask.

“Boo Shizu-chan, you’re no fun.”

“And you’re a pest,” Shizuo says as Izaya hangs off him like some sort of dramatic leach.

Izaya leans his head back, giving an over top groan as if Shizuo’s inability to react in the way he wants is his greatest annoyance.

“Come on,” Shizuo leans closer, mouth almost touching skin as he whispers low into his ear. “The sooner you tell me what you want the sooner you’ll get it, flea.”

Shizuo can feel the way the body in his arms tenses up momentarily, almost like a shiver going through him from the low tenor of Shizuo’s voice. Really, Izaya was pretty easy to handle once he learnt a few tricks.

One being that he was an incredibly horny fleabag.

Izaya is sliding his hands down Shizuo’s back, sweeping over the curve of his ass as he finds the hem of Shizuo’s shirt. He runs his fingers along the seam before sneaking under white fabric to press at his upper thigh.

“Hmm,” Shizuo pulls back to find copper eyes among a sea of white. Izaya’s hands on his skin are slightly distracting and just a little bit ticklish. “I want Shizuo to do a face-mask with me.”

“And?” Shizuo presses, digging the points of his thumbs into Izaya’s hips lightly.

“And have a bubble bath.”

Shizuo just pulls Izaya closer, pressing a swift kiss the crown of his head. “Alright louse, I guess that doesn’t sound so bad.”

Shizuo has a quick rinse off in the shower, afterwards changing into the navy bathrobe Izaya had brought to match his. It feels good to wash away the remnants of a long day, water beating down on his shoulders almost like a massage. Izaya’s shower had out of this world water pressure, honestly Shizuo was in love.

One face-mask later and the bath has finished filling. Steam is coming off the water, and Shizuo knows it’s still way too hot for either of them to get in. Though Izaya will probably try to early like always. He really was like some cold-blooded reptile, always trying to soak up as much heat as possible … usually from Shizuo himself.

Shizuo lets Izaya put his mask on. It was the best choice, considering the wet paper like cloth needed delicate handling and Shizuo would no doubt rip it immediately with his ‘monster’s paws’, as Izaya had said. He made sure to smack at Izaya with his monster paws for that comment.

The mask isn’t horrible. It’s wet and his vision is kind of obscured, and he doesn’t think it fits properly cause one side keeps curling down at his temple. Izaya had given him his own kitty ear headband to hold his fringe back, and the louse pesters him to take a few selfies together. Shizuo can’t help but snort at how ridiculous they look, kind of like a mannequin had a baby with a hockey mask.

They sit on the edge of the bathtub next to each other, sipping their drinks the best they can with the masks in the way. Shizuo eventually gets fed up and rips the sliver of paper between his nostrils and upper lip and Izaya almost chokes on his stupid lemon water laughing.

It’s cute.

It’s nice to just sit and talk, to take stock of each other’s day and catch up. Izaya plays footsies with him the entire time, and at one point Shizuo almost falls backwards into the bath trying to capture the louse’s calf between his feet.

Izaya’s hand is also rubbing once again against his thigh, sliding up under the material of his bathrobe. He massages his fingers into the muscles, pressing with precision into the knots hard enough to make Shizuo groan.

Izaya has a thing for his thighs. Shizuo doesn’t know why, but something about them makes the little pest go feral. They are thick and muscular, almost double the width of Izaya’s own legs and even if Shizuo didn’t see the appeal himself he’s happy to let Izaya have his fun.

Watching Izaya fuck himself against only his bare thigh really was a sight to behold.

After about ten minutes the face masks come off. Shizuo never could keep them on as long as Izaya; after a while it started to get too annoying and almost itchy. Still, Shizuo would be lying if he said it didn’t feel completely satisfying pealing the paper away from his skin.

He scrunches the mask into a ball, using it to rub the excess moisture of his face. Izaya folds his own mask much more neatly, leaning towards the mirror to inspect his skin as he wipes away any remaining excess.

Like every inch of that skin wasn’t flawless to begin with.

Shizuo rubs at his cheek, taking in how soft the mask has left his skin. He wasn’t that into self-care like Izaya was, but even he couldn’t deny these masks were magical.

Better was Izaya skin, which normally soft to the touch, became like silk under Shizuo’s fingertips. He can’t stop himself from reaching out, from cupping the flea’s cheek and rubbing his thumb against ivory skin.

It’s nice to finally see his unobscured face.

“Hey,” Shizuo’s turning that his to meet lips like satin in a soft kiss.

Izaya lets Shizuo set the pace to something slow and unhurried. He parts his mouth, tongue licking at the seam of Izaya’s lips before the other is turning to let him deepen the kiss further.

Shizuo licks into that wicked mouth with a careful consideration, letting Izaya’s taste flood over his tongue. There’s a hand twisting into the back of his hair and another once more kneading the flesh of his thigh.

Shizuo breaks the kiss slowly, dazzlingly eyes of whiskey alight with muted heat blinking softly back up at him.

“I’m home, Izaya.”

Izaya grins at the domestic phrase, rubs his nose against Shizuo’s and the little kiss is so cute that Shizuo can feel the tips of his ears go red.

“Welcome home, Shizu-chan.”

Izaya breath is like a whisper over his lips and Shizuo can’t help but mirror his smirk with a grin of his own.

Shizuo slips into the bath by himself, letting out a groan as the heat immediately relaxes the muscles in his back. It’s still way too hot. So hot that he can’t help but shiver, heat skittering almost painfully over sensitive nerve endings. And yet it feels like heaven, all of the tension flooding out of his body after a long day. He closes his eyes, letting his head lie back on the hob as he just soaks in the moment.

The patter of feet signal Izaya’s return. Shizuo opens one eye to see him standing before him with those same kitty ears and nothing else.

Izaya’s body is stunning. He’s lean and long limbed, but there’s a subtle grace to the way he holds himself. Shizuo always thinks of him as some kind of jungle panther. Light-footed. Slinking around like a predator. His waist is slim, and yet there is slight definition around his muscles, and his ass-, shit, his ass is a gift from God. Chasing the flea all those years had definitely paid off for him; and Shizuo was happy to enjoy the spoils too.

Izaya places a hand to Shizuo’s bicep as he steadies himself and steps into the water. Shizuo’s arm comes up to the small of his back automatically, ready to catch him at the first sign of a slip, but knowing Izaya it wasn’t necessary.

The flea slips into the space between Shizuo’s parted legs and leans back against his muscled chest. He lets out a little sigh as he submerges himself into the water up to his shoulders, obviously enjoying the heat sinking deep into his body just as Shizuo had. The noise is nice, something breathless and almost non-existent, something Shizuo is so attuned to he thinks he can almost hear it in his head rather than any physical sound.

Izaya’s leans his head back against his shoulder and Shizuo can’t help but wrap his arms around his waist, pulling him tighter against his front.

Izaya body fits perfectly against his, and not for the first time Shizuo is certain that flea was made for him.

The candles flicker with steam, and Shizuo thinks he could fall asleep right here and now.

Fwua!

A loud slapping sound breaks through his peace and Shizuo can feel giggles vibrating through Izaya’s back.

Opening his eyes again, Shizuo is met with the sight of Izaya scooping bubbles into his hands. He smacks them together quickly, the bubbles exploding into the air with his delighted giggles.

It’s too fucking cute.

“What are you, four?”

Izaya answers by twisting his neck to look over at Shizuo, a hand of foam raised and Shizuo’s barely has time to raise an eyebrow before bubbles are being blown into his face.

“Oi,” Shizuo hacks a cough, swallowing a great deal more soap than he ever wanted to. His eye twitches at the cheeky look in Izaya’s eyes and his grouchy tone really doesn’t match his own fond smile.

“Do you want me to drown you in this tub?”

Izaya pouts, “Shizu-chan don’t be mean.”

The pout cracks as his lips twitch up at the corners. Water splashes, the flea suddenly turning around fully and scooping up more bubbles.

“Shizu-chan let’s make you a bubble beard.”

“Haaah?”

“Haaah?” Izaya mocks, “come on old man.”

“I’m younger than you,” Shizuo quips back, trying to grab skinny wrists that keep trying to slap foam to his chin.

Wasn’t this supposed to be relaxing!?

Izaya’s attempts don’t ease up and he giggles as a ball of bubbles land delicately on Shizuo’s nose.

He narrows his eyes at his nose, as if the bubbles have personally offended him, and before Izaya can even get a yelp out Shizuo is shoving his head underwater.

Water goes over the sides of the tub and Izaya’s arms splash comically as Shizuo’s entire palm covers the crown of his head. He only gives it a few seconds before he lets up.

Izaya pops back up, hair sopping and stuck to his forehead as his kitty headband hangs pathetically around his neck. He splutters and coughs, attempting to glare at Shizuo as he rubs at his eyes.

Shizuo only gives a cocky raise of one eyebrow, as if to say ‘you started it’.

“Did you just try to drown me?” Izaya asks, his outrage fake as shit.

“You wanna go back under?” Shizuo threatens, but the tone is ruined by his wide smile.

Izaya grins, one shoulder coming up in a half-hearted shrug. He pulls off the headband around his neck, pouting at the state it’s in before flinging it over the side of the tub to the floor.

A glint flashes in Izaya’s eyes. It’s the only warning Shizuo gets before two hands are pressing down onto his head.

Shizuo plants his feet firmly on the bottom of the tub to stop from sliding, and Izaya’s wicked looked turns disappointed as Shizuo doesn’t budge an inch.

“Oi.”

Izaya’s eyes narrow into a look of determination, and he even gets to his knees as he tries to add even more force to Shizuo’s head.

“Why, won’t, you, die?”

Shizuo answers by letting himself suddenly slip under the water. The sudden loss of purchase has Izaya floundering and Shizuo swears he can hear him yelp through water.

Shizuo almost swallows an obscene amount of bath water from laughing before he pops back up. Izaya has slumped atop of him, arms around his neck as he holds his own head above water as if to keep himself from completely submerging.

Shizuo likes that. The way Izaya will always grab onto him, cling to him, whenever he loses his footing.

“Shizu-chan is so mean. Jail for a thousand years!”

Shizuo just chuckles, pushing Izaya’s fringe away from his forehead as he looks at him. He’s doing the face Shizuo loves, the one where his nose scrunches up oh so cutely. Shizuo loves that face, he wants to hoard it all to himself and never let anyone else see it.

If it got out Izaya was this cute Shizuo’s sure he’d have to beat off interested parties with a sick.

Mine.

Shizuo sits himself up, shaking his head like a dog to get the water out of his hair. Izaya squirms in his arms, but he doesn’t let go. Instead he manhandles the flea back into the same position they started in, with his back pressed to Shizuo’s chest, sitting between his legs.

There, Shizuo thinks triumphantly, Izaya’s wriggling getting less and less by the minute. He squeezes his thighs around the flea’s hips, wrapping his legs over the top of Izaya’s until he’s practically in a joint lock.

He’s really no match for Shizuo’s superior strength when it comes down to it. Still, it didn’t stop Izaya from trying to wrestle him daily.

“Have you calmed down you damn water rat?”

“Hmm,” Izaya hums as if he has no idea what Shizuo’s talking about. “Shouldn’t I be a water flea? Shizu-chan don’t you know it’s bad to mix metaphors?”

Shizuo just snorts at such a bratty response.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Izaya relents and relaxes back into his body and Shizuo can’t help but rub his nose against the back of his neck.

“You’re ridiculous,” Shizuo snorts into his skin, and he doesn’t need to see to know that Izaya is smirking.

He lets his lips and hands do the rest of the talking. Soft kisses trailing from Izaya’s neck to his shoulder and back again. He rubs his hands at the flea’s sides, making a path up and down slowly as he maps out every inch of creamy skin.

Izaya makes that soundless noise again, lips parted slightly as closes his eyes, focusing on sensation of Shizuo’s hands and lips on him. Shizuo’s touch is light, almost ticklish as he brushes fingertips across Izaya’s ribs, the water turning his path slick and easy.

Shizuo kisses are barely a press of lips to skin, so soft that it’s only the feel of his breath blowing out that makes Izaya’s skin erupt into goosebumps. Shizuo watches fascinated as that alabaster skin reacts before his very eyes.

Izaya’s got the faintest of freckles splayed across his shoulders, almost impossible to see unless this close. Shizuo loves to pick out each individual mark, a constellation of stars for his mouth to trace and follow. To worship and pay tribute to.

Shizuo rubs his hands from Izaya’s sides down to his hips, thighs, and back up again to his waist. Every time he trails down he moves a little bit further. Inch by torturous inch he teases skin until Izaya starts to squirm a little.

Heh.

Shizuo’s grin is wicked as he presses it under Izaya’s ear. His lips move up to brush against his pulse point and Izaya lifts his chin to allow Shizuo greater access.

Shizuo’s chuckle spills over skin for real and shivers are erupting once more over Izaya’s skin.

“Mmm?” Shizuo whispers a questioning noise, hands dipping past the heated flesh at Izaya’s inner thigh. “You like that flea?”

Izaya does a little jerk of his head, eyes closed and it really is too cute.

“Does it feel good?”

Shizuo breath is hot at his ear before he gives a playful nip to the flesh. He can feel the way Izaya’s breath hitches, the motion going through his back and making Shizuo’s own chest thrum with something primal and satisfied.

Shizuo’s rubbing his foot against Izaya’s calf muscle, feeling the way he squirms at the touch.

“What’s wrong?” Shizuo cheeks actually hurt from how wide he’s smiling. “Do you not like it?”

Izaya’s head shakes, the action almost frantic, and Shizuo rewards him by sliding the flat of his tongue over the muscle where his neck and shoulder meet.

His skin tastes clean and fresh, and Shizuo feels his mouth salivating with the desire to bite into that milky flesh. To see it bruised dark with his claim. He holds off though, content with just feeling Izaya beneath his hands, feeling the way his breathing goes a little faster at every dip closer to that heat between his legs.

“Does it feel good when I touch here?” Shizuo brushes his fingertips over Izaya’s ribs, taking in every little shudder as he whispers into his lover’s ear. “What about when I touch here?”

Shizuo’s hands trail inwards, and Izaya’s lips are parting in a gasp as his knuckles brush against the side of his cock.

“Ah, is there someone you want me to touch you flea?”

Shizuo rubs his fingers between Izaya’s thighs just above his knees, so close and yet so far, if the little whimper that escapes his lips is any indication.

Shizuo feels like an addict. There is just something about having Izaya in his arms, squirming and desperate for his touch and just … taking his time with him.

Dragging it out nice and slow.

Shizuo continues licking and sucking at the flea’s neck. Izaya has his hand trapped between his legs in a vice grip, and yet Shizuo still continues his slow, sweet touches.

He lets his touches turn rougher, digs bruises into pale skin as he sucks harshly on that spot beneath Izaya’s ear; the spot that makes him moan open-mouthed.

“Shizuo.”

His name is like a prayer on Izaya’s lips. Breathless and needy. Shizuo doesn’t know whether he’s begging for him to stop or begging for him to keep going, either way the sound sinks deep into his gut.

“Shizuo please.”

Shizuo’s grin goes impossibly wide, mouth gaping like a predator’s with its prey in its grasp. His lips find Izaya’s earlobe. He pulls the flesh into his mouth and sucks harshly.

It��s a dizzying juxtaposition. Wrenching his hand from Izaya’s thigh-crush, Shizuo grazes the tips of fingers over the head of his cock, the softest, slowest touch all night and it makes Izaya jolt.

“Fuck.”

Shizuo sucks hard at the flea’s neck, finger tips trailing down his shaft and to his navel. He rubs at the soft flesh there, relishing in the annoyed whine that Izaya makes as he moves away from his reddened cock.

“Shizuo,” he can hear the pout in Izaya’s voice.

“Look at you,” Shizuo releases Izaya’s ear with a wet sound, “I haven’t even played with your tits yet and this worked up.”

That whine becomes louder, more painful if possible, as if Izaya’s gritting his teeth together.

“Shizuo you better fucking touch me or I’m going to destroy all your stupid bartender outfits.”

It’s astounding. Izaya’s gripping his wrist so tightly Shizuo’s sure there will be indents of his nails left behind. How is it possible for him to still sound like such a vicious little thing when he’s desperately trying to put Shizuo’s unbudging hand to his leaking cock?

“Oi,” Shizuo growls low and Izaya’s body shivers fully at the sound. “Do you want me to drown you again?”

“Heh,” Izaya lips are quirking up, eyes hooded as he speaks out like silk and satin, “if you drown me there won’t be anyone around to suck your cock.”

Shizuo should’ve expected this. Expected Izaya would try to play dirty.

He was the definition of little brat that needed to be put in their place. Still, the words make his own dick jump, and he can’t help but press his erection harder into the swell of Izaya’s ass in warning.

“Oh?” Shizuo lets his tenor lilt upwards, “you wanna suck my cock that bad flea?”

Izaya snorts, and Shizuo can’t help but rub his nose against his neck in an overly affectionate gesture.

“Hey Shizu-chan,” Izaya’s turning his face, lips meeting lips in a sweet brush as he releases his death grip on Shizuo’s wrist.

Shizuo stares into dark, deep eyes; lets himself drown as Izaya presses his forehead to his.

“Yeah flea?”

Izaya eyes close, his mouth turning soft as he gives one of those rare smiles reserved just for Shizuo.

Shizuo’s eyes slip close, Izaya in his arms and his breath spilling across his face in a steady rhythm. It’s like an abstract concept become physical, a peace that Shizuo can literally hold within his hands.

Izaya dips his head to Shizuo’s neck, lips against skin as he whispers.

“I want you to tell me how badly I want to suck your cock … while you touch me.”

