#like actually though what. is happening with defense. can someone with a better game brain than me explain it bc like

[starscelly]

scrolling to the point in my dash where i keep seeing the tragic otter postgame interview like. actually i need to see myself out. bye !!

[fairlyabookie]

Down Bad

Author's note: totally not inspired by ZB1's "Good So Bad" - this song is very shojo-coded fr fr...

Content: wholesome

Deuce tries to play it cool with his feelings now that he realizes how much he likes you; one minute, he’s totally fine talking to you, and the other, he’s freaking out in the inside - his mind on overdrive when he notices small details from interacting with you. He’d stumble on his words, tripping on minuscule things, earning cackles from onlookers (of course, Ace, too) 

His brain must’ve reset itself whenever he thinks of you: indescribable words drifting about his mind, the urge to declare his feelings intense yet.. Even if he could voice it out, he couldn’t express his heart properly. Words didn’t suffice, and so, he brought himself into doing small activities that would surely reciprocate his feelings to you. 

Every move he’d overthink: was this the proper way of doing things? Was he overdoing it? Much to the advice of his peers, he was on the right track, but what if [Reader] didn’t realize the meaning of his actions? What if they thought he was doing so just because they were his friend? 

Such thoughts brought dread to Deuce; he can’t absolutely mess this opportunity up! He had to ask his peers about this troubling dilemma: what would they do if they were in this situation? How would they approach this? Would they be satisfied by the results? Such differing answers from them would confuse the poor boy - maybe, just maybe, he can think of something for himself to do this. 

On a twilight-tinged sky, Deuce consults [Reader] for a moment of their time, cyan eyes conveying nothing but crystallized conviction. He was going to do what he knew best for this sort of thing, and he hoped he could do this right.  

At first, Ace feared the worst; Oh Great Seven, do I have to step up on my game? You see, his previous relationship wasn’t really all sunshine and rainbows - just teenagers being stupid and thinking love was like a fairytale. Oh no, he learned the hard way that he had to sustain this ‘love’ and make it worth his while and [Reader]’s while.

Unlike Deuce, he keeps himself tight-lipped about this; though he quite thinks that he has this reciprocity game in the bag. Yeah no, he is ditching what he did on his previous relationship. If anything, he had some lessons to learn if he wanted to make this right. 

To his defense, his first relationship was him experimenting; nothing too serious  - the other party would think otherwise. Taking his previous relationship as an example was a stupid idea - this time, [Reader] was actually a good friend rather than a stranger trying to kiss up to Ace. 

At first, Ace would try to ignore his feelings, going through his day normally as if nothing happened; yet, a different story behind closed doors. He’d search the web for answers to his stupid question about confessing to someone whom he was already close with. Much to his disappointment, the Internet was very unreliable, replying with comments to reject his friend’s confession and continue their relationship as it is. Ace knew he shouldn’t have voiced his worries on the web. 

I hope to make this relationship last long and be a better one than the last, he thinks to himself. The boy knew better than to repeat his mistakes, and he’d rather avoid doing all the cheesy crap and hang out with [Reader] as usual. Gosh, why did feelings make things so complicated?

The first thought that came to mind when he felt his heart pitter-patter: is this how love in those stories feels? He cannot make the words himself, but sure, he knew how those books would describe it: heads over heels, head on cloud nine, tunnel vision for their loved one. The young man understood what that meant. 

He is fascinated by this sensation, noticing how his heart quickened whenever he saw [Reader]’s bright smile from the corner of his eye, or when [Reader]’s laughter would ring out true whenever he was with them. Needless to say, Epel was smitten. 

Word would spread like wildfire in the Pomefiore dorm that Epel was in love, bringing to the attention of Vil and Rook, who both gave each other an understanding glance before concluding on a common understanding: Epel had truly grown up. Yet, this didn’t mean the end of their teachings. 

Vil and Rook had to make sure Epel was still consistent with his routine, straighten his posture, and instill the same composure he always did before. As much as Epel found these routines outrageously tedious, his feelings brought new resolve to him and his daily activities - he will get stronger for the sake of [Reader], to show them his best charms. 

Epel couldn’t possibly wait for the ‘perfect’ moment when he becomes a stronger mage, but rather, he wants [Reader] to be part of his journey of becoming stronger, to see him as he is as well as he sees as them as they are. 

Am I dying? Thought Sebek as he startles from his brief slumber, visions of a sweet dream with [Reader] dissipating in the darkness. Something was amiss: heart palpitations, his cheeks burning at a stray thought - even spacing out in the middle of class! How unacceptable! 

The infallible Sebek being distracted was unspeakable, and he’d reprimand himself for stooping so low to have his emotions get involved in his day-to-day life; He figured that he dealt with this ordeal himself - no troubling Malleus or Lilia about his dilemma, as if he thought he was capable enough to resolve by himself. 

Yet, it didn’t take long for Sebek to connect two and two together: the culprit of this dilemma was none other than [Reader] themselves - a profound revelation as he was captivated by them and their charms. He refused to acknowledge that he was entrapped in this web of ‘love’, withholding sentiments locked in his heart that were for his close friend to know.

As precious as these feelings are, Sebek found himself handling something akin to glass, a manifestation of time spent with [Reader] that only grew stronger and stronger until Sebek himself was bewildered by himself and his predicament. He floats in between the choices of confessing or keeping to himself, not wanting to trouble [Reader] with this emotion in case they ever had a change of heart. He comes up with an idea and hopes for the best. 

In Ramshackle Dorm, a certain individual receives letters professing their love for [Reader], attempts of poetry listed upon the heart of the letter as the letter delves into a story as to what garnered such feelings. Each letter [Reader] receives is adorably endearing, each one showing the voice of a naive individual who is confused, wanting to see [Reader] but at the same time, split between the paths of their position and their livelihood as a student. One day, [Reader] writes back, a patient response to the abundance of letters someone left behind for them to read. 

[ghulehunknown]

Can I ask for papas seeing their s/o jealous for the first time? (Let's say they were married/in relationship for years and somehow papas never 👀 jealous s/o)

Sure thing, I’ll do my best! I decided to write both sides of the jealousy coin.

Papa Headcanons - Jealousy

(Rated PG-13; mild NSFW)

Primo

Reacting to you feeling jealous:

Would immediately assure you that you have nothing to worry about (though he is hiding a slight sense of ego, afterall it’s quite flattering that you’d be jealous of someone else that might want him)

Asks what the root of the issue is - it can’t just be jealousy, can it? You wind up telling him about your childhood trauma and where this all stems from

He nods patiently and assures you that you’re in a safe space; he’s a judgment free zone

A very therapeutic conversation, actually and you leave feeling better than before

Feeling or showing he’s jealous:

He doesn’t react much; he’s too old to play games and if you are sneaking around on him he’ll eventually find out, but he trusts you

Very calm

Asks you questions about the situation to get a better understanding before jumping to conclusions

Does not treat you any differently TBH

Secondo

Reacting to you feeling jealous:

Approaches it logically; he knows this is bound to happen in any long term relationship but you’ll face it together head on

Presents the facts to you and lets you decide on your own from there; he won’t try overly hard to convince you of something when there is evidence in front of you to see you have no reason to be jealous

Tells you all the reasons he loves you

Feeling or showing he’s jealous:

Has a twinge of internal struggle

Ultimately he knows logically you do not belong to him, and therefore can do whatever you like - so there is no need for him to worry

However if you are doing something behind his back he won’t hesitate to leave and cut you off

Terzo

Reacting to you feeling jealous:

Slightly annoyed/defensive at first - how could anyone possibly think he’s done anything wrong when that was never his intention??

When he sees you’re actually upset, he turns very serious and professes his love for you

After you’ve resolved this and he’s assured you properly, he gets a smug little look on his face and says “Oh you want me so bad, don’t you? You liiiiike me” even though you’ve been together for years

Chases you around the house saying exaggerations such as “Amore, I would simply die without you! How could I look at another when you hold my balls in your hand?”

Goes from defensive to serious/comforting to horny in the span of 3 minutes

Bets he can “fuck the jealousy” right out of you 🥴 (and he does)

“Amore, how could I love another? You think anyone could fuck me as good as you do? You think anyone else’s body looks as good on me as yours? You think anyone’s mouth around my [redacted] is as pretty as yours?” (said while he’s fucking your brains out)

Feeling or showing he’s jealous:

Anxious as fuck; this is his ego’s worst nightmare

Agonizes and ruminates on things that probably aren’t even happening

Woefully dramatic, to his own detriment

Uses it as a competition. “Do they love you like I do?,” “Do they remember all of your favorite things?,” “Do they make you cum like I do?”

