#it’s currently a Boring as Hell Beige

[sweet-as-kiwis]

I GET TO REPAINT OUR BOOK ROOM LETS GOOOOOO

[thenhlteaissuperhot]

what do you think of the tkachuk vs mcdavid "face of the nhl" debate?

since people magazine called tkachuk the "face of the nhl" butthurt hockey men are saying that will never be true because mcdavid is the face of the nhl. the way i see it, mcdavid might be the best player but he has the personality of beige wallpaper and tkachuk might be a rat but seems to have a fun personality

also, who do you think the nhl should market more to be the "face"? boring but the best players in the world (mcdavid, crosby, mckinnon etc) or talented fun personality guys (tkachuk, pasta, zegres etc)

I see it the same as you do.

No one can deny that McDavid is currently and will continue to be the best NHL forward - it is something every single person who gets into the world of ice hockey and consequently even the world of the NHL grasps and accepts as a fact.

However, just as you have said Connor has a personality of beige wallpaper (I love that term so much by the way). You see it every single time he is asked to do any sort of promotional content during the All-Star Week, before the season shooting, or during it. The outcome of that is always something you can hardly sell to his fans, who are die-hard supporters of the cult of "McJesus" - even those people oftentimes consider it as unwatchable - so now imagine what would people, who have no idea what NHL is, say if McDavid really was the face and his content would be the one, with which would the league be trying to expand its fanbase.

It's not that I blame him for being socially awkward, everyone has a different sort of personality and not everyone is born as a social butterfly with an undeniable charm, but the NHL and those fans who passionately defend his "face of the league" title need to realize that being the best player and the most marketable player thus the face of the league are two completely different roles and McDavid can play only the first one. Just like Crosby.

Simultaneously, you have to take into consideration that they are looking for primarily an American face of the league - that's market where they are competing with other big and more known leagues like NFL, NBA, and so on, you don't need that much promotion in Canada where it is a national sport or in Europe where you could definitely find many more fans but where you have the huge disadvantage of the time difference so you will never have thousands of Europeans watching the games at 2 AM when they have to go to work the next day. If you use a Canadian or European player as the face of the league, it won't register as big of a success as you would love to. This is the USA we are talking about, the most ridiculously patriotic country I know, they want an American face or else they won't support it.

That's why the league is pushing guys like Matthew Tkachuk or Auston Matthews (or at times even Zegras) because they are both players with actual talent but also a big marketability aspect and mainly with American passports.

Naturally, there are players who would be even bigger internet sensations if they were American - look at David Pastrnak, that man has been born a showman and a great player on top of that, he would absolutely kill the face of the league game if he wasn't from the Czech Republic and so would Mitch Marner if he wasn't Canadian, hell even Brad Marchand has an elite personality or Jaromir Jagr if he once again wasn't Czech. To this day Jagr is the most beloved player from the big guys (Gretzky, Lemieux, Ovechkin...) because he was and still is a f*cking comedian on top of being an ice hockey legend.

[mdemontespan1667]

STUPID GIRL

BLIND SPOT (3)

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

THE LONG WALK (1)

JANE DOE (2)

18+ ONLY

SOFT DARK WALTER MARSHALL X READER

SUMMARY: YOU'RE JUST DOING YOUR JOB. TOO BAD SOMEONE DOESN'T AGREE.

(I moved the dates of this to the current year instead of 2018 so hopefully my dates match. I used what character information I could find for Walter and either filled it in with the actor's info or just winged it since no explanation was ever given for his accent. I did my best to research the neighborhoods and streets mentioned. If I made a mistake I apologize.)

SERIES WARNING: NON-CON/DUB-CON/GRAPHIC VIOLENCE/TORTURE/DEATH/DESCRIPTIONS OF DEAD BODIES/VAGINAL SEX/ORAL SEX/ANAL SEX/REFERENCES TO SEXUAL ASSAULT/REFERENCES TO MURDER/STALKING/CHOKING/SLAPPING

“Detective Marshall, Is this the 8th victim of the Hennepin Hatchet?” 

“No comment.”

The man bristled at the name, barely concealed disdain in his expression.

You didn’t like the name any better.

Giving murderers cutesy names took the focus off the victims.

But the Press, yourself included, had to call this psycho something.

“Get out of my fucking crime scene”

“I’m not in your fucking crime scene.”

You gestured to the yellow police tape, flapping in the bitter wind, which you were currently behind, barely. 

Detective Marshall grunted, clearly annoyed.

“I’m just trying to do my job. The public has a right to know if a serial killer is operating in Minneapolis.”

Crossing his arms, he fixed you with a bored stare. 

“What makes you think this is serial? Prostitutes get killed all the time. Hazards of the profession.”

“You’re joking right?”

You rolled your eyes.

“All the victims were last seen in the Hennepin area, all petite blondes, all sexually assaulted, stabbed and mutilated. There’s no way in hell this isn’t the same guy.”

“No comment.”

The dark haired Detective walked away, effectively dismissing you.

“Can you confirm Madison Harper was missing her left breast?”

Turning back he lumbered toward you.

Oh shit.

Detective Marshall was a veritable bear of a man, with a rumored temper to match.

And you?

You’d just poked him, big time. 

“Where did you get that information?”

“No comment,” you sassed.

 Apparently you had no sense of self-preservation.

“If you don’t get the fuck out of here,” he growled, “I’m gonna have your ass arrested for interfering with a police investigation.”

“C’mon. Give me something, anything.”

You tried your best to bat your eyes.

“Officer Barton,” he shouted to a uniform, “I need you to..”

“Ok, Ok,” you threw up your hands, “I’m going.”

You stomped to your ancient, beige Subaru. 

“Fucking prick.”

Driving away, you shivered, convinced the killer was just getting started.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I sincerely hope you're hitting submit as we speak.”

“I’m working on it.”

You glowered at your laptop, its blank Google Docs page taunting you.

“Uh, you know deadline’s in 3 hours?”

‘Yeah Brent, I know. I’m..I’m working on it.”

You hit the red dot, ending the call.

Brent was a great colleague, an even better friend.

SInce moving to Minneapolis a year and a half ago he was the only person you had gotten close to.

 Even so, the last thing you needed right now was more pressure.

FUCK FUCK FUCK 

Milton Turnbaldt, the editor of the Digital Division at the StarTribune, had finally moved you from Special Interest to the Crime Beat.

It was the next step in “THE PLAN” you’d mapped out since graduation. 

Imagining yourself a modern day Helen Thomas, visions of Pulitzers had danced in your mind. 

Reality had been a bit different.

Two years writing bar reviews for Bar Fly and one disastrous year at Chicago Suburban Family had been followed by a three year stint at the Chicago Sun Times, where the closest you got to reporting anything was letting Maintenance know a lightbulb was out in the Ladies room.

Getting hired at the  StarTribune had seemed like a dream come true, even if you’d had to move to Minnesota. 

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK 

It was obvious this woman was the 8th victim. 

Problem was every other reporter knew it, even if the cops refused to acknowledge the fact.

Your one advantage was your intuition. 

The women had to have been comfortable with the killer, therefore, he was most likely good looking, charming and came off as harmless. Every victim had voluntarily left their comfort zone, something sex workers usually refused to do. 

The pre- and post-mortem mutilation meant the killer felt confident enough in his surroundings to spend hours with the women, unconcerned about noise or the mess. His secondary location had to be isolated enough for his purpose but close enough to Hennepin Ave that the victims had been willing to take a chance.

Unofficial autopsy reports on each victim listed copious amounts of lube found in the vaginal and anal cavities. It wasn’t unusual for sex workers to use lube but this seemed excessive. The ME had attributed the internal micro-tears and bruising to the sexual assault. That, coupled with the lube, had you leaning in a different direction: The killer was having sex with the dying women. 

Too bad you couldn’t prove any of it.

Neither could you publish the information about the missing body part or lube without totally outing your source at the morgue, although that ship had kinda sailed when you showed your hand to the detective.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK 

Praying for Divine intervention, you started typing.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What do you think Claude?”

The overweight Tabby cat yawned.

“Thanks for the support. I’ll remember that next time you want a treat.”

Looking at your reflection in the full length bathroom mirror, you critically assessed your outfit: short, pleated black polyester tennis skirt, metallic silver cowl neck top, dingy, thigh high, white spiked boots, and a cropped, pink fake fur bomber jacket.

Heavy eye makeup, red lips and purposely mussed hair completed the disguise.

This classy ensemble, courtesy of the local thrift shop, had cost you a grand total of $53.98, an amount you really couldn’t afford.

But since the police, one surly detective in particular, weren’t talking you were just gonna have to find someone who would. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your feet were numb. 

Whether it was from the insanely high heels or the -2 degrees (F) windchill you didn’t know.

Or care.

After walking the Hennepin Ave circuit for 3 hours you had a whole lot of nothing. 

The sex workers definitely knew something.

Clustered in groups of 3 or 4, they murmured to themselves, cell phone cameras flashing, warning potential customers they were being watched, however, no one was willing to talk to a stranger. 

A midnight blue, extended cab pickup pulled up, idling at the curb. 

“Come here.”

“Uh, sorry, I’m..uh.. off the clock.”

He wasn’t the first guy who’d tried to engage you.

Maybe your refusal to leave with a client had given you away.

“Come here or I’ll bring you here.”

Tentatively you stepped closer.

“I said I’m not…Are you fucking kidding me Marshall?”

He sat hunched over the steering wheel, eyes blazing at you.

Beyond annoyed, you hissed, “Go away.”

“Get in the truck.”

“No.” 

“Get in the goddamn truck now.”

Mimicking his earlier behavior, you crossed your arms.

“You can’t tell me what to….”

The cab of the truck flooded with light as he opened the driver side door.

“Fine!”

In a huff, you climbed in, fastening your seatbelt before throwing him a scowl.

He ignored you, smoothly merging with the heavy Friday night traffic.

“Where’d you park that piece of shit car?”

You refused to answer, making a show of sulking.

“Answer me or..”

“Or what?” you interrupted, “You had no right harassing me, asshole.”

“Excuse me?” 

His harsh tone was  a clear indicator you’d pissed him off.

“Your car?”

“It’s at my apartment. I took an Uber.”

The Detective sighed.

“Exactly what the hell were you trying to accomplish out there?”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“You’re no help so I…”

“You what? You decided to play fucking dress up? Do you have any idea how dangerous the streets are? Some freak is killing prostitutes and your stupid ass is running around pretending to be one.”

“Are you finished?”

He clenched his jaw, cheek ticking.

“Contrary to your belief I’m not stupid. I can take care of myself.”

You reached in your bag producing a sleek, highly illegal taser.

“Plus I have this. And yes, I know how to use it.”

Taking a sharp left turn he headed South.

“Um, where are we going?”

“I’m taking you home.”

“How do you….”

“Born and raised in the Gold Coast area of Chicago. Only child. Undergrad at University of Chicago, Masters in Communication from Loyola, which your ridiculously rich mother paid for. You worked at two small time local papers then the Chicago Sun where you, what? Got coffee for three years? You took a job at the StarTribune 18 months ago writing online fluff. You live in the East Phillips neighborhood,  don’t drink, smoke or do drugs and generally have no social life. I like to know who I’m dealing with.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock, more than a little angry he’d checked you out.

“Pretty good,” you retorted, “My turn.”

“Born in the Channel Islands. Strict Catholic upbringing, four siblings, three boys, one girl. Attended St Michael’s Prep before transferring to Stowe School your Sophomore year, sorry, you call it Year 11. Joined the London Metropolitan Police Force in 2008, the same year you married Angie Stultz. She was interning for Warrener Stewart right?”

You rambled on, not waiting for an answer.

“Your daughter Faye was born the next year. Four years later you were promoted to the Criminal Investigations Department. You started out in Street Crime, then Organized Crime, until landing in Major Crimes in 2015. January of 2017 you and the little family moved to Minneapolis, where your wife was from but you didn’t start with the police department here for another 5 months so I’m assuming you were a house husband until your emigration papers cleared. Apparently you weren’t a very good husband, house or otherwise, cause your wife filed for divorce under “Irreconcilable DIfferences” a little over a year ago. You live alone, don’t smoke or do drugs and are generally recognized as a bully. I like to know who I’m dealing with.”

You flashed a Chesire grin.

Uh, oh.

If looks could kill, you’d be dead, buried 6 feet down, “Here lies a stupid idiot who wouldn’t keep her mouth shut” carved in the marker. 

“Um, this is me.”

You pointed to a two story brick building, an empty storefront on the first floor, your studio apartment on the second.

“Why do you live in this shithole? With mommy’s money you could be living in the Carlyle or Legacy.”

“I wanted to prove I can make it on my own. And this neighborhood? It’s not as bad as people think. The Pizzeria over there? The old, Italian couple that own it let anyone who needs to use the free wifi. On the weekends they stay open late and offer a free slice and drink so the kids have a safe place to go.”

You became animated, warming to the topic.

“Mrs Freemantle, in the brownstone next door, invites me over three or four times a month. Her oxtail soup and mac and cheese are freaking amazing. She doesn't get around too well so I run errands for her once or twice a week.”

You peered out the windshield.

“Those two guys on the steps, the ones you gave the stink eye to? Andre and Tony? They fixed my car for a six pack and a pizza the last time it crapped out.”

“Probably with stolen parts,” he mumbled.

“I bought the parts, you judgemental ass.” you spat.

Jerking the handle, you exited the vehicle.

Snow swirled in the open door.

“People here care more about each other than anyone ever did in the swanky condo’s I grew up in. Thanks for the ride.”

You flung the door closed with a thud.

Trekking up the sidewalk, you quickly unlocked the outside door, your mind already on a molten hot shower.

“Honey, I’m home,” you announced to the tiny studio, tossing your bag and coat on the fifth-hand orange and green couch. 

You stretched, exhausted, looking forward to…..

It happened so fast.

One second you were contemplating splurging an extra ten minutes in the shower, the next you were slammed against the kitchen wall, Detective Marshall’s forearm across your neck, other hand over your  mouth.

You flailed at him, hitting and kicking. 

It was like fighting a marble statue.

He leaned in, leg slotted between yours. 

“Taser ain’t much help now is it.”

You pushed at his arm.

“How fucking stupid are you? You didn’t even lock your fucking door. Anyone…”

You bit his fingers, drawing blood. 

He let go, surprised by your counterattack. 

“Get the hell out of…..”

His hand closed around your throat.

Your chest heaved from adrenaline, his booming heartbeat matching yours. 

Without warning, his lips crashed to yours.

The kiss was desperate, all consuming, his beard scratching your delicate skin.

His hand slipped under your top and cheap push-up bra, palming your breast, rough fingers pinching the already pebbled nipple.

The kiss deepened to something dark, Marshall taking control.

You rocked your hips against his muscled thigh, your core on fire.

Snaking down your belly, he slid his hand beneath the waistband of you skirt, callused digits gliding through your damp, plumped slit.

He circled your clit, applying light pressure with each pass, thumb randomly sweeping the bundle of nerves. 

Lost in a sea of sensation, you mewled, the sound swallowed by his warm, searching mouth.

“Tell me to stop.”

Afraid he wouldn’t stop, even more afraid he would, you remained silent as you unzipped his jeans, freeing his heavy cock.

Gathering the sticky wetness from the tip, you stroked his length.

“Fuck.”

The whispered obscenity went straight to your cunt, fresh slick coating his hand. 

He tore your black tights in one motion, leaving you bare.

Marshall lifted your leg, curling it around his waist, his cock poised at you sopping entrance.

“Last chance.”

You draped your arms around his shoulders, balancing yourself.

Taking that as a sign, he pressed into you, you channel stretching painfully.

You cried out, the burn almost too much.

His lips latched to yours, tongues sparing until his cock was fully ensheathed in your heat. 

He pulled out, briefly hesitated, before thrusting in again.

Breaking the kiss, you buried your face in his neck, fingers tangling in his dark curls.

He fucked you now, hips pistoning, his fingers digging into your flesh.

Marshall’s feral grunts mingled with your needy moans.

Tendrils of electricity surged along your nerves.

He lifted your leg higher, changing the angle of penetration, his cock hitting the soft, spongy spot repeatedly. 

“Please,..please..” you choked out.

“I’ve got you.”

You came with a sob, hips pumping in time with his, cunt clenching, the sheer intensity of your orgasm frightening, wave after wave threatening to drown you. 

He drove into you faster, chasing his own release. 

All you could do was hold on, tears staining his coarse, coal gray sweater.

You felt him swell, hips stuttering.

His muscles flexed as he came, pushing you against the wall, milky ropes of cum splashing your walls.

Fevered lust dissipating, he rested his cheek on your head.

Untangling limbs, Marshall fastened his jeans.

He didn’t stay, instead turning towards the door.

Hand on the brass knob, he paused.

“I’m sorry. This shouldn’t have happened.”

His words froze the question in your throat.

Door closed, you collapsed to the floor, head bowed, knees to chest.

“What the hell just happened.” 

@xoxabs88xox @imanuglywombat @fanfic-fangirl @caffiend-queen @alexakeyloveloki @americasass81 @lokislastlove @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @sweeterthanthis @ironlady1993 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @jennmurawski13 @starynighty @sapphirescrolls @xsapphirescrollsx @sagechanoafterdark @momc95 @jtargaryen18 @demonsandpieohmy @dangertoozmanykids101 @lizzystuffsthings @nildespirandum @shikin83 @sinceimetyou @buckybarnesandmarvel @imdarkinme @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @titty-teetee @saiyanprincessswanie @littlefreya

[qutemag]

The movie guy reviews: Thunderball

by Benjamin Harkin

Only seen this one once before, and I'm a massive Bond fan. I'm reminded why I didn't like Thunderball. Connery's hurried acting screams bored with the role. The scuba fight scenes are a mess of flailing and bubbles. Thunderball as a title means nothing, it's not even a quip.

I can only list the problems. A woman visibly pisses off a turtoise by riding its shell, and there's numerous shots of sharks being killed. The second unit stuff is obviously so boring that they need to speed it all up artificially in action scenes. Lagos is the villain parodied in every Bond parody because he plays the role like an imitation of an actual Bond villain, at once too beige and too over the top, straddling that fine line of utter mediocrity. The jetpack in the opening scene serves no purpose. The femme fatale gives a painfully on the nose monologue about how "bond james bond" will never win her over, despite this being one of the few times he introduces himself to a woman as merely "james bond", missing the catchphrase opportunity. Not to mention his treatment of the female nurse is among the most menacing and misogynistic of the Connery era (the bit where he strangles a woman with her own bikini in Diamonds Are Forever notwithstanding).

The rack torture scene which was both stupid and funny. The henchman Vargas is defined as a dude who's thing is he has no hobbies. Terrifying. Bond actually fucks up and gets caught in a crevasse on an island and needs the coast guard to rescue him. This one feels like everyone involved had a contract for a Bond film and did it with no pizazz or interesting ideas, just playing out tropes covered in the last three movies. I'm glad the series moved the hell on.

I'm not one to tear the absurdities of a Bond film down but this one felt so tired and overdone and the worst elements of Connery's Bond.

(Thunderball is currently streaming on Stan and Prime Video.)

[purlturtle]

For the Writers Truth or Dare ask game:

🕯 (candle - do you like editing)

⛸ (roller skate but I don't have that one on desktop 😢 - describe your latest WIP with 5 emojis)

🍦 (ice cream cone - name three good things about a character you hate)

Thank you for the ask, these sound like a great challenge! (full list here)

🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that?

Starting strong - I gotta go all the way to my writing process here, to explain my reply of "a strong 8 - I do enjoy it a lot"

I never learned to write, as in, had a creative writing class, or part of German (or even second-language class)! More specifically, I never learned to draft. My first draft is very often already 80-90% of what will end up on the page, complete with all scenes, adjectives, names of secondary characters etc etc. My editing is mostly catching typos/grammar mistakes and swapping one word or phrase for another. Full re-writes of a scene, taking out a scene, starting a scene over: that happens during the writing process, for me, and even there it's rare. I think I re-ordered scenes once or twice in my entire writing "career"? (as in, this doesn't fit here, I'll cut and paste it somewhere else)

And so, the editing that I do is a clear servicing of my fic in order to make it better, and I always love to do that.

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis

Oh boy 😅 I'm currently on desktop too, and the number of emojis is wayyy to small for here. I'll post this when I've answered the third question, and then switch to mobile and edit in hopefully better fitting emojis!

Edit: okay here we go:

🏚️👰‍♂️🤵‍♀️😤🥰

🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate

Sheesh!! That one is hard. To start with, I don't hate a lot. Like, that word is so strong, it applies to *maybe* one character - and even there it's more of a "I strongly dislike this guy for his actions and motives but I appreciate that that is only because of his (very necessary) role in the narrative." So... let's go with a character that gives me the biggest eyeroll impulse:

Nate No-Last-Name from the Warehouse episode "Instinct"; Mister Blandy Milquetoast McBlandface. It's easy to mock him because he's obviously so ill-suited to being H.G. Wells' romantic partner - but she did choose him, so let's try and find good-faith reasons why.

he clearly loves his daughter very much, and does his best to be a good dad to her. And a lot of that is providing stability/reliability, which can easily be read as boring, but hey, an eight year old (or whatever Adelaide's age is in that episode) doesn't really need the kind of excitement that the artifact brings to their household, and certainly not on a weekly basis.

he equally clearly loves Helena as well. However much or little that is requited or based on any kind of truth, it is there. He's approaching her in good faith, he cares about her, he is trying to build something good with her.

he clearly provides something that Helena is seeking, be it consciously or subconsciously. Hell, a little bit of boring stability and reliability can be exactly what someone needs to get their feet back under them! I only ever read "playing house" being said very disparagingly, with a scoff and a head-toss, but Christ, don't we all need a break sometimes? Doesn't Helena, after all she's been through - all that the Warehouse and the Regents put her through?

I really do like "Instinct" a whole lot, as a character moment for Helena. As much as it hurts my shipper heart to see her in that beige suburban home, I can understand why she's there. And Nate is integral to that, just as much as Adelaide. Yes, he's clearly someone "good enough", someone "at least he respects me as an equal" - not someone you choose because passion has smashed you into their arms, but also, not someone with whom every day is a rollercoaster for emotions. It's like when you have an upset stomach: maybe the richest, tastiest, hottest of all foods isn't a good idea right now. Having bland stuff for a while will help you heal. Might be nothing to write home about, but has all the nutrients and does not aggravate.

Oh man, that turned out to be a long answer! Thank you for asking, that was fun!

[memo-irvine-fall-2024]

Anh Nguyen

Looking for a LITTLE!

Year: 4th

Major/Minor: Developmental and Cell Biology/Health Informatics

Favorite Color: Dark blue, dark green, beige, white, maroon, black

Favorite Snacks: Matcha pocky, flan, 75% dark chocolate, hot cheetos, chincharrones, choco pie, shaved ice, mango sticky rice/mint matcha latte, H2O, soy bean milk, mango lassi, hojicha, hulk juice (Moon Goat) :>

Favorite Animal: Wombat, siberian cat, British long hair cat, Russian blue, axolotl

Favorite Hobbies: Dance, travel, watch K-drama and movies, cafe hopping, playing puzzles and board games, trying new restaurants,

Dream Destinations: Korea, Kazakhstan, Switzerland

About: I was born and raised in Sai Gon, Viet Nam. I came to Irvine in 2015 and stayed here ever since, so feel free to hmu if you need recommendations. I like to be in door so cafe hopping or getting brunch and dinner is always preferred; but I am go to hike and swim sometimes. I have been doing a Harry Potter series marathon every year around Christmas time. My current favorite K-drama is The Judge From Hell, and my all-time favorite is Twenty-five Twenty-one. During boring lab time or when I am trying to avoid conversation while walking to classes, I usually listen to my playlists called "Dancing through the day," or "A nomad." Obscurify ranked the music I listened to as 70% more obscured than 2 millions US users, with my top genres being V-pop/hipop/indie and K-r&b/rap/pop.

What are you looking for in your future Big/Little?: Down to earth, have some shared interest/experience, pursuing similar path to health care or medicine.

[fandxmslxt69]

42 & 43 for invasive asks 😘

hi pretty girl <3

42. what do you think is the best room color?

HMMMM. i think greens are nice. yeah its my fsavourite colour but its also calming. like ok this is weird but im obsessed with green for bathrooms. like green and rustic browns and whites. its SO GORGEOUS and it would be so...oh my god yeah.

I also think like shades of browns and whites and golds are really cute. kind of like that lightish aesthetic vibe? hella cute too. i like home-y vibes so a lot of neutral tones but not those office building whites and greys. like earthy browns and leafy greens and woods. mmmmmm. yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

anyway i cant remember if i answered this properly. yeah yeah earthy tones and light colours. mmmmm. white is also nice to give it kind of a open space vibe. MY current bedroom is a very light sea green and my closet doors are all woody/bamboo designs and there's lots of white everywhere. it fits very nicely. but i would not die if i had a cute like...light brown room. cute beiges and golden hues.

like hello its cute. i dont LOVE the lack of colour (hence why i like the green bc you can add so much with it) but i think its very comfy, especially for a kitchen. most definitely for a kitchen.