Shizuo’s eyes blow wide. His smile is going predator-like before he can even realise it.

Izaya was absolutely perfect.

Shizuo pulls Izaya’s body back with his, getting comfortable as Izaya settles himself in against his hold, nuzzling into his neck. Shizuo can’t help but shower his back in soft kisses.

“You want me to talk you through it baby?” Shizuo asks, letting his voice go softer. He’s cock is aching as Izaya shivers at the pet name. He forces it to the back of his mind, focus zeroing in on the body in his arms. “You look so good right now.”

Izaya just sighs and Shizuo rewards him with a kiss to his lips. It’s chaste and sweet, with the promise of something hotter simmering just beneath the surface.

He lets his hands slide through the water and up that irresistible body once more. This time when snakes his hand downwards he palms at Izaya’s cock lightly.

“Aah,” Izaya’s lets out this little moan, relief and pleasure all in one. As if not being touched had been painful, had been torture.

“That feel good? Being touched here?” Shizuo whispers a sonnet against Izaya’s neck. His eyes are wide open, mesmerized as he palms his hand with more force against the flea’s cock.

His hot in his palm, positively boiling compared to the cooling temperate of the water surrounding them. Shizuo enjoys the feel of him in his hands. Hot and heavy. Izaya has a nice cock, it’s long, not as thick as Shizuo’s but it curves nicely and his mouth waters at the sight of it.

“You’ve got such a pretty cock … for such an ugly flea.”

Izaya actually chuckles at the underhanded compliment and Shizuo feels himself flush at the sound.

Izaya was anything but ugly.

Shizuo’s certain even the most wicked of devils would repent at the beauty of his flea.

Mine, mine, mine.

Shizuo lets his touch stay slow and steady, matching his earlier exploration of Izaya’s body. He closes his fist around the shaft experimentally, the water making his slow pull even rougher.

Izaya’s head is thrown fully back onto his shoulder now. Eyes closed as he pants open-mouthed. His hips are doing these cute little jerk, moving in time with Shizuo’s hand, and every brush of his ass against Shizuo’s cock makes him want to groan out loud.

“Look at you, I bet you’re imagining it aren’t you?” Shizuo fists the head of Izaya’s cock with the barest of pressure and the other is whimpering. “My cock in your mouth … the taste of me on your tongue.”

“Ah-ah.”

Shizuo’s pace is increasing, fist going tighter as his words climb higher.

“You look so good with your mouth stuffed with my cock, baby,” Shizuo’s whispers are turning harsh in his ears. “God you feel so good around me. So wet.”

Shizuo’s eyes are closing and he can feel it. That warm wet heat enveloping him, almost overwhelming in its sensation.

“You want it so badly don’t you? Tell me how badly you want my cock.”

“Y-yes!” Izaya’s voice comes out high pitched and desperate. “I-, I want your cock … I-I need it.”

Shizuo rubs his hard dick against the crack of Izaya’s ass, in time with the flea’s desperate thrust. His lips are wet and wide against Izaya’s neck, kisses turning careless as he sucks and bites with abandon. Izaya’s body is going taunt in his arms, toes curling against the tub, abdominals clenching so tight it almost looks painful. His body is on the edge of trembling, pulled so tight Shizuo can feel that tension almost about to snap.

“Fuck baby,” Shizuo lets his voice go rough, lets it go needy.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Shizuo gives a feral growl, Izaya’s squirming and splashing in his arms as he sets a relentless pace against his cock. Shizuo twists his fist as he pulls up, water sloshing over the sides at his frantic pace. He fists the head tightly, twisting in a way that makes Izaya keen out like he’s been kicked in the gut.

“N-need you, fuck I need you baby.”

“Ah-, ah-, Shizuo!”

Shizuo’s desperation sends Izaya over the edge. The body in his arms tenses, like an electric current is running through it and then he’s shaking apart, moaning long and loud as Shizuo strokes him through his orgasm, never letting up as his cock spurts white into water.

He keeps stroking him. Izaya’s breathing is ragged as he collapses boneless atop Shizuo.

Eventually he slows his motions, letting his hand come to a steady stop as he feels all the little aftershocks shivering through the body in his arms. Izaya’s eyes are closed and Shizuo thinks he might have fucked him stupid.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Oi,” Shizuo presses a kiss to Izaya’s temple. “Don’t fall asleep flea.”

Shizuo can’t keep the smile out his voice. He has literal perfection in his arms, had that same perfection coming and calling out his name. His heart feels fit to burst…

His cock definitely is.

“Mm, Shizu-chan is such a sadist,” Izaya finally mumbles a response. He sounds dazed, like he’s intoxicated and on the verge of blacking out.

“Guess it’s a good thing you’re such a masochist then, huh?” Shizuo says between kisses to the smattering of stars over Izaya’s shoulder.

“Hmm,” Izaya’s eyes are cracking open, staring unseeing at the ceiling as he brushes a hand through the water absentmindedly. “The bath is dirty now.”

Shizuo snorts, “and who made it dirty, louse?”

“Shizu-chan should take responsibility, after all, it’s all his fault,” Izaya quips back, turning to press a smirk into Shizuo’s neck.

“Youbetter take responsibility,” Shizuo grumbles, pressing his still raging erection against Izaya’s backside in case he’d somehow forgotten about it.

Unlikely.

“But I’m tired,” Izaya whines pathetically, and Shizuo half kind of wants to drown him again. “Shizu-chan’s torture was relentless!”

Shizuo chuckles at that, the deep sound vibrating through his chest and into Izaya’s back.

“Surprised you just didn’t slip it in mid torture,” Izaya lilts with his usually vulgarity and yeah Shizuo should definitely drown him.

“Too tired,” Shizuo deadpans, “you do some work flea.”

“Heh, be careful what you wish for Shizu-chan.”

They end up in bed, barely dry as Izaya’s swallows down Shizuo’s cock like a man starving. Shizuo’s exhausted, splayed out on the bed as he hovers blissfully between the edge of sleep and the pleasure of Izaya’s hot mouth wrapped around him.

It doesn’t take long for him to come. Not long until he’s body is shaking apart and he’s calling Izaya’s name. He trembles as Izaya sucks him dry of every, last, drop.

Shizuo feels hazy, his skin hypersensitive from the aftershocks of his orgasm. He’s drifting off to sleep, Izaya snuggling in beside him and pulling the blanket up.

“Shizu-chan has tomorrow off, right?” Izaya asks innocently, and Shizuo thinks he brushes his hand through the flea’s hair but he’s not quite sure in his half-awake daze.

“Yeah.”

“Will Shizu-chan make me breakfast?”

Shizuo’s eyes are slipping closed again, the sight of Izaya tucked under his arm and snuggling into his neck the last thing he sees.

“Yeah flea,” he’s mumbling in his sleep, “do … anything…”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Day 1: Confession / Promise

“Promises were made to be broken.”

Day 1 of JustJadelentines2021!

[You’re at Day 1!] / [Day 2] / [Day 3] / [Day 4] / [Day 5] / [Day 6] / [Day 7]

Thanks a lot for spoiling the surprise by posting the unfinished draft when you weren’t supposed to, Tumblr

Most tend to make romantic content for Valentine’s Day, but... I wanted to focus on a platonic relationship since I already write so many romantic requests on my blog. I also want to give a mob student attention, so the prompt pieces I’ll write for the week up to Valentine’s Day will focus on Jade and Octavinelle A.

Imagine this...

“Oi, waiter!!”

Octa A flinched at the gruff voice that cut through the Mostro Lounge. Surely, surely they were not calling out to him, were they? There were several other staff members floating around—students with far more experience and seniority than he, an Octavinelle initiate of only a week.

Still clumsy on his feet, still making minor mistakes with the orders. A guppy, not yet out of his school of fish.

He did his best to tune out the shouting and focus serving his current table instead. Setting down one order of salmon carpaccio, a Flounder’s Blue, two seaweed salads... But the upset voice soon returned, louder and more demanding than before.

“Did you hear me?! I’m talkin’ to you, Seaweed Head!!”

Octa A’s stomach sank. Yup—the angry customer was definitely talking to him. No one else sported “seaweed” hair as he did. Even back home, his peers would often point out that his mop of dark green hair resembled an overgrown patch of seaweed, the locks so long they nearly completely obscured his sight.

Clutching his empty serving platter to his chest, he urged himself to spin back around, march over, and address the irate customer—a Savanaclaw student with muscles the size of watermelons.

“Y-You called, sir?”

“It’s about damn time!” Watermelon Muscles slammed a beefy fist down on his table, causing the plates and silverware resting upon it to bounce up. He jabbed a finger into a bowl with a puddle of tomato broth. “There’s a fly in my soup. How’re you gonna apologize to me for nearly makin’ me eat a bug?!”

“E-Eeeeh?! I... I could’ve sworn there wasn’t anything wrong with it when I brought it out from the kitchen...”

“You callin’ me a liar?!” Watermelon Muscles’ nostrils flared.

“E-Eeeek...!! N-No, sir! N-Not at all!!” Octa A stammered, throwing up his serving platter—as though it would shield him from the customer’s bad temper.

“Then fix it!!” The Savanaclaw student roared. “I want my whole meal comp’d.”

“Th-The whole meal?!” Octa A’s eyes darted to the table, which was littered with several empty platters and dishes. Without even doing the mental math, he could already tell the lounge would lose a lot of profit. What would the dorm leader think?

“Yeah. You got a problem with it?!”

“I...” Octa A swallowed hard. Mustering what little courage he had, he mumbled out, “I-I don’t think I can...”

“WHAT?!”

“Is something the matter, gentlemen?”

Another Octavinelle student stepped between them, hands politely folded behind his back. If Octa A recalled correctly, the young man with the teal hair and heterochromia was... Floyd? No, this one had a fully buttoned undershirt and bowtie--this one was Jade.

“You the manager?” Watermelon Muscles barked, a bit of spit landing on Jade’s cheek--yet the eel continued to smile. “Your employee here’s not gonna give me a free meal for the trouble he’s caused me!”

Jade chuckled, wiping the speck of saliva away with a gloved finger. “And what, may I ask, is the issue with your dining experience?”

The Savanaclaw student thrust his bowl in Jade’s face. The eel didn’t bat an eye at the dish, and instead regarded Watermelon Muscles with cold eyes devoid of emotion. Still smiling.

“Judging from the amount of soup remaining in this bowl, I would venture to say that you had already consumed a good portion of it prior to this,” Jade pointed to the fly, “landing in it. And furthermore...”

He reached into the bowl and plucked the bug right out of it, squeezing it between his index finger and thumb. Instead of squishing nicely, the fly bounced back--implying a rubbery texture. Watermelon Muscles paled.

“My. Now however did this plaything find its way into your meal?” Jade mused out loud, flicking the fake fly at the Savanaclaw student. It ricocheted off his broad chest and landed right back into the bowl of soup. “Perhaps I should summon Azul so you can speak to him one-on-one about this matter. I am certain the two of you can hammer out some sort of solution together.”

“Wh-What?! No... No, don’t do that! He doesn’t need to get involved. I’m good, I’m good, man!!”

“You are ‘good’? Then surely you did not plant the fake fly there yourself in hopes of deceiving us into granting you a free meal?” Jade pressed. “Surely there must be some sort of mistake?”

“Er... y-yeah... A mistake! It was just a mistake, a misunderstanding! Ahahahahah...”

“I’m glad that we had this conversation,” Jade crooned, his laughter sounding a bit hollow. “Do be certain to pay your bill in full before your departure, or there will be consequences for lying... as well as bullying our newest staff.”

The vice-dorm leader passed Octa A a glance while Watermelon Muscles fumbled to produce his wallet and slap down a wad of Madol.

“A-Ah...!! Th-Thank you for your help, Jade-senpai!” the mob student declared, frantically bowing his head.

“Think nothing of it... Kon-san, was it?” To Octa A’s surprise, Jade not only remembered his real name, but also bowed back. “If you ever need any assistance, please do not hesitate to call for me. I promise that I will do my utmost to alleviate your worries.”

The Mostro Lounge after hours was still a sight that Octa A had yet to grow accustomed to. Without the tune of smooth jazz or the soft chatter of students, the place seemed deathly quiet, and the dimming lights certainly didn’t help make it any less spooky. He tried to shake that thought out of his mind as he finished wiping up the last table.

The surface was now so shiny that Octa A could see his reflection in it--all seaweed hair and nervous smile. A familiar face joined him in the table’s surface, peering over his shoulder with a polite grin.

“Excellent work today, Kon-san,” Jade nodded approvingly, taking the washcloth from the mob student’s hands. “You are relieved of your duties for the day. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“Thank you, vice-dorm leader. Y-You as well...” His voice trailed off, though he tried to will it to not.

“Fufufu. You look as though you have something else to say. Were there any other problematic customers you encountered today?”

“No, sir! It’s just... um...” Octa A gulped, seizing all his courage and propelling it into his next words. “I-I THINK YOU’RE REALLY COOL!!”

A rare look of surprise made itself known on Jade’s face before he relaxed once more. “Me, ‘cool’? Why, whatever makes you think that?”

“You’re always level-headed in tough situations, senpai! And you always seem to know just what to do, how to fix people’s problems. You’re... You’re really reliable. The kind of guy that anyone can put their faith into.”

“I am flattered to receive such high praise.” The eel chuckled. “But, if I may, you are noteworthy in your own ways as well, Kon-san.”

“E-Eeeh? I-I’m not really anything special...”

“Ah, but you are. None of the Octavinelle first years work quite as efficiently as you do--and your ability to recall customers and their usual orders is second to none. It is difficult to believe that we have only had you for a week.”

Octa A flushed, his face coloring red with embarrassment.

“... C-Can I tell you something, Jade-senpai?”

“Hm?”

Octa A took a deep, shaky breath.

“I... I don’t really think I belong here at Night Raven College,” he confessed, staring at his feet. “I’m just some random nobody from a backwater town so small that everyone can name one another.”

“... Night Raven College cares not for titles,” Jade reminded him.

“Even so...!! I’m not that gifted at magic, and I don’t have any outstanding talents or impressive lineage. I don’t... I don’t even have confidence going for me. I wonder if the Mirror made a mistake in bringing me here.”

“... Is that all? What nonsense.” Jade shook his head. “The Mirror of Darkness has deemed you worthy--and so has Octavinelle. You have potential, and you will only improve from hereon out.”

“P-Potential?”

“Indeed. After all, this is only the beginning of your journey here at Night Raven College. Please, put your faith in Azul--and myself--to shape you into a fine young magician.”

Octa A still looked doubtful--but a small smile seeped onto his lips.

“Y-Yes! I’ll do my best!”

“Fufufu. I am happy to hear that. Now then, run along and get some rest. You’ll need to be up bright and early for your morning shift tomorrow.”

“Alright. Good night, Jade-senpai! D-Don’t stay up too late, either.”

“Yes... Good night.”

Jade waved to Octa A... Waved and waved, until the mob student was out of sight, and out of earshot.

Smiling.

“Ne, ne, Jaaaaaade--” His twin’s whine came from the kitchen. “Are you and Konbu-chan done cleaning the tables? Can we lock up and go home now?”

“Our conversation just wrapped up, Floyd--but yes, we are free to depart.”

“Yaaaay!” Floyd pranced out with a keyring in his hand, the various keys upon it jingling as he bounded toward his brother. “Man, I thought you two would never shut up!”

“A necessary evil, I’m afraid,” Jade replied coolly.

People are much more willing to spill their secrets when you use honeyed words rather than poisoned ones.

[writer-ish]

hopeful hearts

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Brooke Spiers)

Word Count: 2,515

Rating: T (for now)

special thanks to: @openheartthot for being lovely and supportive and the inspiration for this piece, in part due to all the hard work she does with the chapter scripts each week. ♥️

Notes: This takes place during the Gala, before and after Ethan and MC’s very public kiss. 

I wanted to flesh out this beautiful scene in a way that breathed new life into it, delving into the psyche of these characters and further detailing their thoughts and feelings in those lovely moments. PB gave us a lot with this chapter... but sometimes, it still doesn’t quite feel like enough.

In other words, please enjoy my self-indulgence. 

Dr. Brooke Spiers sighs heavily as she shifts from foot to foot, hoping to ease the ache that is beginning to grow in her toes. The shoes she had touted as “so comfortable!” just a few hours earlier now seem like devices specifically designed to torture her into revealing state secrets.

She is tired.

The night is wearing thin, the sheen of such a spectacular display starting to dull around the edges. She finds herself longing for the more ascetic hospital she’d grown used to over the past two years. The decor is already tiresome; she craves the familiarity of its former sterility.

I should be walking these grounds saving asses and not kissing them, dammit.

She sighs again, her eyes casting about, looking for a reprieve of some sort.

She finds it almost immediately in one Dr. Ethan Ramsey. Exactly the familiar and welcome sight she’d required. It still amazes her how finding his form in a crowded hall or room can immediately set her at ease. As though something just clicks into place whenever he’s near.

Ah, says her soul each time. There he is.

She watches as the donor Ethan had been speaking to walks away. Continues to watch as Ethan’s shoulders sink, the man physically deflating before her eyes.

He looks exhausted, she thinks, a pang in her chest as she briefly allows herself to consider how full his plate of worries is. She watches as he heads to the bar and she finds her feet taking her in the same direction, practically of their own volition.

He looks up as she approaches and she catches the slight softening of his gaze, even as his full mouth stays in a hard line.

“Holding up okay?” she asks, hearing the gentle sympathy creeping into her tone.

“Ask me once I get this next drink,” is his curt response, as he gestures to the bartender.

“That bad, huh?” His abruptness no longer bothers her. She recognizes the surface-level gruffness for what it is: a shield. To protect a man who already has the world on his shoulders from caring about too many things all at once.