In the following days he does way more to show his affection than usual; flowers everyday and random dates and little gifts. His feelings are hurt and he wants to remain at the top of your mind

He just needs you to stroke his ego that he’s the only one for you and that there’s no reason for him to be jealous 😌

Copia

Reacting to you feeling jealous:

“Ehh…tesoro, what troubles you?” he would ask while tapping his fingers together nervously, immediately sensing your displeasure

Flattered at first (he’s never experienced this before!) but admits that he has eyes only for you

Dying to prove his devotion to you and promises you have no reason to be jealous

Gives you a big hug and spends the rest of the day with you doing all the things you like, even watching that show he doesn’t like but knows you do

Makes love to you that night like he never has before

Feeling or showing he’s jealous:

He’s embarrassed to admit it

Explains his emotions and needs in a healthy way that he clearly got from a therapist (“I feel jealous when ___ because ___..”)

Asks you for comfort and reassurance because he’s feeling a little down (he needs constant reassurance anyway)

[heretichromia]

A (mediocre) defense of Shining and Hoshiguma.

Narrow use cases in the advanced metagame don't equate to low power.

I think we sometimes forget the purpose of tier lists, and the kind of people who most need them. Especially in a game like Arknights, where "best in slot" is an extremely loaded question compared to most other games, it's hard to really properly convey unit power.

That isn't to say that tier lists aren't helpful. There is a significant difference between the power levels of characters like Młynar and Ebenholz, and people who don't want to (or don't have the game knowledge required to) read and compare kits and try to navigate the mess that is showcase videos (which are typically not good demonstrations of an operator's utility) get pretty good information from a website generally telling them "build Pozyomka if you want a good sniper" and "don't build Vigil if you want a good vanguard."

...But come the fuck on, man. I promise this isn't just a Gamepress rant. This is a community perception issue. Gamepress's tier list is just an illustrative example of how bad the community at large is at evaluating anything but the absolute top tier of obvious meta threat.

If you're not seeing the problem with the above, then consider this: what unit would actually be best for the kind of person who needs a tier list to build?

The tankiest non-limited operator in the game, perfectly serviceable for almost every map with good performance, who still sees routine usage in many high-difficulty maps and even the occasional Contingency Contract?

One of two units that are mediocre blockers, are significantly squishier, and have extremely few optimal use cases outside of dedicated Contingency Contract strategies that aren't realistically applicable to normal gameplay?

Why on earth is Hoshiguma ranked below Liskarm and Blemishine? Why is Hoshiguma in roughly the same tier as Croissant and Bubble? Why is Shining rated just above two units that are pretty much never used?

I feel like this is the sort of thing that happens when you let Reddit-brained "analysis" get to your head, and you forget how to evaluate units entirely. This isn't even the new player tier list! It's supposedly for endgame, trying to evaluate operators "for all game modes."

I hope they're not trying to include Contingency Contract in there, where Liskarm and especially Blemishine are in fact extremely valuable, because CC is a game mode where Cliffheart is considerably more impactful than Thorns. You just can't take into account CC in a tier list like this without having the list make no sense at all.

None of this means that these units aren't...dated, or that they don't have problems in the modern game. They are, and they do. But this is a pretty poor way of reflecting that. I could see an argument that neither of them belong in any sort of S-tier, even on Gamepress's dumb list where there's four separate grades above A+. But...if that's the case, then we still need to be honest about where the alternatives fall, because the problem with Shining and Hoshiguma isn't that they're bad at their jobs.

———

What are they good at?

If you understand their kits, just skip this section. That said, so many people don't. I see people talking about how Sussurro does Shining's job better than her all the time, which is true if you're only looking at raw healing numbers and not actual damage mitigation.

...Tanking. Specifically, physical tanking, though Hoshiguma's large HP pool means she's pretty decent at absorbing Arts damage too (just not as well as someone like Saria with built-in RES).

—

Hoshiguma has a big slab of DEF, the highest persistent value on any operator. She's good at standing there, taking damage, and reflecting damage back to enemies that hit her. That last bit is why she sees continued high-end usage today. While she can get almost 2,350 DEF with her S1 (the highest possible DEF in the game attainable by a single character, if I'm not mistaken), she's mostly used for her S2's reflect, where she can still get nearly 1,700 DEF (Mod-Y). That, combined with her 25% chance to just...completely ignore damage means she is a hilariously tanky unit compared to her competition.

If what you're looking for is someone who can stare down as much physical damage as possible and live to tell the tale, Hoshiguma is going to be one of your best options, if not your best.

—

Shining, meanwhile, is the best single-target ground unit healer in the game. While her effectiveness spikes when healing high-DEF targets like Saria, Hoshiguma, etc., she's simply good and effective in all scenarios where she's healing ground units taking a sufficient amount of physical damage. I've done...an embarrassing amount of math for this subject, so if any of this is wrong, I'll cry (but also please let me know).

Here's the conclusions:

With her Mod-X, Shining S2 will more or less always outpace the best-in-slot persistent healing (Lumen) in actual total mitigation, even on relatively low-DEF units.

On high-DEF units (Saria, Nian, Hoshiguma), Shining S2 can outpace Sussurro S2 in effective mitigation—on a persistent uptime skill.

Shining S2 loses a lot of value if Shining has to heal anyone but the main tank, because she could waste her shield on someone else. This can be effectively mitigated in most circumstances by proper unit placement, or drawing fire with fast-redeploys, Nightingale cages, etc., but it's something to keep in mind.

Shining S3 is completely incomparable to anything else in the game. Nothing comes remotely close when it comes to mitigating incoming physical damage.

Shining is far and away the best unit in her class at her job. Again, nobody comes remotely close.

———

But, yes, they do have one big issue.

...This is pretty obvious, but physical tanking isn't the premium role it used to be.

It is not useless, and for many players represents a much simpler strategy to dealing with several powerful enemies than the "canonical" strategies you'll find in video guides. It's also an almost universal utility. Surviving physical damage is something you have to do in almost every map, so bringing someone like Hoshiguma who's good at doing that is never bad. At worst, there's a small number of better options, like Saria, who can in many cases reduce Hoshiguma + Medic to a single unit, but...I don't really think we should be implying that a unit is barely better than a vanilla 4* because they're sometimes (and not always!) outshone by one of the most powerful operators in the game that not everyone is guaranteed to have.

...But I do have to emphasize that the role isn't premium anymore.

A sizable handful of modern bosses these days have ways of getting around walls. And they should. It'd be very boring if the best strategy to every encounter was to wall up and watch the enemy bash its head against your units until it dies. But between all the methods of crowd control, debuffs, teleporting, or simply walking through your operators that bosses are doing these days, you'll find that there's frequently better tools for the job than getting a really tanky guy.

Some frequently used options:

Bursting the motherfucker to high heaven before they can ever touch your operators or the blue box.

Straight-up immortality, a la Specter or Specter the Unchained.

Utilizing crowd control, be it through outright stuns, Suzuran slows, Gnosis freezes, various sources of bind (Gladiia, Rosa, etc.), or even shifting from Weedy on low-weight bosses.

We have such expansive toolkits at our disposal nowadays that we don't need to rely on operators who are "just" good. Hoshiguma and Shining are very good operators at their jobs! Their jobs are just sometimes not the best fit for any scenario, and in many cases, the worse options will still suffice, while bringing something more to the table. If you can get by with Saria + Ptilopsis, why wouldn't you opt for the higher SP generation? If Mudrock works and you don't need a healer at all, why substitute one operator for two that do considerably less damage? This won't be true all the time, especially since enemy stats have been on a steady increase—even my level 90, Mod-Y, S1M3 Saria isn't enough sometimes. Still, tankiness is definitely something that, if it's in excess, just...goes to waste.

—

But...

...why are we evaluating operators under the assumption that everyone has every other operator at their disposal? Yes—if you have literally every operator in the game, and can use them proficiently, then you're likely only going to use Hoshiguma when you need her reflect. If you have Saria, then you're likely to use Hoshiguma only sometimes as opposed to almost every map.

I feel like we fall into this trap really often. If a unit isn't the absolute best in every circumstance or doesn't do something hilariously overpowered they're unplayably awful, on the same level as 4*s, and shouldn't be built. Yeah, of course, you shouldn't prioritize getting E2 Hoshiguma if you're sitting on E1 Thorns, Pozyomka, or some first-rate DPS unit, but you cannot look at Hoshiguma's numbers, then look me in the eye and tell me she's a marginal improvement at best over fucking Bubble.