ANYWAY MY MAIN ANSWER IS GREEN OMFG YOU DID NOT ASK FOR A WHOLE THESIS SORRY (my passion is interior design i cant be that sorry actually) yeah green. bc it offers that nice element of elegance (like darker shades of green) if paired with the right colours ( whites, blacks, gold) but can also give a homey rustic look for those earthy greens and some browns and whites and beiges, but ALSO an open air sort of look with lighter sea greens. mmm. yeah yeah yeah. UGHGBUJHBUGHUGHJGUJGH

43. what books did you grow up with?

oh man okay. Um. the FIRST book I read was. Harry Potter at the ripe little age of 3rd grade. dunno why but i saw it and i was like "what the hell." and then i got SO BORED bc Words. but then I read Charlotte's Web!!! and i loved it so so much. umm. But yeah primarily Harry Potter throughout a LOT LOT of years. My mother has a collection of her old books in arabic too so it was the perfect excuse. the first book gift i actually got was (from her) the third book. Very neat of her but it started an obsession and she regrets it.

Um oh I also read a LOT of those WISH romance stories? hang on omfg

this book. I bought that book from the book fair in primary school. i still have it- given the cover is completely ripped off and its so worn out from so many rereads (I owned a total of 5 books up until 2-3 years ago) but its my favourite. I read so so many others ones but this one stuck. Anyway that's where my romance addiction really started I think. I was obsessed. I still am. it's...yeah. t's special to me.

I also read Percy Jackson when I moved to a very rich school and had the pleasure of exploring the 2 floor huge ass library they had. It was a blessing. I had left some artwork behind when we moved and they have t hung in the library (I literally lived there oh my god ahaha).

OH OH THERE WAS OOOOH M GOF OKAY

god ciara you opened pandora's box with this one

i read these books. oh my fucking god i own the series- msot of it. i ALSO read them at the rich fancy school which my parents paid like 5000$ for anyway

HELLO. it started my love for fantasy i think. i loved harry potter i DID and while i do enjoy books that are similar to it (heavy fantasy, big magical systems) such as, for example, ACOTAR bu SJM (I have not read those books. But they are a big example and similar genres to Harry Potter)

I really really love the simple easy goings of retellings and silly little fantasies. Land of Stories literally shaped my life. It's why I gravitate much more towards fantasies like the Caravel series by Stephanie Garber or Once Upon a Broken Heart by Stephanie Garber (she 's my favourite author EVER.). they're light and they have that princess-y magical vibe- not the wands and wizards magic or the supernatural magic but more like....the fairy tale magic. im a simple girl at heart. give me fairy tales and i will giggle to myself for hours on end.

anyway yeah. those are the books that pretty much shaped my whole life. i got into historical retellings and sci fi and shit way after but those books got to me and influenced me so much I can pinpoint the exact points of how they changed me and how they led to me reading ehat i read today

anyway.

anyway. i will shut up before i get to more.

I LOVE YOU CIARA

[blue-eyed-bloodstains]

When was the last time you swam in a pool? 🏊‍♀️ a few years ago (pre COVID) at Hershey Park Water Park with my fiance. wayyy overdue to go swimming this summer

Would you rather have an indoor pool or outdoor pool? doesn’t really matter to me

What was the last thing you said out loud? “oh my gooooodddddddd” bitching at my computer trying to get music playing to start this lmao 

Do you think you could ever be an opera singer? hell no!

How often do you eat bread? 🥖 I’m Italian/Irish mostly so it’s most of my diet lol I’d say maybe 3-4 times a week given we get subs and burgers a lot

When was the last time you looked in the mirror and thought you looked pale? I’m ALWAYS pale, not just the Irish in me but  I’m barely ever outside due mostly to debilitating illnesses making it hard to physically function for long on my feet for years now so...yeah

Have you ever wanted to be a nurse? 👩‍⚕️ not a nurse no but I did wanna be a vet for a long time as a kid so basically yeah just for animals instead

Would you ever want to be a nurse? Why or why not? no, I live in and out of hospitals I always have and I’d never be able to handle the trauma and mental/emotional hell...

Who or what do you worship? I don’t worship anything, I have my beliefs but I’m not religious

What was the last thing someone made fun of you for? ha seriously? what DON’T they? umm but for a lighter note of being made fun of, messing with one another between a friend and I on FB vid last week

Do you own a mini sewing kit that you use for altering clothing? 🧵 no my fiance’s parents are the sewers lol 

Do you know a Ted? I have in the past but not currently no

Do you own a beret? 👩‍🎨 no

When was the last time you wore a beret? when I was real young in gymnastics for a performance

What is one thing you have found to be a bore? my every day which is stuck home couch ridden alone stuck to my own devices, especially with my fiance being gone for work all the time

Where do you keep your out-of-season clothes? I don’t own many clothes, so I don’t have “seasons” 

If you had to pick your top three favorite colors, what would they be? black, blue, beige/tan

How many inches do you normally have to hem up your pants? 👖 please I’ve never needed to, pants have always been mostly “floods” on me cause of my height and long legs lmao

What are three things you would buy if you were rich? 🤑 our own house, my own car (nothing flashy), lots of pets

How many times in your life have you been stung by a bee or a wasp? 🐝 never thank god and I don’t plan on it! knowing my luck that’ll be the only thing I’m actually allergic to on top of it hurting like all hell

Have you ever swam in one of the Great Lakes? nope would love to though

….and if so, how many of the Great Lakes have you swam in? –

Do you believe in the devil? 👹 yeah? look around, how could you not??

What is one thing you wish were more easily accessible? mental health care/treatment

Do you enjoy playing icebreaker games when you’re in a group of people you just met? ummm not sure I’ve ever really played any, but I’d like to since I’m very socially anxious so it’d help me relax a bit

What is your favorite icebreaker game? –

What is one thing you find serene? standing on the beach at the Highlands in NJ where we spread Mimi’s ashes...I try to go every anniversary of her death and I always feel her there so strong and I can actually just breathe and relax...

Have you ever chopped something with an axe? 🪓 no and I’d probably fail miserably lol

What is your favorite genre of music? I love most anything

What is one thing you like that tastes sour? I mean I can suck on a lemon or lime no problem without cringing? then again I’m an alcoholic so that’s probably why I got used to it from garnishes lol

Do you think “Sour Patch Kids” sounds too much like “Cabbage Patch Kids”? I guess lol never really thought about it 

Did you ever own a Cabbage Patch doll when you were a kid? umm I could swear Mimi got me one when I was a baby from what I was told but I don’t remember it

Do you like the candy Sour Patch Kids? yeah they’re delicious and now I want some dammit! 

What was the last song you listened to on repeat? Nutshell by Alice In Chains....

What is one mistake you’ve made that you hope to never repeat? pretty much my entire life, swear to god...

What was the last thing you baked in the oven? pssh me bake? XD

Have you ever been to a track meet? 🏃‍♀️ no

What do you call the bathroom? Do you say bathroom, restroom, washroom, lavatory, loo, toilet, latrine, or….? bathroom, occasionally restroom if I need a public one and I’m asking an employee at whatever store

When was the last time you made guacamole? 🥑 I never have

Do you know of any schools that have the beaver for a mascot? not that I know of

Have you ever stayed in a suite? no, just an occasional real nice hotel room

[chungledown-bimothy]

That tattoo is so good omg!! I've been wanting to get another one for so long, but I don't know what I'd get quite just yet!!

Ajdhhdd literally I looked at Saccharina and my brain just went "OOP, favorite character" but also like. As a lesbian, gooey was just 👀👀👀 (sorry if that's TMI or anything!)

That is such a good line!! Ally is so funny to me- the pure indignation they put into that line and others when it comes to Preston's unfortunate demise was always so great. Also, I love that they constantly try to cover different aspects of the queer experience!

Oooof, Mormonism is rough. I grew up in a predominantly Mormon town (as in, more Mormons per Capita than Salt lake city) and most of my friends growing up were Mormon. All of the architecture in the temples and stuff looked (from the outside, at least. I was obviously never allowed inside) so sterile! I can't imagine that. What did you do during the 3 hours of church?? Because catholic mass is only like an hour and as a kid I got so bored I wouldn't pay attention at all.

I would literally just study all the gargoyles/angels/faces in general carved into the walls and ceiling, as well as the stained glass windows and statues. My brother and I got into trouble a few times because neither of us paid attention 😂 one time, we both stood up because our grandparents and most people around us stood up, and we didn't understand why our grandparents kept frantically trying to get us to sit down until the priest started talking about how all the married couples in the church were standing 😂😂 (it was valentine's day).

AaAAAAA I'm literally so excited!!!! I've been on a FOB kick lately! What are some of your favorite songs by them?

I wish I could do that 😭 I work nights (7 days where I work 12-hour shifts and then I have 7 days off) and Wednesdays are my Mondays and Fridays, so I'm usually sleeping most of the day!! But once I'm at work, I'm absolutely gonna be juggling both to the best of my ability!

- 🪐

thanks! it was my first, and it's the only one i've gotten so far that hasn't aged terribly lmfao

"another?" mind if i ask about your current tattoo situation? (no worries, of course, if you'd rather not)

i've been so thirsty for so many npcs on this blog, being into gooey is so far from tmi lol

i love ally so much. it's a little bit headcanon-y, but i think that, with timothy, they've now had a character that is L G B and T (i choose to believe pete is bi) and, of course, ace icon liam wilhelmina.

oof that's a fuckin lot of mormons

i've only been inside temples a few times (i started dating a non-member and therefore was unworthy to enter any more), and i left entirely before i could do any of the Really Culty Stuff, but trust me, the inside is even more sterile looking than the outside. everything is white and beige and boring as all hell.

iirc they changed it to 2 hours a few years back (now they alternate doing what used to be the second and third hours), but the 3 hour system was:

the first hour was essentially mass. everyone in one room, getting preached at, sacrament (rebranded communion), singing songs.

the second hour was sunday school. idk how the adults split up, maybe it was one big class? i left when i was 17. but the kids were split up by age, each group had a teacher, and we studied different parts of the scriptures and sometimes church history.

the third hour was essentially 5 separate second, smaller versions of the first hour, separated by age and gender (everyone under 12, 12-17 boys, 12-17 girls, adult men, adult women), but without the sacrament.

it was fucking terrible lmao

holy shit that's hilarious 😂 i was always too Anxious to cause trouble, but my brothers definitely did a lot of jumping up on the seats and making noise

oh goodness um. of all the gin joints and thks fr th mmrs for sure. dance dance goes without saying. also my songs know what you did in the dark.

the entirety of american beauty/american psycho fucks HARD.

i'm not good at picking favorite songs, clearly lmao

that's a fucking killer schedule my god D:

[heich0e]

thinking about my favorite tsukishima brother, akiteru （╹◡╹）♡

the love of my life, the wind beneath my wings, the brother of my nemesis

18+ MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT tags: not actually smutty but certainly suggestive, mention of daddy kink, mention of degradation kink, mention of an orthodontic device word count: 1k

You love Akiteru.

Really, you do.

He's kind, considerate, and incredibly sweet. 

He cares for you and tells you often, but more than that he shows you in the things he does. He brings you home flowers just because he saw them and thought of you. He always picks up your favourite pastry from the bakery down the road when he sees it in the window on his way home from work.

He's remarkably attentive, he's patient when you're feeling argumentative and never holds your shortcomings against you, and listens to you always--when you talk about your day, or your hobbies, or just whatever you feel like talking about, and no topic is treated with any less attention than the last.

You wouldn't change him for the world, and you love him.

But sometimes it feels like the two of you are closer to middle-aged than barely out of your twenties, with your whole lives still ahead of you.

And nothing quite drives the point home more than the night where, halfway through sex, Akiteru takes your face in his hand, turns it up towards him and says:

"Honey, you forgot to put your retainer in."

You stay awake for hours thinking about it afterwards, with Aki snoring quietly beside you none the wiser, his long legs tangled with yours. 

You stare up at the tasteful beige ceiling over your head as you succumb to the spiral of your thoughts, seconds and minutes and hours ticking agonizingly past, wondering when the hell you'd gotten so boring.

(And yes, you'd put in your retainer at Akiteru's insistence.)

The next morning you wake up, groggy and unrested though you may be, and you're still at a complete loss as to how your life had gotten to where it was, and what the hell you were supposed to do about it.

When you shuffle out to the kitchen in your slippers and your housecoat, Akiteru is already dressed and making breakfast. 

“Good morning,” he says, “I was just about to come and wake you.”

You make some sort of noise to signify that you've heard him and return his greeting, without the use of proper words. You open the fridge to grab some milk to set about preparing your morning coffee.

Akiteru seems to anticipate what you’re doing before you’ve even picked up the carton.

“I got a new kind of coffee at the store yesterday.” If Akiteru notices your sour mood he says nothing of it, turning his omelet over in the pan. “It’s supposed to be less acidic so it should be a bit easier on your tummy.” 

The fridge door slams closed with a little more force than you intend, but you find it strangely satisfying.

“Are you okay?” Akiteru asks, watching as you set the carton of milk down with an equal vigour to the way you’d shut the refrigerator. 

You hum a flat, noncommittal noise. 

Akiteru’s gaze is heavy on your face, tracing along the lines of your profile from where he stands at the stove. He extinguishes the burner in front of him, sliding his omelet onto the plate he has waiting, and then turns to face you properly. 

“Did you sleep well?” 

“I slept fine.” It’s the first time you speak, and your voice is still a little crackly from sleep but unmistakably curt. 

“Are you sure?” he presses, his brow creasing in concern. “You seem a little grumpy.”

“I said I’m fine,” you say, and though it’s not quite a snap you’re evidently irritated and it seeps into your words.

“You don’t need to take that tone with me,” Akiteru says calmly, if not a little bit chastising. 

“What are you my dad?” you say with a mirthless laugh. “You gonna send me to my room next?” 

You turn to face your boyfriend.

Your sweet, unassuming, incredibly vanilla boyfriend. 

Your boyfriend, who is only ever looking out for you.

Your boyfriend, who is currently flushing so red in the face that even the tips of his ears are burning. 

You pause, the opened carton of milk held aloft in one hand and the cap in the other. 

You blink at Akiteru, at the way he shies away while you look at him, like he doesn’t want you to examine him too closely.

Who looks mortified at the way he’s reacting. 

Who looks horny. 

“Oh my god,” you breathe the words, “did you get off on that?” 

“What?” Akiteru’s voice is nearly an entire octave higher than it had been a moment prior when he finally stutters out his reply. “No! Of course not!” 

“Oh my god,” you repeat yourself, your suspicions all but confirmed. You set the carton of milk down and stalk towards him, and he instinctively backs himself into the counter upon your approach. 

Akiteru looks like he wants the tiled floor to open and swallow him whole as you crane up on your tiptoes towards him, getting in his face. Your fingers twist into the material of his t-shirt. 

“Aki,” you simper. “Did you like it when I called you dad?”

He shakes his head back and forth, but his eyes are fixed on the way your lips part in a knowing little smile. 

“Would you like it better if I called you daddy?” 

Akiteru takes your face in his hands, his touch warm against your cheeks. 

“Baby, stop,” he pleads, his voice strained. 

“Then tell me you don’t like it,” you say breathily. 

“I don’t, I-“ he swallows hard, eyes flickering up towards the ceiling like he’s hoping to see god and seek his guidance. His eyes flutter shut. “I just… I like it when you act like that.”

You pause, your face still cradled in the palms of his large hands--soft from the moisturizer he applies dutifully every morning and night. “Like what?” 

“I don’t know,” Akiteru’s tone is well and truly desperate, now, and it only piques your interest more. “Like you’re mad at me. Like you’re—“ he visibly struggles to say the word “—mean.”

Oh.

Akiteru squirms a little under your thoughtful gaze. 

You smile. 

Maybe your boyfriend wasn’t quire as vanilla as you’d previously thought. 

And maybe your life wasn’t destined to be so boring after all. 

[royallyjoon]

nephilim (cinq)

you know where the cred goes 💙

cult au, supernatural creature au

yandere bts x f! reader

warnings: yandere themes, physical assault, graphic descriptions of violence, manipulation, (slight) gaslighting

you were left, abandoned by mortals and immortals alike. darkness knows no bounds, and neither does punishment. there is no refuge in neither blood nor flesh from its wrath. if darkness welcomes you, should you open your arms to it in return? if darkness turns you away, does that mean you’ve won? should you choose to cast aside this lonely path of yours, and your conviction along with it, regardless of whatever other horrors lie in wait, you will be saved. 

——————————————————————

What is one to do when they hear the words they’ve feared the most leave someone else’s mouth?

The moment they graced Jin’s eardrums, he gripped his phone so tightly he could hear the glass screen crack. 

He and Yoongi had been assisting their father in the woods with preparations for the next meeting, the ominous hour approaching in no less than ten days.

He ignored Moonsik and Yoongi for a moment to answer his phone. 

“Hello?”

He could barely make out any of Jimin’s words--the boy’s blubbering masked too much of the information.

“Robotics...bathroom...”

“Jimin, I can’t hear anything over the sound of you crying. What’s going on?”

“(Y/N)...rooftop...Aemilia...”

“What are you trying to say?” Yoongi stopped talking to the older man, shifting his gaze toward his elder brother as he noticed Jin’s voice raise in irritation and concern.

“Blood...”

“Blood?!”

——————————————————————

Jimin had walked out of robotics a little early today, bored to tears.

He had felt much better after getting rid of the idiotic gaggle that dared to threaten you, and threaten him into abandoning you.

He should have known it wouldn’t be enough. He should’ve never left your side, he thought as he kneeled on the rooftop, staring forlornly at the pool of partially dried blood on the concrete.

“She was bleeding, hyung. Aemilia or her people must have taken her, but I have no idea where they went.”

Namjoon had been in the middle of a meeting with the school board, representing the student council.

Hoseok had been in the dance studio, barking orders out at somewhat competent underclassmen.

Jungkook and Taehyung were holed up in the younger’s room, playing games rather than doing any actual work.

In short, none of them were prepared. None of them had been there for you as they had promised.

You trusted them when you needed them most, and they left you high and dry.

Jimin felt like he would never be able to get the disappointment and guilt off of his chest.

——————————————————————

Namjoon bounded into the clearing, his usually polished exterior uncharacteristically tarnished. 

Hoseok appeared not long after him, having raced to the woods the moment he received the news.

They were met by Seokjin and Yoongi, who stood with their arms crossed over their chests, near a miserable Jungkook and a pacing Taehyung. Both boys had been in the house, so they were the first to arrive.

Jimin got there last, his hands and uniform pants stained red from the puddle he had kneeled in on the rooftop.

Six pairs of eyes landed on him and his appearance, confirming the worst.

“Three!” Seokjin cried incredulously. “Three of you were on campus, surrounded by a bunch of humans, and not a single one of you managed to keep an eye on her!”

“She could be anywhere,” Jungkook groaned in fear. 

“By all means, please don’t start caring now. It’s too late.” Yoongi snapped at him. “You and Taehyung drove straight home to do absolutely nothing. You could at least have offered her a ride home and ensured that she was safe. You’re just as responsible as they are.”

Jungkook’s eyes grew glassy, but only because he knew his brother was right. 

“As much as you enjoy playing the blame game, we have more pressing matters to address.” Namjoon interjected in an attempt to calm them down.

“That doesn’t even begin to cover it, Namjoon.” Seokjin’s icy tone sent a chill down their backs. “If we really wanted to play the blame game, we would have recognized how this is all your fault.”

The leader stood in tense silence.

“What did I tell you mere hours before this happened?” He continued, walking toward Namjoon until they were face to face. “I told you to get your shit together and to keep that girl in line. Hell, none of this would have happened if we hadn’t followed your idiotic plan in the first place.”

Seokjin was rarely ever angry enough to hiss in his brother’s face. They had all learned a long time ago that to provoke the oldest was to invoke Death.

“We all agreed his plan was the best choice at the time, hyung.” Yoongi cautiously approached the two and lay a hand on Seokjin’s shoulder, leveling a glare of his own at Namjoon. “We can deal with him later. We need to find her first.”

Jimin took the opportunity to step further into the clearing and brandished his phone, the device still open to his messages. “(Y/N) texted me saying Aemilia invited her up to roof and that she assumed it was for a confrontation of some sort.” 

“Aemilia doesn’t have the ability or strength to do damage like that by herself, though.” Taehyung frowned as he gestured to Jimin’s clothes. “Unless...”

The brothers looked at each other in realization and one by one, rushed out the clearing and out the forest. 

A quick drive to the center of the city and one pitifully short interrogation later, their suspicions were settled.

Hoseok growled as he re-entered the van, slamming the car door shut. “How dare he? When did he gain the courage to mobilize our own forces without our knowledge?”

“Never mind Augustus,” Jimin said, although his eyes blazed with anger. “Where would they take her?”

“That dog wouldn’t have taken her to the normal base, she has far too much malicious intent for (Y/N).” Taehyung growled.

Jungkook lightly tapped his fingers on the car door, looking out the window when the thought hit him.

“You don’t think they’d take her to...?”

His brothers looked at him in confusion, but he pointed out the window at the tree line of the woods. 

Having grown up in those woods, they knew it like the back of their hand. 

They knew the places were young townspeople would go to goof off, the places they had claimed for themselves, and the places that were...strictly off-limits.

It didn’t take much longer for the realization to set in.

Once it had, they took off in the direction of the forest.

——————————————————————

In your dream, you once again stood before Ichabod Chapel.

The Chapel, adorned with green vines, had long since been abandoned. Once, the walls must have been a beautiful ivory, but now they were a dark beige, having rotted with time.

A complete opposite to the image of the decrepit church, the seven Kim brothers stood on the ground in front of the entrance, visions dressed in various black silks.

Contrary to its original purpose, the material looked anything but light and airy--in fact, it looked as though it was weighed down or soaked, doused in some unknown substance.

You looked down to see that you were dressed in a white, ceremonial outfit. It billowed out like a ball gown, the sleeves drawing lacy patterns swirling up to your thumb. 

When you looked up, you were stunned by the brilliant, black wings that extended from the backs of the seven men before you. 

The sight of their wings enraptured you, those gorgeous appendages, feathers glossy under the moonlight.

Each of them had their own, unique set, varying in shapes and sizes, though the largest pair of wings belonged to none other than Kim Namjoon, who stood in the center of his brothers, hands in his pocket as he flashed you a familiar, mischievous grin.

Namjoon was the first to step out of the line, casually extending his hand out to you, and you hesitantly raised a dainty, (s/c) hand in return, placing it in his.

He pulled you into his arms and you felt him wrap them around you.

His brothers came to circle around the two of you, eventually joining the hug as well. 

Then, the whispers began.

Their tone was loving, though their words were anything but.

They were desperate, consuming, obsessive, threatening. 

They wanted you to love them, they needed you to love them, why couldn’t you understand? 

Your head pounded, filled to the brim with cruel promises of tenderness and affection.

The substance from their silks seeped into your clothes, rapidly staining your white outfit red.

You realized just what it was that they were doused in and tried to pull away from their arms but they surrounded you, locking you into their hold. 

The harder you fought to get out, the tighter they held on to you until you felt as though you couldn’t breathe.

Things were better this way. There’s nothing they wouldn’t do to protect you.  There’s nothing they wouldn’t do for your love.

How could you scorn their love for you? How could you treat them like this?

 They didn’t want to hurt anyone you cared about. They didn’t want to eliminate everyone you love in order to bring you to their side, but they would if they had to. 

They paid no mind to the way you were drowning in the smell of it, drowning in blood. Was it yours or someone else’s? Was it your mother’s? Mana’s?

All you knew was that they were done playing games.

——————————————————————

Your eyes flashed open and you winced as you immediately wished they hadn’t.

Your head pounded, each thump forcing your eyes shut with the intensity, still not having recovered from the several hits it received. 

For a moment it felt as though you were still unconscious and drenched in darkness, as when you tried to get a glimpse of your surroundings, you only saw shadows and moving, ambiguous shapes. 

The movement of the ground beneath you, however, quickly dispelled such thoughts. 

It appeared as though you were being carried over someone’s shoulder. Despite the extra weight, the person you currently rested on was light and quick on their feet, moving with a speed that made you feel worse than you already were.

The familiar crunching of leaves and branches on the ground made your heart beat just a bit harder. 

According to their footsteps and what you could see of your surroundings, you surmised they had taken you to the forest.

It had been mid afternoon when Aemilia and the people who worked for her and her family accosted you at the roof. Now, there was barely a hint of the moon in your surroundings.

Did she intend to have her people tie you up to the wooden pyre and set you aflame, like some sick imitation of a witch burning at the stake? Or to make it seem as though the Kims had done it?