He proves her correct when he performs his telltale stress maneuver: squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. Something is bothering him.

She waits patiently for him to tell her what it is, like she knows he will.

“I just wonder…” Bingo. “How did we come to this, Brooke? We should be solving cases, not rubbing shoulders with smug idiots in bowties.”

She nods slowly, resisting the urge to run her hand over his tense shoulders.

“I know how much you dislike this sort of thing,” she says softly, looking up at him through her lashes.

His breath catches almost imperceptibly as he stares back at her.

“For whatever it’s worth,” she continues, “I’m really proud of you for stepping up anyway.”

She can see how her words impact him through the way his nostrils flare, the piercing blue of his gaze narrowing with the dilation of his pupils.

He clears his throat and blinks the expression away quickly, turning back towards the bar. When he speaks again, his tone is dry. Back in control.

“Stepping up, as you put it, is necessary.”

As he speaks, the bartender slides him his drink. Ethan catches the glass and lifts it to his lips in one fluid motion, throat working as he swallows in a single swig.

“I always told myself I'd do whatever it took to save lives,” he says after a pause. “Whatever extreme measure was required. Which is why I'm compromising myself this way. You showed me that 'whatever it takes' includes making moral sacrifices, too. In fact…”

He pauses again, his eyes catching hers once more. She allows him to gather his words, sensing the weight of them.

“Somehow,” he continues eventually, “you've managed to make them without weakening your convictions or becoming jaded and cynical.” He shakes his head, as though the thought of it is a marvel to him.

“Ethan…” God, the way he makes her feel. There had never been a man like this one when it came to the effects of his fleeting words of praise. She would bend over backwards for a single throwaway acknowledgement, every time.

How embarrassing. Clearing her throat, she tries to gather the shards of her scattered thoughts (and dignity).

“Everyone knows how much you do to save people.”

He lets out a humourless laugh. “In the diagnostics office, sure, but have I really done everything I could? If I'd listened to you sooner, would we really be in this situation right now?”

The stark, self-directed derision in his tone gives her pause. Had he ever doubted himself in this way before?

Her hands itch to reach for him, but she holds back out of the agreements they’ve made, unspoken and not. Instead she settles for saying his name again, the syllables falling off her tongue like a caress. “Ethan…”

She sees how it hits him, in the way that his eyes close briefly and a slight, almost indiscernible shiver runs through him. She doesn’t realize that she’s caught her lower lip between her teeth until she feels the sharp pain of it.

Until his eyes catch on it and he swallows hard, before tapping the counter for another drink with a sigh.

“Honestly, it's not even the shilling for money that's bothering me. It's letting Naveen down.”

The words send a shock through her. Naveen? “What? What are you talking about?”

He rests his elbows on the bar, leaning forward as he waits for his drink, and stares at some distant point beyond them both.

“When I lose a patient, I stay up half the night turning possibilities over in my head. Things I could have done differently.”

She knows this. Knows how she does the same.

“And I can't help but wonder what would be different now, with the hospital, if I hadn't been so damned stubborn.” He rakes a hand through his hair with an aggravated sigh, then drops his clenched fist to his side. “Now that I see what I could have done…” He shakes his head. “How will I tell Naveen that his legacy fell apart...because of me?”

The vulnerability in his tone almost cracks her composure. She opens her mouth to respond, to tell him how ludicrous, how irrational he’s being, when a new voice chimes in from the side, fond amusement evident.

“I suppose you would say exactly that!”

Brooke and Ethan both turn, mouths agape at the sight of Naveen standing right behind them.

Ethan recovers first and remarks dryly, “You know it's rude to eavesdrop.”

“True,” Naveen acquiesces, the cheeky grin never leaving his face, “but I never could resist a juicy conversation. Besides, I think this concerns me fairly closely, don't you?”

Brooke silently looks over to Ethan, who is staring at his mentor with a furrowed brow and conflicted gaze. He doesn’t speak and neither does she, both waiting for Naveen to continue, likely for different reasons.

He doesn’t disappoint.

“Ethan…” His tone is soft now, though the good humour and affection remain, “you do know that what I built here, what you helped me to build...it was never about my legacy, or even about Edenbrook.”

Ethan is already nodding. “It was about the mission. For the people with nowhere else to go.”

“Precisely!” Naveen exclaims, as though Ethan has once again proven himself to be a diagnostic wonder. “And no matter what happens to Edenbrook, that mission will never end.” A grin splits his weathered and jovial face. “You'll carry it on wherever you go.”

Brooke feels her heart soar, as though Naveen’s words were meant for her, too. She knows what this validation means for Ethan - what it has always meant. Tears well up in her eyes as she looks over at him and sees the emotion in his own face.

“You really believe that, Naveen?” The question is quiet, though the gravity of it remains clear to them all.

Naveen shakes his head fondly, before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around a shocked Ethan. Brooke sees how it takes him a moment to register the embrace, before he fiercely brings his arms around his mentor in return. The men slap each other’s backs once, twice, in a masculine acknowledgement of brotherhood, understanding, and even love.

After a moment, Naveen pulls back and holds Ethan at arm’s length, strong hands gripping broad shoulders.

“My friend,” he says, “it's the most important belief I hold. And for maintaining that legacy?” There’s a twinkle in his eye as he speaks his next words: “I couldn't be more proud of you.”

Ethan’s own eyes glisten as Naveen gives him one final pat, before turning and walking back into the gala, a smile on his face.

They’re alone once more. Brooke glances over at Ethan, unsure of what kind of emotion she might see on his face. It surprises her to see him clear-faced, eyes bright. He stands tall, taller than before as if that were even possible. He looks suddenly unburdened. Reinvigorated.

“So,” she begins and he almost visibly startles as he looks at her. The heat of his gaze washes over her, his eyes sweeping her up and down, the way they had when he walked into her apartment for the first time that afternoon. She swallows, feeling her nipples peak beneath the bodice of her dress, even as she tries to ignore her body’s response to him.

Clearing her throat, she continues: “What's next for Dr. Ethan Ramsey now that he's not so 'damn stubborn' anymore?”

Her lips quirk in a smile, even as she watches him closely, finely attuned to his next move—the way she would watch a tiger let loose from its cage. A thrill runs through her at the look in his eyes.

“I…” When he speaks, his voice is hoarse, and his body leans towards her almost unconsciously. “The thing is, I've been meaning to…” He shakes his head suddenly, as though frustrated with himself. “Oh, to hell with it.”

She barely has time to gasp before Ethan’s hands are on her, the tips of his fingers weaving into the loose curls at the nape of her neck. He draws her to him forcefully, loose limbed and sure of himself, and she has nowhere to go but along for the ride.

Their lips meet and it’s not the first time or the second or the tenth, but it’s revelatory nonetheless, an absolution and a celebration all at once.

She’s dimly aware that an audience is growing, but she can’t bring herself to care, focused instead on wrapping one arm behind his back and carding the other hand through his hair, his clipped locks silken beneath her fingers and slightly stiff from whatever product he’d used.

She tightens the hold she has on his hair and he groans softly into her mouth, wrapping his arms around her tighter. The kiss is soft, open, and wet, and she feels the lazy trail of its spark make its way from her lips, down her chest, and further still until she presses against him even harder, heated and restless.

“Ooooh!”

“Oh my god…”

“I knew it!”

A cacophony of exclamations around them slowly bring them back to reality. Brooke feels her feet gently touch the ground once more and Ethan’s strong arms loosen their hold on her slightly. He pulls away after a moment, breathing heavily, seeming as reluctant to part from her as she is to let him go. Their breaths intermingle as the last few wolf whistles and catcalls die down and the Gala attendees go into their dark corners to gossip further about what they’ve just seen.

Brooke is dimly aware that a song has begun to play, only because the tune almost feels as though it’s an extension of their kiss, slow and melodious as it is.

Ethan strokes her back and pulls away completely, before offering his hand.

“Shall we?”

She resents him his composure, looking only slightly mussed and otherwise perfect, his bowtie barely askew, while she is certain she resembles a feral raccoon, emerging from the dumpster.

“I don't know, Dr. Ramsey,” she murmurs, attempting to regain the upper hand ever so slightly. “I thought this wasn't even a date.”

She likes to throw his own words back at him, even good-humouredly, as a reminder that he best not deny what they have any longer. That he is as inextricably tied to her as she is to him.

He grins unabashedly, immediately taking her meaning.

“Just shut up and take my hand.”

The commanding tone in his voice sends a pleasant warmth zinging through her and she finds herself placing her hand in his before she’s even aware of what she’s doing.

He leads her out to the dance floor and wraps an arm around her, his hand resting on the small of her back. She can feel eyes on them both and it makes her tingle a little unpleasantly. She’s dimly aware of the knowledge that this was what he was trying to protect her from, all this time.

“I can’t believe you just kissed me like that,” she breathes, leaning into him ever so slightly, “in front of the entire hospital.”

He squeezes the hand he has in his own and softly presses her further into him. She inhales the scent of his cologne, masculine and sweet, and realizes that, despite her discomfort at being the centre of attention, there’s no place she’d rather be in this moment.

“It just doesn't feel like I need to pretend anymore,” he admits, his deep voice a gruff whisper as they sway.

“That was a very public way to get over your concerns.”

He shoots her a crooked grin that leaves her breathless. “It felt freeing, didn't it? There are some things crowds are good for,” he adds, slyly.

His hold tightens on her and she tries to get even closer to him, shifting restlessly, her breasts pressing against his chest. She has a sensation that surpasses contentment - a crawling need for the man before her, a need to be near him, even closer than she already is. Perhaps closer than they’ve ever been.

“Then again,” she whispers, her voice catching slightly. His gaze zeroes in on her mouth. She can feel his body, hard and alert, flush with hers, “there are some things crowds aren’t as good for.” She looks up at him, slightly breathless, watching as he captures and holds her meaning.

“True…” he murmurs, leaning forward and bringing his mouth to the shell of her ear. “But that's why they invented private offices. No need to pretend there. Or worry about who's watching.”

She swallows hard, her breath shaky.

She knows everyone’s eyes are still on them, awaiting their next move. What leaving now would mean for them, for her, in the eyes of the hospital and her peers.

The real question was: how much did she care?

✨✨✨

[if you’re interested in reading the “office scene”, feel free to let me know... I might just be persuaded to continue this thing ☺️]

[nyoschief]

Heart Of The Darkness

This was a Secret Santa that I never posted for @Nikki!

Rating: Mature Characters: John | KryozGaming/Jaren | SMii7Y, Eddie Gluskin Tags: Outlast, Panic Kisses, Secret Santa Warnings: Violence, Minor Character Death, Creepy Motherfuckers Words: 2,135

It’s only when John turns around, looking as though he’d been in a dozen fights and is still ready for another, that Jaren feels hot tears spill over reddened cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I’m so fuckin’ sorry! Are you okay? I—No, you’re not okay.”

{Read here on AO3}

Three simple words keep Jaren quiet. They repeat like a broken record, a mantra that increases with every blood-curdling scream and fresh wave of iron-laden air that floods the damp room. He’ll return once the exit is clear. Shaky hands flatten against rusted metal, taking comfort in the cool chill as he peers into the gloomy area, straining to see human-shaped demons in the shadows.

“Darling!” a sultry voice crows from the right, singing sweet lullabies.

‘No, fuck, not him.’

Every muscle tightens, lungs clenched and breath held, but frantic eyes refuse to close. Pleading cries respond to unnervingly saccharine words. A dull thump preludes a sobbing groan, hoarse and crying with desperation as nails scrabble against moldy tiles.

“What did I say about keeping your stress levels down? No child can be borne like this.”

The stomach-churning memory of mangled bodies cut apart and sewn together, a mockery of a carrying woman, has Jaren silently gagging, a palm covering his mouth and nails cutting into his cheek.

They should never have come here. ‘Abandoned’ mental asylum, his ass! No power doesn’t mean the crazies inside are gone.

“No, no, no, please, please!”

“I warned you and you didn’t listen!”

A wet squelch spills into the air, Jaren choking at the possibilities. His eyes grow wet, face turned against his torn and muddied sleeve.

“Oh?” the man purrs, a childish laugh bubbling beneath. Jaren freezes, swallowing and peering between the metal slits of the locker. “Have my followers… brought me another bride?”

He’s a deer in headlights, a hare hypnotized by a stoat, a hen frozen in fear of a fox. Fingers twitch, useless when his arms can’t even push the door open.

He has no chance when a body slams against the front, jostling him within. Manic eyes stare back at him, lips pulled into a grin. Can’t breathe, can’t scream, can’t move.

“There you are, dear! The perfect gift after… a terrible tragedy.” Yeah, tragedy. He can only imagine the leftovers, the body slit and covered in gore and blood, still warm. Something metal tracks across the front of the locker. “But don’t worry, I’ll fix you up, make your body a welcoming vessel.”

Voice cracking, he lets out a shaky, “Fuck you.” A crazed laugh echoes through the grotesque room, head thrown back as he smacks the rusty locker. Barely illuminated, he looks like a dirtied man from the mall, covered in blood and grime, bowtie falling off. Palms sweating, Jaren smacks his hands against the door, only for the rattle of metal to trap him within. “Let me out!”

“Nooo, no, no, my love, I can’t let you out in this state, you’ll only hurt yourself!” Blood pounds within his ears, rushing like a torrent, an uncontrollable stream. Jaren slams his fist harder against the metal, the growl in his throat fading into a desperate whine.

He’s not getting out of here alive.

A blade scrapes across the locker, barely glistening in the light shining through the window. Jaren shrinks away, knees buckling, ducking down from the slits in the door. He’d rather not have a scalpel in the eye.

“Now, I don’t want to ruin your perfect body,” he begins, voice dropping with warning, “but I will if you keep fighting me.”

Tongue dead weight, Jaren swallows and scrunches his eyes shut. ‘Where is he?’

“Why would I fight you?”

A coo spills forth, hair standing on end and spine rigid. “Much better, sweetheart,” he hums, taking a step backwards. Metal scrapes again on the locker, hinges squealing and revealing the crazed man’s horrifying appearance. It takes every single ounce of self-restraint to stop from running, hands shaking and gaze darting, searching for an escape route. “Look at you, the perfect vessel, don’t you think?”

Jaren’s stomach twists over itself, tightening up like a knotted rope. A shake to every word, he whispers, “Okay.” His stare lingers on the blade in the other’s raw-knuckled grasp, the weapon raising when he takes a shaky step forth.

“You want this, don’t you? Want to become beautiful, to pave the way for our loving family.”

‘No,’ he thinks, ‘I want to leave with John.’

He refuses to let this psycho know of the other’s presence. Fingers crossing behind his back, Jaren hopes to at least have his body recovered before it’s mutilated beyond recognition like the corpses of earlier.

“Okay…”

The hand against his elbow has him jumping, strung taught and on edge. “Come, my love, I’ll show you the way, the truth…”

Movement catches his eye, moonlight glistening against silver.

Jaren snaps his gaze away, movements slow and steady, gaze tracked onto the blade. He needs to get the weapon away, get the scalpel out of his white-knuckled grasp, so John has a winning chance. They won’t get out of this alive if this fucking maniac still has his weapon.

He stumbles.

The man’s face twists into a grimace and he lunges.

Jaren yelps and finds himself slammed backwards against the wall. His head pulses, skull smacking against the tiles as metal stings at his throat.

“Wait!”

“You scared me, darling, you shouldn’t try to escape like that,” he pants, leaning in closer. Nostrils flared, dark eyes soak in his appearance, leaning closer. His stench alone has Jaren swallowing bile, flinching at the hand caressing his cheek. Shaky hands grab hold of the man’s elbow, struggling to keep him at bay, to squirm his way to freedom. The blade digs into his throat, bringing him to a halt as a strangled cry spills forth. “Maybe it’d be better if I just cut out your voice box. Wives are supposed to be seen, not heard.”

Frantic, Jaren rushes to say, “I’ll be quiet, I’ll be quiet, please, I promise.”

There’s a flicker of movement over the man’s shoulder.

Jaren looks for a moment too long.

“What—”

The man twists in time for a grazed elbow to slam into his unsightly face, flinging him aside.

Jaren jumps away, grabbing his own throat, feeling a thin line of blood beneath his palm.

The stumbling form snaps his head up, scowling and frothing with broiling hatred. “How dare you—”

“How dare me?” John spits, backing up and glancing over a shoulder at Jaren. Upon realizing the other isn’t in immediate danger, he glares at the crazy man and huffs, “Stay the fuck away from him!”

“You can’t come between us!” he shouts, posture menacing and looming. The blade in his hand draws attention like a magnet, dragging their eyes towards it as he flicks the weapon within gnarled fingers.

Jaren flinches when the man steps closer, hip bumping into a table laden with jars of intestines. A whimper slips out, capturing both of their attention for a split second.

John positions himself between them, shoulders hunched and fingers clenched, shielding Jaren. The blade raises. John flinches, balancing on the balls of his feet, teeth clenched and eyes narrowed.

“No, no, nothing is as strong as… as the bond we form—”

A boot slams into the man’s shin, dragging a shriek from raw, bloodied lips. Jaren’s head whips to the side, spotting a door and quickly running towards it. He freezes in the crooked doorframe, looking back, spotting John grappling with the bedraggled man, mouth pulled back into a sneer. The silver scalpel wavers, tip nicking at John’s clothing, held back like a snarling dog.

No warning, the man yanks himself away, pulling his arm free, only to slam the blade downwards.

A scream tears free of Jaren’s hoarse throat, the metal sinking into John’s arm, drinking rich scarlet blood.