It's a problem that's worse with lower rarity units, especially 5* units, as the current memetic thought is that 5*s are barely better than 4*s, despite that being demonstrably untrue in many circumstances. (Can I blame SUPAH for that?) That said, I wanted to focus on Hoshiguma and Shining here, because they're victims of the same thinking that are actually still optimal in some situations, with no one who does their job better than them.

[acidicbarkbeast]

wip wordsearch game

rules: share snippets of your work containing each of the words the previous poster selected for you (optional addition: if you can't find the word in your WIPs, or you simply don't have any WIPs, you can just write a sentence around the word) invited by: @afewproblems i never get tagged in these so thank you for making yours an open invitation!!! here goes! last two happen together, just my luck. answering to the words -> concentrate, loose, fire, bubble, giddy

concentrate:

He knew that the kids would never take it seriously, how could someone like Steve be so concentrated, each stroke deft and thoughtful, meaningful.

Harrington Senior would call it useless, a waste of time better spent elsewhere, an expensive waste of money too, something that would never return a profit either.

He already knew what his mother thought of it all, when she’d stumbled to the basement instead of the wine cellar. She’d said a lot of things that evening; messy, senseless, uncoordinated and unfocused.

Steve had never stopped. He couldn’t help when the words occasionally got to him, when the basement door would stay closed for days or weeks, but ultimately he never quit. The paintings filled every corner, every wall, some sitting unfinished on easels, others stacked against furniture or piled on top of each other.

loose:

“I’m just saying that it doesn’t make any sense!” Steve threw his hands up in defense, shaking his head as if to clear the conversation from his brain. Eddie wouldn’t be surprised if he had to knock some words loose from all that hair, “Is this guy even a real, actual myth? I feel like I would've heard of him by now, if he was so interesting and important.”

"One; real myth is an oxymoron." Dustin accentuated, “Two; I’m sure there are plenty of things you don’t know, Steve. There are lots of things even I don’t know!” He patted the older teen’s chest reassuringly, “It’s good you’re curious, though. Curiosity is what drives most if not all of scientific exploration. Think of it, if not for our inquisitiveness and persistence, we would have never made it to the moon!”

“Sure.” Steve eyed the kid, “Just… Don’t call me a moron, pipsqueak.”

fire:

“Trailer shower barely fits one person, sunshine.” Not to mention, Eddie had never really been with anyone before Steve, at least, not so seriously. There was no need to say it aloud, they’d had the talk before, early on, followed by what was quite possibly the most tender night of Eddie’s life, every touch setting small fires on virgin skin.

Leaning down, Steve nosed along his jawline, breathing him in, “First time for both of us then, if you’re willing?”

Eddie leaned back, a mix of playful and surprised, “You haven't?”

“Felt too intimate, never got that far with a girl,” Steve mumbled, though not sadly. He’d been speaking quieter than Eddie’s ever known him since his hearing really went out after the bats, always unsure of how loud he was truly being. It made pulling those wanton sounds out of him all the more thrilling.

bubble:

Once. Twice. Eddie reread the letter three times before the first period bell went off, stragglers hurrying around him. He didn’t know what to think of it. Somehow, he found the odd few spelling mistakes endearing where he once might have found them annoying. It was confounding, the sheer effect this had on his lonely heart

It wasn’t like he was being summoned anywhere either, not like sophomore year, when he’d been foolishly lured to the football field and sent home with a black eye. This felt safer, like a phone call in a bubble. It felt private. He had a choice in receiving more letters. He could say no with just the flick of a marker, no time lost, no bruises. He could say yes just the same.

giddy:

An urge which he absolutely resented went off like an alarm in his head. He was mildly horrified, finding himself inclined to indulge some baser instinct of himself, something he’d normally chide others for doing. He rubbed the pads of his thumbs over the paper, possessive, before bringing the letter up to his nose, and breathing deep.

The smell had a vice on him immediately, scarily. Too sweet for a beta, too savory for an omega, not sharp and pungent like an alpha might be. It was smoked maple wood and marshmallows. It was breakfast for dinner: sausage rounds, pancakes drowning in pecan syrup, salty bacon. It had his mouth watering right there in public.

Eddie wanted more, he was giddy with it.



This was fun!!

anyone who wants to do this can say i tagged them, idc :3 Your words are -> heart, ink, brave, offence, consider

[bfdreaming]

I've had Fable on the mind lately so here's a Fable 1/svsss fusion nobody asked for.

So SQQ is a fusion of SJ and SY. He's the mayor, but he moonlights as the teacher while wearing a disguise: a pair of glasses. LBH, as the protagonist, can see through the disguise, but no one else can.

Someone, from behind: Oh, Mayor SQQ?

SQQ, turning around: I'm not him. He doesn't wear glasses.

Someone: Oh, my mistake, haha.

In this, he is actually the middle Qiu child. QJL was due to inherit the title before the fire that killed him and their parents, so there are rumors of foul play. What actually happened was, once again, self defense on SQQ's part (after he'd asked to go visit YQY at the hero school and QJL did not like that) and a candle that got knocked over in the scuffle. QHT walked in just in time to see something really bad without context,but the house was collapsing so they both had to run. QHT didn't get very far, but was saved by some people from Oakvale, and they took care of her. SQQ, having hero potential, got as far as the brothel to the north before collapsing, where the ladies hid him and tended him for a while. (He would later return and do the quest to turn it into a women's shelter.)

At this point they both think the other is dead. SQQ continues on to fill his family duty of being mayor, though he's really not interested in the job. (At this age he wants to be a hero, though when he gets older, he realizes he probably wouldn't like it for various reasons.) QHT recovers slowly, and even once she's physically better, she's traumatized and can't walk past the old house. Eventually news reaches her of SQQ becoming mayor, along with bad rumors, but she's not really in a state to do much about it.

(Other rumors include him buying out the brothel so he can become their exclusive patron, and that's why he keeps visiting, but it's not exactly a secret that it's a women's shelter now, so.)

Meanwhile, childhood friend YQY is frequently visiting the very young new mayor, and also LQG (Thunder, sort of) shows up, mad that someone of such ill repute is taking up so much of YQY's time and also probably doing corrupt stuff, or something. Look, he doesnt know either; he's just angy. Even more angy because the mayor is pretty??? Hey! That's not allowed!!! They argue every time they meet until:

LQG: Fight me!

SQQ, openly bewildered: ???

Someone: You want... to fight... the mayor?

LQG stops, turns beet red, and runs away.

SQQ: ??????

LQG has acquired one (1) brain cell and now knows he has a crush on SQQ. He awkwardly apologizes a bunch and their relationship gradually becomes like him and SY in canon.

Enter LBH, who meets the teacher. This SQQ is not already obsessed and LBH is too old to trigger his paternal instincts like his students do, so he's not particularly pleased about this rando bothering him... BUT LBH promised to bring books, so he'll tolerate him. FOR NOW.

Unlike the teacher in the game, SQQ has the sense to actually read the books beforehand to make sure they're suitable. Upon receiving something unsuitable, he'll complain to LBH about it. If it's solid literature otherwise, he'll say he might use it when they're older, so thanks anyway, he guesses. If it's not, well, we know what he's like.

LBH: I could... take it back, if you want?

SQQ: No, it's mine.

LBH: ... (shit that's cute)

LBH continues to bring every book he finds, but he especially enjoys bringing trashy ones. (SQQ also especially enjoys those but he won't admit it.)

Anyway, LBH's adventure continues and Teacher Who Is Totally Not The Mayor is a peaceful bright spot in between all the violence and drama. In Oakvale, QHT asks him to bring her to the burnt out manor to see if they can figure out what actually happened. They do figure it out, largely via ghostly flashbacks. QHT isn't exactly happy, but one of her brothers was a monster either way. At least the one that survived is innocent. Heart settled, she finally writes to SQQ to let him know she survived, and later asks LBH to escort her to Bowerstone to move in with SQQ. SQQ may or may not keep trying to foist his mayoral duties onto her. Her presence, and staunch defense of him, leads to a decrease in nasty rumors.

Eventually LBH tries to start courting SQQ (without glasses because he wants it to be official, and doesn't want people to think he's cheating). SQQ, of course, couldn't catch a hint with a baseball glove. To be fair, he is somewhat distracted by trying to maintain the correct Mayoral Aura instead of relaxing into the less rapport they usually have.