Despite how afraid of Mayor Kim the citizens were, there was no way everyone would believe you died in such a gaudy display. 

Only the purple fire that Mayor Kim was capable of conjuring left nothing behind, after all. If they were to going to get rid of you by fire, your remains would be found.

There’s no way you could ensure that, however. 

There’s no guarantee that Aemilia wouldn’t be able to make good on her promise and utterly destroy you.

A light cough broke the silence, bringing you back to the present, and you tried to calm your heartbeat. There’s no way your captors would believe you were asleep if you kept scaring yourself like this.

You felt a tight, scratchy material around your wrists and your hands laying against your back.

You successfully clenched your hands. So they hadn’t drugged you while you were out. 

You were hesitant to shift, as you feared your captors would notice your cognizant state, so you resorted yourself to blinking at the ground and gritting your teeth from the pain and nausea. 

Thankfully, the people you were with appeared to be none the wiser. 

“Are we almost there?” A deep voice, seemingly annoyed, huffed.

“Be patient, Lee.” You felt the vibrations of the person carrying you as they replied. “This isn’t just any other job.” 

“I understand, but don’t you think Miss Augustus is going too far?”

Your captor scoffed. “If you want to question the Augustuses, thereby questioning the Kims and their authority, be my guest. I just hope you and your family will be able to deal with the consequences.”

The second captor, Lee, had nothing else to say after that. 

The quiet of the forest left a buzzing in your ears and the swinging sensation your body was making whilst strewn over the person’s back became too much to bear. 

You figured you’d just make your captor angrier if you barfed down their back and tried to shift to draw their attention, but it was too late. 

The acrid taste of bile and what you had for lunch earlier that day reached your mouth and your lifted your head, spitting out as much of it as you could.

There was a yell of anger and disgust, and your captor shoved you off of them and onto the forest floor. 

You held back a shout as you hit the ground, injuring your side even further, and let out the rest of your meal.

“What the-?! This disgusting bitch!”

Your captor launched another kick at your stomach and you fought back tears as they aggravated the wounds already in place. 

Lee stopped them after a while, complaining that another round of beating would just delay their job even further. 

You wiped your mouth off on your shoulder and grimaced.

To your surprise, you found that you could move your legs.

The first captor lifted you to your feet by your collar, and you recognized him as Mr. Byun, the man the strawberry blonde had referred to earlier. 

“Your legs still work for a reason,” he sneered and pushed you forward.

Your legs did indeed work, but were wobbly after hours of no use. 

You tripped and almost fell to the floor again, the bonds around your wrists preventing you from reaching out to break your fall, when the second captor grabbed you by the back of your shirt and held you up. 

“I’m not really in the mood for any of your foolishness, girl.” Lee glowered down at you. “Use your legs properly, or I’ll break them and drag you by the hair. It would be all too easy.”

You heard a suspicious click and your eyes flickered over to Byun, whose hand rested on his waist. In the other, however, he fiddled with a small lever on what appeared to be a firearm.

“Do you understand?” The second captor shook you and your brain protested, rattling around far too much for its liking. 

The thought of escape, which had been curling up inside you like the beginning of a fire, was quickly extinguished. You squeezed your eyes shut and nodded.

He pushed you away from him and you walked, following him with Byun at your back, trying to think of a way out of this situation.

You couldn’t tamper with the ropes around your wrist, as Byun was watching your every move. There was also the gun, and the fact that both men were trained in the use of it as well as martial arts.

Was there truly no way to escape?

——————————————————————

The three of you walked for what felt like hours, reaching a part of the woods that you had never seen before.

Here, the trees were sparse and had already lost all of their leaves. The dark branches coiled and twisted toward the sky, as if reaching for affection that would never be reciprocated. The stumps were old, the ground hard.

And then, a clearing. But not the one you were used to seeing.

Your heart dropped as you walked between two trees, noticing the view beyond them. 

You could now tell that it was well after midnight, for the sun was nowhere to be seen. Nevertheless, as always, the moon was high in the sky. 

Wylynne gazed down on the clearing with a force, as if the moon goddess wanted you to see bright and clear what awaited you.

The crumbling cliff before you overlooked a tranquil lake. Clouds hung in the distance, obscuring what was undoubtedly the outside world.

The outside of Ichabod.

Such tranquility had no business here, you thought to yourself as the pace of your breathing increased. 

Your captors had brought you to Lorne’s Ledge, also known as the edge of no return.

It was forbidden territory for any Ichabodian citizen.

Even before Mayor Kim came to town, even before the Augustus family had their reign: this was one of the oldest, most sacred spots in Ichabod.

The lady of the cliff, Lorne, saw to it that the forsaken never returned home.

You shuddered. The folklore didn’t scare you in the slightest. It would always be the work of man that you detested. 

Yet, you couldn’t help but feel some foreign, oppressive gaze resting on you now that you were here. As if Lorne herself were staring at you, waiting for you to join her in the watery depths--

That familiar click sounded again and your eyes shot to the side. You tried to slowly turn around, but the press of metal against your back forced you to stop all movement.

Lee smirked. “We have arrived at your final destination, my lady.”

“Miss Augustus was generous enough to leave you with two options. You can walk off and take a nice rest in the lake, or you can die before your body ever hits the water.” The man smiled mirthlessly down at you. “Which would you prefer?”

You blinked rapidly, mind racing. Even if you were capable of swimming, with these injuries, you wouldn’t be able to survive the fall off the ledge, 

They truly meant for you to die.

Lee didn’t seem to be in the mood for your deliberation as his cruel smile slipped into an infuriated frown. “Choose.” He growled. “My friend here would be all too happy to make the choice for you. How does a bullet in your brain and being rolled off the cliff sound?”

Byun dug the weapon into your skin and you winced, shaking your head. 

“I’ll-I’ll go. I’ll walk myself.”

Your voice cracked horribly after not speaking for so many hours, but the message was received. 

The metal was removed from your backside and you sighed in relief.

The man in front of you said nothing, simply stepping out of your path. 

You took a couple more breaths and slowly turned to face him. “C-Can I ask you to do something? As a final request.”

He raised an eyebrow at you in response.

You titled your head in the direction of your back. “Can you untie my hands? After I disappear, there might be a search for me, and someone might try to dig through the lake for my body. A suicide will be completely ruled out if they find the ropes.”

There was no way this would work. Even the Augustuses were too intimidated to bother touching the lake for fear of Lorne’s wrath. 

Besides, the police knew when and where to look, and where to say they looked. They would lie to your friends and family through their teeth.

Lee must not have been on the force for very long, however, because he grunted and pulled your hands to him. 

With a slice, the ropes fell to the ground and you clutched your wrists to your chest, nodding partly in thanks and partly in disbelief.

It...worked.

You rubbed your hands together and gently blew on them, fingers numb from the cold breeze. 

Your captors stood together between the trees, blocking the entrance. They murmured quietly to themselves and you continued to morph your face and body expressions into one of a pitiful teenager about to die, concealing the rather reckless thoughts you were having.

You finally turned around and walked back until you were in front of them, catching the two men off guard. They quieted and stared at you, hands at their weapons. 

You met each of them in the eye and bowed, lower than you ever had before, then stood upright.

They looked at you incredulously, giving you just enough time to give Lee a harsh kick between his legs and pry the knife out of his hand.

You slashed at his neck, adrenaline returning full force, and actually managed to cut the man. 

He shouted in pain and brought a hand up to the wound, trying to stop the blood.

Before you could turn to face Byun, however, the loud crack of a gunshot was heard throughout the forest and you felt a painful sting on your hand. 

You yelped as you dropped the knife.

Then, there was a second gunshot and the pain returned full force, this time on your shoulder.

The elder captor, completely fed up with your actions, slammed the gun against your head and you crumpled to the ground. 

You could feel something wet on your hand and clothes, but there was too much of it to be sweat in the midnight chill. You slowly lifted your hand, only to see it covered in a dark liquid.

Byun restrained Lee from attempting to beat you this time, barely casting a glance at your pitiful form. 

“Calm yourself. She won’t be alive for much longer.” He gruffed. “She said she would walk herself, so walk she will. We’re just here to watch and make sure it happens.”

He stood over your form and pointed the gun at your head. “What a useless attempt. Get up.”

Your shoulder and hand burned like hell, but you complied. 

You got to your feet once more and stumbled forward, every step taking you further and further away from the two. 

The barrel of the gun followed your every move.

The tears you’d been struggling to hold back ran full force now at the thought of your imminent death. But rather than let your captors feast upon the sight of your defeated form, you stopped.

You were covered in blood. Your uniform was sullied by your own vomit and dirt. 

But you straightened your back, ignoring the pain in your shoulder, and held your head up high. 

You had reached the edge of the cliff now, but your vision was too blurry to see anything besides the vast blue beneath you. 

The lake that rested below had no warmth or safety to provide for you, but neither did the forest behind you.

You considered praying to Wylynne to see if, in all her majesty and grace, she would save you.

Yet clearly, just like all the people who had come before you, just like the lady of the lake herself, the moon goddess had forsaken you.

You were tired. Too tired to fight against what some would call fate.

You whispered an apology to your mother and Mana, and perhaps even to the brothers, the reason why, you did not know.

Your eyes captured the overcast image of the outside world one last time, then you turned around and took a backward step off the cliff with a sad smile, eyes falling closed, mentally locked on that solitary picture.

Above you, you thought you heard the pained screams and grunts of your captors, sounding as though they were struggling against something or someone. 

But before you, you saw your mother with her arms outstretched, that patient, loving smile on her face. 

You reached forward, wrapped your arms around her, and readily slipped into darkness.

Above your falling form, a shadow zipped through the dawn, racing to reach you before you hit the water. 

He saw you smile and lift an arm into the air, before the smile slipped off your face and your limbs went limp.

The large, black wings at his back beat furiously and he flew faster than he ever had before until he had your beaten form cradled to his chest. 

The two of you suddenly shot upward into the air as your descent slowed, and as the first rays of daylight peeked out from above the clouds, his form hung in the air, almost frozen in time, black wings outstretched and supporting the two of you as he floated above Lorne’s Ledge. 

Kim Jimin hovered, adorned in the light of the early morning sun, peering callously down at the vermin who lay trembling between him and his brothers. 

Or what was left of them, at least.

Jungkook had managed to get his hands on the elder one, and the arm he had been using to carry the gun had been ripped clean off. 

He was now whimpering in excruciating pain, clutching at the place where his limb had once been.

The younger one, on the other hand, lay resting against a tree. 

Unmoving, his eyes unseeing. 

All it had taken was one touch from Hoseok, and the man’s life force was gone, sucked out of him before he could even protest.

He was now nothing more than a lifeless sack of meat.

Taehyung picked up the body as Yoongi kicked one of the elder’s legs to get his attention.

The others stood threateningly over Byun, glowering down at him in utter loathe, as though he were a louse.

The old man whimpered, looking up and between them, then paling in horror as he saw Taehyung and Jimin.

The younger brother walked toward the elder as Jimin gently touched down on the ground, your form still protectively pressed to him. The two Kims met eyes and nodded at each other.

Taehyung turned around and flashed Mr. Byun a crazed smile before flinging Lee’s body as far as he could over the cliff.

He gaped in horror and his voice rose multiple decibels, pleads for his life escaping before he could properly think them through.

Seokjin squatted down until he was at an eye level with him, strong, black wings threateningly displayed. He grinned. 

“If you think you have even any hope of escaping your friend’s fate,” he said as the smile slipped off his face, “you’re dead wrong.”

He glared at Byun with cold, amber irises. “But before we end your insignificant, paltry life, you’re going to tell us who sent you and why.”

They already had proof of Aemilia’s crime from Aloysius Augustus himself but they wanted to be sure.

He looked at the younger gentlemen with tears in his eyes. He fought through his pain and got on both knees.

“There’s no use in begging,” Namjoon stated, arms crossed over his chest. For the first time, he couldn’t find anything amusing in the matter.

“Please! We were only receiving orders, Miss Augustus--”

Before he could finish his sentence, Yoongi used Lee’s discarded knife and slashed it across Byun’s neck, silencing him in an instant. 

The light left his eyes and the man’s body flopped over.

Taehyung didn’t think twice about kicking him off the cliff, either.

Now that those pests were taken care of, the seven rushed to turn their attention on you. 

The bleeding from your shoulder and hand had not slowed in the slightest, and they could hardly feel your pulse.

“We need to get her to the hospital, and fast.” Hoseok said, swallowing the rising lump in his throat.

“I’m the fastest. I can take her there.” Taehyung volunteered.

The brothers agreed, and you were gently deposited into Taehyung’s arms. 

“When you’re sure she’s safe, meet us back here in the woods,” Yoongi said. “You’ll know where to find us.”

"Yes, hyung.” Taehyung spread his wings and took off into the sky.

He carefully cradled you, shifting your body into one of his arms, and attempted to heal some of your worse injuries along the way.

He pressed one hand to your abdomen and began muttering under his breath, a panicked tear slipping out the corner of his eye as he peered at the extent of the damage.

Once your ribs were mostly healed, he pulled his hand away, leaving behind a canvas of dark blue, yellow, and green bruises. He winced and moved on, pressing his hand to your head.

You made no movements, body as limp as ever in his arms. 

Taehyung touched down on the roof of the hospital and tucked those magnificent, black wings together, the appendages fading away as if they were never there. 

He held his arm out, his palm facing the door. He only meant to unlock it, but utterly destroyed it in his haste. Quite frankly, he couldn’t have cared less. 

He hurriedly walked down the stairwell and burst into the hospital’s eleventh floor lobby, reserved for VIP care and treatment. 

A receptionist was working at the front desk, typing away without a care in the world.

He was interrupted by Taehyung’s shouts. “I found her in the woods outside of our home this morning--she’s badly injured, please help!”

He looked up at the boy’s outburst, eyes widening when he realized just who and what he was looking at.

He immediately called for available nurses to bring a bed and admit you to a room, then paged any available doctors.

“Do you know who she is, Mr. Kim?” A nurse asked as she examined you for damage.

He nodded. “She’s a classmate of mine, her name is (Y/N) (L/N). Her mother also works here--please notify her of her daughter’s arrival.”

The man nodded once more, sending someone else to page Nurse (L/N) from the fifth floor.

As the nurses wheeled you away, Taehyung grabbed the receptionist by the wrist and he whipped around in fear.

“This patient is very important,” Taehyung stressed, squeezing the man’s wrist harshly. “She is being admitted under the protection of Kim Moonsik himself, at the behest of our entire family. If anything happens to her...”

The receptionist gulped and nodded. “Of course, Mr. Kim. You don’t need to explain any further. We’ll do our absolute best to ensure her care and recovery.”

Taehyung glared down at him for a bit longer before he threw the man’s wrist aside and turned away from him. 

He rubbed at his wrist, knowing it would bruise in a couple of hours, or perhaps even minutes.

The man returned to his desk, beginning to fill out the paperwork for your stay. 

When he looked up to ask Taehyung more questions about your injuries, the boy had already disappeared.

——————————————————————

In Taehyung’s absence, the six brothers stretched out their wings and flew to a certain section of the woods behind the Kim family home. 

This part of the woods remained untouched by both the Kim family and the general public. It was only the seven who came out here, and only in times of dire consequence. 

Several trees in the area had fallen over, cracked in half as though hit or pushed in anger with some spectacular force.

Leaves and branches strewn all over the ground were blown away by the boys and the sudden breeze they brought, large wings disrupting the peaceful quiet of the forest.

The early morning sun peeked through the leaves, painting a picturesque view of the woods, a sharp contrast to the heavy, violent atmosphere headed its way.

Jungkook planted his feet on the ground first, tucking away his wings until they were out of sight. He angrily flicked what was left of Byun off his face, disgusted by the thick feel and metallic smell of mortal blood. 

Jimin followed right behind him, then Hoseok, Yoongi, and Seokjin entered, Namjoon being the last to touch down on the forest floor.

Jimin and Jungkook met eyes with one another, their anger not even close to subsiding at the death of your captors. 

Yet, soon enough, curiosity and dread brought them out of their rage when they realized just how quiet it had gotten between the older members.

Jimin shifted his gaze, the frown on his face deepening when he saw the eldest brothers’ attention turn to Namjoon, who was standing deathly still, staring blankly ahead.

Seokjin raised an eyebrow as he glared down at the younger. Namjoon refused to meet his gaze.

The six of them stayed like that for a long time, even when they heard the loud beating of another pair of wings, and Taehyung joined them in the forest.

He turned to Jimin in confusion but the older simply shook his head and grabbed for his and Jungkook’s hands, squeezing them. 

Finally, after what felt like hours of silence, Seokjin spoke. 

“There is no mercy for the prideful,” he stated with finality.

Namjoon flinched away at the words, eyes stuck to the ground.

“You weren’t able to uphold your oath, Namjoon ah,” Hoseok said. His words were concerned, but his tone reeked of condescension.

“And because of that, because of your utter failure, our beloved angel got hurt.” Yoongi hissed. “She almost died.”

Hoseok, Yoongi, and Seokjin took menacing steps toward the leader. 

He heard his older brothers walking up to him, but refused to meet the wrath that was surely boiling in their gaze.

Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook watched on with bated breath, their hands still linked together.

Namjoon was frozen in place. 

As the leader of their group, there was rarely ever a moment where he was seen as weak. 

But the second he had received news of your capture, he lost even the strength to stand on his own two feet.

It was the thought of you, of saving you and bringing you to safety, that had kept him going. 

It was the only thing that had kept all seven of them sane.

Now that they knew you were going to live, he knew he couldn’t avoid his punishment any longer.

Namjoon’s facial expression didn’t change, even in the moment where, with surprising speed, Yoongi lashed out at him, decking him in the face and knocking him to the forest floor.

The student body president winced, gingerly gripping his nose as blood started to leak from it.

His older brothers stood, looking down at him in a mock semicircle.

“Yoongi ah,” Seokjin said, turning to the younger, “what is the punishment for those who commit the deadly sin of pride?”

“Being broken on the wheel, hyung.” Yoongi replied impassively. 

“Fortunately for you, or unfortunately, I should say,” Hoseok grinned down at Namjoon, “we don’t have a wheel.”

Seokjin stepped forward and lifted his foot above Namjoon’s right leg. 

“This is what happens when you place too much pride in yourself and in your actions.” He stated, then brought his foot down on Namjoon’s right leg.

He didn’t let up until there was a sick, audible crack. 

Namjoon reeled back, grunting in pain but refusing to scream. 

Yes, it hurt, but he knew he deserved it. He failed (Y/N). 

This is the least he could do to atone for his actions.

“All things considered, we’re being quite generous with you.” Yoongi stepped up next, kicking his broken leg aside to stomp down on his left one.

This time, Namjoon let out a jarring scream. 

“You still have the audacity to scream? To feel pain?” Yoongi ground his foot into the injury as though he were trying to put out a cigarette. “Imagine how much pain our beloved is in right now. Imagine what she wouldn’t have had to go through, had you done your job properly. Had you listened to us.”

The elder had never been kind or considerate when it came to delivering punishment, a fact that the younger brothers had quickly become accustomed to.

Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook looked on blankly, but inside they felt a deep sense of pity. 

Namjoon was their brother and their leader, the constant face of their strength.

It hurt to see him in so much pain, no matter how necessary it was. 

Namjoon sat on the forest floor, both legs twisted at an awkward angle. He grit his teeth together as he tried to control his breathing. 

He noticed no one else was approaching him, but he knew that the punishment wasn’t over yet, not so soon. He slowly, inquisitively lifted his head.

The eldest three looked at Namjoon expectedly. He pleadingly raised his eyebrows, but their stares held no mercy.

He bowed his head in defeat. 

The senior wrapped his right hand around his left forearm and squeezed until he heard something crack. 

There was the quick, soft sound of a sob coming out of his mouth, and then all was quiet. 

Hoseok went last, shuffling through the leaves on the forest floor to squat next to his younger brother, wiping away some of his tears and gently running his fingers through his hair. “We’re doing this for her. Everything we do is for her, you know that as well as we do.”

Namjoon glanced at him warily, tense because he knew what was coming next, but didn’t know when to expect it. 

“That’s why you’re prepared to face the consequences for your actions, yes...?”

With a sickeningly sweet smile, Hoseok wrapped his hands around Namjoon’s right forearm, breaking the bone in a quick moment.

Namjoon clenched his teeth together so hard, he swore he heard something else crack. 

Any movement within the top or lower half of his body left him in excruciating pain, and he stifled a scream each time.

“You did so well, Joonie.” Hoseok continued patting his head. 

They surrounded him, praising him with how well he took his punishment. 

He was only able to withstand a few more minutes of cognizant thought before his eyes rolled back into his head.

Hoseok caught his younger brother, gently laying him back onto the dirt.

The six men stood in the silence, staring at the form of their treasured leader with pity. 

Seokjin turned around and met each of his younger brothers in the eye. He then wordlessly walked away from the clearing and Namjoon’s broken body.

Yoongi and Hoseok followed him, blank expressions on their face.

The youngest brothers were all too quick to pick up on the message. 

Overstep your boundaries, and endure the same fate. 

After taking one more look at Namjoon, the youngest brothers trekked out of the forest, silently following behind the other angels.

——————————————————————

When you finally pried your eyes open, you were greeted by an unfamiliar chill.

You were cold. So cold, the chill settled uncomfortably in your bones.

White blankets were tucked around you, pristine sheets morphing to mimic your form. 

For a moment, you incredulously thought that this must have been your arrival to heaven.

Then, you soon heard a monotonous beeping and you felt the subtle prick of wires along your skin, an IV casually grazing across the back of your hand. 

It hurt to move your right shoulder, and your abdomen ached, the areas bandaged so tight you could just barely feel them. 

There were bandages around your wrists and hand as well, and the pungent scent of ointment told you those were for your rope burns and bullet graze. 

Your head injuries were also wrapped, if you deduced the source of your current headache correctly. 

You were alive. Alive, and well taken care of.

“(Y/N)?”

You winced, your head not taking too kindly to the reintroduction of noise. A swivel to your right, however, and your mother’s worried face appeared.

“...Mom?” You voice cracked horribly, and she smiled and hummed in acknowledgement, lifting a water pitcher next to her and pouring you a glass of water.

You drank as if you were Tantalus himself.

“I was so worried.” your mother stated, her voice breaking right along with yours. The sound alone nearly brought tears to your eyes. 

She lifted her hands and grasped your uninjured one, intertwining your fingers.

 “I got paged yesterday morning and asked to come up to the eleventh floor, just to find out that you had been admitted.” Your mother spoke, answering your questions before you even got the chance to ask. “And at the request of the entire Kim family, no less. Kim Taehyung brought you in himself, claiming you’d been assaulted and found outside their door.”

You tilted your head, peering at your mother in disbelief. 

She met your gaze and flicked her eyes toward the door, then back towards you without turning around. You followed their direction.

Outside the small, rectangular window of the door, there stood a tall figure dressed in dark clothing.

Your mother leaned toward you and whispered. “That woman has been standing guard since the doctors finished their checkup.”

You gulped and nodded in understanding.

“(Y/N).” Her tone shifted slightly, still holding concern but taking a solemn turn. “I never ask you questions about how school is and your life is going. We usually leave each other to our own devices, and that’s clearly been a mistake on my part. But I need you to be completely honest with me here.”

“Have you displeased the Kims in any way?” Her grip on your uninjured hand tightened to the point where all of your knuckles turned white. “If they have you here under some sort of watch until the next meeting...if they’re trying to...” 

Your mother gulped, unable to finish the rest of the sentence. 

Her voice lowered into a harsh whisper. “Tell me. I’ll go alert a trustworthy coworker, and I will have you out of this town before Kim Moonsik can utter another prayer.”

Your eyes widened comically. “Mom, no! Nothing like that happened. They saved me. The Kims saved my life.” You repeated, gripping her hands. “If they hadn’t brought me here, I would have-” 

The weight of your words finally hit you, and before you could realize, tears gathered in the corner of your eyes. “I could have...”

You fought to speak through the trembling of your lower lip. “I’m sorry I never told you about my day, I just thought I’d be able to handle it all by myself. The police commissioner’s daughter, she was trying to get rid of me and she-Mom, she-”

Your mother cupped your cheeks as your tears cascaded down your face. She gently rubbed your lower back as you muffled your cries by burying your head into her neck.

She didn’t let you go for a while, even after you managed to collect yourself. 

She poured you another glass of water and you sipped at the beverage, telling her the trials you’d faced these past couple of weeks.

“I thought it was a regular instance of bullying,” you sniffled, putting the plastic cup down. “that she didn’t want me getting too close to her crush. So I endured because I had no intention of taking anything of hers away. Who am I, in Ichabod, compared to a woman of prestige like that?” You sarcastically asked.

“But apparently, my mere existence bothered her.” You shakily recounted what had ultimately been the most terrifying moments of your life to your mother. 