Wild eyes scan the room, flicking between the garishly cut body on his right to the mess of broken furniture to his left.

Jaren latches onto a metal rod, breath rapid and uneven, yanking it free from the wooden debris.

No hesitation, he runs closer and swings, a sickening crunch filling the air as it connects with the man’s skull. He tumbles to the side, leaving John scrambling free. When he freezes up again, staring at the blood already dripping from the damage he’d caused, John takes the weapon from him and wastes no time in bringing it down directly on the deranged man’s neck.

He falls to the ground and goes limp. Air slides free from rattling lungs as haunted eyes grow dull.

‘Oh god.’

Jaren hiccups, eyes locking onto John, on the fucking handle still embedded in his bicep. Tears well within green-blue eyes, brows furrowed and lips parted. “Your arm,” he gasps, stepping closer, hands raising, only to freeze when he realizes he doesn’t know what to do.

A yell reverberates through the dusty air, a low growl following, filled with hunger and desperation.

John grabs him by the elbow, already yanking him away. It doesn’t matter where they’re going, as long as John’s with him, they’ll be fine.

They’re red-faced and panting by the time the shouting dies down, inaudible. John shoves them both into a shadowed room and slams the rattling door shut. A metal cabinet serves as the perfect blockade, stopping any unwanted visitors from entering their makeshift safe room.

It’s only when John turns around, looking as though he’d been in a dozen fights and is still ready for another, that Jaren feels hot tears spill over reddened cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I’m so fuckin’ sorry,” he whines, stepping closer and staring through bleary eyes at the weapon still in John’s arm. “Are you okay? I—No, you’re not okay.” Every inch of John is tensed, frozen as he keeps glancing at the door, breathing through his nose. He flinches at the hand on his shoulder, finally meeting Jaren’s watery stare. He’s still ready for a battle, on edge, antsy to keep them both safe. “Fuck, John, your arm, oh god…”

“It’s fine,” he grits out, still standing there with a doctor’s scalpel sticking out of his sleeve, careless of the blood soaking his shirt. Jaren’s instincts are screaming to run, to get away, John’s a threat. But every other part of him is desperate to help, to ease his pain, make him better, and repay his kindness.

Jaren takes hold of his good arm, leading him towards the unsteady table against the wall. “Let’s just… fix it up, yeah? Make it better. We can fix this—” A loud crash from outside has John jolting, pushing himself to his feet, despite Jaren’s attempts to get him seated. “It’s fine, they can’t get in, let me—”

“They’re close—”

“Don’t worry about them—”

“How can I not worry when they’re—”

“You’re bleeding!”

“I can make more blood.”

Fingers snatch hold of greasy hair, snapping John’s gaze towards him for long enough that he can press a desperate kiss against his bloodied mouth. The wildness in his eyes fades, returning to his familiar stare.

Jaren relaxes his hold, eyes flickering to the side.

“You can’t make another you,” he counters.

John licks his lips. “What was that for?”

Jaren backs up, mouth twisting to the side, failing to hide his embarrassment. “You weren’t listening and I—” He swallows. “I’m scared we won’t get out of here and I just—I just wanted to, just once, sorry, I shouldn’t have…” The silence that ensues has Jaren’s fingers itching, staring at the blade which, now that he looks at, isn’t all that deeply embedded into John’s arm. Swallowing, he clears his throat and says, “Let’s get this—”

“Better be more than just once.”

A frown embeds itself on Jaren’s face, blinking at John. He’s met with surprising determination.

He doesn’t even ask before John’s explaining, “We are getting out of here. That better not just have been a once off haha joke.” Jaren doesn’t have a response to that, letting slip a confused little noise followed by an awkward laugh. When he says nothing else, John asks, “You gettin’ this knife outta me or what?”

“Wh—Yes! Yeah, hold on, I…” Jaren fumbles for a moment before shedding his overshirt, figuring it’s cleaner than anything in this place. “Can you—” John grabs hold of the scalpel and yanks it out, a grunt and hiss following. Crimson spurts out, seeping quickly. Jaren gasps and hurries to wrap the fabric around the wound to stop the bleeding. “Fucks’ sake, John.”

A bloodied hand against his chin has Jaren freezing, allowing his head to be tilted upwards until he can meet the other’s gaze. “We’re gonna get out of here,” he states firmly. His hold shifts, resting against the side of Jaren’s face. Warm concern and conviction replace the earlier rage. “We will, I promise.”

The knot of unease wrapped vice-like around Jaren’s heart unwinds, loosened by trust and belief. On his own, no, he wouldn’t believe that, but with John here…

“I know we will.”

[starkerkeyz]

Love Me Sweetly, Kiss Me Softly

Length: 6543 WC

AO3 Link

Mads💗: So. This was meant to be a one shot, first of all and we had plans to post this on Vday and didn’t finish on time 😅. Second, our RPs have gone from complete smut to… this? 😂 I swear, the intention is smutty though 😱 and it will be! …Later.

Keyz 💖: It was supposed to be a one shot! But then, we kept building up the world and thinking up ideas for more and more interactions. This is the longest we’ve gone without writing smut! 

Warnings:  TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF (for nooow), intersex omegas, naughty but innocent Peter?

Peter isn’t even fully awake when he reaches for the slim dildo on his bedside table. His body knows the motions and he’s able to slip it inside with a sigh of contentment.

His body is sleep warm and lazy but the building orgasm has no problem reaching its peak. It only takes a couple of thrusts of the toy since Peter’s well versed in getting himself off. He doesn’t even need to touch his cock before his body shudders in completion, slick and cum soaking into the towel he had laid beneath him before he fell asleep last night.

He drifts back into lazy dreams for a few minutes more and then finally rouses. 

The thin blanket gets tossed to the side and he stretches long, lean limbs before finally sitting up. His dildo is on the bedside table again and he takes it along for his shower. 

It’s his daily routine and he makes it to work on time for his shift. 

His ears, long and the same sandy brown as his hair, gently flop as he bounces into work, a beaming smile on his face. It may disgruntle some of the other workers, morning people, they are not, but they expect it of Peter.

His fluffy little tail pokes out from his bottoms and it wiggles in excitement as he ties on his apron.

“Register duty,” MJ tells him gruffly.

“You got it!” Peter chirps back. 

It’s another perk of being his kind. Bunny pheromones tend to lull customers into a cheerful mood so it’s like they’re getting a shot of espresso before they even get their coffee. There are downsides to it, but Peter tries not to dwell on it.

He’s still signing into the register when the first customer arrives.

“One second, sir,” Peter says, just making sure the customer doesn’t think they’re being ignored. “Registers always take a bit to start up… Ah– what can I get started for you…?”

“Tony, gorgeous. I’ll have a large caramel macchiato, sub almond milk.” Tony winks at the cute omega bunny boy that’s been fluttering around behind the counter with a happy little bounce. 

He didn’t think rabbits really did that outside of TV but here -Tony looks at the nametag- Peter is, bouncing around with a smile and a tail wiggle and it’s bringing up Tony’s day just seeing the chipper young man getting set up. 

Tony flicks his triangular ears in the direction of someone laughing from further in the cafe and then centers back on Peter. All that movement draws Tony’s predator instincts like a magnet. The alpha instincts on top make him want to pin the bunny to one of the coffee machines and attempt to fuck the bounce out of his step. 

Peter calls out the order, the words barely registering in his head before they flow out his mouth. He does an excited little wiggle when the machine is ready and then he’s punching in the order with quick, dextrous fingers.

“Large caramel… macchiato,” Peter confirms, “almond milk!”

Tony can’t take his eyes off of the happily wiggling cutie. Just watching Peter prance around with a smile and a bob of his fluffy tail was a mood enhancement. He’d heard that rabbits could do that with their pheromones if they aren’t terrified of the wolf hybrid nearby. 

He’s never been around a bunny not scared of him. This is nice. 

Peter finally glances up, a smile on his face.

“That’ll be–” Peter barely pauses when he gets a look at his first customer, but recovers quickly. “$5.53, Tony!”

It’s a new customer! And– Peter’s eyes grow wide because he looks like– 

His eyes dart to the number of customers in line. It’s the morning rush and he pouts a bit to himself when he realizes he can’t take the time to talk to this new customer. To Tony.

Tony smiles and makes sure his teeth, and subsequently, his fangs, don’t show. He doesn’t want to scare the bunny away with his hunger and he’s aware that his very pheromones can set some prey types on edge instinctively. 

He’s got a hint of wildness to his scent that no dog would ever bring to the table. His fangs are just a little too long, his eyes just a little too intent, and his tail just a little too stiff.

“Long shift today?” Tony asks casually. 

He takes a discreet sniff, nostrils flaring out as he tries to subtly figure out if Peter’s single without asking outright. He likes the challenge of using his senses to sleuth it out as much as he wants to avoid the embarrassment of being rejected if Peter has a girlfriend or boyfriend. 

He doesn’t smell another person but he does catch the deep notes of relaxation and lingering sex that come from masturbation. It makes Tony imagine Peter naked and wonder how soon he could get him there again. 

Tony’s tail wags fluidly behind him with the idea of seeing when this cute bunny might have a break. He might be able to wait for it and chat him up some more if it’s soon. 

His tail freezes when he realizes Peter can’t possibly have one coming up if he just got here. Then it droops, hanging down the back of one leg and staying there. Tony’s smile drops to a polite lip curl. 

Peter probably gets asked out all the time on the clock anyway. Bad idea, really.

Behind him, Peter’s fluffy tail is going crazy with excitement. He recognizes that Tony is a wolf. There’s no other excuse for why the hairs at the back of his neck tingle with warning.

But even though the instincts are there, Peter’s become very good at ignoring them. They live in a modern society and those prey instincts are just relics of the past.

They do some pretty exciting things to his body though. Peter gets a burst of adrenaline which he tricks his mind into translating as excitement. 

It’s another reason why they like to put him up front. Bunnies give off those yummy scents but Peter was particularly good at not being prey, no matter what his instincts scream at him.

So it’s easy for his scent to remain carefree and inviting and for Tony, he thinks it even deepens in curiosity. He’s never met a wolf before…

Tony’s dark ears catch Peter’s attention and he just wants to reach out and see how velvety smooth the fur is.

“Oh…! Yes,” Peter laughs, face going a bit pink when he realizes he’s been keeping Tony waiting on an answer. He fidgets a bit with the little bow tie they have him wear.

Tony’s eyes and ears both flick down at the motion, honing in on Peter’s throat where the bowtie lies on his neck. Tony’s pupils expand like he’s on the hunt. His tail shoots up so fast he knocks the person crowding behind him into giving him more breathing room. 

Peter’s been through this often enough that he recognizes an opening when he sees one. Usually, he brushes them off, playing ignorance and claiming naivety. It’s not really a good idea to give out his shift hours but…

A quick little discrete sniff gives Peter so much intel on his new customer. His scent reminds Peter of warm summer nights and maybe oak?

Peter likes warmth. Peter likes summer nights.

“Wow, buddy, calm that nub down,” Ned laughs behind him as he passes by.

Tony hides his laugh behind a hand, knowing he couldn’t possibly hide his fangs. His tail lifts higher in excitement and starts wagging stiffly back and forth as he waits, hoping that the stalling and the bouncing is a good sign. It’s been ages since Tony tried dating someone, and never a bunny.

Peter freezes again but then pretends it didn’t even happen. His tail continues twitching, he can’t really control that part and Ned knows it.

“I usually have a break around one…” Peter offers, heart skipping beats. He tries for casual and his fingers curl to stop them from playing with his ear. “If you’re around.”

“I could make the time,” Tony offers. 

It’s hours away yet. He drums his fingers on the counter and then picks up the pen used for receipts. He scribbles his number on a spare scrap of torn receipt and slides it over to Peter, fingers lingering.

Peter’s eyes dart to the tiny slip of paper before his hand shoots out to take it. His face blushes pink and he knows it’s futile to try hiding this from Ned and MJ but he still tries.

He knows he should assure Tony that he shouldn’t be inconvenienced just for him but he can’t bring himself to say the words. Their fingers brush and Peter’s heart quickens even more.

“I’d really like that,” he says with a smile.

He tucks the note into a pocket in his apron for safekeeping.

“Maybe we could get something to eat after your shift sometime, too?” Tony hopes he’ll say yes. The little omegan bunny smells so fresh and bright, like springtime grass and freshly bloomed flowers. Growing, ripe, fertile. 

Tony feels like an asshole for thinking such stereotypes. 

To Tony, Peter smells ready for sex and adventure. Like he would be perfectly at home taking a tumble with someone in the middle of a hike. Like he’s definitely gotten grass stains on his knees from fucking in a meadow. Like the athletic cutie wouldn’t say no to being held against a large oak tree and knotted-

Tony clears his throat and pins his ears back with a chiding shake to his own foolish head. He needs to be better than that. No one deserves to be stereotyped into a cock slut just because they were born with certain ears and tail. 

“Your pick.” Tony doesn’t want to come across as more of an ass by asking if Peter’s vegetarian. Is that insulting to assume? Tony hasn’t been around enough prey animals he wants to make a good impression on to know. 

The request surprises Peter but in a very good way. His smile turns sweeter and he leans forward, drawn in by the wolf’s charm.

“I’ll think of something,” he says, meaning he’ll be frantically texting everyone he knows for a good place to take a wolf. “Maybe I’ll have something if you do stop by at one.”

“Looking forward to it,” Tony says in answer, leaning forward in mirror to Peter. His ears are fixed onto Peter, not even flicking away to catalog the hiss of steam and blaring of alarms. 

It almost feels like the world has narrowed down to the two of them and Peter’s more than happy to remain in that bubble.

Until Ned pops it.

“Large caramel macchiato, almond milk,” Ned calls out, “For Tony!”

Peter straightens, eyes darting back to the screen. His ears swing back, one covering his right eye. “Oh, um, $5.53.”

His face feels so warm and he feels a bit embarrassed to have gotten so smitten by a mere two minute conversation. He tucks the floppy ear back, giving a flustered smile.

Tony can’t stop grinning as he fishes his wallet out and pays. He makes sure their hands brush again when he gives Peter a cash tip, winking at the blushing bunny. He wants to be allowed to brush his ear back for him next time.

“I’ll see you at 1, Peter.” Tony tips his caramel macchiato at him in salute and steps out of the way to let him get back to his job. 

Peter’s eyes trail after him as though his brain hasn’t gotten the message that he’s at work. Of course, he snaps back to attention when the next customer, a regular, clears their throat.

“See you,” Peter sighs out, head completely in the clouds and heart in la la land.

Tony makes his way out of the cafe and back to his day with one more meeting on the books.

Internally, he’s giddy to have a shot with someone so smoking hot and unbelievably cute. And his smell! 

Tony just wants to bury his nose right in the source of all that beautiful freshness. He could feel his gums aching and saliva pooling in his mouth already and shakes his head, slapping at his own cheek for focus when he’s sure the bunny couldn’t possibly see him being so weird. 

“Okay. Time to get everything I had planned up to dinner done before noon.” 

Tony sips at his drink. His mind drifts back to Peter. 

Should he bring chocolates? Could bunny hybrids eat chocolate? Hybrid canines could eat up to four pounds of the stuff before it reached toxicity levels and was considered normal to gift out in small, elaborately wrapped packaging. Maybe Pepper would know…

Tony arrives with flowers that smell like Peter and a little fancy clear bag of oatmeal and carrot bunny cookies in his pocket that Google told him is the most coveted brand on the market. Pepper had told him to only bring one or the other but he couldn’t decide and leaving one behind made his tail flick and swish agitatedly, leg bouncing with stress. 

So he has both to present. 

He pushes through the door with his free hand and scans for Peter. He automatically begins cataloging the many scents swirling around the shop; identifying people, machines, ingredients, cleaners and more so that he has a map of the place visually and through olfactory within moments. 

His tail goes high and side to side when he spots the bunny, ears alert. He sweeps through the tables and up to Peter in a flash, holding out the flowers with another carefully subdued smile. 

“Hello, beautiful. Thanks for letting me see you again so soon.” Tony sweeps the cookies up out of his pocket and gives them to Peter on top of the flowers. “I hope you like them as much as the reviews say you should.”

Whatever Peter’s expecting come 1 PM, it isn’t this. Truth be told, the bunny was a ball of nervous energy in the past half hours, worried that the wolf wouldn’t show.

Seeing Tony walk through the doors of their little cafe has Peter so giddy with happiness that he isn’t sure how his feet are still on the ground.

The sight of the flowers already has his eyes growing wide but he recognizes the brand of cookies Tony gives him. They’re a very well known brand of cookies and they’re expensive too. Peter has only allowed himself to buy them a couple of times a year as a treat for him and May so this unexpected treat has Peter’s mouth dropping.

He takes both items, looking at one and the other then back at the waiting wolf.

Tony waits for Peter’s verdict with a small dance of weight between his feet and a continuous wagging of his tail. He holds back from nudging the treats closer or barking to prompt a reaction, just barely. Peter’s wide eyed silence was starting to make him wonder…

The wolf let out a tiny whimper as the seconds ticked by. Was he wrong? Did he pick a bad brand?

“Oh, thank God,” Peter blurts out, “I wasn’t sure if you just wanted to talk or just be friends or– I don’t know, maybe get a free coffee now and then but– but you… you like me? Like… maybe…”

He’s babbling, he knows he is and what’s embarrassing is he does quick anxious little wiggles in place as he talks. He clutches onto the flowers then makes a worried sound when he realizes he might be crushing them.

They’re a sturdy bunch though and he’s relieved to see that not even a single petal was bent.