Everyone else notices, though, and it doesn't take long for things to come to a head.

LQG: I challenge you to a duel for SQQ's hand in marriage.

SQQ: Huh?

LBH: I accept.

SQQ: What??

YQY: I would also like to duel. :)

SQQ: When did you even get here???

[futuresconnected]

Dec. 24th 2023: Kiwami 2, Granblue Fantasy Versus, Arknights

What's up gamers, this week flew by and now its time for the Sunday roundup!

Over the week I finished Yakuza Kiwami, and moved on to the start of Kiwami 2, which remakes the second game in the series in the style of the sixth game, marking a big shift in visual quality and gameplay style. Once I realized how close I was to finishing Kiwami, I wanted to go ahead and blaze through the end without worrying too much about the side content (sorry Pocket Circuit) to keep my momentum up through the series before the JRPG explosion that's going to happen from late Jan-March of next year. Overall I had a good time with Kiwami, the main story is all classic crime movie drama throughout, and I really enjoyed seeing Kiryu and Haruka meeting each other for the first time and seeing Kiryu truly being "not the step-dad, but the dad who stepped up".

I was getting a bit tired of the gameplay by the end, especially how it seemed to me that the best way to approach any one-on-one fight was just to sit in Rush style and dodge around people endlessly till you could hit them, so with the bit of Kiwami 2 that I played this week I was very glad to see that that game was going to play very differently from the first. The more visceral style of the combat, the more free-flowing combo routes, and higher focus on equipment are all pretty interesting so far, though we'll see how I feel once I run into a few more bosses. I also really love the character progression system of Kiwami 2 so far, its really tickling the rpg gremlin part of my brain that loves to build up different colored skill trees. I enjoy how the different exp types encourage you to go do a bunch of different activities in the game, and using the completion list to give you big chunks of related exp vs. a currency to buy bonuses like it was in 0/Kiwami 1. I haven't played too much of this game, but since I've got the week off for Christmas and New Years, I'm going to try and really sink my teeth in over the next 10 days or so.

Something else I've been playing a lot of recently that didn't make the cut for the last recap is Arknights, a gacha-based Tower Defense game that I've been playing on my phone, tablet, and PC. One of my good friends has played this game for a while and always posts the cool and silly character designs from that game, and I had been looking for something else fun to do on my phone during those boring days where I'm working in the office, so Arknights it was. I have a somewhat latent love for tower defense games that doesnt get a chance to shine too often, and this game has been reminding me a lot of what I like about the genre. So much of this game is a kind of puzzle game: can the roster of characters I have access to do what the level is asking of me? How could I better position my units to hold enemies in a certain location? etc. etc.

I am also, unfortunately, a chores enjoyer when it comes to video games which means that a long-term character progression system like you see in a lot of games of this type is actually pretty appealing to me. I love to level up my little guys and see them get new skills,abilities, outfits, and so on, its fun!

Last but not least though, the thing that has really captured my attention this week is Granblue Fantasy Versus: Rising, which I talked some about last week but has only gotten more into my brain this week. I think this game is really fun! I've had a blast so far learning how to play the game, the combo routes that this game has for most characters feel extremely "cool" to do, and are easier to pull of than they might seem, which allows someone who is *ok* at fighting games like me to feel a good sense of accomplishment from pulling them off. I think that the way the game incentivizes you to use the "Skill" button to shortcut your special moves is also really great, it's made me have to develop new muscle memory but also means that doing combos and pressure in this game just feels a lot different from other games I've played, and how it feels in this one is just good.

I've even been playing a new character! Which is wild considering how they put Siegfried, the man with big armor and a bigger sword (AKA the most me-coded character ive seen in a fighting game yet) in the game, and yet I've been drawn to someone else completely:

This week I've been learning how to play Narmaya, who feels like someone who really likes Vergil from Devil May Cry designed her. This is for sure one of the hardest FG characters I've ever tried to play, but I'm really feeling the burn of figuring it out. Her whole thing is swapping between two stances with different special moves and normal attacks, which makes her very busy to play but allows for some absolutely sick maneuvers in the corner. Truly the only thing I dont like about her is that she's an anime-big-sister type, and all of the Draph in this game have the fattest tits imaginable, but I'm willing to put up with a little waifu-ness because she's just so cool and so much fun to play!

I will certainly be playing more of her, so please look forward to updates in future FGC Corner posts.

That's really all for this week, glad to be moving through the Yakuza series some more, glad to be having such a blast with Granblue, and looking forward to more of both during the Holidays!

Talk to you next week :)

[monogatcri]

Anonymous submitted:

I’m just reading your threads with Morax (your Niwa is so so good) and I’m just giggling at the idea of Niwa eventually meeting Zhongli again with the latter as the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor consultant in the modern day: rambling about cultural arts and osmanthus wine, and financially broke as fuck simply because he didn’t think to set aside any retirement funds so he resorts to mooching off of others, especially Childe. You know what, I’ll just say it outright: Zhongli looks like he could be a sugar daddy, but he’s actually a sugar baby. Just waiting for Niwa’s reaction when he finds out about this. (I also want him to meet Qiqi and Yaoyao~) Can’t believe I forgot to add that I want Niwa to meet Yaoyao because she’s also Dendro and would totally help him how to use his element: offense, defense, healing, or maybe he can go to Kirara and try a shield if he wants. (As for what I said about Zhongli, I say it because I love the man…but my god, someone teach him how to manage finances. Niwa, please help him.)

I'm wheezing at your submit name "just a gray slime" is killing me.

Aaaaa???? Thank you so much, really!! He has such limited information and a lot of what I write about him is based on my own interpretations of what I see (it's definitely not the same for everyone, tbh, but that's okay)! I just really fell in love with him and he kind of took over my brain as I developed him! Even my other blogs suffer a bit with how much I think about him. ; o ; I always thank those who are willing to help me develop him most, though! Without them, I would be stagnating and, quite honestly, with just thoughts with no outlet to put them into! I could have made him and then just sat here with nowhere to go, so I really appreciate everyone who took the time out of their day to give me this chance to move him and make him more three-dimensional than a simple npc from the game! I'd say Saint, Avalon, Velvet, Ventium, and Spence did a ton of work with helping me through this and their blogs are honestly the ones you should check out and praise! Honestly, Niwa is the type of person who is understanding to an extent. If someone falls upon hard times, then he'll take it in stride that they would need time to pick themselves up again ; everyone has this happen, but if they're simply using others or refusing to push toward a better future, then he's likely to reprimand them after a time (of course, this would be after any and all attempts to guide them toward their own income/financial stability fails). Money is hard, but you must be willing to try -- that's all he wants: someone to TRY (they could fail but if they try, then he's content and would keep assisting).

also he would love to meet a plethora of people! qiqi and yaoyao are both very sweet and kind kids! they're remind him of his time raising kabukimono. of course, his vision receiving hasn't happened yet so he would likely just enjoy the company as standard procedure is applicable! so long as a person isn't malicious, he's content.

[apollo-ar]

Ramble Time #1

The hatred between females and males has been on my mind more than I appreciate lately. Whether this is brought up in media, class discussion, or from observing interactions between others.

I want to start with a thought I had when I was much younger. When I was younger, like most pre-teens who enjoyed reading at that age, I was a fan of the Hunger Games series. Around this age I finally had to rip off the band aid and realize the world I was growing up in was full of hate and even some evil. The one thing I never understood though, was why hate was responded to with hate. Of course I understood defense or even violence as a last resort. However, I never understood it as a way of life. I felt that Hunger Games was the best example I had at that age of this. The Capital abuses its power and it’s people. It engages in disgusting acts that treat the districts like toys. The districts have enough and take that power away from the Capital , as they showed they cannot be trusted with it. So surely, after surviving terrible conditions, they wished for a better way of life, to prove themselves worthy of power with a more effective system, right? Nope. Instead the tables turn. The desire of an eye for an eye too great to consider the consequences. No mercy. 

Since childhood my family had always said I had a strong sense of justice. The thing about justice is that sometimes mercy is the best option. Not everything has a cure all, as nice as that would be. 

What does this have to do with battle of the sexes? This is where my ramble is going to change from anecdote to brain vomit.

It is clear to me that humans learn from experience. However, we are also guilty of confirmation bias. If a male grows up expecting females to be selfish, vain, cruel, among other things, he will not only manage to have a negative attitude that in turn cause women to be disgusted with him, but this also means any action can be twisted in a way to confirm what he believes. 