You obscured some parts of the story, not wanting your mother to worry even more, and claimed that the Augustus’ men had taken you to the clearing to scare you and beat you up, and that you surmised they dropped you off outside of the Kim home afterward. 

By the time she finished hearing the whole story, her grip had embedded itself into the edge of the hospital bed. 

Your mother’s vexation was interrupted by the sound of people speaking outside your door.

“Ma’am, I apologize. By the order of Kim Moonsik, only family members are allowed to visit the patient right now.” The figure outside your door spoke with an uninterested tone.

“With all due respect, officer, please don’t assume my gender.” You heard a familiar voice snipe. “My best friend is lying in there and she’s practically a sister to me. I don’t particularly give a damn about your order. Kim Moonsik can kiss my-”

“Mana!” You yelled, trying to catch both of their attention before your best friend could get themselves arrested. 

You flipped the hospital blankets off of you and your mother helped you to your feet, then to the door. The injuries on your abdomen and head protested with every step.

The guard’s eyes widened a bit as you slid the door open, and so did the eyes of every hospital staff within sight of your room. 

“Ms. (L/N), I implore you, please go back to bed to rest!” A nurse in the hallway rushed over. 

The guard hastily nodded in agreement. “Yes, please do. I sincerely apologize for the commotion.”

You waved them off, reaching a hand out to Mana. “I'll go back to bed, but only if you let Mana in. They’re family.”

Mana stood in the hallway, hurriedly dressed in sweatpants, a disheveled oversized hoodie, and sneakers, but gingerly holding a teddy bear with a card.

The guard looked between you, Mana, and the nurse for quite some time. The nurse’s frantic expression must have convinced her, though, because she finally stepped aside.

Mana extended their arm, gently grabbing your hand in return and waltzing past the security guard with a smug expression. 

The moment the three of you were back in the room, however, they ushered you back to bed as well.

“(N/N)!” Mana said, going to hug you, then rethinking it when they spotted all the bandages. 

They placed the teddy bear in your arms and stood a card that cheerily read “Get Well Soon!” on your nightstand. “How are you feeling? I’m so sorry--I should have been there with you!”

“My head and chest hurt, but I’m alright.” You shook your head with a small smile, clutching the doll to your chest. “Don’t apologize, you had no idea this was going to happen. This was all the result of my stupid decision--I was the one who fell into her trap.”

Your mother excused herself, leaving you and Mana alone for a few minutes.

You filled them in on what had happened to you, withholding no details, and their face lit up in anger. “She ordered them to take you to Lorne’s Ledge?! That psychotic cunt! Just wait until I drag her across the square, we’ll see how high and mighty she is then-”

“Mana, calm down.” You smiled, thankful for your friend’s protectiveness, but weary after everything you’d just gone through. 

“I never want to stoop to her level,” you admitted, wringing the sheets in your hands. 

Your mother gently slid open the door, returning with water and a tray of food for you.

“I think...I’ve had enough of mind games and tricks for a while.” You whispered, then smiled at her as she lay the meal in front of you.

Mana’s gaze turned soft, and they patted your hands and back in support. 

“I don’t even want to think of what would have happened if the Kims hadn’t gotten there in time.” your mother muttered. 

You nodded in agreement. 

You weren’t particularly sure how or why, but the Kims had saved your life. 

Not only had they offered you some of the best care in the city, free of charge, but they even stationed people outside your room.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, something told you that holding them with such a mindset would put you exactly where they wanted you to be. 

Yet something else countered that thought, claiming that it was that same distancing mindset that had pushed you into the arms of danger in the first place. 

Perhaps Mayor Kim felt responsible for it because his men got usurped by a high school girl.

Or, perhaps, it was his sons who felt even more responsible.

Your mother and Mana stayed with you the rest of the night, each taking up their own positions on the furniture. Mana draped themself on the couch while your mother took the armchair.

You allowed yourself to drift off to the sound of them breathing, the chill and fear of the previous morning now a distant, foreign thing.

——————————————————————

Your mother and Mana weren’t constantly at your side, as one had to attend to her duties at work and the other had to go to school. 

There were other individuals who were perfectly happy to waste the day with you, though.

On the first day, you were visited by Jimin.

The sophomore’s usual high-energy self was nowhere to be seen as he stepped into your hospital room holding a small bouquet of (your favorite flowers). 

Jimin rushed at you, barely giving himself enough time to greet him before he fell to his knees in front of your hospital bed. 

You gasped aloud in surprise and urged him to stand, but he would have none of it. 

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” His eyes glistened as water streaked down his cherubic face. “If I had read your message earlier, if I hadn’t been so stupid to turn my phone off, you never would have gotten hurt like this.”

You winced as you pulled yourself to the edge of the bed, your hand only hurting slightly less than it had before. “You didn’t know at the time, I wouldn’t blame you for that. When you did know, you rushed to help me. That’s something I will be forever grateful to you for.” 

You exhaled and smiled your rare, genuine smile, a warm countenance on your face that pierced Jimin’s soul. “So please,” you held your hand out to Jimin.

The boy looked up, pitiful expression morphing into a delighted smile. He gently took your hand and stood, then ushered you to rest comfortably back at the top of the bed. 

The two of you spent the rest of the day talking, Jimin distracting you from your current situation with stories about his family and their travels. 

By the time you realized you’d never gotten answers to your questions, the sun was starting to set and you were having trouble keeping your eyes open in the middle of Jimin’s conversation.

If the raven haired boy had noticed it, he didn’t say anything. 

If anything, he continued speaking, his voice low and chiming with laughter as he recounted precious memories.

When he heard the familiar sound of your soft, slow breathing, he stopped. He simply gazed upon your visage, smiling at the way your (s/c) skin lit up in the afternoon sun and held a hand up to block the light from getting in your eyes.

He stayed that way for the next several minutes, then gently caressed your cheek, letting his hands linger for shorter than he would have liked.

Once the night was well underway, Jimin collected his things and left your side with one more forlorn look.

He shot a strict gaze at the guard, who gulped and nodded at the unspoken order.

Finally, he turned and walked down the hallway toward the elevators. 

——————————————————————

On the second day, you were visited by Taehyung. You were still asleep when he first came into the room, but your mother was sitting beside you and her eyes widened when she saw him.

Before the younger boy could even speak, the older woman bowed low in gratitude.

Few people had ever seen your mother in a vulnerable state, you included, as she purposefully made it so. 

Taehyung was a rare exception that day as he gently gripped her shoulders, feeling the slight trembles that coursed through her as he straightened her posture. 

Suppressing an amused smile, Taehyung thought of the differences between you and his supposed mother. 

While the actress trembled out of fear for her own life, your mother shook at the thought of losing you.

As expected from the woman who raised you, their perfect treasure.

“I can never repay you for the hospitality you’ve shown my daughter,” your mother whispered.

“There’s no need for such matters, Ms. (L/N). We’ll always protect and watch out for your daughter. We’re honored to have her in our lives.” Taehyung replied with a sincere tone.

She accepted the flowers he brought, carefully laying the bouquet on your nightstand, right next to the vase where Jimin’s flowers lay. 

When you did wake up, you had your own chance to thank Taehyung for finding you and bringing you to safety, along with sponsoring your stay in the hospital. 

He waved away your thanks, claiming that he was simply glad that you had turned to Jimin for assistance so that they were able to know about it.

“You know we’ll always be there for you, right (Y/N)?”

Always.

“Just say the word and we’ll come running.”

We love you.

His heart ached with the weight of the words he couldn’t say.

But you smiled in appreciation and he melted, as it was the smile they had longed to see for so long. The one that you usually reserved for your mother or Mana, the one that they had only gotten glimpses of in the time that they had known you.

He wouldn’t let you do anything for yourself the entire time, claiming you needed to rest up and heal as soon as possible. You reluctantly agreed, enjoying an unusually lazy day.

He played music for you, and soon enough the two of you were lost in a passionate conversation about your favorite artists. Funnily enough, there were several of them who you shared interest in.

Before Taehyung returned home for the day, he insisted on covering you with the blanket as well, tucking it up to your neck and pressing it in at the sides.

Your eyes were closed out of embarrassment as his form hung over yours. 

He fought the urge to bend down and kiss your forehead, for he still feared that he could frighten you away.

Instead, he reached up and switched off the light directly above your bed. With an ambiguous smile, he left, closing the door behind him.

——————————————————————

On the third day, you were visited by Jungkook.

The atmosphere was a little awkward at first, considering how soft-spoken the freshman tended to be around you.

When you tried shifting the conversation by asking him about his personal interests and passions, however, his eyes lit up.

Jungkook demonstrated several different types of punches for you in the room, even helping you weakly set up your form with your still healing hands. 

You learned much more about boxing forms and gaming techniques that day than you could ever remember, but you did leave with plans to have private self-defense lessons with Jungkook after you’d finished healing.

At some point during his visit, you had drifted off and by the time you woke up again, Jungkook was already gone. 

You panicked slightly, worried that he’d be upset and think that you wanted him to leave. As you turned to your phone, however, you noticed a folded piece of paper resting on top of the back of it.

When you opened the paper, you saw a beautiful pen-and-ink sketch of you, lying in your hospital bed and napping. 

Jungkook had somehow taken your messy, disheveled state and turned it into something that evoked a tender feeling within you.

You grinned down at the paper, amazed by his talent. Was this how he saw you? As this...ephemeral, peaceful being?

You gently stood the paper up so that it rested between the two vases that housed Jimin and Taehyung’s flowers, right next to Mana’s card.

The afternoon soon gave way to evening, then evening to night.

——————————————————————

On the fourth day, Seokjin saved you from the monotony of bland, hospital food by bringing you home cooked meals. 

The mere smell of the dishes had your mouth watering. 

He refused to let you do anything yourself, much like Taehyung had the other day. But unlike Taehyung, Jin went so far as to feed you himself.

It was embarrassing, but no matter how much you protested, he wouldn’t let up.

He sat in the chair your mother usually preoccupied and held the utensils out to you, neatly making sure you finished your meals.

At one point, he pretended the food was an airplane and you playfully slapped his arm, resulting in him dissolving into a surprising windshield-wiper-like laugh. 

Jin spent the rest of the day with you, telling you awful jokes that under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have found that funny. 

His companionship was greatly appreciated, however, and you found that you grew surprisingly fond of his laugh.

Before Jin left for the evening, he gently lifted your hand and placed it in his lap, then revealed another bag he’d brought on his visit.

To your surprise, he clipped a small (silver/gold/rose gold) bracelet around your wrist. The ornament carried two charms: one of a well-detailed moon, the other a pair of angel wings.

You rushed to have him take the bracelet off, hesitant to accept such a valuable gift. 

Yet the look in his eyes pierced right through you, his previous joy still present and glimmering but hidden beneath the depths of something more sinister.

You leaned against your pillows as Jin gently lifted the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to it, just like he had the first night you met. 

“The moment I saw it, I thought of you.” He smiled, affectionately rubbing his thumb over your wrist. “Keep it. For me?”

It wasn’t a request.

——————————————————————

On the fifth day, you were visited by Hoseok and Yoongi.

You were slightly surprised at the fact that they had come together, as their outer attitudes seemed to be opposites, but you found that they complemented each other very well. 

They were extremely considerate of you, allowing you to do things for yourself but offering their assistance should you need it. 

Hoseok spent the day cheering you up by performing routines for you in the little space the room provided.

As strict as he was infamous for being, Hoseok clearly knew his craft. You were mesmerized by his movements and insisted on clapping for each of his performances, your hand healing quite nicely now.

Yoongi delighted you with tales of his rambunctious actions in high school, and some of the best well-kept faculty secrets.

There were several things you learned about Ms. Divii and Mrs. Hargrove that day that you would have been perfectly happy not knowing for the rest of your life, but you giggled and gossiped all the same.

It appeared as though the elder Kim brothers had a similar thought process, as Hoseok and Yoongi each gifted you (silver/gold/rose gold) jewelry similar to what you had received the day prior.

Hoseok looked as though we was going to cry when you went to turn down his gift.

One sharp look from Yoongi later, you closed your mouth, smiled, and expressed your thanks.

Hoseok fondly clipped the necklace onto you, his heart performing somersaults as you leaned into his embrace. 

He silently gulped, overcome by the sudden desire to press his lips to your neck. 

When he made eye contact with Yoongi over your shoulder, his face reddened slightly as the elder smirked at him.

He reigned in the perceptible want in his eyes and leaned back, flashing you his signature smile. “There you are, angel. Pretty as a picture.”

You lowered your head to hide your flush. “You guys really don’t have to bring me these gifts,” you murmured lightly. 

“With a visage as perfect as yours, we simply can’t help ourselves.” Yoongi stated in reply, lifting your ring finger to slide a band onto it. 

How unfortunate it was that it was the right hand instead of the left.

He was able to hide his disappointment from you, but not from Hoseok. 

Nevertheless, there would surely be an opportunity in the near future.

How else would all of those worthless people know that you belonged to them?

——————————————————————

On the sixth day, Namjoon limped his way into your hospital room, a grimace on his face. 

You greeted him with a warm smile that quickly shifted into a worried expression. “Oh goodness, are you alright?”

Namjoon nodded, taking the seat next to your bed. “I injured my leg, it’s nothing serious. I should be perfectly alright soon.”

Seokjin had been kind enough to heal most of his limbs, the elder worried about your reaction to seeing him in such a state. 

They purposefully made him wait in agonizing pain for nearly a week, however, to rub the punishment in, before clearing him to go visit you. 

It seemed as though the student body president had lost his usual self-assured, constantly amused atmosphere. He was strangely quiet, and his body language was similar to that of a man who’d been beaten into submission. 

That was far from the Kim Namjoon you knew.

For several moments, the two of you sat in awkward silence.

The two of you hadn’t been on the best of terms the last time you spoke. Just thinking back to that moment when he’d felt like he was on top of the world, completely in control, made him cringe. 

Then, you turned and smiled at him. “You know, if you really need to, you could always join me as a patient. It’d definitely make the days less boring.”

Namjoon knew you knew there was a change in his attitude, and rather than lording that over him, you simply welcomed him as you usually did.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” The words blurt out before he could stop them.

You shook your head, slightly amused. “What’s with you and Jimin these days? You don’t need to apologize for saving me. Unless you want to, and, well, that’s a completely separate manner--”

“No!” Namjoon lifted his hands up and waved them around. “I just-"

You smiled, entertained by the frantic side of the normally suave, composed teen. “Think nothing of it, Namjoon. You have nothing you need to apologize to me for.”

Your expression darkened slightly as you continued. “If anything, I should apologize for not trusting you all more.”

Namjoon’s lips quivered, desperately wanting to form a victorious smirk, but he settled for an understanding smile.

In the end, he’d been right.

As usual.

“Who remains close to you, who you decide to trust, that’s completely your decision. You should never have to apologize for it.” Namjoon said.

You smiled in acknowledgement, then furrowed your brows in confusion when Namjoon started to dig around in his bag.

“I heard we were gift giving this week.” He pulled out a beautiful, leather bound journal and fountain pen and carefully placed the items on your lap. 

“This is absolutely gorgeous. How did you know I like writing?” You smiled. 

Of course he knew. He knew everything about you.

“I didn’t,” he replied, shrugging with a small smile. “I like to write in journals as a form of catharsis, and thought you might want to try.”

“Thank you so much.” You lifted an arm up and gestured for a one armed hug, one that Namjoon happily accepted.

Clutching the journal to your chest, you gathered the courage to ask him the question that had been running around in your head the past week.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes?”

“How did you guys find me in time?”

The elder clenched his jaw and shifted his gaze aside as if he couldn’t beat to direct his apparent anger and frustration toward you. 

“We heard from Jimin that Aemilia took you and interrogated the police commissioner about any of our private guard’s movements. He fessed and told us that Aemilia told him that I texted her, claiming that there was another soul in need of punishment.” 

Namjoon grit his teeth, vexation rolling off of him in waves as he practically hissed out his words. “He authorized members of our private force to move under her order in order to subdue you.”

Recounting the ridiculous lie that the redhead told her father, and the father’s idiotic tendency to believe her, made his blood hot.

“After we heard that, we rushed to all the places in the forest that the Augustus men might have taken you. Thankfully, we got to Lorne’s Ledge in time and Jimin was able to save you before you could fall off the edge.”

“Are you sure?” You said. “I could have sworn I stepped off...I thought I was a goner.”

Namjoon shook his head. “We definitely got there in time to save you. You sustained several head injuries, so I’d understand if you didn’t see Jimin or blacked out.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, pondering his response for several moments before nodding at his answer. 

There was no way you would ever be able to forget what happened that night.

You knew for a fact that your feet had left the ledge. 

But he was right, you did take several nasty hits from Byun and Lee.

You wanted to keep asking him questions, but the pained, forced look in his eye made you pause on that front.

Perhaps that projection you saw of your mother had actually been Jimin.

You wrung your hands together. 

“What matters now is that you’re safe and sound.” Namjoon gently placed his hand atop yours and gave it a supporting squeeze. “All you need to focus on is getting better. We definitely won’t let them get away with this.”

You nodded again, smiling slightly at Namjoon in thanks for his concern.

——————————————————————

Halfway across town, Aemilia Augustus paced around in her room, practically biting off her perfectly manicured nails in worry.

It had been seven days. 

Seven days of nothing.

Not a single word had come in from Byun or Lee.

When she arrived at school that first day and heard everyone talking about your absence, she felt pure and utter bliss. 

There was no joy like the joy she felt in that moment.

Such euphoria simply couldn’t be replaced.

The only moments that could possibly top it were her future engagement with Kim Namjoon, or the day she would take over her family business.

Because so many days went by without a single peep at your face, she thought her plan was working. 

She felt on top of the world.

But Byun and Lee were two of the most promising soldiers on the squad. There was no reason as to why they were taking so long to get back to her to confirm your measly little death.

As a result, she was starting to panic.

Of course, she had an emergency plan. 

She had no need for it, as there was no way her plan could go wrong, but she always had to be prepared, after all.

Just as she was about to take deep breaths to calm herself down, she jumped at the sound of pounding footsteps and yelps drifting into her room from downstairs.

She heard the annoying cry of her mother and father, and then the sound of several people talking.

A grim chill fell over her.

Unexpectedly, her plan had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

There wasn’t much time left now, as she could hear the footsteps get closer and closer.

To hell with her parents--their capture was inevitable.

Aemilia Augustus would not be captured like a criminal, not as long as she was alive and well.

Aemilia padded over to her bedroom door, shutting it closed as softly as possible and smacking the lights off.

She dove into her walk-in closet and squeezed herself as tightly as possible into a corner, a rack of evening gowns and day dresses covering her.

Every couple of minutes, a door would slam open and she listened, holding a hand over her mouth as the pounding feet searched every room on her floor.

It didn’t take them long to arrive at her room, and she shook as she heard them throw things around.

A rectangle of light shone into the room as someone opened the closet door and Aemilia stilled as though she were encased in ice.

It was silent for a long, dreadful moment. The officer turned their head this way and that, walking into the room and turning on the light to search.

From where Aemilia was hidden, there was no way they would be able to find her. She thanked Wylynne that she hadn’t taken up on her mother’s offer to hire a maid to clean her closet.

The officer turned away to leave and Aemilia cheered in her heart.

After the guards left the premises, she would collect as many valuables as possible from the house and run off to her family’s private home in another part of town. From there, she would plan what to do next.

Her plan wasn’t perfect, but she would be able to get away with it.

Or at least, she thought she would.

Just as the officer was about to close the door, a strong, invisible force yanked Aemilia out from her hiding spot and she came crashing down noisily from behind the evening gowns, taking a few with her.

The officer immediately turned around, beckoning his partner to get her. 

She hurriedly gripped a platform heel and attempted to plunge it in the man’s eye, but he caught her wrist and painfully twisted her arm behind her back.

The redhead screeched in fury and pain. His partner soon joined him, and they dragged her out into her room, each officer tightly holding on to one of her arms.

“What are you doing? Unhand me this instant!” She shrieked, writhing around in an attempt to escape. “Have you forgotten who you take orders from?!”

“No, but it seems as though you have.” 

She paused at the sound of that familiar voice.

Her beloved casually strode into the room in all of his glory, his head held high, that ever present cocky, amused smile that she loved so much on his face.

“Namjoon.” She whimpered. “Namjoon, they’re hurting me.”

The student body president kneeled down in front of her and gently took her chin in his hands.

Her eyes filled with tears and she stuck out her bottom lip, waiting for Namjoon to tell the men to let her go. They better anticipate the earful they were about to receive. How dare they treat their future queen this way?

Namjoon lovingly stroked her cheek with his thumb, wiping away her tear. She nuzzled her cheek into his hand, looking up at him with a pitiful gaze. He smiled at her.

Surely he would save her.

Aemilia closed her eyes, suppressing a victorious smile as she felt Namjoon pull his hand away from her face.

But rather than the sound of him barking orders, she was met with the sound of a harsh slap.

Her eyes flew open in shock.

Her face stung.

“Nam..joon...?” She whispered, stupefied.

The senior was sneering down at her, pulling a handkerchief out the square pocket of his jacket and wiping his hand on it.

“What disgusting thoughts you have,” the man spat, dropping the handkerchief in another subordinate’s hand. 

“Burn that.” He commanded.

Aemilia simply stared up at him in disbelief. 

Had he...hit her?

“Namjoon, why are you doing this?” Her voice trembled. “You’d never hit me, you’re my...we’re-”

“Nothing.” Namjoon interrupted with a disinterested gaze. “I am not your anything. I’ve never given you any inclination that could lead you to assume that I loved you, or liked you, or cared for you in the slightest.”

Aemilia dropped to her knees in incredulity. 

“That’s not true! You cared for me, I know you did! Ever since that (h/c) haired bitch appeared, you’ve turned away from me!” She screeched, her shrill voice piercing their ears. “I should’ve gotten rid of her sooner!”

As soon as the words left her mouth, all the air in Aemilia’s lungs disappeared. She heaved her chest, trying to breath, but found herself unable to.

He squatted down to face her.

“Let’s get one thing absolutely clear.” Namjoon spoke in a frighteningly low tone. “I never cared for you. You were nothing more than a useful little pawn in my game. A pawn who somehow tricked herself into believing she could become a queen.”

Her face turned redder and redder from anger, embarrassment, and the lack of oxygen.

“(Y/N) is more of a queen than you could ever be,” Namjoon stated, smiling at the memory of you sitting up in your hospital bed, grinning at him, the sun forming a halo behind your head. “She’s an angel. Our precious everything.”

He turned his gaze back to the creature before him. “She isn’t someone the likes of you can ever attempt to touch, much less harm or overthrow.”

Namjoon straightened, moving to walk towards the entrance to her room. “That’s my fault, I’m afraid. After all, I wasn’t able to properly regulate my inferiors.”

Black dots swam at the edge of Aemilia’s vision. She kept her eyes locked on Namjoon, still praying that this was all a prank or a joke, and that he would comfort her by sweeping her up into his arms.

“You truly have no idea what’s going to happen to you, do you?” He chuckled with a mirthless smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll fix that soon enough.”

Finally, her body gave in and shut down from the lack of oxygen. The redhead flopped over on her side, Namjoon’s cruel glare burned into the backs of her eyes.

——————————————————————

On the morning of the seventh day, you took advantage of your solitude by pondering the events of this week and the rather complicated emotions that came with them. 

Despite their reputation and despite your fears, you had grown closer to the Kims over the past month. 

They never threatened or harmed you or the people you cared about. They had welcomed you into their lives with open arms. 

You had kept them at an arms length in an effort to protect yourself and your loved ones. But what had distancing yourself from them gained you?

Still, there was no way your method could be wrong. It was your livelihood, your path to survival in Ichabod. 

There were rules here, rules that couldn’t be broken. 

Yet the majority of those rules had been broken the moment you invited Jimin to sit with you at lunch.

Was it even possible that an alternative path to salvation freedom existed?

Had the Kims truly provided another way? 

Your mother went around the room collecting and packing up your things for you as Mana helped you change in the bathroom, making sure to be careful of your still-healing shoulder.

When they left to fetch your discharge papers, you sat at the edge of the hospital bed and deliberated what could potentially be one of the most important decisions of your life.——————————————————————

i am so, so, so sorry for taking longer than usual to post! college and midterm season caught up with me--i’ll try not to let assignments interfere with my writing schedule in the future ;-;-; thank you so much for sticking with me through the wait! the long awaited day has finally come! revenge has never been so sweet hehe. also, the way that i have no idea how to write fight scenes--pfft. i hope you all enjoy the chapter <33

~taglist~

@melaninkpops @loserwithapen @hellaspookystudent @ecillartto @omgsuperstarg @ace-angel-judas @jjamsbangtan @lovinggalaxies @lovesick-heart0 @ksxmpoison @girlmeetsliv3 @thedarkwinterrose @purpuravm @oneweirdbean @hopelessfountainjoonie @mazmaz30 @enigmaticlove-03 @uppiespuppy @queenceline22 @kokofikats @taeyohonic @creatorspalace @supertweetycherry @anachikartadze @itsfeliciatime 

[dreamyjoons]

Our ‘Get Along’ Shirt - pjm

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

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

Words: 14.2k lol

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

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

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

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

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

"But solo cups are far superior-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I highly doubt that."