“I’m glad you like them and no, I definitely didn’t mean just friends. Not for this and not for that dinner invite. I want to get to know you better and maybe… I mean, if you’re single and I’m single…” Tony needs to stop talking. ‘If you’re single and I’m single’ like that isn’t how typical dating worked.  The wolf shakes his head at himself, furry little ears flicking in self disapproval, and hopes Peter will overlook his awkwardness. 

“Honey Bunnies…” Peter says in awe then realizes something else. His eyebrows twitch as he realizes. “Wait, how did you even get these? This flavor isn’t supposed to be out until next month.”

Honey brown eyes look at the wolf with barely veiled delight. If someone accused Peter of being a puppy right now instead of a bunny, he wouldn’t even fault them for the mistake.

This has to be puppy love…

“I love these things,” Peter says. “I– I shouldn’t even ask how, right? They’re a gift so I should just be saying thank you.”

Tony is glowing from Peter’s reactions to his presents. He takes a seat across from the bunny and leans forward, ears and eyes focused with laser intensity on the cutest bunny on the planet.

“I looked up the flavors and ordered the one that sounded best to me, honestly.” 

He knew he’d be the one eating it if Peter didn’t like it and paid extra for the gamble. Oatmeal and carrot sound pleasant enough to him. 

Oatmeal and wheatgrass? Barley and broccoli? Not really appetizing to a wolf that grew up on the iron rich delicacies of lamb chops and steak and learned to navigate dinner parties with the refined taste of sushi and caviar.

Tony yips quietly to himself to refocus on Peter at present, a small sound he’d taught himself (with Rhodey’s help) that no one else should be able to hear in the cafe. 

College had been a nightmare of sounds and smells distracting him until his friend taught him self direction through vocal cues. Something they did in the military, he’d said, but Tony thinks he was just covering up whatever therapist technique it was. Probably meant for dogs.

Tony’s ears twitch and his eyes scrunch the slightest as he notices himself drifting again. He yips firmly to himself and then tunes back into the person he actually wants to pay attention to.

“I was wondering why they’re called Honey Bunnies the more I read. Most of the cookies use grains and vegetables for the main flavor.” Tony shrugs a shoulder. He doesn’t handle marketing in his company for a reason. He smiles at Peter and ducks his head, almost like a bow as both hands settle flat on the table. “I can bring you a new flavor next time if you like?”

That sounds like heaven but Peter can’t possibly accept.

He shakes his hard so hard that his long ears swing side to side.

“You don’t have to!” He tells the wolf, “I-I mean… They’re hard to get sometimes… a real pain… And besides, even these will last me a while.”

It may or may not be true. He hasn’t tried these and he might just as well scarf them down if they’re that good. They’re always that good though… He’d be lucky if he could save some for May to try.

Tony waves off Peter’s concerns about money. He doesn’t expect any kind of favor system or to get presents of equal cost. He gets the people he likes material things because seeing them light up and enjoy them makes him warm and excited. 

He likes hunting down the perfect gift and preening from a job well done when it’s well received. So if Peter likes those special honey-not-honey cookies, then Tony will get him as many as he can stand to eat.

Peter tucks his unruly ear back into place, peeking at the wolf with a smile.

“And, um, they’re called Honey Bunnies cause… cause the founder was a non-rabbit kind who wanted to give his doe something to munch on…” Peter says with wide eyes.

Considering Tony hadn’t known, there’s no way he could’ve planned some sort of meaning behind the gesture. But… considering he bought it for Peter, isn’t it the same, anyway?

“Ahh… I see I’m not the first to fall for a cute pair of ears then, huh?” Tony reaches out and gently tucks Peter’s ear away for him. His eyes sparkle a little and he enjoys the simple pleasure of feeling how absolutely velveteen Peter’s ear is below his fingertips. 

Peter’s cheeks warm up and he knows his tail is twitching in excitement. He tries not to let it get to his head but it may be too late.

He boldly reaches over to squeeze the wolf’s hand before his nerves get the best of him. A moment later and those same fingers retreat.

“I… can be your honey bunny if that’s what you want?” Peter almost squeaks.

Is this how flirting is done? He’s never really cared to try… He just hopes he’s not making a fool of himself 

Tony reaches out for Peter and repeats the motion back, squeezing his hand gently. He leaves his hand over Peter’s instead of pulling back as the bunny had done, smiling broadly enough to show off his upper and lower canines and sharpened incisors. 

The bunny’s eyes can’t get any wider but his breath does catch at the sight of Tony’s fangs. That sweet adrenaline courses through him once more, warning him to run but Peter’s fascinated.

“Of course, I’d love that! I’m definitely going to get you more cookies though, if you’re going to be my honey bunny and all.” Tony winks outrageously, flopping his ears with it to add even more comedy to the effect. 

The little ear wiggle is adorable and only makes Peter want to reach out and touch them. Coupled with the wink, Peter ends up beaming at the wolf, disarmed and maybe a bit enamored.

Looking at Tony, Peter can’t imagine how anyone can be afraid of him.

“If you insist, I won’t say no,” Peter says and it comes out a bit shyly.

He’s out of his depth here and he doesn’t want to seem ungrateful or to give Tony the wrong idea. He turns his hand over and twists their fingers together in a loose hold.

Peter is so unbelievably sweet and pure. Tony wants to lean over and kiss the breath out of him to seal the deal, but it feels almost wrong to be so forward with the bunny boy. This is literally their first date, ever, so Tony can wait and be a gentleman. 

Judging by how hesitantly Peter had touched his hands just now and how flustered he was receiving the presents, he’s either incredibly good at acting or very inexperienced and nervous. 

He’ll let Peter set the pace in either case. He could keep it in his pants and his hands to himself for as long as Peter needs to feel ready. No pressuring or assuming. 

Even drop dead gorgeous bunny boys like Peter could be virgins.

“Can I still take you out to dinner sometime? When are you free?” Tony swishes his tail behind him and resists the urge to slide his hands forward and scent the backs of Peter’s hands with his wrists. 

He’s being a gentleman. He’s going to go slow. He could do this, for Peter. 

“My shift ends in three hours,” Peter says automatically. He blinks when he realizes how eager it sounds. “But my next day off is Thursday…”

Thursday seems so far away and Peter’s little bunny heart wants to curl up at the thought of not seeing the wolf until then. But he has to play it cool.

He doesn’t realize it but his lips pucker into a gentle pout.

Tony wants to suck that pout between his fangs and keep it safe. He’s almost panting after Peter, the cute bunny managing to turn his head in circles with just a smile or a pout.

Tony is a wolf but he’s charming and easy-going. He doesn’t trigger any of Peter’s instincts besides the normal ones that predator scents incite in him. For Peter, he feels relaxed and doted upon.

How could he not? He has pretty flowers that he knows MJ was eying earlier and Honey Bunnies that Ned will try to steal. He wouldn’t take a courting gift from his best friend….

… Is the wolf courting him…?

Tony takes one hand off Peter and reaches into his pocket with the other to grab up his phone. He doesn’t want to stop touching Peter now that he’s been allowed. 

That’s probably too intense, isn’t it? Especially for a first date? Tony doesn’t want to scare Peter off by going too fast…

Peter feels like he’s blurted out too many embarrassing questions already. Tony’s already shown his interest and while that reassures him, the bunny worries about some other things. This being the first person he’s ever wanted to know better in a more intimate sense, he realizes that what he wants may be fast for the wolf.

Bunnies would already be humping by now. May not even exchange names because who needs names when that itch needs scratching…? Peter’s always been a bit different though.

Or so he thought. Looking at the wolf’s roguish smile, he feels his insides warm and his belly clench with excitement.

His fingers twitch beneath Tony’s but he gives the wolf another smile. He’ll behave… He doesn’t want to scare Tony off with all those intense rumors about bunnies that happen to be true…

Reluctantly, thinking the twitch meant he’d overstayed his welcome, Tony places both hands on his phone. He uses the tech as a prop to keep his hands full and fiddling and not grabbing the bunny’s soft hands back up and holding on like a creep.

Peter already misses the warmth from Tony’s hands but he doesn’t chase after him even when his instincts want him to.

“I work pretty much every day but a lot of it I can do from my phone. So just let me know if another day or something works better, don’t be afraid about me not making it.” Tony says to his phone, both ears pointing at Peter and betraying where his attention truly is. He doesn’t dare look up at Peter.

Valentine’s day is this Friday.

Peter might not even want to celebrate. They just met and Valentine’s could be a pretty big deal to some couples. Or maybe Peter wouldn’t feel comfortable spending it with a new paramour. There are so many good, sound, logical reasons Peter could say no. Tony doesn’t want to pressure him and will leave it up to the omegan bunny to decide. 

He really, really hopes, though. 

Peter leans forward and lets his fingertips brush against the back of Tony’s hand. It barely does so but even this bit of contact makes him happy.

It’s Monday…. And Peter normally does not like Mondays but perhaps he has to change his mind on that. He feels giddy just looking at the wolf.

“Um, well I’m working every day until Saturday…”

Tony tries not to let his disappointment show. It’s not Peter’s fault he’s scheduled that day and can’t rearrange his entire work schedule for a sudden, intense new interest like Tony. Peter’s still willing to entertain a second date and Tony needs to focus on that positive instead of the other negative.

There are other big events they could spend together in the future. Tony will have to plan ahead, that’s all.

Peter subconsciously tugs on his ear with his free hand as he considers what to say.

“I work late tomorrow… But I get out the same time on Wednesday and Thursday… Friday, I’m supposed to close,” he says as he mentally ticks off his work schedule.

He creeps his fingers closer until he can gently rest them on top of Tony’s wrist. He can feel the strong steady pulse right there and it feels like his heartbeat resets to mimic it.

Tony feels his ears and tail drooping in pleasure when Peter’s slender fingers come to rest right on his scent gland, bold and soft at once. Peter willingly scent marking himself makes Tony’s heart rate pick up the pace where it’s running laps around his ribcage. 

His nose and ears twitch in conjunction as he tries to sniff out what Peter&Tony smell like off of Peter’s skin. 

Grass and forest. Meadow and heat. Those weeks when spring is heating up into summer, the air simmering itself pleasantly along sweaty, flushed skin. The well seasoned frenzy of mating ruts and bountiful, fertile heats. 

Alpha and omega and predator and prey and Peter&Tony.

Peter ducks his head a bit, peeking at the wolf with a hesitant smile. “Is Wednesday or Thursday okay with you…?" 

Of course, he’d like to see Tony more, but he doesn’t want to be a clingy person. They’d only just met and Peter already feels he’s falling for the guy.

Tony yips to focus himself, realizing he’d gotten lost in the smell of their first real scenting. He smiles widely at Peter, giddy that their scents are so compatible. He knew Peter was special.

“Wednesday or Thursday is fine. I think Thursday would be easier for me though, if you don’t have a preference?” Tony has to hold back from offering to take Peter out both nights. He can’t overwhelm the bunny or he might run.

The thought of chasing him produces a high, excited whine that he quickly bites back with a nervous glance at Peter. He doesn’t want to chase Peter to scare him, but he doesn’t think the truth would go over well either. Telling him, on the first date, that Tony’s whining at the chance to chase him down and fuck him wherever he catches him would be a good way to get tossed on his ass. 

“Sorry. Happens sometimes. Um. When I’m… looking forward to something.” 

Now, Tony’s blushing and looking down at his hands. He sees Peter’s fingers on his wrist and is reminded of their wonderful scent all over again. It only makes him more flustered and happy.

The sound surprises a smile out of Peter and he leans closer. He’s never really been around wolf types and has only really seen them from afar. There were a couple when he was in school, but he never really paid attention to them. His ears have learned long ago to filter out those kinds of noises as background sounds so any barks or yips were generally ignored.

He thinks the sound Tony made is adorable and Peter kind of wants to hear it again. He also wants to know what other sounds Tony would make. Being a wolf… would he growl during intimate moments?

Peter’s face flushes. He’s not used to having these kinds of thoughts at all! But instead of weirding him out, he lets the feeling flow through him and settle.

Tony watches Peter’s facial expressions, amused at his expressive face and the dark blush that’s starting to crawl up his neck. The bunny is so cute. Tony wants to lick his plump, blushing cheeks to taste the heat and the sweetness that must be there. Peter was too pure for anything less, Tony was sure. 

Peter wishes now that Tony had sat next to him just so they don’t have this distance between them.

Then he perks up. His ears don’t have the muscles to stand straight up but the tops do rise a bit in his excitement.

Tony’s eyes and ears zero in on the motion in a single snap. His lips part just enough to show a hint of fang and a flash of tongue as he licked his lips.

"Have you eaten yet?” Peter asks, hoping to extend their time. 

He’s only supposed to take a thirty minute break and he’s already used a good chunk of it… But suddenly, he’s famished.

“Hold on, lemme just–” He dashes off without another word, ears flopping as he rushes back to where Ned’s making drinks.

Tony watches him go with no shame. Peter’s ass is a bouncy round handful and his tail is a flash of color against the cafe’s uniform that Tony wants to bite. 

He hopes no one else in the cafe can see how hungry he is for something other than food.

It only takes him a few minutes and a few overdramatic claims of possibly starving to death before Ned brushes him off with a grin. There’s a reason why Ned’s his best friend and Peter would straight up crush him in a bear hug if he wasn’t holding a cup of steaming hot coffee.

He returns to the wolf but doesn’t reclaim his seat.

“Ned said I can take the rest of the day off,” he says, a bit breathless.

Then, realizing the implication, he stutters a bit. “But, I mean– You don’t have to spend the whole day with me, I know you’re probably just on break and have work too. But maybe, uh, I was thinking Five Guys? Their burgers are really good and– Oh, God, I should’ve asked you first.”

He bounces anxiously on his toes, ready to rush back behind the counter. He can pretend he hadn’t just completely made a fool of himself.

Tony stands up and steps closer to Peter. He tries not to loom but wants to be close enough to brush their hands and wrists together, the wolf wanting to soothe and strengthen their ties. He lowers his chin and ears to tell Peter he’s in control of the situation, not Tony, and signals with a tail against his leg that he would defer to Peter’s judgment. 

Peter’s eyes are large and round when Tony stands. He’s taller than him by a couple of inches but for some reason, the bunny isn’t feeling intimidated.

Instead, he feels a sense of excitement and his fluffy little tail twitches. He’s not sure why he feels so at ease. Something in Tony’s eyes, the warmth and deep brown that reminds Peter of warm, sun-soaked soil beneath his bare fingers…

His body sways as though it’s being lured in by the wolf’s calm demeanor.

Peter has to force himself to focus when the wolf talks.

“I’m starving, actually. I haven’t eaten since yesterday if you don’t count coffee.” He’d skipped out on breakfast to avoid a board meeting, which is how he found himself in Peter’s cafe this morning. Then, he’d skipped out on lunch in order to make it to this date with Peter and get all his work done. 

Possibly he had skipped dinner the night before, too. It was hard to tell; when Tony got focused he could go for a long time without food. Whenever he emerged and remembered, he’d eat a significant portion of his own body weight in food and sleep for 10 hours. 

Then he’d usually repeat. 

“And I happen to have the rest of the day off, myself. So don’t worry about it, I’d love to extend this date.” 

Tony flicks his eyes at Peter sidelong, hoping that the bunny isn’t so upset anymore. Tony could smell the anxious wafts coming off of him earlier and he wants to make sure not a drop of his scent is tainted with stress. Peter deserves to smell happy and fresh, ripe and fertile-

The fast flowing words sweep away the worry that hovered around the boy. In fact, the news that Tony’s free has Peter giddy and ready to bounce in place from sheer excitement.

Tony wanting to extend the date though… Peter feels like he’ll just melt right there.

Tony yips to himself, flicks a reproachful ear at nothing, and focuses on Peter again with a small, nervous smile. He keeps talking to stop himself from straying in his thoughts. 

Peter’s eyes catch the quick movement of the wolf’s ear– a cute little flick and the bunny thinks it’s so adorable. He almost wants to nibble on it just to see how Tony would react then.

His eyes widen and he quickly shoves the thoughts to the back of his mind before his scent gives him away.

“Don’t be alarmed if I eat them out of house and home. Wolf stomach. I’ll pay.” Tony wouldn’t ever make a date pay the tab he’s about to rack up, even at a fast food place like Five Guys. 

Tentatively, Tony laces their fingers together, making an inquisitive noise from the back of his throat as his ears perked and lowered in a wiggle of question. 

Peter looks at their interlocked fingers and practically vibrates in place from sheer delight.

He honestly doesn’t make much. Even just comparing the two of them, it’s obvious who’s making bank. 

Tony’s suits are tailor fit and Peter’s wearing jeans and a silly t-shirt of no brand. Black leather shoes, brightly polished compared to the standard converse Peter wears… yeah, it’s painfully obvious to the bunny, but the sight of their hands clasped together seems more important than that.

“I’m only accepting,” Peter begins, “Cause I’m getting the next tab.”

Tony’s ears flick a quick negative before just as quickly sweeping back and down, chagrined at his automatic dismissal of the bunny. He rubs his thumb against Peter’s wrist, scenting himself. He doesn’t want Peter to feel inadequate or incapable. 

He understands the urge to provide; it lives in his blood and bones.

“That’s doable. Back and forth, right?” Tony smiles with fang. He’s pleased with the implication of that. Of course, there’s going to be more dates. 

Peter nods enthusiastically, making his floppy ears waver in the air.

“Right,” he says with a wide smile.

He brings their joined hands up and rubs his cheek against the back of Tony’s hand, grateful and affectionate.

Tony steps smoothly into Peter’s space so that he’s crowded up close, their shoulders bumping and arms tangling together.  His tail relaxes towards Peter, swishing through the space where another wolf’s tail would have been brushing back in returned affection. 