Though this is not the only reason some males grow up to have a negative view on women, the other reasons are a heavier topic for another time. This heavy topic matter also applies to females. Of course, females are going to have a negative outlook on men when they are constantly reminded of what men are capable of (not that females are not also capable, just less frequently statistically) after all, if they are not reminded, they may go out in the world not being cautious enough, getting hurt. 

To add on to this idea of confirmation bias, it for sure does not help when parents do not hold them selves accountable. Not to mention the previous generations pressure to settle down and have kids. Not because they want to or they are actually ready, but because it is “what you do”. What you end up with are physically, emotionally, or otherwise absent parents, both mother and father. It is not the child’s fault they may grow up with a poor taste in partners and/or spouses. However, thanks to parenting or lack thereof, they must learn for themselves what to expect of others and themselves. So these children grow up coping in whatever way they can. This leads me to my main point. It turns into hating females or hating males. Hate in any form is unhealthy. Hate and love are some of the most extreme things a person can feel, yet tend to be opposites. God forbid we see multiple examples of what happens when the two mix.  That being said, hate is learned, hate is a strong feeling that sometimes makes one feel just as alive as being in love. When it is easier to hate than to love why not chase that high? 

Except, it will eventually fail you. 

Sure, hatred can spark some fiery movements. However, hatred leaves you isolated, miserable, guilty, and more. I have known some to be more dedicated to hatred than love. I have watched a close friend lose someone dear to him because he simply could not allow himself to accept all the love she had for him. He had too much hatred for not only others, but it began to fester towards himself. He felt undeserving. She tried everything. I wish I still had contact with her so I could be sure she continued to love despite the heartbreak. That she did not give into hate. However, I only will know his side. His side that he drowns in sorrows, empty hobbies, and empty bottles. 

Love is hard. Love is the most difficult thing you can do. Love is vulnerable and scary. Love is very many things and can even have it’s own consequences. However, it ends better. Like most things, it is worth the hard work. The hardest thing about it is that it cannot truly be done alone. You can love yourself and everything around you, but it will be draining and difficult if you are surrounded by those who refuse love and default to hate. 

What I mean to say is, it is easy to hate women when you only have known pain. Happiness and love are choices. Humans are not naturally good-doers. You have to work for the better. It is easy to hate men, in fact, possibly easier to hate men than to tie your shoe I imagine. However, I do not think much is resolved from emotions born of hatred. To ignore the reasons behind hatred would be foolish, of course. However, you can be cautious without labeling everyone. I mean this for both men and women. Don’t go to the gym because you are fueled by hatred, do it because you love yourself and want to take care of yourself. Don’t advocate for change because you hate someone, advocate for change because you love the cause and it’s people. Hatred is an endless cycle. It is mans first and final sin. 

I have finally wore my fingers out, so I will finish this for now. Thank you for reading my unrevised ramble. 

[king-wilhelm]

There's something so alarmingly vulnerable about the scene where gaon asks yohan to join them for a game night. I've been putting this one off forever so here we go

We learn from the priest that yohan has always been someone who never fit in. The kids around him chalked it up to him being weird, disturbing even. When in reality, he was just a child who wanted friends. Being treated like an outcast at such a young age is incredibly damaging to a child and its the kind of trauma that you carry forever. Which is what happened, right? People constantly showed him he didn't belong and he eventually believed in it. And as time went by, he modeled his whole personality around it. As miserable as that sounds, it's not actually, the worst thing on the planet. Eventually, you get used to it so much that you stop noticing it.

But what about here, in this scene? Here yohan is in a place where he has family, he has people. He knows he's not alone. Yet, you see him hesitate. Because that's what happens when your childhood trauma catches up with you. Even after you've found your people, you feel like you can never truly fit in, like you'll constantly stay stuck at the edge, like if you try to go any further, it'll all go up in smoke.

Somehow though, there's still a twisted part of your brain that tells you that what you have is a luxury. That this is as good as it gets and that it's infinitely better than the alternative. And on most nights, you're fine, happy even. But you'll always have moments where you want more because just being near the light and warmth and laughter isn't enough. You want to touch it, feel it for yourself. But you never know how to. So you say you're not into it, like you couldn't be bothered to indulge in simple pleasures. And all it takes is for one person to see through the facade of indifference.

Which is exactly what gaon did. he went to the priest to dig up dirt on yohan and ended up empathizing with the little kid who just wanted someone to reach out(OF COURSE HE DID). When he invited yohan to join them, he didn't use a lot of words, because that'll make him act all defensive. Didn't mock/force him, because it's a sore spot.

He just stood there, silently saying, "you belong with us. You know you belong with us. But if you ever had a doubt, this is me telling you, we want you" and yohan? Well, that's precisely what he needed. Someone who would choose him, willingly, explicitly.

All gifs by @b612sunsets ❤️

[beels-burger-babe]

Hi! I saw that requests are open, if it's not a problem could i request Satan reacting to MC coming to him with new books every time they hang out because they want him to read them out loud since they have a short attention span? Like, Satan would be reading said book while MC is drawing or doing something else.

I have adhd and reading books that are not digital is a nightmare for me, so him reading out loud would be pretty relaxing.

Btw it's up to you if you wanna do headcanons or a oneshot!

ABSOLUTELY!!! So this is actually my first request and I'm super excited because as someone who also has ADHD I can totally relate! I hope you like it!

Too Still, Too Quiet

GN!MC with ADHD Summary: Satan notices that MC seems to have a hard time hanging out with him; he's determined to get to the bottom of the issue and find a solution.

After living in the House of Lamentation for nearly a year, you've grown accustomed to the many quirks that came with living with the seven Lords of the Devildom. You had gotten close to the brothers, and as they picked up on your symptoms for your ADHD, they each found their own ways of being helpful. Lucifer had always known, as it was written on your file, and made a point of sending you subtle reminders throughout the day to keep you organized and on task. He brushed it off saying that it merely prevented him from having to go after you later on if you forgot or did something incorrectly.  Mammon was no stranger to having a hard time prioritizing and staying focused and took pride in lending you some of the different tools he used to fidget with. After all, his human deserved the best, and you couldn’t get any better than using something that belonged to the great Mammon. Leviathan’s room provided a relaxing atmosphere with just enough stimulation to keep your brain satisfied enough to focus on your school work and tasks. The sounds of the aquarium provided a fantastic back ground noise, and Levi always took caution in wearing his headphones when he gamed if you were working in his room to not add to the distractions around you.  Asmodeus had a good eye for when you were growing too frustrated by the regular chaos that tended to fill the House of Lamentation and would pull you aside to his room for some self-care to help calm you down. There was nothing like a head message and face mask from Asmo as he happily gossiped about the latest drama in The Fall to help ground you.  Beelzebub, on the other hand, was great at noticing when you were starting to grow restless. In those moments, he’d not-so-subtly state that he was heading to the gym and it’d sure be nice if he had someone to join in before very obviously making eye contact with you. At first you had a hard time figuring out a good balance between a work out that satisfied Beel while also not killing you. But now the two of you easily worked with each other until you were both sweating, smiling, and happy. He also made sure to remind you to eat through out the day whenever you went to a round of hyper-fixation on something. Belphegore wasn’t particularly helpful when it came to your forgetful spells or disorganization as, being the Avatar of Sloth, he would normally encourage such behavior. Instead, he did what he did best, and helped put your wandering mind to ease whenever you were trying to sleep.  The only person, and not for a lack of trying, that you just couldn’t seem to find a flow with was Satan. 