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

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

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

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

"Shut up!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You are both gonna wear it."

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

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

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

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

"Hand over the shirt."

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

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

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

“Long enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No he won't-"

"Yes, he will-"

"Ah, can we just sit?."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he seemed affected too.

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

“Maybe-”

“How about-”

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

“You go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m trying to be careful!”

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

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

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

“That sounds dirt-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need the bathroom.”

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

“I- what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I won't be long."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

"It's so hot!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"My wha-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are we doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” You blurt, processing his words.

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

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

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

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

“No, forget it!”

“Jimin!”

“Ah, I like you, okay?”

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

“You- huh?”

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

"Why have you never told me?"

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

"Jimin..."

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

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

"I mean, I... yeah?"

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

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

“You- what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think that scares me?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Seriously?”

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

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

“Prove it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jimin?”

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

“I don’t wanna cum just yet.”

“What if I wanted you to-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re gonna regret those words baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s what I was waiting for.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jimin!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t get used to it Park Jimin.”

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

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

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

“Ready?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then he pulls out a power move.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.” You sigh, voice cracking slightly.

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

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

“Where do we go from here though?”

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

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

“I’d love to.”

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

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

The shirt felt big now. Too big.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[saipng]

Warming up

Fandom: Resident Evil (8 in particular)

Pairing: Ethan Winters/Karl Heisenberg

Rating: E

Word Count: 13,803

hey guess what i can post the full fic from my laptop lol so this is basically a reupload!

AO3 link in replies

Ethan accepts Heisenberg's offer and learns how to negotiate.

(P.S: Technically PWP but there is a tiny bit of P in the beginning, just to set things up. Lighting some candles, putting on some music, pouring some wine. You know how it is)

(P.P.S: There aren't any actual candles, wine, or music in this fic. I'm sorry.)

“Take a seat.”

The rusted, sickly looking chair clattered against the floor helplessly, its sad little legs looking as though they would give out underneath their own weight any second now – much less Ethan’s.

He did not take a seat.

Heisenberg turned his back, walked across the room to a small table with a blistering desk lamp at the other end. You’re not a threat to me, his body language all but screamed.

You’re nothing.

“Listen, Ethan, you’re being played-“

Ethan, in turn, felt his own body seize up.

“What are you talking about!? You think this is a game!?”

There was a second - half a second - where the other man stopped fiddling with his cigar, turned his head towards him giving him a look so pointed it bore right through the tiny jet black shades. And in the very next moment Heisenberg was throwing a steel blade into the poster laden wall, metal glinting as it flew through the air. Ethan could barely follow the movement with his eyes before he was suddenly being shoved onto the flimsy chair, its legs stubbornly refusing to collapse against all odds.

Heisenberg looked down at him, sneering.

Ethan couldn’t help the shaky breath.

Most dangerous of them all, Duke’s words echoed in his head, and he swallowed a lump in his throat. His knees felt weak.

And he could swear the man in front of him looked delighted to tower over him like this.

But then he took a step backwards, then another, and then, when he was certain enough Ethan wouldn’t dare make another move, he turned back towards the board, pointing at each one of his siblings in turn.

“Lady super-sized bitch...”- A glint, and the knife was slashing through the air, pulling right out of Dimitriscu’s face, leaving an ugly mark in between her eyes with a particular sort of malice.

“Ugly ass psycho doll...”- The knife stabbed into Donna Beneviento’s torso, the crack of wall underneath the poster almost painful.

“And that moronic freak.”

The blade easily lodged itself somewhere in Moreau’s face, or maybe his neck, maybe somewhere around the eyes or the shoulder – both Heisenberg and the knife barely spared the last sibling a second’s thought and the man turned back to Ethan, his hands outstretched.

“Don’t you get it? It’s a test, to see if you’re strong enough to be a part of Miranda’s family!”

“I don’t WANT to be a part of Miranda’s family-“- Ethan was growling before he could really think, and Heisenberg kept looking at him like he was saying all the wrong things.

“Neither did I. But here we are!”- He circled back, something in his voice cracking, -“And I’m next in line, right? Kill me, move up the chain! Well, fuck that!”

And with a quick sweep of his hand, the metal wall was splitting in two.

Miranda’s portrait tore.

Ethan felt nauseous.

“I don’t give a damn about your personal issues!”- He was sputtering incredulously, not knowing why he was expecting all of this to start making sense when it wasn’t, -“I just want to fix my daughter!”

And to his great surprise, Heisenberg laughed.

“So do I!”- He grinned, ear to ear, fists shaking, -“Do you have any idea how powerful that kid is? Even Miranda’s scared of her-“

It was then that whatever horror was lurking beneath them began revving its engines up again, and images of chainsaws and lawn mowers began to flash across Ethan’s mind. He grit his teeth while Heisenberg roared at whoever it was to quiet down, daring to tear his eyes away for a glance towards the hole.

Tufts of white smoke clouded the room below. He’s been around this accursed village long enough to know that there was nothing good waiting for him down there. He’s known Heisenberg for long enough to figure that whatever it was was sharp. And painful.

His captor looked at him for a moment. Took another to inhale deeply and look away.

Ethan could empathize. He could hardly catch his own breath.

Heisenberg removed his glasses.

“You and me, Ethan,”- He pleaded, and really, there was no better word to describe his voice just then - this monster pleaded with him and Ethan felt something in his neck crack, -“Together, we go and save Rose — and then we can use her to grind Miranda into paste!”

“My daughter is not a weapon,”- Ethan growled back at him, his chest hollow, -“Fuck you!”

Heisenberg took a step back. Looked at him for that one agonizing moment once more. Ethan expected more pleading. More reasoning that he would have to refute. A conversation.

What he didn’t expect was the chair flying right underneath him, the other man boring into his arm with an iron grip as Ethan dangled on flimsy footing right above the room that filled his lungs with nightmares.

His own hand clung frantically to Heisenberg’s, body faintly remembering what survivor’s instinct was.

“Last chance,”- The other man said, his face a spasm between amusement and frustration. I’m holding the trump card now, that expression told him.

I won, so why do you refuse to see it?

“You don’t want to find out what’s in that hole,”- He added as though for emphasis, and Ethan didn’t tear his eyes away.

Couldn’t tear his eyes away.

He thought of Rose bubbling around in pieces. Thought of her crying.

Thought of Miranda’s hands.

A painful current passed through his spine, and just like that, his mind was electrified. His stomach was turning.

The soles of his shoes were beginning to slip.

“I am not using my daughter,”- Ethan told him through clenched teeth, and felt the grip on his arm falter. He exhaled shakily through his nose, his own fingers curling tighter.

Heisenberg raised his chin up, and Ethan had to force the next words out through his red-hot sternum.

“But-“

He exhaled, that single syllable just as painful as a scythe through his leg. A knife through his ribs.

“-if Miranda really is as strong as you say she is-”

Coiling his fingers, Heisenberg gave him a barely noticeable pull, his eyes squinting. Ethan swallowed down the bitter bile rising in his throat.

“Well. We’re not exactly left with a lot of options.”

Another pull, and he was standing on solid ground now – still precariously close to the gaping hole, a single firm push away, but at least no longer dangling over it like some helpless worm.

The other man levelled him with a gaze, mouth thin. He didn’t let go of his arm.

“What, exactly, are you proposing?”

Ethan didn’t let go either.

“A truce.”

Heisenberg’s eyebrows shot up.

“You want to partner up?”

“Call it whatever you want, but it sounds like you’re going to need all the manpower you can get,”- Ethan took a step forward, unnecessary but needed. His grip tightened. He could negotiate this, -“And I sure as hell am not going to turn out the only helping hand that’s been offered – even if it is yours.”

He could save Rose.

That was all that mattered.

Heisenberg made a sudden noise, something between a gasp and a chuckle. Something angry. Something incredulous.

“So now it’s you doing me a favor!?”

“Take it or leave it,”- He offered cautiously, words somehow both softer and harsher than he intended, -“We rescue Rose. Make sure she’s safe. Kill Miranda. This was always the plan, and I will do it with or without you.”

And just as he was certain no more words were needed, he found himself talking anyway.

“Help out or don’t get in my way.”

He watched the other man watch him, his eyes all too sharp without the shades, all too quick and bright on that gray and beige face, and Ethan’s pulse began to quicken once more. His breath hitched.

He hated the way his breath hitched.

His arm was beginning to ache.

Just as suddenly and impulsively as everything else he’s seen this man do, Heisenberg was throwing his head back, his laughter echoing up and down and out of the hole, mixing in with the revving noises that once again filled up the electric air.

“There’s that unfounded confidence that kept you breathing through the night!”- He roared over the sound of metal splitting metal, arms wide as he finally let go of Ethan, taking a large step back and putting his sunglasses back on, -“Now I see what’s been keeping them all hooked!”

Ethan turned his head in the direction of “them”, took one more look at the faces of the people – the monsters – he’s slaughtered in the course of the day.

He tried to suppress whatever feeling was beginning to claw its way up his throat.

By the time he turned back towards Heisenberg he could only see the man’s back briskly striding down a hall he could swear wasn’t there just a moment ago, beckoning him to follow.

“Let’s get moving then, Ethan!”- He yelled, voice faint over the constant noise that Ethan was now beginning to associate with the sound of a plane propeller and certain death, -“Can’t even hear myself think in this goddamn shithole!”

He spat that last part as though it was an insult to whomever – or whatever – it was that so insistently kept on interrupting their conversation, and Ethan realized that he could move again. Inhaling sharply before taking a couple of all too precarious steps away from the hole, he finally resolved to trudge along behind, only briefly wondering if this decision was eventually going to get him killed.

He didn’t want to think whether it would get Rose-

He couldn’t think about it.

“I’m assuming you have some sort of a plan,”- He said instead, if only not to think.

“Some sort of a- Are you kidding me?”- Heisenberg snarled, not bothering to turn around as they made their way down a shoddy corridor that looked as though touching any surface would give you instant tetanus, -“What, you think I was going to walk up to Miranda, shove a gun in her face, and hope for the best?”

He didn’t look back as he said this either – Ethan knew exactly what his face looked like just then anyway.

“Has been working out for me so far,”- He muttered under his breath, kicking at a loose screw on the floor.

“Yes, well, it’s not going to work against her.”

They finally reached a single door decorated with a large golden horse crest. Heisenberg fumbled inside his coat pockets before pulling out a large keychain with a single key.

It glinted in the dim light.

“A whole army isn’t going to work against her.”

He threw the door open, and Ethan suddenly saw the inside of a surprisingly accommodating room that did not belong in this run down factory. It bore a single metal framed bed tucked away in a far corner, a tiny kitchenette right across from that, and a small round metallic table and couple of equally metallic rusted through chairs strewn about that looked only slightly sturdier than the one he found himself sitting in and falling out of mere moments ago. Random scraps and chunks littered the floor, paper and metal and god knew what else. The space looked barely used, counters barren and bed sheets made, yet Ethan still felt out of sorts stepping into what he could only presume were Heisenberg’s personal quarters.

“And we have that? An army?”- He asked uncertainly after looking around, wondering whether they came here to retrieve said army and whether it could be found biding its time in the rickety wardrobe to his right.

“Oh, we have so much more than that,”- Heisenberg grinned at him, reaching back into his coat to tuck away the key ring and bring out a new cigar instead, placing it against his lips as he struggled with a box of matches, -“There are still preparations to be made, Ethan, but once it’s done - well, let’s just say Miranda won’t see any of it coming.”

He took a long drag, exhaling a puff of ashy smoke into the ceiling, and then, as though an afterthought, extended the cigar towards Ethan with a nod.

“I don’t smoke,”- Ethan said instead, watching the other man shrug and take another long drag. He tried to disregard the sudden shiver that came over him as a winter chill, -“W-Well, what the hell are we waiting for, then!? Let’s get out of here and-“

“Hold your horses, pops. We’re not ready yet.”

“Ready? What is there to be ready for, we just-“

“Listen, Ethan,”- Heisenberg was up in his face in a flash once again, and Ethan suddenly could see himself being forced onto another chair, shoved down and made to sit in place. His legs felt pathetic and his chest clenched in anticipation – but the man didn’t make another move, simply stood there. Entirely too close.

“It’s like you don’t even listen.”

Ethan tried to pretend he didn’t feel awkwardly disappointed. Tightened the grip around his gun instead.

“I just said there was a plan. And plans require time.”

He could deal with being pushed around, with constant attacks and violence. He had no idea how to handle a sudden moment of peace, even if he did propose it himself.

Heisenberg smelled like cigar smoke.

“Time!? Time!?”- Ethan felt his hands shake, -“We don’t have any goddamn time to-“

“Do you want to throw all this out the goddamn window!? Want Miranda to do as she pleases with Rose!?”

He was now dangerously close to walking out the door.

“Okay, look. Why don’t you take some time to regroup?”- The other man finally moved away, letting him breathe in a breath he didn’t know he desperately needed, -“Take a seat, relax, put your feet up, for fuck’s sake! Make yourself at home! You deserve a little rest after everything you’ve been through, don’t you, Ethan?”

It’s not a trap, Heisenberg told him when he was on his way to this factory, and it sounded about as reassuring then as this did now. Ethan was certain that he won’t be able to relax for the rest of his actual life after this. Not after everything he’s been through. Especially not after everything.

“And where will you be going?”

“To make those final preparations,”- He was now moving backwards across the room, hands splayed out, that shit-eating smile never leaving his face, -“Check up on few things, add a few final tweaks. You know how it is.”

And right before he stepped out the back door and right after Ethan missed his chance to protest, he added, -“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, Ethan. I’ll be back before you know it.”

And with that, Heisenberg disappeared into the noise filled air of his factory.

-

It has been several hours until he returned.

Actually, it could as well have been several minutes, but that thought was way less reassuring and way more pitiful.

After rummaging through every drawer possible, picking up piles of metal scrap, random packs of ammo and several herbs, pocketing one of Heisenberg’s slightly damp cigars and flipping through several pages of his diary denoting the creation of “Soldats”, Ethan resolved to plopping one of the shitty metal chairs against the closest wall and plopping himself right down on it. He was definitely feeling way too exhausted to actually sit and soak it all in, way too agitated to be here in the first place. His every nerve and sense was buzzing with the need to move, and his numerous injuries burned, burned, burned. For the first time since losing his fingers was he beginning to feel phantom pains, the loss acutely piercing through his left arm and shoulder when he tried to flex his hand, wincing at the movement that never reached his ring and pinky phalanges. His knee was bouncing and his mind kept replaying scenarios of all and everything that could go wrong going wrong, and amidst all that his gaze was fixed on a single spot of rust colored stain on the old worn out carpet all the way until Heisenberg unceremoniously burst through the backdoor, scattering a few metallic parts across the floor.

Ethan’s first impulse was to jump right out of the chair, and when his body didn’t listen, he resorted to simply snapping his head up in equal parts greeting, inquiry, annoyance and excitement.

Most dangerous of them all, Duke told him a forever ago, and those words kept replaying over and over and over in his restless brain like a broken record until he’d almost convinced himself he was actually glad to have Heisenberg on his side.

“Good. You’re still here!”- Said man stopped in his step, voice colored with surprise, -“Feeling better?”

Maybe he expected Ethan to bail by now. Maybe he simply forgot he was there.

“How’re the Soldats coming along?”- Ethan asked instead, fingers interlacing with one another, ring and pinky awkwardly hanging out without their proper place, legs simply refusing to let him stand.

Heisenberg quirked his head to one side, a small incredulous smile gracing his lips, -“How do you- Hm. I see someone’s been doing their homework.”

“You leave stuff lying around.”

He nodded for a long moment, slowly placing his hands on his hips as he kept on staring at Ethan.

And kept on staring.

And kept on staring long enough for that weird alien ache to return to Ethan’s bones, make him want to squirm in his seat if his body had any resolve whatsoever left in it.

And then he simply shook his head, looked at his feet as though he couldn’t believe any of this was happening, and turned back to walking across the room towards the tiny bedside table.

“Well, to answer your question, they’re coming along just fine. Revving and ravenous,”- He stated simply, rummaging around for something Ethan couldn’t see.

“Great,”- He swallowed down in turn, finally willing his heavy, ginormous, colossal feeling body to lean forward in the chair, getting ready to stand up powering through on fumes and the rushing adrenalin alone, -“Let’s do this.”

“Woah, slow down there, cowboy,”- Heisenberg suddenly turned to him, a precariously small bottle dangling in his hand as he spread his arms out, -“We still got several hours until-“

“Several hours!?”- Ethan’s head shot up, something way too close to the surface of his skin slowly beginning to boil.

Not a trap.

“You said you were going to make checks and tweaks!”

“Yes, and now that those are mostly done we need to wait until dawn for the ceremony to start so-“

“Have you gone completely crazy!?”- He was shouting now, realizing that he had finally managed to stand up without noticing it. That his knees were shaking, -“We don’t have that kind of time, Rose will-“

“With all due respect, Ethan, your daughter isn’t exactly going anywhere. Not in the state she’s in.”

Heisenberg grinned. Ethan heard his breath catch.

“No, you know what? Fuck this. Fuck you. I’m going alone.”

He didn’t have the time to figure out how he was going to take the next step – didn’t have to. Because in the very next second, metal scraps were levitating off of the floor and darting out to throw him backwards, knees buckling against the metal chair so he was sitting back down, his wrists now pinned painfully against the wall.

He immediately tried to dash forward, and the metal bore right down into his very bone.

“Sit. Down.”

Ethan let out a breath.

Now this? This, he understood.

He only wished he could reach his gun.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going!? Miranda is going to kill you!”

Heisenberg moved slowly towards him, his outstretched hand lowering back down, a snarl over his face which made Ethan think of full moons and howling and silver bullets to the face.

He wouldn’t be able to stop silver bullets, would he?

“I’m starting to think I might as well take my chances,”- Ethan growled back, voice hoarse and aching.

“And leave me to clean up your mess!? No, thank you, I’d rather just kill you myself.”

“Big talk for someone who’s too afraid to go up against mommy-”

Wrong thing to say, the metal cuffs on his wrists told him, their grasp suddenly growing that much tighter, extracting another hopeless grunt. Ethan tried not to think of how much force it would require to pop his hands clean off. Crush his bone into dust. Sever at his skin. He somehow had no doubt Heisenberg could do it if he wanted to.

Most dangerous of them all.

No amount of chem fluid was going to reattach his hands after that.

“You have no goddamn clue what she’s capable of, you pathetic idiot. She won’t leave a wet stain once she’s through with you – and then she’ll come for me. I am not going to let that happen, Ethan.”

“Yes, well,”- He tried again, feeling as though the metal was crushing his larynx and not his arms, -“I’ve taken out three of your kind already. What’s a couple more to boot?”

Heisenberg lurched forward then, a mean expression painted over his features as he leaned in, further, further, that snarl so visceral it was all canines and blood and meat and bone, and Ethan could pull back only so far until his head connected with the wall and Heisenberg’s face was in his neck.

He groaned involuntarily. Shut his eyes and prepared for the sting-

- And then Heisenberg took a deep, deep breath in through his nose.

“Did you just- Did you just smell me!?”- Ethan stammered out breathlessly, eyes flying open as something in his abdomen sunk and he bucked against the metal restraints once more. And here he thought he could predict where this was going.

This damn village was going to drive him completely mad.

“Death… and decay,”- The other man muttered, coarse beard hairs scratching at Ethan’s Adam’s apple, his neck craning further and further till the strain was tugging at his very veins, -“You reek of it, Ethan. You really think Miranda is going to let you walk when you smell like that?”

Ethan didn’t say a word – couldn’t even form a word in his mind, had no idea what he could possibly say, Heisenberg’s own smell of metal and gasoline and cigar smoke penetrating his every sense. His breath was everything but stable, his pulse breaking through his skin.

Was this room always this suffocating?

“Dammit, Ethan, I’m on your side here!”- Heisenberg barked, the noise resonating in Ethan’s very chest cavity, his every hair standing on end by the time he pulled away and took a step back, -“Don’t you get it!?”

He didn’t get it. Didn’t want to get it.

He swallowed down, and the air was still too hot.

“We need to wait till Miranda’s busy with the ceremony - then, we strike. She’ll never see it coming.”

He was taking his sunglasses off again, running a heavy hand over his eyes. Then he looked up, and looked at Ethan, and Ethan breathed out heavy because he was starting to hate the way the other man looked.

In this light, his irises were practically white.

“Who is going to protect Rose once you’re fucking dead?”

He said nothing. The restraints let up, and he missed the pain intensely.

He understood pain. There was nothing to negotiate when violence was involved.

And now, there was only a dull itch, and the sense that his very world was crumbling – just like when he woke up outside that overturned van, a dead body and a ringing phone for company.

“Trust me on this, Ethan.”

Then, it was lonely and frigid and cold. But now…

“We’re partners, remember?”

Every inch of his being was burning up as he slowly nodded, not trusting his dried up throat with making a sound.

“At least till Miranda’s done and dealt with,”- Heisenberg added with an almost imperceptible smile, and Ethan’s brows furrowed.

“...And after?”

“Let’s not jump too far ahead, shall we? All that matters is that I’m not going to betray you.”

He took a slow step forward, too close. Too far. Ethan hated everything in that one moment.

“You will get Rose back.”

“Fine,”- He finally relented, hating it all that much more, the word tasting acidic on his tongue. He wanted, needed the metal on his wrists to tighten. Why was it still there.

Why was it barely touching his skin.

“We wait till dawn,”- Ethan nodded once again, more to himself than anyone else, saying something just to say anything and stop inhaling the smell of cigar and rust, -“But this better work.”

“It will. It has to,”- Heisenberg nodded at him, no longer looking his way, –“I’ve waited too damn long.”

He whispered that last part. A hollow silence stretched the room thin.

Ethan was still burning, and it concentrated just below his waist.

And he missed home dearly. Everything was so monochrome back then. Their hiding, their fear, their happiness – quiet, simple, muted. The pain wasn’t painful. The smiles didn’t hurt.

It was fine. It was good. Lukewarm.

“...Rose.”

Everything felt so much now. Absolutely everything.

He was miserable.

Heisenberg looked at him from the corner of his eye, and Ethan looked up slowly.

“Rose will be sacrificed at the ceremony?”

He saw the other man sigh. Watched him pull out yet another cigar.

“In a manner of speaking. She is going to become the new vessel for Miranda’s true child.”

“True child?”- Ethan blinked at him, and thought that this was good. He could handle conversation. Probably.

“What, another Lord?”

“Please. We were never her children,”- Heisenberg placed the cigar on the table without lighting, not sparing it a second glance, -“Just a bunch of ragtag experiments that didn’t lose their minds. Well, not all of us, anyway.”

“But why...”- Ethan couldn’t help the question he’s been so successfully avoiding all night, morning, day, and evening. A question he had no idea if he truly wanted to know the answer to. Whatever was holding it back now has burned through, though, and his guts were spilling onto the floor, -“Why her? Out of everyone in the goddamn world, why did it have to be Rose!?”

The other man looked amused, smile almost gentle as his eyes developed crinkles at their edges. Ethan grit his teeth. Tried not to blink.

“You really have no clue how powerful she is, do you?”

He had no idea if he actually was expected to answer – so he kept quiet. Watched Heisenberg and that out of place look on his face. He thought it didn’t suit him. He thought about that giant hammer and wondered where it was.

“It doesn’t matter, really,”- Heisenberg finally said as he shook his head, smile dropping, -“I suspect a lot of it has to do with you, anyway.”

And Ethan held his breath.

“...Me?”

“Who else? You are very special indeed, Ethan,”- He began to walk closer yet again. Ethan could swear the corners of his vision blurred. The scrape of metal against his wrists became that much more noticeable, like a couple of snakes slowly coiling their way around him.

He swallowed hard as that pair of impossibly gray eyes scanned him up and down. Slowly. Shamelessly.

“Your body is... Well, it’s something. Personally, I’m quite... interested in it.”

Filthily.

Ethan felt filthy.

And Heisenberg definitely took pleasure from standing over him like this.

His stomach turned in knots and his jaw clenched painfully as he tried his best and failed to prevent the words from spilling out of his lips.

“Are you... hitting on me?”

Fuck.

He asked and cursed internally immediately after, feeling that much dirtier.

Filthy, filthy, filthy.

It didn’t matter that the thought first entered his head back when he heard the other man enunciate his name, it didn’t matter that it continued to haunt him and evolve from ridiculous to creepy to anxiety-inducing all in the span of a couple of hours. And it definitely did not matter that Heisenberg was now staring at him like a piece of meat moments away from being torn apart, a small incredulous smirk blooming into a full sized grin – it did not matter that he felt his damned pulse betray him once again as it began to jump around his body.