He waits patiently for Peter to finish and then gently, almost reverently, brings Peter’s wrist up to his mouth. He kisses the pulse point, hot and with fang pressing to skin, dampening the bunny’s skin with his lips and teeth. He turns and rubs his cheek on the sensitized spot of skin, signature facial hair rubbing his scent in where he’s already primed and stimulated Peter’s scent gland. 

His scent would linger like a calling card for weeks. His ears stood tall and tail up straight behind him, proud to have been allowed the privilege and challenging anyone to try and take Peter from him. 

Peter’s resolute on this money thing. He doesn’t want Tony to pay for everything even if he’s more than capable of doing so. He’s glad Tony doesn’t argue with him on this. He’s not sure he would’ve been able to resist because the wolf has those kinds of eyes that just makes Peter want to melt and blindly agree.

Then he smiles sweetly at the wolf, squeezes his hand once and sets off towards the Five Guys just a couple blocks away.

.

Mads 💗: Peter is a very horny bunny but he’s also a very romantic bunny and wolf Tony is perfect 😭 Just wait till we earn the E rating lol 😏 The upcoming date is awesome toooo 😂

Keyz 💖: Tony is trying SO HARD to respect his bunny! If only he knew how badly Peter wanted to be defiled 😂 The date is so good it will probably be the entirety of ch2!

[minisugakoobies]

Paradise Chapter 14 - Teaser | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: smut, neighbors to lovers (not quite friends but not quite strangers), love triangle, Stripper!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Teaser Warnings: reference to blow jobs

Teaser Word Count: 859 (actual chapter TBD)

Disclaimers: None, other than obviously I don’t own BTS - they simply inspire me

A/N: Helloooooo… sorry it's taking so long for the next update. Here's a little peek at how the chapter begins. Can you believe we're coming up on 2 YEARS since this started?? 😳 Wild. Thank you for hanging on! 💕

(This chapter is still in progress, so this is subject to change!)

Paradise Main Masterlist 💜 Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

Turns out that impulsiveness looks pretty good on you. 

Or so you think to yourself, catching your reflection in the mirror of the men’s room as you leave Jungkook to collect himself after giving him the best blow job of his life (your words - although, based on the look on his face as you’d swallowed, you might not be far off). 

You hadn’t planned on dragging him into the bathroom like that, but upon seeing him walk out onto the terrace in that grey belted suit, looking like an absolute dream, well, you simply could not help yourself.

You also hadn’t meant to tell him you missed him last night. But you had, because you did. God, when had you turned into this - this massive simp? It was only yesterday morning that you’d woken up in Jungkook’s embrace. You’d barely spent 24 hours apart - so why were you so desperate to get back into his arms?

Of course, none of this matters right now. There are only minutes to go before the ceremony begins, and you need to pull your head out of the clouds and get back to Jennie and the others. Starting by escaping the men’s room sight unseen.

“YN!” 

Or not.

As soon as you close the door, you hear Jin’s voice calling to you. He’s standing at the other end of the little hallway, near the entrance to the reception room.

“Hey,” you reply, trying to be the most nonchalant you’ve ever been in your life, as if you weren’t just gagging on Jungkook’s dick in a public bathroom. 

Jin smiles as you approach, but there’s a gleam in his eye that makes you nervous, and you’re so busy trying to come up with a valid excuse for why he saw you emerging from the men’s room that you apparently forget how to walk, trip over the hem of your gown, and crash directly against his chest. 

“Easy, tiger!” he laughs, arms locking around your back as he helps you stand back upright. “I’m used to ladies throwing themselves at me, but only you’ve taken it literally.” 

You roll your eyes, but you’re pretty sure he’s not lying about fighting off admirers, given that he looks like a supermodel in his crisply tailored tuxedo. His bowtie is a little crooked thanks to being squashed by your face during your ungainly landing, so you gently fix it, and Jin thanks you with a soft grin. 

“I left my glasses at home, so tell me - did I just see you leav-” Jin suddenly stops in the middle of his sentence, his gaze drifting over your shoulder. “Oh. Nevermind, I see.” He takes a step back, arms falling from your waist.

Another hand slips into yours. 

Jungkook didn’t wait very long before following you out of the restroom. He squeezes your hand as you glance at him, but he stares directly at Jin, nostrils flaring slightly, eyes narrowed, lips pursed tightly as if - as if -

Oh, shit. 

“You left this behind, jagiya.” Jungkook turns to you, his face shifting into a softer expression as he produces your clutch like some sort of trophy. You must’ve left it on the counter. “Did you want me to hold it during the ceremony?” 

Your brain is lagging severely at the moment, trying to process two major facts at once. Fact one: Jin obviously realized that you were with Jungkook in the bathroom. Fact two: you completely forgot to tell Jungkook that Jin would be at the wedding. Which, given the events of the last 24 hours, it’s understandable that it slipped your mind, but this isn’t how you’d expected to officially introduce them. 

On top of that, Jungkook has asked you a question. And is now waiting for an answer, while Jin watches in polite silence. 

“Um. Yes. Sorry, yes, can you keep an eye on it for me?” 

Jungkook nods, tucking the clutch into his jacket and patting it lightly. “Of course,” he says, nodding solemnly, as if you’d just asked him to protect precious goods and not a cheap bag full of tissues and mints. 

Jin clears his throat lightly. 

“Oh! I’m sorry, Jin, this is Jungkook, Jungkook, Jin.” 

Of all the ways for these two to meet, this might not be the most embarrassing, but it’s definitely up there. There’s still a bit of Jungkook’s taste lingering on your tongue as the two men shake hands, Jin wincing slightly. 

You try to quickly fill Jungkook in. “Jin’s the best man.” 

“Sure am.” Jin grins. 

“He and Yoongi grew up together,” you add, ignoring Jin’s little interjection, knowing that Jungkook didn’t miss it based on the way his jaw flexes violently, as if he’s gnashing his teeth. 

“Nice to meet you, Jungkook. That’s quite a grip you have there.” Jin slides his hands into his pockets. “YN’s told me a little about you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Jungkook replies, inclining his head slightly. His hand returns to yours, fingers locking firmly. “Wish I could say the same, but YN never mentions you.” 

You try to control your face as you look at Jungkook. What did he just say?

© 2021-22-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Please do not repost or steal.

[sxfterhearts]

4. [11:45am]

The car ride from the hotel you stayed overnight with your bridesmaids to the wedding venue seemed to stretch out for ages. Your mind tuned out the girls’ excited chatter as you stared out the backseat window, watching the tall skyscrapers of the city blend into suburban houses and well-manicured lawns. Soon, in another twenty minutes, you were about to lay your eyes on your future husband, dressed in his wedding tuxedo.

Your lips unconsciously formed a fond smile as you recalled the first time you saw him in formal dress.

Twelve years ago

“Well, what do you think? How do I look?” Jinyoung directed his question to the figure standing by his doorway while smoothing down an invisible crinkle on his left sleeve. He turned away from the full-length mirror to lock eyes with you.

You couldn’t stop the giggle that slipped past your lips. His hair was gelled and combed back neatly, a stark contrast to how he usually wore it down with no product. His black suit and matching trousers were impeccable, however the red tie that hang messily around his neck destroyed the entire look.

“Hey! Is it really that bad?” He whined. Never in a million years did you think it was possible for your best friend and next-door neighbour of five years to sound like a fussy five-year-old child. “You’re so mean, I don’t know why I asked for your opinion anyway.”

“No, it’s just,” You chuckled mid-sentence upon discovering his fiery red socks. You took a deep breath to compose yourself. “I didn’t mean it like that, I promise. Come here, let me fix it for you.”

Jinyoung reluctantly complied, standing in front of you and crouching down so you could help him with his tie. You adjusted your pink corsage out of the way before reaching out and redoing his tie with practiced, fluid motions, thanks to all the practice you had with your younger brother. The two of you were standing so close that a strong whiff of cologne with undertones of hair product entered your nostrils.

“Do you think she’ll like it?”

“Like what?”

“My appearance. I mean, is it enough to impress her? I still cannot believe that I’m going to the ball with the class president as my date. She’s smart, kind, athletic…”

“All done.” You cut him off, forcing a lump of envy down your throat. “Says you, Mr. Vice President. I’m sure she’ll think you look absolutely dashing.” You gave him the most genuine smile you could muster and two thumbs up to calm his nerves.

Six years ago

Honestly, Jinyoung had no shame admitting that he was always a hoodie and sweatpants sort of guy. Or jeans, if the occasion truly called for it. At most, he would swap out his hoodie for a button-up. He never owned any blazers.

That is, until he received his job offer at a top professional firm and you dragged him out shopping last weekend for a major wardrobe revamp.

So that’s how he found himself in a grey chequered blazer with a pristine white button up underneath and a pair of black slacks. He stared at his reflection while running his fingers through his unstyled hair. Something was amiss.

“Y/N!” His voice travelled throughout your shared apartment of nearly two years. The pair of you had moved out of college dorms midway through your university degrees and moved into the modest two-bedroom apartment in the city centre together. It was a natural transition for you two, from being neighbours since primary school, to living across the hall in college dorms, and now to being roommates. You wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up buying houses on the same street in the future.

You popped two slices of bread into the toaster before making your way to the bathroom. You peeked inside, satisfied at your masterful taste in office fashion. “Looking good, Mr. Junior Consultant. Your tie needs to be done up, though.” You pointed at the piece of black fabric laying abandoned on the counter top.

“That’s where you come in handy, roomie. Help me fix it? Pretty please? I’ll buy your favourite jjajangmyeon from the corner-shop-ahjumma for dinner on the way home tonight.” Jinyoung looked at you with pleading eyes.

“Throw in a bottle of soju and I’ll help you, kind sir.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Who were you kidding, though? You would’ve tied his tie for him even without anything in return. Oh, the woes of unrequited love, you thought to yourself while looping the black fabric around his lithe neck and fastening it securely. A final clean of his black-rimmed spectacles and a sweep of his fluffy hair later, you deemed his outfit presentable with a big thumbs up.

Two years ago

Jinyoung let out a sigh in frustration, just as you stepped into the backroom of the wedding hall. He had tried for the fifth time to get his tie to knot properly but to no avail and frankly, it did nothing to sooth his jittery nerves.

“Need some help?” You offered, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu from that night ten years ago.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Y/N, I don’t know what I’d do without-” His words caught in his throat as he spun around and laid eyes on you. Your maroon chiffon dress hugged your curves in all the right places. He struggled to tear his gaze away from the side slit that exposed your long legs and the deep V-neckline. He cleared his throat in embarrassment. “My tie…”

“When will you ever learn how to tie a tie by yourself, Park Jinyoung?” You teased, nimble fingers already dancing across his broad chest.

“You know what they say, a man who doesn’t know how to tie his own tie is a lucky man.” He mentioned, entranced by the way your delicate eyelashes fluttered against your sparkly cheekbones. The smokey eyeshadow fit you very well, he decided.

“Yeah? Why is that?” You tightened the black tie gently towards his neck and brushed your hands over his shoulders to rid his black suit of any dust while simultaneously reassuring him.

“Because he has a great woman who does it for him.” Jinyoung sneaked in a quick peck on your flushed cheeks, grinning smugly to himself when you gave him a bashful shove.

“Good luck out there, Mr. Best Man. Don’t mess up the speech, okay?”

Present day

“Ready, sweetie?” Your father’s voice asked tenderly upon opening the car door, holding his elbow out for you to take as you stepped out gingerly.

“Yes, dad. Thank you.” You replied, trying your best to calm the fluttering butterflies in your stomach.

As you led your entourage of bridesmaids towards the aisle, you were filled with an overwhelming sense of contentedness. The periodic crashing of the waves was a perfect backdrop, soothing any residual nerves and bringing back happy memories of summer days spent on the beach, with the man who stood at the end of the flower path. You wriggled your toes as they sunk into the cool sand and scattered petals left by the flower girl, placing one foot in front of the other confidently, with your father by your side. The audience clapped and stood at their seats, while a group of six grown men (the groomsmen) wolf-whistled and whooped enthusiastically.

Each step brought you closer and closer towards the love of your life; the person whose presence was as calming to you as the ocean itself. Standing in front of Jinyoung, you knew that this was where you belonged – beside him.

“Y/N,” Your beauty left him breathless and for a moment, he was lost for words. “You’re the best view. The beach and the sea can’t compare.” He mouthed to you while the marriage celebrant began to speak.

“Not too bad yourself, Mr. Husband. I love the bowtie.” You whispered as the two of you exchanged a knowing look and loving smiles.

[obxparadise]

Someone Like Me

JJ Maybank x Reader 

Word count: 2,073

~A fic in which you and JJ have to hide your friendship until he can’t hold back his feelings any longer~

Warnings: Overprotective, controlling, aggressive boyfriend, cursing, fighting. 

A/N: If you like this, leave a comment! Comments keep me motivated to bring you amazing fics 💋

*Not my GIF. Credit goes to the owner*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How many times do we need to talk about this, Y/N? You’re not one of them, so stop trying to be.”

The sound of Kelsey’s shrill voice alone was enough to ruin your day, but there was something about having her share her unwanted opinions as you flipped through the pages of Wuthering Heights that sent you over the edge.

“Y/N? Are you even listening?”

Snapping the book closed, you leaned forward in your chair, keeping your voice low, but sharp enough to get the message across. “Am I listening to you bash my friends as if we’re so much better than them because we grew up in wealthy families and attend fancy parties and prestigious schools? Why in the world would I want to listen to that?”

You watched as Kelsey blew a strand of blonde hair from her face. Even if she was your best friend since the fifth grade, there were times when you wished she would get her head out of her ass, wake up and realize that being a Kook? It wasn’t all that.

“I just don’t understand,” Kelsey said finally, in her normal exaggerated manner. “You have everything you could ever want. A rich family, a big group of friends…” As Kelsey glanced behind you, a smirk lifted the corners of her lips. “And the hottest boyfriend in all of the OBX.”  

A pair of arms slithered around your neck, the strong scent of Spice and Wood burning your nostrils. Biting your lip, you plastered on a fake smile just as Rafe Cameron lowered his mouth to yours. Okay sure, Rafe was…good looking. But he lacked what was most important to you: Depth. Sensitivity. Adventure.

If it were up to you, Rafe wouldn’t have been your first choice. As next in line to take over for Ward Cameron’s company, he made the perfect arm candy, as your mother would say. Growing up, the phrase “image is everything” had been engraved in your head, and when you were old enough to be courted, your parents didn’t hesitate in setting you up with Rafe Cameron.

“Do I even want to know what you’re talking about?” Rafe asked, fingers grazing over your bare shoulders. Subconsciously, you shuddered at his touch.

“Maybe you can convince your girlfriend that no matter how many times she’s caught hanging out with Pogues, she’ll always be a Kook.” Kelsey snickered, knowing full well she’d betrayed you by airing your business to your overprotective boyfriend.

Rubbing your temples, you avoided Rafe’s gaze. “Okay, Kelsey, really? This little feud between Pogues and Kooks is overrated and quite frankly, really fucking stupid. And second of all, I wasn’t hanging out with JJ. At least not today, anyway.” Just saying his name was enough to make the butterflies in your stomach go wild.

“JJ?” Rafe spat. “What the fuck? What were you doing with that little bastard?”

“He works on my father’s boat,” you groaned, knowing how quickly this conversation could take a turn for the worst. “I was tanning on the deck and he had to fix something. We talked. We’re friends. That’s all.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Rafe stared down at you as Kelsey hid her chuckles behind her palm. Damn troublemaker. “Now, why don’t I believe you? Because I know damn well I told you to stay away from him and the rest of his trashy friends, only to find out you’re still trying to fit in with them. So, tell me, Y/N, why don’t I believe you?”

Pushing away from the table on your patio, you stood and brushed out your sundress before standing tall. Grabbing your book, you thrust it into Rafe’s chest. “I don’t know, Rafe. But there is nothing going on between me and JJ. Stop worrying.” Big. Fat. Liar.

Rafe stared at you quizzically. “Mhm...well, don’t forget, we have my sister’s birthday tonight. I’ll pick you up at six.”

“Can’t wait,” you muttered, already dreading the night ahead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By seven-fifteen, you were bored out of your goddamn mind. You loved Sarah Cameron, but you were not a fan of extravagant parties at country clubs. Being forced to talk to wealthy adults and snobby teenagers was not your cup of tea.

As you wandered along the beach, hair blowing with the ocean breeze and sandals dangling from your hand, a voice spoke up behind you. “Penny for your thoughts?” Goosebumps rose on your skin as you smiled. You knew that voice anywhere. Turning around, you inhaled sharply. For some reason, you expected to see him wearing his usual outfit: boots, cargo pants, cutoff tank, and a backward hat. But no. The sight in front of you, while a complete surprise, was breathtaking.

“JJ?” His name sounded so perfect falling from your lips. Grinning, you pointed at the polished suit he was adorned in. “Am I missing something? Did hell freeze over?”

Snickering, JJ ran a hand though his hair, tugging gently on the ends. “Kie invited me as her plus one,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “Plus, I wanted to impress a certain girl tonight. Is it working?”

As you pulled him in for an embrace, you savored the feeling of his arms around your waist. It ended all too quickly, but it had to. You couldn’t risk being seen by wandering eyes. “You clean up nice, J,” Pulling back, you adjusted the bowtie at his neck. “But you don’t need to worry about impressing me, you know. I like you just the way you are.”

He scoffed. “If you liked guys like me, you wouldn’t be with a guy like Rafe.”

Frowning, you noticed how JJ’s brows drew together. “You know I don’t really have a choice, right? My life isn’t that simple.”

“Right,” JJ drawled out, rolling his eyes playfully. “Because the Kook life is so difficult.”