He was too quiet and organized for you to be able to stand being around him for long periods of time. You had tried hanging out with him a couple of times, but after a few minutes of him silently reading or him explaining whichever text he was currently studying, you would grow restless and distracted.  Which brought you to your current situation.  Satan had invited you to come relax in his room with him, as the rest of his brothers were dealing with the aftermath of their most recent dilemma. It wasn’t so bad at first, some light conversation here, some banter there, but soon your mind started to wander off to the spines of the endless books around you as you pondered on what might be inside them.  “MC?”  Your attention snapped back onto Satan, who stood frowning at you. You blushed and scratched the back of your neck. “Oh, I’m sorry. I got a little distracted. What were you saying?���  Satan sighed as his frown deepened.  “I’ve noticed that tends to happen a lot with you. Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” He quickly amended raising his hands in defense. “But it seems particularly bad when you’re with me. You get quite jittery and I don’t think you’ve ever stayed in my room longer than ten minutes,” for a second his eyes almost looked sad as he looked over at you, “Is it something I’m doing? Do I make you uncomfortable?”  “No! Satan, no, it’s not you I promise!” You quickly reassured moving closer to him. “It’s just well I have a hard time staying still and focusing on things and when it gets too quiet it bothers me because then my brain is like hyper fixating on the smallest noises in the room, even though I’m supposed to be focusing on what you’re saying or my work, and it’s like, is that a page a turning or a something scratching at the door and then I start wondering about what kind of things could be in here and-”  “MC.” Satan cut off, though he didn’t seem annoyed. In fact, his eyes now gleamed with a sense of understanding. “Do you happen to have ADHD?”  “Yeah, I thought you all knew? Lucifer told all of you when I arrived right? That’s why everyone is so-” you moved your hand in a vague gesture that even you weren’t entirely sure what it was meant to symbolize.  Satan huffed and shook his head. “Lucifer did no such thing. I imagine he would’ve told us if it came to be a big enough problem. But you know him. He takes pride in being the only one to know certain things. “  You frowned and tilted your head in confusion. “But then what about the others? They’ve all been helping me out for months now.”  Satan placed a hand under his chin in thought, “They most likely took note of individual symptoms and decided to help. Belphegore, and possibly even Leviathan and Asmodeus may have put two and two together, but the rest probably think you’re just forgetful or that you’re restless,” he smiled reassuringly at you, “but that’s besides the point. Now that I know, I can help make you feel more at ease when you’re with me. What’s the main issue that you-” “It’s too quiet!” You quickly cut off, causing Satan to raise an eyebrow. “When we’re in here relaxing and you’re just reading and I’m supposed to be reading too, it’s too quiet. I try to focus on the book, but my mind keeps jumping around to other things. And I want to read all those books you’ve recommended to me, I really do, but I start feeling bored after a little while and next thing I know I jumping sentences without noticing and then I’ve gone an entire chapter with no recollection of what I’ve just read because I wasn’t really paying attention to the words at all I was just flipping pages without realizing it, so I have to go back and re-read the whole thing all over again!” You throw your hands in the air in frustration. “Is exhausting and makes me feel dumb, so I get up and do something else instead.”  Satan nodded, taking in every word carefully. “Well first of all,” you yelped as he flicked your forehead.  “Ouch! What was that for?!”  The demon smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. “For calling yourself dumb. Just because you have more difficulty with literature than others, does not mean you’re dumb. You simply require a different reading strategy than what most consider “usual”, and I believe I have a solution that would suit both of us,” you perked up at his words. “I recommended those books to you because I greatly enjoyed them myself. How about, when you’re here, you can choose a book you want to read, and I will read it out loud for you? That should help, yes?”  A light airy warmth filled your chest at just how accommodating Satan was willing to be. “But what about the books that you were reading?”  The demon shrugged, “I can always read them in my spare time.” He moved closer to take your hands into his, silently demanding your full attention. “I want to spend more time with you and get to know you better. I want you to be comfortable and be able to be yourself when you’re around me without feeling stressed. This is honestly the least I could do for you, MC.”  Blushed rushed to your cheeks as you felt your heart flutter in your chest. You awkwardly cleared your throat and took your hands back, rubbing them on your legs as you noted how clammy they were. “I think I-I would like that a lot” The grin on Satan’s face widened as he took one of your hands and lead you deeper into the bookshelves of his room. “Splendid! Then why don’t we get try right away? Take you pick, MC, I will be your narrator for the evening and for as long as you wish.”  ***** I hope this was something along the lines of what you were looking for! It is a little short, but I hope you like it. Thank you so much for the request, I loved it! Requests are OPEN and I would definitely love to complete some more if anyone has any ideas or prompts that they’d like me to complete. Just send in an ask and, if I feel comfortable with it, I’ll do my best to make a fic for it!

[missgeniality]

Opaline Moon (m)

“The Moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.” - Munia Khan

➺ Banner: @hobiandsprite​ 💕

➺ Pairing: Seokjin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Friends to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11.2k

➺ Summary: You are ingrained to love Jin, right upto the blood that courses through your veins. Confessing, however, is a whole other game. So it’s a good thing you’re bad at keeping your hands to yourself, because happenstance can handle the rest. 

➺ Warnings: talks about dance floor fucking, making out in the bar bathroom, fingering, pussy slapping, passing out drunk, daydreams about thigh riding, reader masturbates, they make out A LOT, neck kissing, a hickey, nipple play, some biting, cum eating (kind of, you’ll see), blowjob, protected sex!, reader and jin are corny, the hurt is real but the sex is real-er

➺ Author’s Note: My lovely, lovely moots - @taegularities​, @kithtaehyung​ and @baepsaetan​, thank you so much for betaing this and hyping it up, your comments made this fic a hundred times better! As I mentioned on the teaser, this fic took a lot out of me, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing the angst and will write more whenever the story aligns! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing, and I hope this lovable Jin reaches your heart! (ngl, in usual fashion, I will come back and edit it again, so if you see a spelling mistake, your eyes are lying to you) Do let me know what you think, your asks and comments make my day!

This is the second part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Sweltering heat. Blaring traffic. Little to no sleep. Through all things wrong, one man’s thoughts wrapped around you like a cooling breeze, a shield to protect you from the vicissitudes of reality, to draw you back into all of him. Unfortunately, your reality may never see that day come to light.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin, the man who cooked you up a greasy break-up meal at three in the morning with not a sight of discomfort, putting your needs above all.

Kim Seokjin, whose puns make you roll your eyes heavenward, half awed at how he manages to pull one out of his collection at a moment's notice, and half irked by the untimely laugh it brings out of you.

Kim Seokjin, the man who will never be yours, and you have no one to blame but yourself. 

One could argue that the miscommunication that had caused this present condition was two-way. If you had stopped him, corrected him, let him know the truth… you wouldn’t have to resort to the extreme measures you’re currently entangled in. One would also say, you are trying to redeem your mistake by trying too hard. Surely, everyone and their mothers could see through your ruse. 

This is the fourth time you’re visiting Jin for his BE shoot - a shoot taking place two hours away from the city, disguised under various layers of secrecy to prevent any leakage of the album concept, or Jin in general. Of course, you had been made privy to such exclusive information, because you and Jin were ‘best friends’. 

Best. Friends.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Best friends. The term you coined for (and forced upon) the bond you had. The bond that was too close to sprouting into something new, something fresh, something that was filled with glimmering allure and dragged you in like quicksand. But also, it reeked of commitment, of shadows, of newness that you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and fear of already being far too deep in without even taking the first step. 

The loud thrum of some internet kid’s new hit pulses through the air of the club as bundles of couples occupy the dance floor, laughing and gyrating to a song that, in your opinion, most definitely does not suit gyrating. But with enough of the weekend happy hours intake combined with hormone-riddled minds, one could very well throw it back to a church choir. 

You weave through the drunken bodies, trying not to spill the precariously held three drinks in your hands, making your way to your inner circle, the only people to blame for dragging you to this slosh-fest.

“Y/N!” 

Somehow Hoseok’s voice can echo across the club, but you didn’t even need his addressal because Jin’s laughter is loud enough to navigate anyone to your table. Seeing you struggle with the glasses (and mostly the crowd, with some of them living their exhibitionist dreams), Hoseok gets up to assist you.

“I swear, if I see one more couple pretending to be dancing as they rub one off of each other’s thighs, the black market will have my eyes.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin’s breathy voice interjects your black-market dreams, still bursting in short laughs from whatever sent him rolling before your arrival. “Why don’t you go join them?”

“And whose thigh is she taking, yours?” Yeji snorts out, one hand holding her nebula blue drink, the other wrapped around Hoseok, urging him to come closer. Jin’s features scrunch into a cringe, and you’re thankful for the dim lighting because the disappointment in your features does not reach them.

“The only action these leather pants are getting is in the damned laundromat,” he points to his shiny trousers, “some jerk dropped his drink on it.”

“You could be the first person to give some chick an orgasm and a yeast infection.” Hoseok giddily adds, his fifth shot clearly making a mess of his brain cells. 

Jin claps and gets up to move away from the group. “Better than a pregnancy!” he yells, before zigzagging through the crowd, possibly to the restroom. He is on his third cocktail, and you’d think cocktails are lighter drinks. But in this bar, their taps just seem to flow with tequila, and it is very evident in the way Jin is currently walking.