Didn’t matter.

He should have stayed quiet.

By the look on Heisenberg’s face, he should have stayed quiet.

“Oh! Oh, that is rich!”

He wished it didn’t burn.

Loud laughter filled the impossibly hot air of the tiny room, Heisenberg’s eyes blown wide open in that very same expression that told Ethan You never fail to surprise me, -“Where does it all come from!?”

He laughed. And he shook his head. And he laughed some more.

And then Ethan shifted in his chair, and suddenly he was no longer laughing – rather, he was walking closer, those metal cuffs piercing and cutting through Ethan’s skin without so much as a warning, and Ethan’s heart was in his throat and his curse was out his chest.

“Fuck-!”

“Then again... You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Fuck,”- Was all Ethan could manage, wondering if he would even be able to move his wrists afterwards. His hands have been through worse than this – he could manage. He could…

“Only if you ask nicely.”

He threw his head back against the wall again, banging it with a loud thud, incapable of nothing more when Heisenberg crouched down in front of him and began to slowly rack his gloved hands up his thighs.

Whatever Ethan was breathing with just then, it certainly weren’t his lungs – his entire chest was on fire and he meekly tugged at the restraints. It stung.

This – this, he had no clue how he could handle.

Heisenberg laughed again, but it was almost aggressive. A bark of a sound, a single ‘Ha!’, low and reverberating in Ethan’s lower abdomen despite the overpowering need to vomit.

“Really, Ethan, your wife’s body is still warm to the touch and you’re already spreading your legs for another man-“

“Don’t talk about her like that,”- Ethan remembered himself for a moment, a brief goddamn moment that felt akin to a breath in freezing winter air after spending an eternity in a furnace. He tried to kick, and his legs did not listen, -“And don’t fucking touch me.”

Heisenberg’s hands did pause – if only for a second. And then he looked up, and his grin was all sharp teeth and promise to use them.

“No one can blame you for being exhausted, papa,”- He continued to growl, the now soft, barely-there hands tracing the fine seaming of Ethan’s denim jeans, - “All that running around, the pain and the adrenalin... And the worst is yet to come!”

He dug his fingers into Ethan’s legs at that, and Ethan gasped out as his insides twitched.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to let go? Just for a minute?”

“I said-“- He began, voice sharp, and swallowed his own damn tongue when his eyes met Heisenberg’s.

He was no longer smiling.

Ethan wanted to melt into the wall. Dammit, he should have stayed quiet.

“Look, Ethan, I think we have a misunderstanding here,”- Heisenberg began, thumbs slowly, slowly, so painfully slowly rubbing up, the leather and the denim heating up in between sweaty skin.

“Damn right we do,“- Ethan muttered, and tried not to push into the touch.

“You see, this is hardly any more dignified for me than it is for you,”- The other man continued, fingers circling, impossibly light, as though trying to pretend they weren’t there in the first place. Ethan knew they were. He felt them just fine, -“But I’ve been working, too. And personally, I think I’d like to let go. Waste some time, so to speak.”

And at this, Heisenberg tilted his head, and grinned.

“We got time to waste.”

He kept on looking at Ethan, as though waiting for a sign. As though Ethan could ever possibly agree to-

As though Ethan could even entertain the idea of-

“How about this then,”- He suddenly said with a heavy breath when whatever expression Ethan’s face was contorted into didn’t seem to satisfy, -“You… don’t have to say anything.”

His voice dropped to a whisper at the same time as his eyes dropped down to stare at Ethan’s crotch. Ethan’s hips reared back into the chair. His heart was in his throat.

“Just don’t stop me, Ethan. And then we can both... Pretend.”

Heisenberg didn’t say anything else, barely made another sound or move. Just licked at his lips, slowly.

And Ethan- Well, Ethan just sat there, constrained to the wall, legs shaking, hands shaking, this- this man that he was fully intent on killing just a couple of hours ago in between his thighs, and his cock fucking throbbing. It was the most miserable he’s felt in goddamn years.

He was burning.

He never wanted to not be burning.

Heisenberg didn’t look like he was breathing.

Without making a sound, Ethan turned his head to the side and held his own breath. Grit his teeth. He felt those damn hands methodically, achingly move up his thighs, pet up his lap and slide alongside his jeans’ pockets over to his belt. He could swear he was experiencing vertigo.

“Okay. Okay,”- Heisenberg kept on whispering, and he couldn’t see his face but he could swear that that shit-eating grin was plastered all over it, and suddenly, the hands were gone, and Ethan didn’t dare look, -“Good. Perfect. Close your eyes.”

He did as he was told without a thought. Was simply glad the other didn’t gloat.

He didn’t dare think. In fact, thinking was the last thing he wanted to do, ever, because then he would realize that he’s made a decision here, and god, what did that say about him-

“Shit...”- He muttered when the hands returned, now noticeably glove free, and burning even hotter than Ethan himself, something about Heisenberg’s skin scorching like a goddamn oven. His eyes flew open involuntarily when he felt, heard his belt being opened, his body already shifting in its seat for easier access. He didn’t dare turn his head.

He really wanted to turn his head.

He exhaled a slow breath, and he didn’t think.

Heisenberg’s fingers were at his zipper now, the sound of it sliding down like the crack of thunder to his ear in the quiet room. Ethan was struggling not to pant, swallowing hard when his tongue kept drying up from all the hot air. The silence was killing him. The sound of his breathing was making him sick.

When did this room become so stuffy. He needed air. He desperately needed-

“Fuck!”- Ethan screamed desperately bucking forward when Heisenberg’s face was suddenly stuffed into his crotch, nose and mouth pressed to his still-covered cock as he took another deep, filthy inhale.

When did this happen. How did this-

“Fuck is right, Ethan,”- He muttered, lips moving against the shaft with every word, hot breath making Ethan’s hips twitch and his legs fall apart wider, -“You smell like... Fuck.”

Ethan couldn’t breathe. He could not goddamn breathe and he didn’t want to breathe.

He tried pulling at the restraints again, and they still did not let up. An electric chill ran down his spine and he began to grind his hips against Heisenberg’s face, desperate for literally any kind of friction, even if the beard did itch.

“Fuck,”- He muttered breathlessly again when the other pulled away, finally looking at Heisenberg for the first time since he somehow agreed to this happening, saw that exact grin that he was expecting, and suddenly, those canines did not look so much terrifying as inviting.

Suddenly, he felt like he could negotiate this too.

“Your mouth-“

Ethan swallowed again, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down painfully as whatever he wanted to say died down just as suddenly as it came up. He saw Heisenberg blink at him in dry amusement, watched him slowly stand up and take off his stained-through trench.

“Don’t talk, alright? Make this easier for both of us.”

Ethan obeyed gladly, instead opting to look over the curve of muscle underneath the yellow shirt, the peak of collarbone where the buttons weren’t closed. Everything about Heisenberg was distinctly man and that, too, drove him absolutely wild. He’s never done this before. Never thought he’d want to. Never had any reason to.

Then the other lurched forward towards his face, and Ethan’s head connected with the concrete wall one more painful time.

Heisenberg stopped just shy of his lips, still grinning as a deep, cigar stained laugh escaped his chest.

“Ethan, please. Did you really think I’d stoop so low as to defile you with a kiss?”

Then again, he never met any other man quite like Karl Heisenberg.

His words were one thing, but they were also burning against Ethan’s mouth and they were hungrily gulping each other’s breaths in the tiny space between them. And then, just as fast and unassuming as everything he did, Heisenberg stuffed his nose into Ethan’s neck again and took another desperate huff.

“Could smell you all day when you’re like this,”- Ethan heard him mutter, low enough to be a vibration, quiet enough that Ethan thought it wasn’t meant to be heard at all, and it was almost concerning how flattering he found those words to be all things considered. The heat went straight to his cheeks. He was goddamn blushing.

Heisenberg placed a steady hand on his cheek, angled his face away as he swiftly licked at his neck, and then just as quickly bit down with his horribly sharp teeth.

“Shit!”- Ethan yelled, his voice a shameful moan that he couldn’t prevent even if he wanted to, and his hips were once again seeking friction in the shitty metal chair that he was beginning to hate. It scraped against the floor painfully.

The bite wasn’t anything Ethan expected, and it was everything he wanted. He threw his wrists against the restraints again, panting hard as Heisenberg sucked at his pulse, never feeling so exposed in his life. The other man’s hand slid down to palm his cock, and Ethan felt his eyes roll backwards in his head.

The words were spilling out of his mouth before he could even catch himself, his voice low and distant and not his own when he heard himself begging, -“Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.”

He could only remain quiet for so long, it seemed.

Heisenberg paused in leaving hard bites at his neck, raised his head to look at him once again in raw wonder.

Interesting, he called Ethan, and in hindsight, that statement could have meant absolutely anything. Facts about European bird migration patterns were interesting. Didn’t mean Ethan was going to fuck a crow any time soon.

“Please,”- He asked. Nicely.

And just this once – just this goddamn once he was glad that interesting really did mean what he thought it meant, because Ethan was so hard it hurt to move, and Heisenberg looked like he could very easily move Ethan himself.

And so he did exactly that.

As if in slow motion, he saw the other man pull back and take a few certain steps back, eyes never leaving Ethan’s, a hand flying out in front as Ethan simultaneously found himself being lifted off into the air, the pull on his wrists unreal, his arms feeling like they were going to pop right out of their shoulder sockets any second now. The world went black for a second as he was being turned around in mid-air, the room and all its contents tumbling in his vision as he was sent flying back across the entirety of it, finally landing with his back thrown against the weirdly hard bedding.

His breath was knocked out of him.

His entire body melted regardless.

And his wrists were still pinned up over his head with the metal scraps, arms beginning to feel sore.

He was lying on this shitty, dusty bed in this shitty, dusty room, completely helpless and hopeless after what was definitely the absolute worst day of his life, body and mind burning through with pain, this person who was more animal than man, who came excruciatingly close to ending Ethan’s very life, who could still end it with a single sweep of his hand looking at him like he was going to consume him.

And as Heisenberg quietly began to make his way over there, taking the time to unstrap his belts and tug off the random pieces of scrap he had hanging around his neck, Ethan wondered why in the fucking hell was he finding all of this so agonizingly arousing.

He heard the other man throw the belts down to the floor, buckles hitting the shaggy carpet with a dull clink, shirt undone to mid-waist by the time he reached the bed; watched as he climbed onto it one knee at a time, throwing them over Ethan’s body and lowering his full weight on top of his thighs.

Ethan squirmed underneath it, and refused to think any more.

“I figured you were impatient, but really, Ethan…”- Heisenberg leaned down slowly, hovered over his lips for the briefest of seconds before going for the neck again, and Ethan practically whined, -“You need to learn how to let go.”

He felt a scrape of teeth right in the middle of his throat, Heisenberg making his way down as he licked with his tongue, reaching the hollow spot between the collarbones and just- sucking right at the skin there. Ethan’s entire body arched up, and the other man’s hands were on his hip and shoulder, holding him down easily, pressing him into the bed like he didn’t weigh a thing.

“Yeah, well- Some might say I got issues,”- He rasped out finally finding his voice, pushing against the hold that he was certain was going to leave blisters on his skin. He felt the following chuckle rumble through Heisenberg’s chest into his own and shuddered.

“Then I’ll just have to fuck you so hard you’ll forget all about those, hm?”

His whole body was shuddering. His head was swimming.

Ethan was used to being manhandled – it was basically his second nature at this point, what with everything that happened in Louisiana and in the past day. But he was no goddamn pushover – he was used to fighting back.

So he pulled at the restraints again, desperate, knowing full well they wouldn’t budge a bit, and he bucked his body against the hand that was as solid as metal itself, that was now travelling underneath his shirt, slowly, painstakingly, and he craned his neck back far enough that he was now staring at the rust colored wall.

And when none of that worked, and when Heisenberg simply continued to nip at his collarbone, his burning fingers slowly raking up Ethan’s stomach, up to his nipple where he began to rub with his thumb, Ethan swallowed down the remainders of his pride that he didn’t think he’d still have anywhere on him, and did what he hated most.

He asked for help.

“Heisenberg,”- He whispered, voice hoarse and dry as his wrists kept wriggling in the cuffs, still trying knowing full well there was no point. He could negotiate this one, too.

“Ethan, please,”- The other man murmured against his stomach, where he was now pressing a particularly wet and toothy bite. Ethan let out a hiss, -“I think we might as well be on a first name basis, all things considered. At least, while your cock is still hard.”

And he punctuated his claim by pressing an almost gentle kiss down next to Ethan’s navel as he ran his fingertips alongside his bulge, making Ethan’s guts knot together.

Swallowing down the suffocating grip on his throat, Ethan tried again.

“Karl.”

His bones were at their breaking point with how hard he was pulling.

“I also wouldn’t object to ‘sir’, or maybe ‘daddy’, but use those at your own discretion,”- The other muttered from somewhere close to Ethan’s ribs, his smile stretched out against sore skin.

“Karl,”- Ethan simply said, and then, when Heisenberg didn’t so much as budge, he huffed out an angry breath, his tone guttural, -“Karl, goddammit, look at me.”

He did.

Heisenberg raised his eyes, blinking slowly from underneath his hat. From this angle, they somehow looked a soft brown. Almost like a puppy’s.

He raised an eyebrow.

Ethan swallowed.

“I want you to free my arms,”- He stated matter of fact, and watched as the other man grew tense, shoulders visibly stiffening up underneath the rumpled shirt.

There was a gut-wrenching moment of absolute silence, with nothing but the distant sounds of machine whirring and their heavy, messed up breathing to fill in the gaps. Ethan squared his jaw, and tried not to lick his dried out lips.

And then, Heisenberg moved his hand, and the restraints were gone, violently scratching Ethan’s hands as they flew into the wall across and got lodged in the concrete, cracks webbing their way around the holes.

“What, the daddy thing was too far for you?”

Ethan suddenly felt drunk with the regained freedom, immediately rubbing at his burning, itching, pulsing wrists, each bearing red rings of angry inflamed skin.

“Hm. You’re no fun,”- Heisenberg said then, voice a breathless whisper and expression dark as he began to throw his knees off of Ethan. And before he could move another inch, Ethan’s hands were on his shoulders, his face, his neck, roughly pulling him back in, lips pressing hard against Heisenberg’s and he didn’t hesitate for even a second before darting out a tongue and inserting it into the other man’s mouth. The beard was coarse and itchy against Ethan’s skin, their teeth clicking together from the sheer force, and his hands immediately got lost in the long frustratingly soft hair, finally knocking back that stupid hat that he’s hated since the moment he laid eyes on it. He thought Heisenberg made a noise and proceeded to ignore it, moved instead to take his own jacket off tongue still in the other’s cheek, threw it across the room without ever opening his eyes, and in a second his hands were back on Heisenberg’s face. He held it with enough force to bruise, was hoping to leave a bruise, his fingernails digging in and leaving angry red marks against his cheeks, adding more scars to his collection, his teeth meanwhile catching on the one that decorated Heisenberg’s lips. He licked at it temperamentally, liked the shape it formed against his tongue, and felt the other man press an unsteady hand against his chest, pushing him back. Ethan allowed it to, but not before catching his bottom lip between his teeth and pulling back - and only then did he finally let go and take the deepest goddamn breath he’d taken yet.

Well. He, for one, had no idea he was going to do that. That was the drawback of not thinking.

Things happened.

Heisenberg was panting loudly, mouth hanging open, something canine in his expression as he simply stared, eyes wide in shock and wonder and a nasty trail of saliva smeared against his crimson lips. Ethan’s fingers detangled from the messy hair and got wrapped inside his collar instead, pulling him down on top.

That was the benefit of not thinking too, actually. Things happened.

“Well, well, well. Ethan Winters,”- Heisenberg practically purred, stretching out that final ‘S’ against Ethan’s lips, -“Playing dirty, are we?”

“Wouldn’t have to if you weren’t taking your damn time,”- Ethan bit back, drinking in Heisenberg’s laughter with his throat as his own fingers kept travelling further down, finding those remaining buttons of his shirt and working to undo them.

If they were doing this, they were doing this. He didn’t give a damn anymore. Not after tonight.

“So impatient,”- The other man muttered before leaning back into the kiss, his full body weight pressing Ethan down into the bed as he lapped at Ethan’s mouth, tongue practically in his throat, and Ethan moaned desperate, dirty, loud. He did not give a damn.

His hips ground upwards, finally finding friction against Heisenberg’s solid leg, and Ethan dry humped his thigh while Heisenberg’s cigar tasting tongue did horribly filthy things to his mouth. Ethan’s hands grew their own consciousness, suddenly travelling to his dick completely of their own volition, grabbing at the sweaty, hot skin inside his boxers and pulling it out to feel the coarse texture of Heisenberg’s pants. Heisenberg, in turn, finally moved his hands away from Ethan’s face, and was now actively trying to pull off his jeans and sweaty boxers. Ethan didn’t even hesitate before lifting his hips up, found himself gasping and whining when Heisenberg pulled away, his leg and that desperately needed friction now replaced with the frustrating air of the room that was somehow both too hot and too cold.

Ethan more felt than saw the other man begin to untie his boots, throwing an arm over his eyes as his other hand kept working his dick, a slow but steady rhythm, his entire willpower in that one movement that was so much but not nearly enough. He was nearing his edge, and he needed to calm down. He wouldn’t come yet. He couldn’t.

Because then it’d be over. Because then he’d have to face-

“Look at me,”- Heisenberg’s rough hand was suddenly at his jaw, forcing Ethan’s head from underneath his arm, -“Ethan. I want you to watch me. Want you to see me make you cum.”

Ethan near damn choked on his own saliva, eyes practically glued to the other as he pulled off his shirt and threw it somewhere behind, somewhere into the other pile of their dirty messed up clothes – and everything about his body practically smelled of man. The curve of the muscle, the edge of the collarbone, the musk – Ethan was driven crazy by how unfamiliar everything was. Terrifying.

Hot as fuck.

His hands finally left his dick to touch at Heisenberg’s chest hair, thick and curling and strange and so unlike anything of his own. His fingers got lost in it as the other man leaned in once again, an absolutely feral smile painted over his lips as he muttered into Ethan’s neck, -“What? Like what you see?”

“Don’t get cocky,”- Ethan spat back, pinching at a nipple and receiving a way more enthusiastic response than he’d anticipated.

“Mm. Say cocky again.”

He felt Heisenberg’s bulge at his thigh then, grinding once, twice, all the while his lips kept sucking at a single spot at the base of his neck, and he momentarily wondered if he was being fucked or eaten here. Feeling curiosity get the damn better of him yet again, he bit down his lip hard, before allowing himself to mutter quietly, -“Think I’d much rather just take your cock.”

Heisenberg bit down. Hard.

Ethan moaned loudly and didn’t hate how the pain spread throughout the arm like a jolt of lightning. Lycan teeth sinking into his flesh momentarily flashed behind his closed eyes, and he wasn’t sure he could ever sustain another bite ever again without his dick immediately taking interest.

His hands were pulling at Heisenberg’s hair, wanting him to move, needing him to move, to feel those hands, those teeth, that dick. And when the other man finally unclenched his jaws and let go, Ethan immediately crashed their mouths together with no regard for how messy it felt to taste his own blood on the other’s tongue.

“Yeah? You’re gonna take my cock, Ethan?”- Heisenberg panted into his mouth, pulling him up, -“Just wait. Gonna fuck you long and hard. Gonna make you fucking scream.”

Before he knew it, he had somehow climbed into Heisenberg’s lap, was now grinding against his stomach, against his happy trail, his gut, fingers clutching at the beard and tongue lost inside a mouth that was all cigar and wet, and he felt like a damn bitch in heat trying to get off on his own here, more desperate than ever to be fucked. And Heisenberg, damn that fucking monster of a man, pressed his giant calloused hands into Ethan’s hips, fingernails digging into his ass, and in a single move lifted him up into the air and dropped him back down on the hard, spring loaded bed.

Ethan felt the wind get knocked out of him, exhaled hard into the musty air.

“I said wait,”- The other man commanded looking down on him, lips purple and wet and stomach stained with precome, and Ethan felt a full-body shudder run through him like a fucking electric current.

“Do we have to teach you how to behave, Ethan,”- Heisenberg asked, more a statement than a question. He slowly got off the bed, a hand carefully slipping down the waist of his pants, and Ethan felt his mouth run dry.

“Don’t fucking move until I get back.”

He watched with baited breath as that hand snaked underneath the slacks, strokes slow and methodical, his eyes glued to the movement. It certainly helped that Heisenberg was walking through the room backwards, his own gaze just as fixated on watching Ethan’s every twitch.

“That’s right. Just watch. See how fucking hard I am for you, Ethan.”

And Ethan didn’t dare twitch.

His fingers were tangled in the rough yellowed bed sheets and his jaw hurt. But he didn’t move. Didn’t know if he could at this point, really.

Heisenberg only turned his back when he reached the table, picked up something off it and then turned to make his way back, all while jacking himself off shamelessly, breathily. Ethan could see the tip of his dick now and his throat closed up.

When Heisenberg sat back down on the bed, knees spread wide open in between Ethan’s legs, he watched him open a familiar looking bottle and squeeze it into his hand.

“That’s the one from before,”- Ethan noted astutely, eyes frantically travelling between Heisenberg’s own and his hand that was now dipping below the waist of his pants again. He was begging to seriously hate that one single article of clothing.

“Lubricant, Ethan,”- Heisenberg replied just as wisely, licking his lips when his voice sounded a tad too dry, -“Had a feeling we might need it.”

He had a smile on his face. Ethan’s eyes only grew larger.

“Not when- I mean, now. Not when I first-“- The other man suddenly scrambled for an explanation, and Ethan couldn’t help sitting up on his elbows to quirk an eyebrow at him, -“What I mean to say is- I didn’t intend to fuck you the moment I came into this room.”

“You didn’t,”- And despite the absolutely god awful- well, everything that has been going on since he opened his eyes the night before, Ethan found himself actually beginning to smile.

“No, it- One of the Soldats downstairs was sounding rusty.“

“So you were going to use..?”

“Lube is lube, Ethan!”- Heisenberg cracked down, both his hands flying up in the air, and fuck, Ethan couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his throat. He was having fun. He hated that he was having fun, -“I’m running out of oil, alright!? Not exactly a wide variety of suppliers around these parts. Do you even have any idea how much-!”

Ethan didn’t have any idea, and he didn’t care to find out. Instead, he reached to shut the other man up with a kiss that felt disgustingly and alarmingly tender even to himself, and at the same time he reached for the lube that was now staining the bed sheets even further.

“Well, if you didn’t intend to fuck me the moment you came into this room-“- It was Ethan’s turn to graze at the other’s neck, lips and teeth running over heated skin all the way down to the shoulder, tongue darting out to lick at the curve of muscle and tasting salt and bitterness, -“-When did you intend to fuck me?”

It’s not as though he was trying to sound salacious – he was actively curious. Besides, talking gave him the courage to finally slip a lubed up hand down Heisenberg’s disgusting trousers and curve his fingers around a thick, pulsating dick. He ran his thumb down a throbbing vein at the same time as his tongue pressed against the beat of a pulse on the other’s throat, and he felt more than heard the growl that that evoked. He gave the dick a few strokes as he continued to lick, suck, bite, patiently waiting for the answer, his own cock slowly grinding back into Heisenberg’s stomach. He felt it raise and fall with every hitched breath, every stutter and sigh, and he felt powerful. In control.

He felt good.

Until, of course, Heisenberg’s hands came to tug him by the hair, raise his face up to be kissed as he was being pushed onto his back once more, hand still desperately trying to find the right rhythm at which to jack off another guy. Touching a dick that was not his own was novel. The smell in the room was novel.

Despite everything, he still felt damn good.

And then Heisenberg pulled back entirely, taking a moment to look Ethan down with a smile so small it made his insides twist, and then just as suddenly his hands were behind Ethan’s knees, lifting them up as he began to manually turn him over like a life-sized doll.

“Hey, what are you-“

“Well,”- Heisenberg interrupted him, voice something else entirely now as his slick hands ran up and down Ethan’s bare legs, nails lightly scratching where they caught on scars, -“I first thought about fucking you when I saw your dainty little face.”

Another twist, and Ethan was on his stomach now, unsure of how he ended up in this position and feeling weirdly exposed, all things considered. He furrowed his eyebrows at the statement still, trying to recall what he could about their first meeting.

“I first wanted to fuck you-“- A tug at his hips, and Ethan was now basically ass up in the air, feeling like he should probably say something about this and finding that his throat very much refused to work, -“-When you survived my game, and I realized you were very much unlike all the other meat that went through the grinder.”

He could barely breathe now, nose stuffed into the dust smelling pillow and eyes staring wildly into the darkness, terrified of what was going to come next. His dick gave a desperate twitch, neglected, aching. His fingers clutched at the bed sheets.