“You know what I mean,” you said, swatting his shoulder. “It’s just…my whole life has practically been plan--.”

“Y/N?”

The sound of Rafe’s voice startled you. Swallowing, you peered over JJ’s shoulder, watching as Rafe approached the both of you, a flute of champagne in his hand. “What the hell’s going on here?”

“Nothing,” you answered quickly, lip drawn between your teeth as you put a space between you and JJ. The hurt on his face vanished as fast as it came. “Nothing, man. Don’t cause a scene.”

“Last I checked, I was talking to my girlfriend,” Rafe shot, pulling you roughly to his side. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you carefully massaged your arm.

JJ stepped forward, nose to nose with your tipsy boyfriend. “Put your hands on her like that again and see what happens.”

“JJ, it’s fine,” you muttered. “Can you both stop?”

“And what’re you going to do about it, huh, Pogue?” Rafe taunted. “Pull a gun on me?”

“Rafe, just go. I’m coming, alright?” You begged, cursing silently as a tear slipped down your cheek.

“Don’t give me any ideas,” JJ answered with a sly grin, poking Rafe’s shoulder. You yelped as Rafe shoved JJ to the sand, attempting to pounce. “Rafe, stop it!” It took all your strength to pull him off JJ, and you watched helplessly as they exchanged heated glances.

“Let’s fucking go, Y/N.” Your eyes followed Rafe as he stomped through the sand back to the club. Once his figure disappeared, you turned back to JJ, whose face was red with rage.

“I don’t know what you see in him,” he said, gravely, brushing the sand from his arms. “I really don’t.”

“Look, just…just stay away from him, okay?” Pleading with JJ was the only way you’d get him to listen. Somewhere deep down, you knew JJ had a soft spot for you. And you’d be lying if you didn’t feel the same way about him. “I care about you and I just…don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Nodding, JJ motioned toward the party. “You should uh, get back there.”

Sighing, you offered him a small smile and headed in the direction of the club. You hadn’t made it far when you heard JJ call out to you.

“Oh, and by the way,” he said, grinning sheepishly as you looked back to him. “You look beautiful.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eleven P.M. Finally. As the party came to an end, the only thing on your mind was peeling off your dress and hopping into bed for the night. After saying your farewells, you wandered around the halls in search of your boyfriend, who was drunk and nowhere to be found.

“Rafe?” You checked the ballroom, kitchen, and even the men’s bathroom, but still no sign of him anywhere. Rafe’s disappearing act was starting to worry you, especially since JJ was nowhere in sight, either.

You decided to head around the back of the club to where Rafe’s car was parked, hoping he was waiting for you. As you approached the car, the muffled sound of a pained groan made the hairs on your neck stand up. Looking around, you squinted toward the trees, eyes widening in horror as you found Kelce and Topper holding JJ as Rafe delivered blow after blow to his ribs.

“Rafe, stop!” Running for the trees, the adrenaline pumped through your veins as JJ managed to escape Topper and Kelce’s embrace, tackling Rafe to the grass. “JJ, no!”

Topper caught you in his arms, pulling you away from the scene. Struggling to break free, you crushed his toes with the heel of your foot until you were able to loosen his grip.

JJ and Rafe parted, and on instinct, you threw yourself between them. “Enough!”

Angrily, Rafe pulled you out of the way, fingers squeezing your arm. “Get in the car, Y/N.” Prying his hand from your arm triggered another level of anger. “I said get in the fucking car!”

And before your brain could register what was happening, the sound of your palm cracking against Rafe’s cheek seemed to echo through the forest. “You make me fucking sick. For the last two years, I have put up with your overprotective, controlling bullshit. I have tried numerous times to give you the benefit of the doubt, and just when I think you can be redeemed, you somehow manage to fuck up more than the previous time. I can’t do this, anymore, Rafe. I am drained. I am exhausted. I-..”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Cutting you off, Rafe grabbed his suit jacket from the grass. “Let’s go.”

As Rafe pulled you toward his car, you managed to cry out, “JJ, I am so sorry--.”

“Is this what you want your life to be like?” He asked, voice breaking. The question caught you off guard, making you and Rafe stop dead in your tracks. You glanced at Rafe before turning back. “You don’t deserve this shit. How can you not see that?”

“JJ what are you talking about?”

“My God, Y/N, don’t make me spell it out. Fuck, I mean,” JJ ran a hand through his tousled hair, and your heart skipped a beat. “I just—you’re settling. For him. And you wanna know why that’s so fucked up? Because there is a man out there that is dying for the chance to love you like you deserve to be loved. Someone who wants to spoil you and take you on adventures. Someone who would never pass up the opportunity to tell you how beautiful you look every. single. day. Someone like--.”

“Someone like you?” Rafe snickered, squeezing your hand. “Hm?”

Covering your mouth, you sobbed into your free hand as JJ nodded. “Yeah, someone like me.”

Dropping your hand, Rafe stepped forward and lowered his voice. “You’ll never get the chance.”

As Rafe headed back in the direction of his car, you covered your face and cried. God, what were you doing? Of course this isn’t the life you wanted. JJ was right. You wanted adventure. You wanted love. And Rafe? He couldn’t give that to you.

But, JJ?

“You coming or what?” Rafe asked, spinning his keys. “This is your last chance. You either come with me now, or you find your own way home.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught JJ staring, waiting. And in that moment, you knew. You knew JJ could give you everything you wanted. So without another thought, you ran forward and launched yourself into his arms, ready to feel truly and completely loved. 

[mariinara]

REDAMANCY. (Sam Drake x Reader) PART 1

Tags: @the-winchesterboys , @the-drakeboys , @missdictatorme , @s4mdrake , @samdrakeftw , @purplezebra68 , @hrgnm , @unchartedterritoria

Word count: 3,107

(PROLOGUE, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4)

Location: London, UK, Bloomsbury district

______________

The smell of cheap liquor and perfume filled your nostrils as you walked through the hotel's hallway, your eyes glued to the crimson carpet beneath your feet, a small shiver running up your spine as cold goosebumps riddled your skin.

Even in summer, London was chillier than Boston at night and you wore a grey sweater just in case it started to rain out of nowhere. You've been there before and you didn't want to repeat the same mistake. Not that the sweater made much of a difference. 

When you were at the intersection of two hallways, you snapped your eyes up to look at the gold-plated signs on the wall that were engraved with a deep black color, indicating the range of the room numbers in both hallways.

'Third floor, room 303..' 

You repeated in your head as you walked down the correct hallway, your eyes scanning the rooms on your left and right, in search of his room. 

You were so engrossed in your search that you left Connor hanging on the phone that you loosely held against your ear.

"Babe?"

You blinked twice, "Yeah, I'm here.." You licked your dry lips, feeling them get a bit tacky from the cold weather and your shallow breaths, "Just, uhh.. Haven't been here for a while." You replied, a bit absentmindedly.

"So you're there?"

"Yeah."

"Keep me updated, okay?"

"I will, baby.." You stopped in your tracks once you saw room 301 and, suddenly, you didn't want Connor to get off the phone. You knew that as soon as you'd hang up, you'd feel the anxiety again.

"You wrap it up and come right back, okay?" He told you, and you could hear the cute little whine in his voice that made you smile.

"How could I do anything else?" 

He chuckled softly, "Alright, I love you." 

You pursed your lips, "Love ya, too, hun.." 

A pang of guilt hit you. You knew you shouldn't be lying to him about your whereabouts and about what you'll be doing for the next few days. You'd told him that you were flying to Nate and Elena's house in Nassau to do big renovations for the place while they were away. Connor knew that you've always wanted to be an interior designer, and he got you multiple, big gigs in his show as prop manager and designer, which got you into the business quicker than you expected. 

The lie you concocted was not fool-proof but it was the only thing that rolled off of your tongue once Connor asked who it was on the phone the other day. 

You didn't like lying to him. Relationships were all about the truth. That was something you firmly believed in. But he wouldn't understand this. You promised you were done and just setting out to fulfill a childhood dream would actually sound really stupid to him. 

You heard the line go blank, which made you inhale deeply. There bubbled your anxiety again, causing your stomach to do cartwheels. Uncomfortable ones. 

'Room 303..' 

You chewed down on your bottom lip and pushed your phone back into your pocket, switching your duffel bag to the other hand that wasn't as sweaty and, as you took cautious steps towards the assigned room, you felt the air getting thicker and everything grow silent, only hearing the pounding of your heart.

'You got this. He's just an old friend.. a-an acquaintance.. a.. brother..?'

You stood there, eyeing the wooden door with your eyes nervously flickering. With a shaky breath, you pulled up your hand to check the time on your wrist-watch.

9:10 P.M.

You were supposed to be in there ten minutes ago. As an extremely punctual person, something bothered you about that, and, hurriedly, you found yourself knocking twice on the door. When your hand dropped to your side, your chest filled up with instant regret.

'It's not too late to turn back around, is it..?' 

You asked yourself, looking down the hallway you came through earlier, pondering the idea of making a beeline out of there.

But, suddenly, the door in front of you creaked open, and you whipped your head to look at the man standing there, staring back at you with an almost surprised expression, like he just knew that you wanted to turn and run last second.

There it was again. That feeling in the pit of your stomach that made your breath hitch in your throat. Just staring into his eyes brought back all those bitter memories, but you quickly shoved them to the back of your head, letting a shaky sigh leave your nose. It was then that you noticed that he was in a dress shirt that had the first few buttons open and the bowtie around his collar was loose. The shirt was tucked in formal suit trousers, too, which meant that he was getting into something fancy for.. what exactly? 

He leaned closer towards you, looking left and right down the hallway. You'd pulled your face away with wide eyes when he got that close and grabbed onto his upper arms when one of them snaked around your waist. 

"What.. are you doing?" You slowly asked him, staring at him with furrowed brows as he studied the hallway.

Without replying or looking at you, he pulled you into his warm hotel room and let go of you to close the door.

You blinked in confusion, staring at him with furrowed brows as he turned to look at you, his eyes studying you closely and intimately. His gaze trapped you and you almost felt as if he had a hostile air about him.

"Have a seat." He simply told you, gesturing to the table next to the terrace that had a half-finished bottle of whiskey, an ashtray with a cigarette still propped on, the smoke slowly rising in the air, and an array of maps and books, all stacked in a messy heap.

A soft sigh escaped your lips, "Nice to see you, too.." You muttered, discarding the black duffel bag on a bench pressed against the wall and dragging a chair to slump down on.

"How was your flight?" Came his voice as he made his way to the table, circumventing it to stand on the opposite side of you, picking up his cigarette and flicking the ash off before pulling it up to his lips.

You crossed your arms over the table and nodded, trying to avoid his intense gaze, "It was fine." You simply replied with a small nod.

Sam held the cigarette between his lips and unscrewed the cork of the whiskey bottle, "Drink?" He offered before pausing to raise an amused brow at you, fighting back a teasing smirk, "You do still drink, right?"

You sent him a glare, your hands intertwining together a bit tighter, "That's funny." You humorlessly replied, "I do. But no i–"

"No ice." He continued, pouring some of the golden liquid into a glass cup that he set in front of you, "I know." His eyes were on you as he sat down with a small sigh, his back relaxed against the chair as he took a drag from his cigarette.

You ignored his stare and brought the glass to your lips, "So.." You clicked your tongue, "What was that all about?" You asked, your fingers tapping against the glass. He shook his head slightly, his eyes narrow. "At the door? You looked like I'm not the only one you were expecting." You elaborated.

"Mmmm.." He nodded, leaning forward to put off the cigarette in the ashtray, blowing out a cloud of smoke, "I was expectin' star boy to be there.."

You rolled your eyes, "His name's Connor." You corrected him, sitting back to cross your arms over your chest. You saw his brows twitch up in silent agitation, a forced, lop-sided smile on his face, despite that. "If you don't trust me, why'd you call me?" You questioned a bit defensively.

He hummed while taking a swig from his drink and shook his head, putting it down, "I trust you. It's you who doesn't trust me." He pointed an accusatory finger at you, making your brows pull together.

"Can you blame me?" You retorted. He paused for a second to search your eyes and he immediately knew you were talking about what he'd done back in Libertalia. It stung, the way you viewed him. Especially you. But he swallowed his tongue, nonetheless.

His eyes flickered down to your hands, spotting the engagement ring almost immediately. It drew an amused smirk to his lips when his eyes met yours, "That's a big rock." He commented, "I take it he finally got his big break, huh?"

You looked down at your hand, turning it to take a look at the ring. Your eyes rolled and you put your hands on your lap, wiping your sweaty hands against your denim-clad thighs, "So, what're we doing?" You gestured to the papers and documents and maps all sprawled on the table.

He cleared his throat and started to search for something in particular and, finally, he pulled it out from the pile of papers, then silently passed it to you. 

You glanced at the folded paper that seemed to be ripped out straight from an illustrations’ book and raised a brow at him, “This is..?”

Sam chuckled, “Open it, genius.” 

“Right.” You unfolded the paper quickly and narrowed your eyes at the ink drawings of the Unicorn ship. It was illustrated at different angles, with very detailed focus on important attributes that made it special, “Fifty cannons.. Triple masted.. Two decks..” You nodded, “That’s our girl.”

“Okay, now look at this..” He quickly shuffled to look through the pile for a certain book and, when he pulled it out, you immediately recognized the cover of his favorite pirate book. You watched him flip through it quickly, humming under his breath. It was something he often did when he was deep in thought or onto something and you remembered how you would point that out, back when things weren’t so rocky with him, but the thought made you smile, nonetheless, “There it is.” He motioned you to come closer and you instantly scooted your chair to his side to peek at the book with him, “Sir Francis Drake from Marlinspike hall..” 

You sighed at the pirate’s name, “This guy just didn’t know when to quit.”

Sam sent you a proud smirk, “Runs in the family.” 

You smiled at him and, you could swear that you saw his younger self for just a split second, but once you realized that you were gazing at him for too long without uttering a word, you looked back at the book, “The last captain of the old, beaten Unicorn..” You read.

Sam’s focus was back on the book and he skipped a few unimportant lines, “The ship set sail from Barbados in 1676 on one of the most ruinous voyages in maritime history.” He had that part underlined lightly with a pencil and your eyes moved lower to spot another underlined paragraph.

“Ship never reached its destination.. Attacked by pirates, all hands lost except for one survivor, yadda yadda..” You muttered. But then, at the next line, your eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, “When Sir Francis Drake was rescued and brought back home, he was convinced his name had been cursed.” You glanced at Sam with a small snort, “Go figure..” He chuckled at you and listened closely as you read. “The Unicorn’s manifest states that the ship carried cargo of tobacco and rum bound for Europe, but, it’s been long claimed that it carried a secret cargo..” You slowly turned your head towards Sam, your eyes wide and a grin slowly spread on your face, "So, Drake was connected to Red Rakham's treasure.."

Sam returned your grin, "I'm willin' to bet that it wasn't even Red Rakham's treasure in the first place." When he saw your intrigued, yet contemplative expression, he looked at the book and pointed at a certain line, "Here. Look. When Sir Francis was questioned about the voyage, he replied with: "This treasure drowns with my bloodline and shall remain so. Only a true Drake will be able to find it.""

"The treasure belonged to Drake.." You trailed off, your eyes glued to the book, "Red Rakham's ship was the one that attacked Drake's." You concluded, sitting back and crossing your arms with an impressed nod, "And.. you found the link between him and Drake on your own.." 

Sam raised a brow, closing the book, "You sound surprised." He smiled and you reciprocated it cordially, but something about it seemed too forced.

"Just take the compliment." 

He stared at you for a couple of seconds, his smile faltering. You noticed it. How his eyes lowered to look at the carpet underneath the table. He seemed to want to say something. Like an apology of some sort, but you ripped your gaze away from him before he could speak. You didn't want him to apologize. You didn't want him to say anything that would remind you of the man you used to love. That was the last thing you needed. 

Sam put the book to the side and cleared his throat, getting up from his chair and walking over to the dresser to retrieve a rolled up newspaper from there quietly, and walked back to the table to put it in front of you, "That's our next stop."

You raised a brow up at him and grabbed the paper, opening it to the front page, your eyes immediately landing on an announcement that there was an auction held near your district, which brought unpleasant memories to you, "The Bedford estate auction.." You muttered.

"Mm-hmm." His finger hovered over the page and he tapped at the auctioned items list, "Look here. Sound familiar?" 

You squinted your eyes and read over the line he pointed at, "Battleship model, seventeenth century, reign of Charles the second.." You trailed off and inhaled deeply, leaving the newspaper and sitting back to look at him, "You do remember what happened the last time we went into an auction uninvited, don't you?" You asked him, an uninterested look on your face. 

He smirked and nodded his head, resting his hands on the back of your chair, "Sure, but this time is gonna be different."

"How come?"

"We're invited." He wiggled his brows once, like he just let you in on the most dangerous, tempting secret in the world.

Your brows pulled together in confusion, "What?" You shook your head, "How?"

He sighed and turned his back to you, walking over to his bed, "I'll fill you in on the way." He then removed the white, signature hotel duvet, only to reveal a whole set of guns from different calibers, small boxes of bullets, extra magazines. Your eyes widened for a split second at the view and you looked up at Sam as he turned to you, his hands on his hips and a stupid grin on his face, "You still remember how to handle those?"

"Jesus!" You exclaimed, practically jumping from the chair and taking wide steps towards the bed to take a closer look at the weapons, "What— How did you even get those in here?"

Sam pushed his hands in his pockets, "Had to grease a few palms." He shrugged nonchalantly, sending you a calm smile.

"Why do we even need those?!" You whisper-shouted, behind clenched teeth, your eyes wide and crazed.