His absence hits you harder than you think, but it might be the alcohol talking. Jin has always been the mood-maker of the group, the one who brings everyone together. Of late though, his magnetic persona has been an irritant in your life. Any outing you two take, any chance you have to come clean about the burgeoning crush you have on him, is effectively disrupted by one of his posse. And today, Hoseok and Yeji took that trophy. 

“Earth to Y/N. Has the cocktail finally broken you?”

You flutter your eyes in a manic fashion, to disperse the daydream you were indulging yourself in, and bring your attention back to the couple calling for you. Surprisingly, they have stood up, Yeji emptying the last of her neon drink. 

“What happened?”

“We are going to the club nearby, they have better stuff. And that’s code for ‘they actually add water to the drink and the surround sound doesn’t shatter your ear drum’.’” 

She isn’t wrong. The cocktails and music here are a 19-year-old frat party dream, not something the working class can digest. But you’re tired at this point, and don’t want to be smothered by someone else’s love life when your own is down the dumps.

“You guys carry on! I’ll tell Jin where you are and he’ll meet you there!”

You watch as Hoseok and Yeji lead each other to the exit, hands circling their partner’s waist. They giggle on and on, about nothing and everything, and it only hardens the emptiness you feel inside you. 

Why can’t you gather the balls to spit your feelings out? What could possibly go wrong? Yes, you may lose one of your closest friends, but is this friendship really worth the agony? The bitterness you feel when you see any couple enjoying themselves? The anger you harbor whenever Jin tells you about his dates? The heartache, when he hugs you and tells you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him… as a friend? Is it? Your plastered brain tells you to not make any rash decisions, so you don’t, instead choosing to get up and search for your best friend. 

The corridor leading to the washrooms is dimly lit, throwing a merlot filter over your eyesight, making you squint in search of your friend. You being shitfaced does not help, and while relishing in your floating wooziness, you see Jin come out, and feelings you’ve held at bay for so long slither through your currently porous defenses. 

He has always been good-looking. He himself has said so a dozen times.

But wow.

His hair lays messily atop his beautiful face, unkempt, like a breeze of beauty swept across his mighty looks and displaced every strand, causing disarray, but even the disarray only frames his superior looks and adds to its potent charm. The black, patchy sweater hanging loose off his broad shoulders makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel as a friend. That stupid gut of yours is currently screaming, yelling for all hands on deck, trying to block all the feelings from gushing in and sending you into overdrive.

By the time you can gather yourself to stop from giving in to those dangerous thoughts, Jin has crossed the distance between you, coming close, too close. Chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul, searching for whichever fantasy you chose to lose yourself in. His eyes flit down to notice your rumpled dress that has found its way a couple of inches above its designated spot. His gaze returns to yours, but not without a newfound hardness, an almost steely glaze over the kindness that you usually find in the chocolate pools, accentuated under the garnet lighting. 

“Hey, umm…” You beg for a reprieve, from your thoughts, from your filthy mind, from the way he is eyeing your cleavage, or just for the burning between your legs. You’re about to make some serious mistakes, you can feel it down to your bone.

You’re far too overdressed. 

You knew it when you were in the process of getting dressed, but right now, you feel it much more - you look like a shiny disco ball orbiting amidst the plethora of loose tees, leggings and flannels. Everything screams comfort, because the amount of work they’re putting into this begs for it. 

The strappy lace sundress you wear is extremely out of place, the halter-neck tie behind your neck fastened a little looser than necessary, giving your breasts the exposure they deserve, a nice valley view. Your dress skirt, adorned with pretty frills and dainty flowers, cut across your thigh to frame your petite hips. You are one floppy sun hat away from an extravagant Greek cruise - and in the moment you wish you had one to hide your face in shame. 

You’re just out here, trying to escape the zone. 

“Oh, would you look at the time, it’s tits out Tuesday already?”

Your eyes roll before Sanghoon even finishes his sentence, because you wouldn’t expect anything else from him. On the team of the set design, he is carrying a whole drapery worth of plush, mauve curtains, struggling with the slipping fabric. But apparently not struggling enough to stop him from getting his nose into your business, it seems.

“Literally not even a time you just mentioned. Can’t get one thing right.” You can’t stop yourself from stretching a hand out to feel the curtain fabric, the satiny sheets begging to be touched. Before you can though, Sanghoon moves away, not allowing you to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Don’t steer away from the facts. Your tits.”

“That’s the fact?”

“They’re out.” He bucks up, trying to point with the hand stuffed underneath all the cloth. “That’s the fact.”

“Ugh, can’t a girl dress up once in a while?” The pointed attention makes you uncomfortable, because everything he’s insinuating is true. With every passing staff member, you count a new shade of grey, interspersed with occasional blacks and greens, a stark contrast to your floral overtones. Amidst the thousand footsteps taken in your vicinity, only yours are pointed heels, echoing across the studio with every clack. But you’re a stubborn one, refusing to give in to his totally valid argument. “I just woke up early.”

“Girl.” Like light through frosted glass, he sees through your bullshit, but only partially. “You put an alarm to dress up? I have nightmares of the boss brandishing her whip and telling me to get into position, and even that doesn’t wake me up.” 

“Have you ever considered… not announcing your kinks to everyone and their sisters?”

“Ehh,” he simply shrugs, “nothing is new when you’ve serenaded your boss drunk in a karaoke bar and still managed to keep your job. Wait. Is that highlighter?”

“Stop staring into my tits!” You can’t believe you got caught, but also, who can you blame? After testing this outfit out from the crack of dawn, you decided your cleavage needed some extra help. Three YouTube tutorials and one TikTok lady - who make it look far easier than it is - down, the contouring brought out the swell of your breasts, and against the light fabric of your dress, it does look too good to be true.

Memories of that night in the bar come in billows and waves, of how enamored Jin was with the way your boobs looked at that time. Even under the dingy lighting, in the cramped space, under heavily inebriated scrutiny, you couldn’t miss the flicker of heat in his gaze every time it passed your chest. 

One thing led to another, and it was a cascade none of you could stop. The heat of attraction between you two does not help your wandering mind, and the fever drowns the knowledge that what you’re feeling is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, crossing some lines that can never be mended back again. With the proximity, his musky scent invades whatever defenses you were trying to patch, piercing through all your inhibitions and you pull him into you, claiming his lips to be yours. 

With his wobbly knees and your wobbly heels, you somehow find your way to the washroom - mostly he does, you give in halfway to wrap your legs around his lean waist, his sturdy legs balancing your weight on them as your back hits the wall, and his lips tear down your walls. 

“You look so fucking sexy today,” between bated breaths and indulgent sighs you confess, “just driving me nuts.” Letting your hands drag along his abdomen, feeling the ups and downs of his abs, you attempt to rid him of the sweater that’s been on your hit list all night. But to your dismay, your endeavor is blocked, when Jin gathers your wrists in his palm, turning you around to bend you over on the countertop, the smooth marble chill hitting your braless chest, perking your nipples under the cold. 

“And you?” Jin bends to give your earlobe a languid lick, progressing very slow, a complete contrast to the movement of his hips as he ruts against your ass, your already short dress bunching up with every move. “You think it’s smart to have your tits torment me like this?” Grabbing a handful from behind, he tests the weight of each fleshy mound, and by now you are certain your perked nubs can pierce his palm. 

His free hand, not yet torturing you, decides to get in on the action and disappears under the counter, swiftly crossing the bunched fabric of your dress, gaining easy access to your pussy. The cold touch of his pads sears against the heat of your core, finding your pleasure button and languidly fiddling with it, with no intention to cross you over the brink in sight. The only pleasure you can indulge in is the reflection of him abusing your nipples, pinching and tugging them down, whispering filthy words into your ear as he takes in your fucked out countenance. 

You feel lacking, weak hands balancing your dizzy self, finding purchase to keep you upright - but you’re both drunk on alcohol and hypnotized by his beauty to do much more than stare at his mirrored counterpart. “For fuck’s sake, kiss me.” 

How he understood your slurred words, you don’t know, but you are glad he did. In a moment you’ve been displaced, the hurried motion sending your neurons into a flurry. Once your back meets the hard marble, and your eyes have the privilege to see his, you pull him in closer, the force enough to hold you against the wall while your legs wrap around his lean waist. 

Originally not a fan of drunken misadventures, that side of yours is strangely mute to the going current onslaught. Well, you don’t have much breath left to say anything, because Jin is efficiently stealing it all, his teeth clashing with yours as you engage in the messiest kiss ever known to mankind (or at least, to you). He changes pace often, dragging his tongue leisurely against your lower lip, conveying tacit words, just to switch it up with a sharp bite and reel you in. 