“And I first knew I was going to fuck you-“- Heisenberg slapped at one of his thighs, then the other, moving them further apart, and Ethan frantically tried not to think about what this looked like, what he was doing, what was going to happen, because-

“-When you first spread those gorgeous legs of yours for me, Ethan.”

Ethan swallowed hard as he felt a wet and slick finger push its way inside him, stomach tied in knots and nausea clouding his barely functioning mind as he didn’t want to remember when exactly was it that he first spread his legs for this man.

He groaned painfully when it was fully in, Heisenberg, for once, not bothering to take his time. Ethan brought up his own arm to bite down on it painfully, the thought that he really was spreading his legs for Heisenberg not leaving his damn head for a second.

Spreading his legs while his wife was-

But that, too, was interrupted when Heisenberg pulled out roughly and replaced the single finger with two, the awkward discomfort now turning into a proper burn inside and out. Ethan’s teeth sank into his flesh deeper, back arching out, and he whined.

“C’mon, don’t be shy now,”- Heisenberg all but mocked him, and for a second Ethan wondered how offended would he be if he were to shoot him just then. Not like it would kill him.

That’d be too easy.

“I want to hear you scream, Ethan.”

And when he added a third finger, definitely way too goddamn early, punctuated with a quick and filthy bite to Ethan’s ass, Ethan obliged readily.

“Fuck you,”- Ethan only just managed, voice coming out barely audible through his strained neck, bucking his hips further as he wondered at what point was this going to feel actually good.

Heisenberg only laughed in return – but maybe that point was coming sooner than Ethan anticipated, because he began to move his fingers then, his other hand finding its way to Ethan’s leaking cock, and fuck, this was everything.

“Pretty sure it’s the other way around, precious.”

Ethan didn’t hesitate to moan at that, too, dignity long forgotten.

“That’s right. Spread those legs for me, Ethan,”- Heisenberg laughed, pressing another wet bite somewhere between his ass and thigh, -“Gonna fuck you till you can’t breathe.”

There was definitely no dignity to speak of in the position he was in, and it was beginning to feel way too damn good to even bother. In fact, it was beginning to feel like not enough.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck, c’mon, fuck me-”- He whined loudly, breathily, the end of each phrase cut off with the thrust of fingers, hanging his head low as his hips were now fucking right into Heisenberg’s hand.

“Yeah- Yeah, that’s better,”- Heisenberg muttered, sounding not quite there himself, and Ethan desperately wanted to see his face. Taste his mouth. Touch his skin.

He bit down on his lip and thought he could taste blood.

“You’re so good, Ethan. So fucking good.”

He was emptied out almost painfully, his insides and outsides pulsating wildly, and his dick ached, but fuck, no way in hell was he coming without having Heisenberg inside him. And just as he turned around to see what the fuck was taking him so long, his eyes landed on Heisenberg’s. His pants were finally, finally off, his cock was out, and he was shamelessly jacking himself once again, lube shining on his fist as he stared at Ethan, mouth hanging open.

“Thought you were going to fuck me long and hard,”- Ethan heard himself saying, breath slowly getting there, anticipation making his knees tremble. He didn’t recognize himself. Had no idea what was happening to him. Only knew he needed to get off, and fuck, he needed it now, -“Are you going to make me cum or what?”

Heisenberg only laughed again.

“Are you always this demanding?”

And Ethan couldn’t help his own smile.

“What can I say. I’m special.”

“That you are, Ethan. That you are.”

Ethan turned back at that, unable to sustain eye contact any longer, thought about biting the pillow and decided against it. Something inside of him was getting ready to burst and he wasn’t sure it was just the arousal speaking, and he couldn’t handle any of that right now. He just wanted to get fucked.

He needed to get fucked.

And so when he felt Heisenberg finally grab him by the hips, he groaned in anticipation.

“Ready?”- He heard a voice ask him, and before he could even so much as think about replying, there was a definite pressure against his ass, and it was almost insulting how fantastic the burn felt inside his guts.

Heisenberg didn’t say anything else, only moaned high and needy, and as he felt him draw back his hips again, Ethan felt himself being tugged back by his shirt, back arching. There was a sudden smell of cigar and gasoline and rust and a hot tongue running up the back of his neck. Ethan cried out, stretching his arms out in front of him and feeling one of Heisenberg’s hands come up and grip at his wrists, pinning him in place yet again, sore skin pulsating wildly against the iron hold.

“Fuck- Never been fucked like this,”- He gasped into the sweat-stained bed sheets, tongue running on its own, lips trembling, -“Feels good. So fucking good.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you- You feel fucking amazing, Ethan,”- Heisenberg breathed into his ear, moaned as he went in deeper, and deeper yet, and that was the moment where Ethan definitely felt him hit something inside his guts, and his knees all but gave out from underneath him.

“I could fuck you all night.”

Then do it, he thought, realizing that he would gladly let him if only Heisenberg would keep hitting that fucking spot, because fuck.

“Fuck- Harder, harder- Please.”

Ethan bucked his hips once, twice, falling into rhythm, realizing that before he even knew it he was fucking as much down into the mattress as he was up into the other’s dick, overstimulation hitting him like a pile of bricks and suddenly he was so much closer than he wanted to be. Heisenberg’s hair tickled his cheeks, and when he turned his face, he received a sloppy, lopsided kiss that was every bit as messy as the rest of this experience. Ethan drooled on the pillow as he turned back, bit into it after all as he felt himself nearing the edge, and as though sensing his thoughts, Heisenberg’s hand moved from his hip to his cock to give it the much needed friction.

“You look fantastic like this, Ethan,”- He heard a breathy voice in his ear, felt his eyes roll back in his head as he gasped and groaned, -“I’m going to make you feel so good. So good.”

“I’m-“- He wanted to say and couldn’t, and Heisenberg picked up his pace without question.

“Cum for me, Ethan,”- He gasped against his earlobe, nipping at it in between, something frantic about his movements, -“I want to watch you cum. I want you- I want you-“

Ethan couldn’t hear the rest, didn’t know if there even was a rest. He was coming as though on fucking command, his body in spasms, eyes rolling back in their orbits. He couldn’t move, could barely breathe, and Heisenberg was still fucking into him, still pumping his dick through the orgasm, and fuck, this was the hardest Ethan’s come in all his goddamn life.

He could swear his vision went blank for a good moment there – but that could also have been because he stuffed his face into the pillow. And he only realized that this was the case when his body loudly demanded oxygen – and Ethan wriggled out of the grasp on his wrists to rise up on his elbows and take a deep breath.

Heisenberg slowed his movements, the roll of his hips almost in sync with Ethan’s heartbeat. His vision settled.

It was disgusting.

He felt disgusting.

Spent and tired and wasted and already so full of acidic regret it was beginning to eat him alive.

“You’re so fucking hot when you cum,”- Heisenberg whispered into his ear, breathless. Ethan inhaled sharply.

And so he grit his teeth and swallowed down the repulsive sticky feeling, shifting slowly, certainly. He heard Heisenberg groan, and he knew wanted to see. For how perfectly filthy he was feeling then, he still wanted to fucking see.

“Pull out,”- He demanded when turning around didn’t quite work and he felt the other man still, -“Karl. Come on now, trust me. I won’t leave you hanging.”

He surprised even himself with how earnest he was being there. And then, for emphasis and own personal amusement, he added, -“We’re partners, right?”

Because who didn’t love some good irony.

He had no idea what Heisenberg was thinking, of course, couldn’t claim to - but he wanted to believe that something like this would work. That he knew him well enough by now for this to work.

And it did.

With much hesitation and huffing, Heisenberg did pull out, leaving Ethan throbbing and empty and weirdly cold. And Ethan grit his teeth as he forced his shaky body to work again, at least enough to turn around. Enough to push the panting, confused, and perfectly compliant Heisenberg onto his back and climb on top.

“Let me take care of you now.”

Ethan tried not to think that he looked good lying like that, his sweaty hair spread out on the bed sheets, his eyes somehow both the color of orange rust and clear crystals at the same time, blown out, unfocused yet watching his every move. He really did try not to think about how enjoyable it was to kiss that mouth with that scar, to explore every other scar littering that frustratingly handsome face with his tongue, to hear the soft moans and know he was causing them – but dammit, without arousal clouding his every move, it was too damn difficult. And so he kissed that mouth again and again and again, licked at that scar, at every other scar, if only because he could.

For now, he could.

But then Heisenberg’s hands were moving back to his cock, and Ethan couldn’t have that. He was a man of his word if nothing else, dammit. And now, it was time for payback.

“You going to jerk off while I’m right here? Really?”

It was his turn to grab the other man’s wrists, force them above his head with minimal resistance (and he suspected resistance would be completely fatal in this case anyway), and slowly wrap his own fingers around the swollen cock, drop the remainder of lube on it and spread it through slowly. Heisenberg shuddered, releasing a soundless chuckle as he looked up at the ceiling, visibly trying to relax into the touch.

“You’re going to choose now to learn to take it slow, huh?”- He rasped, breath slowly picking back up again with every stroke Ethan gave him, and Ethan drank it all in like he was watching the most fascinating performance of his life.

“I’m a hands-on learner,”- He quipped back easily, swirling the head with his thumb and forefinger just because he could, and watched Heisenberg quiver.

“Going to fucking kill me,”- Ethan heard him mutter, and he really couldn’t suppress his smile then, licking his dry lips and mentally preparing himself for what he was planning on doing next. He reached down and finally pulled off his disgusting shirt, exposing his chest to the hot air and the sound of Heisenberg groaning in approval.

“Told you I could take you on.”

“Ethan, I swear to-“

Ethan didn’t know who Heisenberg was going to swear to, because at that point he finally managed to swallow down the rest of his disgust, anxiety, and apprehension, and use gravity to lower himself back down on Heisenberg’s dick once more. And sure, it was loads more uncomfortable, painful, the second time around, but fuck if the look on the other’s face wasn’t worth it – Heisenberg swore loudly, throwing his head back as he moaned and his hands immediately shot up to dig into Ethan’s hips and hold him as though his life depended on it.

“You’re goddamn insane,”- He half-whispered, half-laughed out, expressions twitching between incredulity, arousal, and just a simple fucking smile, and it was that last part that allowed Ethan to try and buck his hips forward. Just as an experiment. Just to see what would happen.

“Nah, just special.”

And what happened was that Heisenberg growled, stomach curling in, and Ethan moved again, and again, and again, until he was riding the other’s hips, until he felt himself suddenly get half-hard again and wondered if this was a normal thing to happen right after he’d already come, and before long Heisenberg was moving his hips too and his fingers were leaving bruises on Ethan’s pale skin.

“Fucking hell, Ethan, you feel so fucking hot,”- He breathed out, nails digging in to leave soft scratches against Ethan’s ass, -“So fucking- I knew you were gonna be a good fuck, but- Fuck.”

Ethan spread his legs wider, balls against a sweat-soaked stomach, hands spread out atop the twitching chest, fingers twirling the nipples, and he watched, watched, watched as Heisenberg fell apart.

“Gonna make you cum so hard,”- He whispered seeing him bite down on his lip so hard it bled.

Most dangerous of them all, echoed in his head once again and he barked out a single laugh as he leaned in and captured his mouth in a horrible kiss that was barely reciprocated – Heisenberg was close, and his eyes were screwed shut, and he was gasping and panting and whining and Ethan wanted to consume it all until that was the only thing left between the two of them. He pried away a reluctant hand from his hip and took a couple slick fingers into his mouth, sucking and licking and pressing his tongue into the webbing in between.

“Want you to suck me like this,”- His teeth grazed against the scars there, and he groaned when he felt a trickle of saliva run down his chin, -“Want your lips around my cock. Like this. Just like this.”

With a desperate moan, Heisenberg was coming, and Ethan’s already sticky feeling grew impossibly larger as he felt himself fill up, and if he wasn’t already working his dick to come a second time, this just might have sent him over the edge and turned this whole situation unbearable. As it stood, though, he was simply sitting there, taking it all in, desperately panting and moaning himself as he fucked his hand, twirled his tongue around the press of Heisenberg’s fingers, and tried to get it over with quickly.

And Heisenberg watched him through it all, eyes half-lidded, his mouth a thin, plump line, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He slowly moved to sit up on his elbows, his soft dick still moving inside Ethan, still doing things to him.

With a messy pop he pulled his fingers out of Ethan’s mouth, used that hand to bend him in half, giving him yet another messy kiss.

Only this time, it was slow.

It was slow, and it felt different, and Ethan’s dick was twitching in his hand and it ached.

Heisenberg lifted him off with a tired grunt, Ethan desperately ignoring the sensation of everything leaking out of him, and placed him back on the mattress, back in his place. And then, he yanked Ethan’s hand off, and without so much as another word, replaced it with his mouth.

“Fuck,”- Ethan screamed, the swirl of hot wet tongue making his hips spasm frantically, fingers tugging at the long hair.

Heisenberg took his cock nearly all the way down to the base, then went back up and pressed his tongue against the slit, lapped up at the fluid coming out and removed his mouth again.

“Taste fucking amazing, Ethan,”- He stated, and Ethan had no doubt that that was true. He licked at the shaft in one slow motion, starting at the base and making his way to the head, then back down again, and Ethan heard him take a deep inhale, practically nuzzle against his balls, and he wanted to scream, -“You’re good. You’re so good. Is this what you wanted?”

“Yeah. Yeah,”- He panted, holding the other man by the base of his neck as he fucked against his lips, his cheek, his mouth, leaving streaks of white across hot skin, -“You get me so hard. So fucking hard. Make me cum. Make me cum again.”

“I will. You will cum for me again and again, Ethan. You smell amazing,”- Heisenberg told him just as well, stroking and licking and it was the absolute weirdest blowjob Ethan has ever received in his life, but he was watching Heisenberg practically worship his dick with a look that many did not bother worshipping their gods with, and he was never a fan of dirty talk, but somehow this was now making his guts explode. He watched that mouth wrap around his tip, suck at it almost gently, his breath now a confused mess of moans and curses and growls.

“Fuck. Like that. Fuck, I’m going to fucking cum all over you-“

“Do it. Whatever you want. My face, my mouth, my chest. Anything,”- Heisenberg muttered against the shaft, then took it back down his throat, swallowed hard, and Ethan practically saw stars. By the time Heisenberg pulled back, half of Ethan’s cum was dripping down his chin, onto his beard, his collarbones, his arms.

“Like that, Ethan. Let go. Let it all go.”

And Ethan hated how gently he worked him through the rest of the orgasm, how that made him feel dirtier than the first one when he was ass up and practically blinded, how staring at Heisenberg’s cum-stained face pressed into his thigh was making him feel weak and desperate and like he never wanted to move ever again.

Heisenberg was still pressing a wet hicky into his leg by the time Ethan had finished, had time to come back down from his high, had time to remember everything he’d said and everything that was said to him, had time to feel the dried up fluids covering his body, and had time to realize that this was it. That the distraction was over.

He wanted to sink into the bed and wake up a week later.

He had no idea whose bed he wanted to wake up in.

Heisenberg gave his skin another whiff as he was standing up, looked at Ethan from underneath those greatly hooded eyes and smirked, and then simply walked back across the room to the table butt-naked, cum stains across his abdomen and crotch and chest and beard.

Ethan crawled up the bed slowly, no idea what he was supposed to say now. What was supposed to happen. He was beginning to get cold. His teeth ached.

He watched a very naked Heisenberg wipe at his mouth with the back of his hand, pick up the cigar he discarded earlier, then crouch down and search around for a lighter, which he used immediately.

And then he watched a puff of white smoke cloud the already hot and mussed up room.

This time, when Heisenberg reached over and offered the cigar, Ethan didn’t refuse.

He took a long drag and smoke filled his senses, seeped into his lungs and came back out as a violent cough, everything about the taste making him think of the man in front of him, the feeling weirdly soft for as sickly as it made him feel. His backside burned and he desperately needed a shower.

He didn’t know if regret was the right term for what he was feeling then. It felt about right.

Heisenberg simply laughed, and the sound, too, was making him melt further down into the bed.

“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”- He asked settling back into bed, throwing a tattered blanket over both of them, and Ethan automatically moved aside to make space. His knees protested the new position.

He passed the cigar over, trying and failing not to move closer. The other man was still burning hot – and Ethan was so damn cold for so damn long.

He watched him take another long, slow drag, and this time instead of releasing it into the air, Heisenberg turned to look at him, blinked slowly once and then smiled and reached over.

Ethan didn’t have the time to think before opening his mouth up for the kiss, tasting the smoke and the cum and thinking it disgusting and yet reaching his tongue deeper in for more.

“Better?”- Heisenberg asked pulling back way too soon, watching as Ethan released a thinning cloud into a room that was beginning to look and feel like a fire hazard.

And Ethan took that moment to look him over. All sweaty and dirty and sullied, hair a wild mess, bite marks covering the entirety of his neck and shoulder, lips puffed out and red, that scar lost amongst the color. Eyes hooded, pupils blown out. A smile so gentle it could crack any second now.

And he looked- Karl looked- Heisenberg looked like a man. A normal, regular, content fucking person who was just happy to be there. Ethan swallowed down a lump in his throat, the smoke beginning to sting at his eyes.

He shuffled in closer, threw a leg over Heisenberg’s own. To warm up, he told himself, and Heisenberg’s expression told him he didn’t mind one bit. You’re alright, it told him. It’s okay.

“Yeah. I think I’m getting the hang of it,”- Ethan told him in a quiet voice. Didn’t know if regret was still in the room with him, or if it managed to slip out somewhere in between all the cigar smoke. He inhaled, and his lungs burned sweetly.

Heisenberg took another slow drag. Leaned back in for another kiss.

And this time, it lasted longer. The graze of lips was slow, the tongue slower yet to follow, gentle and intent on exploring, learning, mapping. And the second Ethan pulled back to release the smoke that was beginning to choke, Heisenberg was back in with another dose. Another kiss that lasted even longer.

Ethan was beginning to suspect the cigar was just an excuse.

His hand slipped over a warm thigh and squeezed. Nothing felt alien anymore.

Just slow. And sleepy.

“You should rest,”- Heisenberg told him when Ethan found himself inexplicably resting on his chest, fingers mindlessly playing with the hairs, throat weirdly tight.

“But-“

“Believe it or not, there’s still time, Ethan,”- He told him, a soft hand running up and down his arm. Ethan exhaled and tried not to think about how this looked. About how this felt. About how he felt, -“Sleep. Rest. I will wake you in the morning.”

He inhaled the smell of cigar smoke readily. Took another look around the tiny room that was the closest he felt to home in what felt like forever. Finally felt like he was no longer cold or hot.

Just warm.

“Okay. Morning it is.”

He settled back. Looked into the ceiling for a long moment, then rose up on his elbows to give Heisenberg another slow kiss – this time, in between cigar drags. Sighed into the little surprised sound he’d managed to extract. Settled back again and crawled further under the blankets.

The room was beginning to look like a dream, and for once, it wasn’t a nightmare.

He pressed his back to Heisenberg. Immediately, he felt an arm wrap around his waist. Lips pressed against his shoulder.

Ethan closed his eyes.

“And in the morning, we change everything.”

[munsonsduchess]

Hello there, lovely duchess <3

I'd love to see what you come up with for prompt #8!

Take care! :)

-bee

summary: You and Bucky are FWB and you've been together for a while now but that's all about to change warnings: kissing, fluff, swearing, gambling (don't do it kids), mentions of smut a/n: yeah so this took an age and that's because my motivation went on vacation and i had to wrangle it back through customs

Prompts from this list

»»————-　♔　————-««

You’d met the Avengers when Tony had finally had enough of your constant nagging and had agreed to let you meet the team he always spoke so much about - not to mention you wanted to see the people he couldn’t stop complaining about in the flesh - so he’d finally relented and introduced you to everyone as only Tony knew how. With a party.

You’d been so excited to meet everyone you hadn’t even minded when the dark brooding man at the bar had spilled your drink on your dress, he was too handsome for you to be mad and with the gleaming metal arm on his left side there was only one person he could be,

“It’s perfectly alright Sergeant Barnes, it’s just a drink” you’d given him your best smile and offered to buy him a drink instead but he’d refused and you hadn’t seen him the rest of the night. Much to your dismay, he’d been someone you’d been looking forward to meeting the most.

In Bucky’s mind anyway he wasn’t planning on getting too close to you, figuring that if you were Tony’s friend there was a high chance you were just another upper east side park avenue princess. A socialite who only cared about wealth and who she could be photographed next to in newspapers and he didn’t have time for that anymore. He was a different man now.

Then you were around more often, spending time at the compound with Natasha, getting lunch with Wanda, offering to bank roll the team since you had “more money than I know what to do with” and it didn’t seem fair for Tony to have to do everything when he had a family to support as well.

Slowly but surely you wormed your way into the team’s hearts and it got to the point where everyone was asking Bucky what his issue was with you, why did he not like you? Had he even spoken to you?

Bucky had brushed off every question, he’d just ignored the needling and the nagging until finally he couldn’t. He’d blown up at Peter who’s eyes had gone wide as the teenager stuttered out an apology. Bucky hated himself for it, even more so when everyone was walking on eggshells around him afterwards, even Steve and Sam who knew him best.

He’d gone out to clear his head and off all the gin joints in all the world you had to be in the one he chose. With your warm smile and offering to buy his drinks, telling the bar staff to put everything on your tab despite Bucky’s protests that he could buy his own drinks. You just rolled your eyes at him and moved to sit next to him instead.

It ended up with just the two of you in the bar that night, your cheeks rosy from the alcohol and your eyes glassy with tears of joy as you listened to his stories and laughed at his jokes. Maybe you weren’t as bad as Bucky originally thought but he still wasn’t planning on getting closer than he needed to, until you’d put your hand on his thigh when you settled the tab and offered to split a cab.

You’d both ended up tangled in your bedsheets, laughing and joking, gasping and moaning well into the night. It had been a while for both of you and this release was definitely needed, plus you’d ended up teaching Bucky a few things when the initial groping like horny teenagers had worn off.

You’d also introduced him to the term ‘friends with benefits’ which is where you found yourself currently. Of course you both went on dates separately but you found yourself cancelling plans more and more to spend time with Bucky instead. To be curled up on the couch watching a terrible movie which was usually forgotten about halfway through for other more entertaining activities that could be partaken in on a couch.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Maybe it was silly of you to think you could resist having feelings for someone like Bucky, someone so kind, caring, funny and someone you felt so comfortable around but that’s exactly what happened. You’d woken up one morning with the smell of him cooking in your apartment kitchen with the radio playing something you didn’t really care about. You’d curled up in the blankets on the bed and revelled in the domesticity of the whole situation and it had struck you. You really cared for this man and not just as a random hook up.

The only problem was, did Bucky feel the same? Everyone else seemed to think so, when you’d spoken to Steve and Sam and Natasha and Wanda and even Scott they’d all seemed to think you and Bucky were already a couple. So you’d enacted a plan, was it your smartest plan? Probably not. Were you going to do it anyway? Damn straight.

You’d created a new tinder profile and specifically matched with the most boring man you could find. The poor bastard had no idea what he was in for or why you’d decided to go out with him but you needed him to be the human equivalent of the colour beige for the plan to work.

Bringing the man around the compound to meet the team, telling Bucky you couldn’t spend time with each other sexually anymore since you and … Dave were serious now and it wasn’t right to cheat on your boyfriend.

Bucky to his credit had wished you well and was happy you’d found someone, outwardly anyway. He’d known the ‘relationship’ the two of you had couldn’t last, that of course you’d move on and find someone worthy of your time and attention. Did it hurt? Like a bitch but he was going to be the bigger man.

Or at least he had wanted to be. The more you brought Dave around the more Bucky wondered what the hell you were doing with a man like that, he couldn’t make you laugh the way Bucky could, where your nose would crinkle in the middle and you’d gasp for breath. He didn’t know how you liked your coffee in the morning, iced usually and loaded with sugar. He sure as shit didn’t know how you liked to be touched.

It had come to an ugly head one evening when you and Dave had gone for dinner, in a restaurant you and Bucky would hang out in all the time. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back, that and the asgardian mead that Thor had left on his last visit. Bucky had taken a shot for some dutch courage and driven his bike straight to the restaurant pushing past the staff who tried to stop him,

“Y/N” he yelled, causing you to look at him with wide eyes and a surprised expression.

“Bucky, what are you doing here? Is everything alright? Did something happen to Steve or Sam?”

“Forget them and forget this guy too, you’re coming with me” he reached down to where you were sitting and wrapped his metal hand around your upper arm, “come on”

“Bucky no, I’m on a date I can’t just leave!” you protested, “David, I'm so sorry about this”

David opened his mouth to say something but a glare from Bucky told him that wasn’t a wise move. Instead he seemed to shrink back into his seat under the weight of Bucky’s icy glare,

“Come on doll” Bucky said again, hoisting you up from your seat by his grip on your upper arm, “we’re leaving”

“James Barnes! I am not your property, let go of my arm right now! If you have something you want to talk about we can talk about it later, I am with David and you have no right to barge in here like this!”