He rolled his eyes, "You do remember what happened the last time we went into an auction, right?" 

"You said we were invited!"

"Never said I had the money for bidding." He retorted quickly.

You threw your hands up in frustration with a humourless laugh, "Well, of course not! You wasted it all on those!" You argued, gesturing to the guns on his mattress.

"Uh, no. First of all, those were already in my possession–" You rolled your eyes and opened your mouth to speak but he beat you to it, "Second of all, you're gonna need to be more lenient and cooperative or else we're gonna end up dead. Those people don't mess around."

Your eyes widened, "What?" You watched him walk past you and to the body mirror, buttoning up his shirt silently. You followed him and stood right behind him, "Is there something you're not telling me?"

Sam did his bowtie silently and ran a hand through his hair, glancing at you through the mirror. He then stopped completely and hummed, narrowing his eyes.

"Samuel–"

He stepped behind you, grabbing your upper arms and letting you see your reflection, his chest pressed against your back and his eyes roaming your body through the mirror, "You don't happen to have a pretty lil' red dress, do you?" 

You snorted a laugh of disbelief, "What?"

His hands came up to hold your hair and twirl it in his hands, holding it into a low, messy bun, "That oughta show some skin, too.." He muttered, studying your pretty face that was hidden by your loose hair, "You didn't answer me." He reminded you.

You shook your head in confusion, "I.. do, but–" 

"Perfect." He stepped away from you to go over to his wardrobe, pulling his black suit jacket from the hanger, throwing it on his shoulder and letting it drape there, "Wear your hair like I just showed you and put it on." He instructed you before tilting his head and reaching into his pocket for a cigarette, "And – y'know – doll up a bit." He put it in his mouth and lit it, narrowing his eyes at you as he took a drag.

You scoffed, watching him turn away and open the door to leave, "Sam!" You yelled for him as he slipped outside, and he stopped to look at you.

"Yep?" He looked over his shoulder and you swore you could see a smirk play on his lips.

You gave him an incredulous look, "Is there something you're not telling me?!" You repeated, slower and louder in case he didn't quite catch you.

His lips slowly curled up to a smile, his cigarette still held between them. He then glanced at the bed full of weapons and back at you, "Pick something inconspicuous, will ya? I'll be waitin' for you on the sidewalk."

"Sam!–" 

He shut the door and left you in your predicament, making you growl out in utter and absolute frustration, your fists clenched and your breathing uneven.

And you wondered if this was all a plot of revenge from the older Drake for the way you treated him in Libertalia.

_____________

[starcrossedyanderes]

Happy B-Day Xavier!! 🎉

Happy Birthday Xavier! This is super overdue considering his birthday is actually on the 12th but stuff happens y’all! I was actually at my grandparents, and then my mobile tumblr just decided that I am not allowed to type, and I just got back to school too!

Thanks for your understanding, and sorry about postponing it even later. But I think you can understand me not liking people to scream at me to update. 

I also think is a bit more obvious but I will try to schedule stuff but since I do have school now expect there to be less.

This isn’t as good as I would like but I honestly don’t care rn.

Xavier’s eyes sleepily  blinked open as he could tell that someone had pulled open the curtains of his bedroom. He let out a light groan like that of a student being awoken by their alarm. He closed his eyes tightly and to give himself some more protection against the harsh rays he snuggled deeper into your body with his arms keeping a good grip on you. Almost like you were a child’s favorite stuffed animal. Sometimes you wonder if that’s how he saw you.

He let out another groan and sleepily waved his hands at the servants bustling around his room. But for once they ignored him as a cart rolled in and he had to lift his head from its hiding place as the aroma hit his nostrils.

He sat up slightly but made sure you were still laying next to him as he gazed at the breakfast.

“Happy birthday, your majesty. Your breakfast in bed as requested by your mother.”

He waved off the servant again as he groggily blinked once again as lap desks of sorts were brought out and the food was placed. Xavier reached out and grabbed a bottle of cucumber water which seemed to immediately wake him up properly.

He continued to sip on his drink as he felt the girl that clung to his arm seemed to be slowly waking up. Xavier let out a smile as she let out a far too adorable yawn that no human should be able to make. 

As you fully sat up Xavier smiled as he saw her slowly blink.

“Good morning dahling~”

You let out a ‘mornin’ before glancing at the food before you.

He placed down his beverage before making work on the tray before him. His eyes glanced over to you to see you trying your absolute best to take some dainty bites. How sweet! You were truly trying to be on your very best behavior; just for him~

Since it seemed the two of you were basically done and plenty of food was left. Xavier made a clicking sound that caused 2 birds to come to his side and make their loud demands.

The two of you chuckled at the sight and Xavier put down a golden plate with lots of various fruits that were quickly pecked at and soon devoured.

~|~

“Doesn’t this seem, I don’t know, a bit excessive?”

You wiggled against the silk tying you down.

“No, I don’t. Now vhy in the vorld vould you think this is ‘excessive’? You can be so squirmish dear, and this is to just make sure you don’t lurch and ruin your manicure.”

You let out some grumbles as some people continued to poke and prod at your nails with out your permission. You tilted your head to your right to see both Indigo and Ebony getting their claws trimmed and painted. They even put a bowtie on Indigo! You let out a coo at the peacock and couldn’t help but call him a dapper little man.

Xavier tilted his head to see what you were talking to and actually took the cucumbers off his eyes to take a secret peek at you. He let out a gentle smile before covering his eyes once again.

~|~

“I didn’t take you as the sort of guy to still play with toys.”

Xavier dismissively waved a hand at you as he walked into the local toy store. You could tell the wince he held back as he looked down at the floor and his reflection couldn’t be spotted. He supposes that not all commoners can manage such a feat but he was suspecting better none the less.

“Love, let me know if you find anything you vant. I’m going to talk vith the owner.”

You shrugged your shoulders before heading down the many aisles with some guards just of course following you. 

Most of the items were regular things you would find in any toy store but you spied some extremely unrecognizable items; most being carved wood.

You quietly observed them before deciding to go ahead and get them. One of the guards next to you of course yoinked the objects out of your hands so he could carry them himself. You only agreed with a huff.

You had reached the main desk Xavier seemed to be talking to the owner. As you stepped closer he wordlessly wrapped an arm around your waist and tugged you closer while conversing.

“I would like to buy out your entire store. I did notify some trucks but I don’t believe they know where I am so it may take quite a while before they can all be picked up-”

You and the owner let sharp gaps out as the sentence finally seemed to click in your brains.

You leaned into his ear and harshly whispered out.

“Xavier, what are you doing? I only picked out a few items, not an entire store!”

For the first time you think you heard Xavier let out a genuine laugh that wasn’t to someone else’s demise.

“And here you are saying that you don’t like the pampered lifestyle yet vhen I buy something in large quantity you automatically think it’s for you. Sorry my princess, but I’m afraid that all of this isn’t for you. I’ll gladly buy out an entire store or well, even the company, for you later though. Anything you vant.

But this purchase is for the children.”

Xavier turned back to the owner and left you to maul over his sentence. The children? 

You were broken out of your train of thought as multiple bright lights flashed from all around you. Xavier seemed to take notice as well as he quickly turned your body to different angles and changed your pose for a few minutes before most of the cameras stopped their barrage. A few kept on but once he barely raised his hand in the air all action ceased.

“Well I believe that in a few minutes the ‘calvary’ vill arrive and vill happily deliver everything to the children. Do you have my dorogy’s bag- ah, lovely.”

The blonde prince kept his arm interlocked around yours as he started to walk out of the building.

“Come dear, ve have parties to attend.

[firebird-inkheart]

A Child’s Understanding p.2

(Please check previous post for warnings)

{Previous}

The afternoon sunlight blinded him the moment he stepped outside. Ace flinched, squinting even as he turned his head. Behind him the strangers’ mocking laughter echoed harshly in his ears. His palms ached where his nails bit in deep; his skin was tough and calloused, yet in that instant it threatened to split apart and let his frozen blood flow freely.

‘Cursed blood,’ came the bitter reminder. ‘Devil’s, demon’s. Poisoned, unclean, festering―’

He jumped as the hands clamped on his shoulders squeezed hard. The pressure banished the loud and hateful voices to the back of his mind where they could only murmur their loathing messages. Ace let out a shaky breath.

“They’re wrong,” Sabo said sternly. “That’s the one thing that will never be true, alright.”

It wasn’t a question, but a demand that beget the acceptance of fact.

“... Yeah.”

But he had heard so many other ‘facts’ which were contrary to his brother’s that it made it hard to be convinced, let alone sound convincing. Sabo sighed and let his hands slide away. Before he could really register the missing presence of their weight an arm wrapped around his shoulders. They walked down the steps to put a little more distance between them and the Yew. The obnoxious voices grew just a little quieter.

“Remind me again, what was it Chante told you, exactly?”

He scowled and shot him a look; seriously, why was he asking? Sabo knew damn well everything Chante had told him. They all got the same lectures when Chante deemed it seriously important.

A thin eyebrow rose back in challenge.

“I can parrot what she said until I’m blue in the face but it won’t have the same effect as you saying it for yourself.”

Ace bit down on his cheek and stared at his feet. Chante often sat down with him to simply talk about things no one had bothered to talk with him about before. Things like his feelings and stern but strangely gentle reprimands for his behavior. About who he really was. The blacksmith was full of many profound thoughts, with perspectives he’d never once considered before. Her strong voice, the voice he had gradually come to see as, well, not exactly a motherly one― Ace wasn’t quite sure how he felt about putting that label on anyone in relation to himself ―but someone he could respect enough to rely on, floated through his mind.

“The navy’s sense of justice is and always has been dictated by what the World Government is afraid of. And the government is afraid of everything that doesn’t immediately bow and grovel at its feet,” she had said. “That fear has turned you into a casualty as a result and for that I am so, so sorry. But there’s something I want you to know so listen to me very carefully…”

“My worth is not defined by the judgement of anyone.” 

Sabo leaned in a little closer, the corners of his mouth twitching up. “Sorry, what was that? Didn’t quite hear you there.”

Ace looked up, though not without glaring, each word cutting on his tongue as he tried to cement some belief into them. “My worth is not defined by the judgement of anyone.”

He pumped his arm and Sabo joined him in agreement. “Your worth is not for anyone but yourself to determine!” He grinned, flashing his gapless glory. “But it sure helps to know there are people that value you all the same. Right Hon?”

There was no reply.

“Honyo?”

Cacophonic; the sound of glass shattering against something solid and heavy rang through the air, immediately followed by an uproar of deep swears and shouts and one utterly unholy shriek. The boys jolted, running back into the Yew, nearly tearing the doors from their hinges as they bulldozed their way through. 

Aya had dropped several dishes to reach for the nearest man and strong arm him into submission; the knife he had been reaching for clattered harmlessly to the ground. One of the strangers, gangly as he was, turned on the barmaid only to find his face pinned to the ground by the foot of one of the cooks that had come out to investigate the commotion. The others surrounded a manic, snarling, green haired little girl brandishing a broken bottle.

Two of the men lunged at Honyo and she jumped, tossing herself at the man with the bowler hat. The men collided in a heap and bowler hat guy screamed. The man’s hat went flying as Honyo repeatedly bludgeoned him with her crude weapon and the man himself fell back in his chair, sending them both crashing to the floor. 

“TAKE IT BACK! TAKE IT BACK, TAKE IT BACK, TAKE IT BACK!”

The man with the large bow tie loomed over the screaming girl and struck, grabbing a fistful of hair― the little pompoms that held some of her hair up snapped from the force ―and wrenched. Hard.

Her head hit the table with a solid thunk!

The blood in his veins was all but screaming in his reeling mind as the last couple seconds finally caught up to him.

Bowtie man huffed. “That oughta teach you to settle do―”

“Get your filthy hands off her!”

He pitched forward as the boys barreled into him, their roars fierce and wild enough to compete with the Tiger Lord himself. Ace slammed a fist into the bastard’s head once, twice. Each hit was so powerful that his face bounced off the floor, leaving dark smears across the wooden surface. Bowtie man groaned and turned to jelly under his legs.

Sabo had rolled off the man and reached for Honyo as she picked herself up. She wiped the back of her shaking hand across her forehead― he saw red and his knuckles cracked loudly ―blue eyes shiny with fresh tears of pain and unadulterated fury. She readjusted her grip on the bottle. Sabo had barely wrapped his hand around her arm when she lunged.

A glint of light. A flash of silver. Ace didn’t have time to fully register everything as he leapt up, wrapping his arms around Honyo’s waist, and pulled her back. 

The knife in Bowler hat guy’s hand slashed through empty air, harmless.

“Take it back!” Honyo screamed again. “Take back what you said right now!”

“What the hell is your problem you little menace?!” Bowler hat shook harder than a leaf in an autumn breeze, brandishing his little knife in one hand while the other held a stained kerchief to a nasty looking gash on his balding head.

He could feel his grip slipping as Honyo struggled to reach out and keep attacking the stranger, her face alight with fire and fury. Sabo slipped his arms under hers and received an elbow to his face for his efforts. With a grunt the two managed to pull her back a couple more steps.

There was a long running understanding that pissing off a Roronoa was like inviting a storm into your house when you were better off leaving the door shut. But in that moment the only thing Ace could think as he and Sabo struggled to hold Honyo back, was that this was nothing short of a testament to the little girl’s strength.

“Us kids aren’t as stupid as you think we are!” she growled. “Adults like you that go runnin’ your mouths are the worst! You can’t just say another kid should die just because of who their parents are— It’s wrong and you better take it back now!”

His heart flew up into his throat and locked the air out. She had started a brawl because of― Because of that? Ace had never told Honyo about who his father was. He’d been too scared, was absolutely terrified right now, of the idea of her knowing and… and hating him. And yet… And yet she―

Bowler hat guy couldn’t seem to believe that all this ruckus had been because of his careless words either, his mouth hitting the floor for one short moment before incredulous chuckles filled the air.

“And what would a sniveling little girl like you know about what’s right and wrong? Don’t you know about the things that devil Roger did? Any kid of his would be just as bad― no, worse ―and shouldn’t be allowed so much as an inch of life!”

Ace ducked his head, twisting the fabric of Honyo’s shirt around his fists. Sharp eyes flickered down and back at the man, nostrils flaring. Pulling her arm back as far as she could get it with Sabo holding onto her, Honyo flung the rest of her weapon at the man and beaned him square in the forehead.

“Existing isn’t a crime you thick skulled bigot! It never has been and it never will be!”

His heart was being squeezed to death and filled to the brim with warmth all at once. It was too much. Dark eyes flickered up, startled.

“Existence isn’t a crime! Being born and living isn’t a crime! What should be a crime is people like you that go around saying children should die just because you’re chicken shit scared of their parents!”

A collective gasp raced around the room. Ace found it difficult to pry his eyes away from Honyo. For such a small kid she looked so big just then. She was rage and passion, a thin trail of dried blood smeared down her face from a small, bruising cut on her temple, and the shine in her eyes had finally broken free. Big fat tears rolled down her cheeks and dribbled off her chin. One fell onto his face.

‘She’s crying for… me?’

“That’s― That’s treason!” Bowler hat raved. “Treason against the World Government―”

And didn’t that seem to be the root of so many problems in this world. What a fool to admit his flawed thoughts stemmed from them.

The doors creaked, soft footsteps treading across the floor.

“I’ll have you reported! You hear me, I’ll―”

The presence that washed over him was familiar and warm. Often it reminded him of summer days spent lounging in the grass beneath the sun, where gentle winds would tease at stray strands of his hair and he would nap, content. But underneath all that was the warning of a blade that did not reveal itself for idle reasons. And it was being dangerously provoked at that moment.

“Now, what’s going on here?” Cheerful as always, as if he couldn’t bother with being serious; Ace had never felt more relieved to hear that voice.

“Poppop!” Honyo yelped, the same time the boys squawked, “Shin!”

Roronoa Shin came to a stop a few steps away from the disaster zone they all occupied, dusty blue eyes wandering over everything with faint curiosity. Absently he carded his fingers through his light hair and messed it up even more than it already was. 

When Ace had first met Shin he’d thought the man was a clumsy dope and wasn’t good for much despite his broad build.

That was one mistake he had been careful to never make again.

A small frown tugged at his lips. Shin shuffled closer to the odd formation of children― Honyo had stopped struggling now but there was still a feral glint in her tear filled eyes ―reaching out to gingerly cup his daughter’s face and examine her cut.

“So.” His voice was soft, a small, frightening smile replacing the frown. “Which one of you upstanding looking gentlemen hurt my baby bean?”

“That hellion is your brat?” Bowler hat was sweating bullets even as he blustered through with false bravado. “We were minding our own business when she attacked out of nowhere and for no good reason! If you think―”

Honyo surged forward causing Ace and Sabo to fall on top of her in surprise. “Liar! Liar, liar, liar, liar! You said a kid should die if their parent was a criminal and you still haven’t taken it back!”

Shin’s eyes twitched. He looked from his daughter to the man quaking in his just a little too nice boots. “My bean doesn’t start fights for no good reason. And that sounded like a damn good reason to me.”

Without looking back he said, “Why don’t you three head outside and wait just a minute for me, m’kay? I’ll take care of things from here.”

The blade had revealed itself and was baring its fang with a dangerous glimmer. Ace and Sabo scrambled to their feet, neither letting go of Honyo this time as they hauled her up, and made an immediate beeline for the doors.

Pleasant as ever, Shin returned his attention to the men, waving to Aya and the cook as if he was simply stopping by to talk as he usually did. They backed off, trading knowing looks. To the group of strangers, though, the smile he graced them with was as biting as ice.

“Now, let’s have a little chat, shall we?”