“The hell I don’t”

“Leave James, we’ll talk about this later”

Bucky was about to rebuke you again but was interrupted by a man in a fancy suit clearing his throat, apparently you and Bucky had caused enough of a commotion that several guests had complained and now both of you were being asked to leave. Which suited Bucky just fine. He grabbed you and pulled you from the booth ignoring your cries and protests and simply pulled you along with him until you both were stood at his bike,

“Come on”

“No! You do not get to manhandle me like you own me and then act like nothing is wrong, if you had something you wanted to talk to me about we could have done it like grown ups”

“Oh yeah? Like Dave? Is that what you do with him? Talk like grown ups?”

“What David and I do is none of your business Barnes”

“It is my business cause you’re my business, you’re my girl not his!”

You blinked at Bucky a few times before you huffed out a laugh, that was definitely confusing. Why were you laughing?

“Oh my god! You couldn’t have said something earlier? You had to make a scene? How am I supposed to come back here now?” you were still laughing, “not to mention I owe Steve $50 because he bet you couldn’t last the month”

“Wha? You and Steve had a bet goin’ about me lastin’?” Bucky was beginning to get agitated now, what the hell were you and Steve betting on?

“Yeah! I mean honestly Buck did you think I really liked David? He’s the most boring human being alive! I mean yeah he’s nice enough but oh my god of course I wasn’t serious about him!”

“Then why were ya out with him?”

“To see what you would do!” you said exasperatedly. Bucky raised his eyebrow, what the hell did you mean by that? “Oh my god how can you be this dense, it’s you I want to be with Barnes, not David. You! So I picked David to see if you would just let me be or if you felt the same way!”

“Wha? You couldn’t have just asked me?” Bucky shoots back, “you had to make this whole convoluted plan?”

“Right because if I’d asked you you’d have said you wanted whatever was best for me and if I wanted to see other people that would be fine and you’d never tell me what you really wanted. At least now I know” you said batting your eyelashes at him “you like me, you called me yours”

Bucky groaned and ran a hand down his face. He’d been an actual idiot. He’d told himself he was fine with you seeing other people, that this was just how the modern world was like. He couldn’t expect to hold onto someone like you forever. Now he’d gotten you kicked out of your favourite restaurant and had put his hands on you in a way he swore he never would. That being said, none of that would have happened if you’d been honest with him, no matter what you thought he’d say to you. Now here you were batting your eyelashes at him like nothing had happened,

“Don’t you dare give me those sex eyes right now! This is a serious situation, here!”

“Oh shut up and kiss me Barnes”

That he could do. Repercussions from his actions be damned. You were his. All his.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Taglist: @metalbuckaroo @doasyoudesireandlive @spicynudlesoup @calisamcro

[monitsou]

HOW THEY WOULD PLAY ANIMAL CROSSING + WITH THEIR S/O

characters: kenma, atsumu, akaashi

warnings: a bit of swearing :p

post note: so it’s been 6 years since i played ac :( so i just recalled the things that ac features usually had, pls tell me if i mentioned something wrong ! and reblogs are highly appreciated!

KENMA KOZUME

you can’t tell me that kozume doesn’t daily grind? he probably would spend all day just catching fishes and foils around his island

he wouldn’t pay too much attention decorating his island though, he will just put everything in one place so he can see that it’s there ??

he usually completes his task but tend to get bored so he’s just free styling whenever he’s playing

actually likes tom nook, even though he’s almost broke from paying his debts

his island can look neat at some point because you would encourage him to put a little bit more design to it.

doesn’t care about the design of his villager’s house but he’ll still talk to them because it’s part of the game after all.

his character always goes for a comfortable look, like sweaters and sweats ‘cause he thinks it’s nice to have a miniature character of him.

you once gave him a custom design sweater and trust me, he never took it off <3

has a little corner of his island to drop off bells for you to receive whenever you drop by his island.

one time he dropped 20k bells and you cried for hours

eventually, kuroo would try to steal the bells and kenma threatened him that he’ll block the shit out of him ( and he did lmao )

he absolutely LOVES it when you update him about the new tiny details you placed on your island, he thinks it adorable <3

because kozume usually likes to play animal crossing at night, both of you would stay up late to do such things

this always leads to midnight walks across either your town or his, nonetheless he finds it pretty relaxing when you play with him while he tries to keep up to your enthusiasm over the game

ATSUMU MIYA

this mf is annoying as hell, he prolly doesn’t know how the game works

“ angel! why’d they talk like that? am i on the wrong settings or — “

he can’t even catch fish ...

spends all his bells to the able sisters to get new fancy clothing and he tried making a design for himself but it didn’t turned out as great :/

so focused at talking to his villagers, it’s like how he’s talking to real life people ??

he’ll show off any kind of rare and expensive stuff that he got and maybe even shove his switch to your face

his island would look kinda messy at first but it gets better once you actually explore more, that’s because he likes to kinda surprise you and see your reaction at first 🙄

he always prepares a red carpet for you to walk on whenever you visit to feel how special you are even in games, however he removes it INSTANTLY if osamu and suna comes to tease him about it.

i can see his island theme having the color palette of yellow, beige and white, maybe a tad bit of maroon as well.

LOOOVES hyping you up !! when he sees you wearing a new hat, clothing or having new decors around your island, he’ll always have the best reactions to appreciate your work !

picnic dates are a thing with him !! he picked a nice spot to place the picnic decors to watch the sunset, it even has trees and flowers surrounding it for you to enjoy. ( i’m sobbing )

exchanging gifts and letters were always a thing ever since atsumu learned how to write postcards. it also happens once a week so prepare yourself for some fun stuff <3

he’ll sometimes write sweet messages but often it’s just bad jokes that still makes you laugh at some point.

AKAASHI KEIJI

let’s hear it from the best animal crossing player of all time !!!

plays animal crossing like a pro, and can manage to pay his debt while designing his island better than you ( JUST SAYING 😳 )

he likes taking his time while playing it, he doesn’t usually use time travel unless he really needs to.

his favorite part about playing it is how the music changes as the time passes, it really relaxes him after a day of work + bonus relaxing points if he plays with you !

his island’s color palette would include different shades of brown, beige, white, gray and maybe a bit of baby blue

his island looks so neat and organize! he’ll definitely have those nicely designed coffee shop with a library next to it ( it makes you want to quit tbh )

lowkey excited whenever he sees a balloon with a present floating in air or whenever he sees a bottle w/ a letter on the beach

he literally just appreciates every single thing and detail in the game

MUSEUM. DATES. ARE. HIS. THING !!!

he often lets you visit his museum to look how far he’s gone by collection his fishes, butterflies and fossils.

and he’s highkey proud of it

always takes couple pictures near the aquarium and the !!! butterfly house !!! while doing cute poses and he’ll eventually make it his lock screen ( it’s too cute for him )

he would make a waterfall area that’s actually nicely built and he also placed it with his pastel colored flowers.

he also prepared a diner set that’s close to the waterfall so it would look so ethereal at night because of how romantic and peaceful it looks :(

he gives so much effort when designing areas and making clothes for you in particular.

and he would always invite you whenever he’ll have meteor showers because it’s a moment where you both wish on shooting stars with the most heavenly scenery <//3

© ATSUMAKI — do not plagiarize my future and current works as well as posting it to other platforms.

[illumilu]

“there’s only one bed” - chrollo lucilfer x reader

a/n: a very stereotypical cliche for fanfics, but, yk what? cringe is heavily underappreciated. so here, have my drabbling of what would happen if you were to spend an unwanted night in the same hotel bed as the adultrio. for the last part, we’re taking a look at chrollo lucilfer! also! this may suck!

summary: you arrive at the hotel with chrollo, your childhood friend and colleague, but to your horror (wink wink), there’s only one bed. this is part three of a three-part series, with the adultrio. hisoka and illumi are already written so i suppose that concludes the series!

warnings: no particular trigger warnings, lowercase intended, a lot of fluff! and cuddling! chrollo being his usual self, charming but kinda dead ,,, except this time he’s not using you (cough neon nostrade) ... no nsfw :)

chrollo lucilfer:

- chrollo lucilfer was an undeniably enticing man.

- you two had just exited the train station, and were now walking to your hotel. 

- why had this trip been planned? well, chrollo had bought reservations, claiming he “had something private to say” one night. honestly, he made you nervous sometimes. just what you expected from the leader of an internationally renowned murder gang.

- the refreshing cold air chilled your face, as you walked along the damp pavement. the large, multistory hotel loomed in the distance, like an upright torch in a sea of gray. you turned to look at chrollo. 

- “it’s cold, isn’t it?” 

- “astounding observation.” he smiled audaciously.

- growing up alongside them hadn’t been easy for you; after all, meteor city was dilapidated. after leaving the place, you had found the estimated population to be around 8 million people. funnily enough, it had never felt like that many.

- you still remembered the day chrollo had formed the phantom troupe. you had watched as he set out the rules standing proudly on the trash-pile; as he described the metaphorical spider and its immortality. 

- personally, you hated spiders. too many legs.

- either way, you stayed there, listening, observing - you had seen them running around the city before, laughing and playing together. how could people be so happy in such an obscure place? 

- meteor city; it was almost... suffocating. the fact that no one acknowledged the residents, even as a collective percentage, chilled you to your core. you wanted to be known. you guessed that was why you were still alongside chrollo today.

- you supposed the only way to get through the maddening sense of compression was with friendship. alas, you didn’t really have many friends. it was always hard to find them. therefore, you would check to see what chrollo’s group were doing together, but would never join unless invited.

- that fateful night, the ignition of the troupe; truly a day to remember. 

- as soon as you had turned around from behind some abandoned trash, chrollo had slowly turned to look at you. you had been listening as he mused about the phantom troupe’s intentions. he had personally seen you around the junkyard many times. always watching. waiting for something? no, just observing. here you were, eyes on him, yet again.

- a pause. you could feel everyone’s eyes on you. but it wasn’t humiliating; it was exhilarating. 

- you still remembered the way you had cursed yourself for thinking like that. why had you come out from your hiding place? you didn’t want anything to do with this group; killing people, stealing things, wandering astray from the path of morality... what was this?

- “did you hear everything?” he had asked.

- “yes.” you whispered.

- your eyes lifted to meet his. you knew almost nothing of where that day would eventually lead you. you shared a long stare that night, almost childish, waiting for him to say something. you could swear his eyes were boring into your soul.

- “you don’t want to join, do you?”

- you gulped and looked at the dirt beneath you.

- “no.”

- things had changed since then.

- you had never did end up joining the phantom troupe. it was too chaotic for you. but, you did end up sticking around and, somehow, you came to know each of the troupe members extremely well.

- whenever they’d rendezvous and cause destruction, you’d always be there, observing from the sidelines. chrollo liked to call it your “unofficial bond”. having spent a lot of your time with the interchanging 13, you knew their likes and dislikes, and often helped them out when they couldn’t get information. for some reason, you felt as if chrollo trusted you with this greatly. 

- rarely, you got to spend time with him alone. you two were undoubtedly closer than any other pairs from the troupe, yet it was more of an unspoken connection than a full-blown one. compared to, let’s say, nobunaga and uvogin, and no one would have even speculated chrollo and you being as close.

- nevertheless, you loved when you got to spend time with him; whenever he loosened his idiotic “i’m the leader and we’re going to kill hundreds of people now!” demeanor, he was actually quite the gentleman. 

- back to the present, you scoffed and continued walking; each breath made a little cloud in front of you, making you grin a little. when you were younger, you had always pretended to smoke whenever it was cold enough for it to happen.

- “you’re such a child.” chrollo said, adjusting his beige headband. you often wondered why he decided to get a tattoo on his forehead. troupe matters, you supposed. finally reaching the grand entrance to the hotel, chrollo pushed the gold revolving door, with an ironic “after you” look. you went through hastily, raising an eyebrow at him on the way in.

- the lobby was truly extravagant, full of grandeur that you had never seen before. you could only begin to fathom how much money the troupe got from stealing. 

- honestly, you really felt like smacking chrollo. what right did he have to take you to such a huge place? with his own laundered money? that he probably earned from making someone else’s life hell? you opened your mouth to protest. he promptly interrupted you.

- “be quiet, y/n. you know have money to spend, so why shouldn’t i spend it on you? just this once?”

- that was a lie. he knew he would definitely do something like this again.

- your mouth closed, knowing the same thing. you sighed momentarily and went off to sit on a weirdly smooth velvet couch in the lobby.

- while absentmindedly checking in, chrollo began thinking about what exactly he was going to say to you. truthfully, there was no real reason for him bringing you here, to the hotel. it was just, lately, he had been feeling strangely drawn to you. you had a certain warm magnetism that contrasted his philosophical coldness. whenever you sat together, he felt some sort of strange exaltation, just by looking at you. whenever you smiled, he couldn’t help but smile back. he had also become considerably happier.

- “wow, boss~ you seem jokier these days~”

- the thought of hisoka made him wince, driving him back to the clerk in front of him. 

- as he stared back at you, who was currently trying to figure out whether you could take the hotel magazines for free, he closed his eyes and let out a light breath. 

- you jolted as chrollo stood before you, tapping you on the shoulder. loosening your grip on the cheap magazine, you glared at him. 

- “keys.” he said, dangling them above you.

- “chrollo. don’t tell anyone. but i think have a plan.” 

- “what? y/n, y-”

- you grinned, grabbed the keys and started towards the stair doors, yanking chrollo’s sleeve along with you. he ran behind you, making quite the commotion as you two thundered up the switchback stairs, shoes scuffing along the floor. through ragged breaths and giggles, he asked you why in god’s name you were going so fast.

- stopping abruptly to catch your breath, you told him to look at your hands, with an impish look on your face.

- the hotel magazine, crumpled in your hands.

- he furrowed his brow at you, laughing confusedly at your antics. you often helped him unwind with your spontaneous, stupid acts, and he was grateful for it. chrollo was someone who didn’t recognize how much they needed a break until they got one. he truly enjoyed how you just treated him as a normal person. since you weren’t part of the troupe, he wasn’t your “boss”. he supposed he was your... friend.

- you slowly made your way up to the room with him. despite him being unnervingly annoying sometimes, you enjoyed every moment with chrollo. every look you shared with him, every joke you had made.

-  even when he was being serious you couldn’t help but admire his twisted resolve. often, you’d brush hands and sparks of ecstasy would rush to your heart. you guessed that was what happened when people were close. but what was “close”? you often found yourself mulling over the classifications of love, even if it wasn’t specifically about him. of course, you could love someone as a friend; what was romance, anyways?

- if there was one thing you had in common with chrollo, it was your interest in human emotion.

- chrollo had always been fascinated by the human psyche; so much so that it seemed like he knew what people were about to say before they even uttered a word. he too found himself musing over love; occasionally, you two would sit together and debate where each emotion stemmed from.

- however, no matter how equal you were, chrollo could always predict what you were about to say, never vice versa. he chalked it down to knowledge and experience, yet he found it ironic that emotions were his interest. he speculated the reason for it, and once, very wisely, said that “humans are always interested in what they do not have.”

- you reached the room fairly quickly, roused from the race up the stairs. half of you had already forgotten about what chrollo “wanted to tell you”; he opened the door and walked in first.

- “hey, wait out here for a second, i have a surprise.” he said, closing the door so it was only jarred open a little.

- nodding, you turned around, waiting in the lit hallway.

- chrollo turned to look at the room.

- wait.

- shit.

- a singular queen-sized bed stood in the middle of the room. 

- chrollo blinked.

- he could have sworn he asked for two twin beds. blinking a few more times, beginning to sweat a little, he jolted as your voice came from the door; “chrollo, is it ready?”

- “no, not yet, stay there!” he shouted, pacing towards the hotel phone, frantically dialling room service.

- “hello?”

- “good evening. how may we help you?”

- “yeah, uh, so you see, i’m in room 444 and i definitely, most certainly booked two beds, not one - would you mind checking?”

- “no problem! it says here that you booked one queen sized bed, with two reservations. are you sure you didn’t misclick? perhaps the room was booked by someone else?”

- suddenly, chrollo remembered; shalnark did all his computer work. that bloody, meddling... no, he shouldn’t say that. he had nothing but gratitude for all the troupe members. some were very, very, very difficult to like, however.

- “are there any spare rooms around?”

- “yes, of course! but moving will cost around-”

- “chrollo?” you interrupted, peeking around the doorframe. 

- you blinked. 

- the bed was... larger... and more... singular than expected.

- “y/n! there’s been a mistake... just; bear with me, okay? everything will be fine. i just need to pay a-”

- darting to where he was, you grabbed the phone and slammed it back onto the receiver. you grabbed chrollo by the shoulders, shaking him violently (rather dramatically, too).

- “what do you think you’re doing? i tell you to stop spending money on me, and here you are, spending the money you got from murdering people?” 

- you did not like the idea of sleeping in the same bed as chrollo one bit. however, you hated the idea of having him use his dark money on you way more. here he was, about to spend it on a simple matter. the persistent bastard.

- “whatever you say.” he murmured.

- “look, just think of it as a fun sleepover. no need for things to be awkward.”

- you were right. nothing would happen. childish as you were together, both of you knew boundaries. despite the recent appeal you had to him, he knew that your comfort was more important than anything.

- both agreeing to get some sleep, you changed into more comfy clothes and met back at the bed. 

- something you often overlooked was how pretty chrollo was. grayish-brown pupils that, to the gullible eye, seemed neutral and boring, but to you seemed like a world of wonder and speculation. his eyelashes seemed almost delicate, unaware of how beautiful they were. his lips always looked cold, with a reddish tinge, yet somehow fit harmoniously with the rest of his features. it was no secret that his muscles were extremely defined, as you had seen whenever he wore his coat. somehow, his skin was smooth and pale all over, not comparable to porcelain, but better; it had the duality to glow with pride or to appear a solemn gray. his hands were almost never without a book, yet when they were occupied with something else, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his elegant fingers. his hair, admittedly odd when slicked back, wisped across his face, fluffy as always. your eyes riveted on his.

- “what did you want to tell me?”

- shit. in the heat of all the issues, he had forgotten to think of something.

- what did he want to tell you? everything about himself, honestly. who he was, what he wished to do, his own personality, his philosophies. the dilemma was, he did not know himself. 

- who am i?

- the pressing question that bugged him so, that tugged at his sleeve like a child he wished he could ignore. the word that fit chrollo best was, “enigma”. he truly wanted to find himself, but what did that even mean? he spent his life growing from nothing, becoming nothing and, despite having the largest reputation in the world, still feeling like nothing. yet, it was something that was locked within you that opened him. the buzz of emotion he had felt from you; that had been something. pride and happiness were good, all in all, but you defined him. you gave him something to live for. of course, chrollo still stood by death as if it was an old companion, but some tiny part of him would feel remorse if he ever died. remorse for leaving you behind. that had never happened with anyone else. the closer he became to you, the more he had a meaning. he contemplated; were you his meaning? two souls meant to be intertwined? 

- “y/n.”

- “hm?”

- “love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. do you know who wrote this?”

- a silence met the air.

- “it was william shakespeare. a midsummer night’s dream.” he continued. “yet i wonder, what would one do if they had no mind? if love looks with the mind, yet had nowhere to look from, how would it see?”

- somewhere within you, you sensed he was talking about something very relevant. 

- love would find a way. it would shoot from every outlet it could, from one soul to another; love would find a way to reach someone. conscienceless or aware, love would perpetuate through every single molecule left in someone’s resolve. two ribbons that were meant to find each other would undoubtedly find each other if they their love was strong enough. that is what you thought as you sat there with him, mutually mulling over the question.

- “i think it would find a way, wouldn’t it?” you said.

- “probably so.”

- “that was random, chrollo?” you questioned after a few still moments.

- “i suppose so... i miss times where we talked about the philosophies of the mind.”

- you nodded. you missed them too, even though they were frequent. you yawned tiredly; it was getting late. chrollo advised you to get some rest, which you quickly heeded. slowly, you headed to the left side of the bed. he took the right.

- “do you mind if i turn off the light?”

- “i think i’ll read for a while.” he smiled. typical.

- you turned to your side, dreams of the awaiting night already outstretching their comforting arms. eventually, you slipped into a peaceful sleep.

- chrollo cocked his head to the side to look at you. he watched your chest rise and fall for a few seconds, before promptly returning to his book. 1984 by george orwell. his eyes skimmed over the page, blurred names and metaphors flying indifferently past his eyes; he wished to find the quote that resonated with him every time he had previously read it.

- bingo. 

- “if you loved someone, you loved him, and when you had nothing else to give, you still gave him love.”

- chrollo had everything to give to you; yet you did not enjoy any of it. he found that you seemed happiest when you just sat together with him, ruminating, or joking or just sitting there in silence. perhaps the only thing he hadn’t tried was the simplest; the most human. maybe the answer to his infatuation with you was right in front of him.

- a few minutes later, he thought it would be best to sleep. closing the lights, he lay there quietly, falling into a passage of thoughts that soon turned sleepy and incoherent.

- the night passed.

- when morning came, things, once again, were different. 

- chrollo was the first to wake up; fluttering his eyelashes, he soon became fully aware of his situation.

- he was on the other side of the bed.

- something was clinging to him.

- chrollo was clinging back.

- oh my god. he felt your arm wrapped low around his waist, with his doing the exact same around yours. almost like... you were mirroring each other. it was like you were hugging, except, when he looked down, you were still fast asleep. 

- shit. this was weird.

- what did he do? he couldn’t just wake you up and cause a commotion; it was him who had thought “nothing would happen”.

- so much for a goddamned “sleepover”.

- your head was buried in the crook of his chin, so you were cuddling into his chest; the bed had been long enough for you to shuffle down and start hugging him? not to mention, somewhere in the night, you had entirely switched places.

- he couldn’t exactly get up to roll you away, either.

- what a conundrum. silently and rather awkwardly, he waited, still embracing you. this definitely made things exponentially more complicated than they needed to be. 

- after around 10 minutes of waiting, you began to stir a little. 

- blinking a few times to clear your vision, you murmured something unintelligible.

- chrollo, about to pull the biggest bastard move of the century, shut his eyes and pretended to sleep.

- what a jackass.

- pushing away from his body, you stared at him, taking a few moments to register the situation.

- and so, your internal panic monologue began, rapid as ever.

- why the SHIT were you in chrollo’s arms not less than 5 seconds ago? and why had it felt undeniably cosy??? did you hug him? did he hug you? of course he was still sleeping. maybe he wouldn’t get to know. why were you on the other side of the bed? did anything happen? no, you would have remembered. you couldn’t roll him over, either. what the shit. 

- chrollo inconspicuously pretended to wake up, theatrical fake blinking and all. 

- “oh.” he stated blankly.

- you scrunched your face; that was the only thing he could say? meanwhile your soul was rapidly disintegrating?

- “chrollo, i have no idea how that-”

- “certainly interesting.” he interrupted.

- the best decision was to leave it. right?

- “huh? what? looooook... i think i’m going to go change...” you said, suppressing your fluctuating heartbeat. 

- chrollo sat up, nodding.

- as you left, you began speculating what to do; because you definitely couldn’t ignore this. when you woke up, you had felt safer, more comfortable. why was that? as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t drop the feeling that chrollo and you were something more than friends.

- chrollo, still on the bed, mulled over the various quotes and lines he had picked up. he ruminated over fond memories with you, and that buzzing feeling from earlier. he noticed it had skyrocketed. he felt... meaningful. bottling up his feelings wouldn’t do any good, would it? he had to say something. but it was dangerous. getting into matters like this may get in the way of the troupe. was it worth it? somewhere, he felt as if he already knew. this matter wasn’t exactly trivial. so, would he do it or not?

- subconsciously reaching for 1984 once more, he flicked past the cover and turned to a well-loved page of his. 

- “at the sight of the words, “i love you”, the desire to stay alive had welled up in him, and the taking of minor risks suddenly seemed stupid.”

- as people usually do at urgent times such as these, he realized what had to be done.

- let’s just say; chrollo’s library began to harbor a lot more romance.

dear reader, i sincerely sincerely apologize if ur here rn. i wrote a wholeass 3554 words and i dont want people wasting their time LMFAO, this was so dumb?? i am SO SO sorry for being inactive for weeks, i’ve had exams, but i kind of felt obligated to finish off this series. which once again. i am so sorry for. this one felt even MORE tedious than the illumi one. i feel like the characterization was poor, even though i tried  ,,, but i guess we all take Ls. i’m gonna just let this one be chalked down to my sleep deprivation and hopefully(?) continue writing. thx <3  

either way, likes or reblogs or whatever are super appreciated, but don’t feel forced to or anything! either way, i feel like no one’s gonna see this with my reach LMAOO but anyways thank you for reading, if you made it here! feedback and tips for writing on here are always helpful :)