One corner of your senses can feel his fingers messing around your cunt, and playing with the wetness your thong can barely contain. It makes you shudder, the damage that his fingers can cause solely circling around your hole. 

“Fuck me.” 

In your drunken stupor, you don’t know if the words leave you right, but you get confirmation when his long fingers finally penetrate your cunt, giving your walls something to clench on - although nothing could possibly compare to what you imagine you can get from his dick.

“God, you feel that grip,” he grunts, with two of his fingers in you, and Jin’s smile is the most sinister you’ve ever seen. “I think we should take this home,” is what his lips utter, but his fingers delve deeper, searching for the spot that crumbles you. The base of his palm grinds against your throbbing clit, and you are forced to bite down on this sweater, lest an embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and cues outsiders into your filthy doings. 

“Now,” you half-hiss, half-growl as you grab the cusp of his legs to feel his half-hard erection grow under the pressure of your hand. Your palm sliters up just to go down again, this time without the blockade of his pants, but you are stopped short of success when Jin’s fingers slip out of you to give you a sharp swat. 

“Stubborn, aren’t we? Can’t fucking wait,” he whispers into your ear, and as he envelops your lobe with his cushiony lips, he continues, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

No, no, no. 

Your brain rejects logic, chews and spits it out before any of the rationale seeps into you. You have wanted this for far too long. The need inside you for a meaningful relationship materializes in the form of recklessness, desperately looking for surface-level relief for the moment. A night of sewing sutures to your battle-worn heart, stitches that may come off at the slightest strain - but right now, that will do. 

“Please, Jin,” your tantalizing tone riles up his cock again, eagerly waiting for your next words, “can’t you feel me dripping? Come on, I can take you.”

“Fuck, hear that wetness.” He lets his palm slap against your sopping entrance, not stopping with one. With every slap, droplets of your arousal splash out, the insides of your thighs coated in the sticky sweetness, but your body is an endless reservoir producing plentiful more for Jin to play with. “Have you been sitting with this all this time?”

Two long fingers invade your channel again, leaving you with no response other than a gasp. They scissor incessantly, preparing you for what could be the railing of your lifetime. One curl inside and his fingertips hit the spot he was looking for, making you warp your body to take the pleasure coursing through your veins. His tongue seems to mimic the actions, looping around your earlobe as he sucks it inside, both ends of your body engulfed in all the attention he could provide. 

Your cunt is weeping against the assault of this man’s hands, tears of your cum flowing down your legs with every pump of his arm. You are getting there, the sweet swell of release inching closer and closer.

But something doesn’t feel right.

The tightness in your belly, that is to a point caused by Jin, is harboring other sensations that are not entirely pleasant. Maybe you’re anxious about the happenings. Maybe you haven’t had a good orgasm in a while and have just forgotten how this thing works.

Or maybe, the bar should have the water tap actually give out water.

Either your eyes close, or your brain does, but suddenly all you can see is darkness.

 Again, you are just trying to escape the zone.

“Step under those studio lights,” pointing at the too-bright stage lights being set up at the moment, Sanghoon continues, breaking your daydream, “I bet you could signal to aliens with the booby-reflection. Call them to Netflix and chill.”

“In about five seconds, my heel will be puncturing your eye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” 

Sanghoon’s drivel was cut short, and so were your murder plans, with his entry. “Oh look, he’s on set. Gotta go!” 

It’s like the lights, earlier threatening to burn away your skin, dim down in reverence of the glow of his face. The twinkle of his eyes when they meet yours. The shine of his smile when he throws you one. The vibrance of his tone when he calls out your name. Everything he does now threatens to burn you whole and it’s a wonder you’re not scalding, but the singe hurts you deep inside.

“Y/N! How do I look?” It’s a bathrobe. Like satin, or silk. Fucking hell, your brain could explode with the adjectives coming up, a whole chunk of them very much inappropriate to utter out in the current scene. Your arms want to rise, engulf him into you, and you have to physically halt the muscles from doing anything stupid. Brain, quick! Say something snarky and spicy, as best friends do!

“What’s the theme, unicorn puke?” The safest way to deflect is to attack. So you do just that. “You look like you dressed out of Hannah Montana’s closet. Which if it's true, I really need to see it. There’s a top that I’ve been eyeing for decades!”

“Don’t say decades.” Jin’s eyes crinkle in humor. “Makes me feel so old. Your dress is pretty cool too!” 

Cool.

You find out how difficult life can be when you count every single minute of yours. So far, you have counted 4,310 minutes. That is two days, twenty-three hours, and fifty minutes. Ten more minutes and it will be three whole days since you and Jin spoke. 

Yet again, you can’t blame him. When you came to the next day, you were in your bed, clad in the same shimmering silver bodycon that you had donned last night. The same one that had been privy to the colorful deeds you had committed in what was a dreary, colorless setting. 

One ibuProfen and ginger ale, downed with some severe recollections of the previous night, and you had been ready to throw it all up again. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

Words couldn’t describe what you were going through, and numbers weren’t invented to count the endless thoughts racing in your brain. You don’t know what is more upsetting. The fact that you actually had a chance to open your heart and you totally let your pussy think instead? Or that he was the one coherent enough to stop you from getting too far, and you let your desperation get the best of you? Everything about that night was wrong. And all the wrongs lie on your side. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

In the moment, it was physical, he had to have meant that. But there was a tremor in his voice, you can remember clear as day, a slightly shaken side of him had emerged through the intoxication, and the words he had breathed were not shallow. There was a gravity to them, that you’d stupidly ignored in the heat of the moment.

And now, here you are. Counting up till the last minute, after which you can effectively call the friendship ruined. Stirring your tea mindlessly, you try to focus on the show on TV, the variety show comedy not striking the usual funny bones that they could 4,311 minutes ago. 

The programmed ding of your phone bursts your thought bubble, a sound you have missed the past 72 hours. The ring you dedicated to Jin, that always had you running to receive because anything he sends brightens your day. But unlike those happier times, this ring has your gut fall into a pit of despair, struggling to choose between dispersing the suspense or remaining blissfully unaware of the damage you caused.

Jin: Free tmrw? We could grab coffee Jin: And talk

Talk. How? You barely remember what went down, save for fleeting moments that you recollected with great difficulty. Your fingers type back, trying to mimic the nonchalance in his text, that is very much absent in your actual demeanor.

Y/N: Sure. Paik’s at 1? Jin: Yup. See ya

Three texts, zero laughs. Of course, you’re not expecting him to land his jokes in this situation, even someone as talented as he can’t flip this tension. You’re just going to have to wait for tomorrow, when he decides whether you have a place in his life or not. 

The painstakingly worn outfit, accessorizing the whole look, the straps of your heels digging into your toes, the specks of makeup dust lying stale on your collar bones, the shine faints at that word. Cool. A perfectly normal phrase for a normal friendship. You are left maimed, while he absent-mindedly tends to the rope of his robe, blissfully unaware of the cyclonic emotions churning inside you. All you can possibly do is gulp it down. 

He runs his hands through his hair, beautiful locks coming out of place, and from one corner of the set, a groan of anguish emerges. 

“Oppa! Don’t play with your hair and face.” A masked lady runs forward waving combs that look like artillery, “We just got done setting it!”

Some finger guns, a happy apology, and some silly jokes later, all the stylists merrily round up to undo his doing, and Jin signals to you to catch up later. And as he walks away, the strings tugging at your heart reappear, as they do every time you come to meet him.

You have a masochistic streak in you, putting yourself through this every day, when he had made it clear, that you two never stood a chance. 

As if things aren’t already difficult, he looks like a dream. 

Soft, snowy skin gleaming like it has personal lighting wherever it goes, you get flashes of the rarely witnessed sweat on his skin, from the ferocity of last night. He’s blowing away the foam of his cappuccino, and tiny bubbles float into the air before falling flat on the table, like an animated shine that follows him along. God has His favorites, and God makes sure all the lighting in the world is perfect for these favorites. 

In no hurry, you wait at the counter to get your latte. After receiving it though, you can’t linger any longer and drag yourself to the table of doom.

“Hey.”

If the rasp in your voice is evident, he doesn’t show any recognition on his face. But you’ve learned to never trust an acting major. 

“Hi. How are you doing?”

Inadvertently, a snicker escapes your lips. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” you joke, trying to disperse the heavy air, filled with unspoken words. “If so, at least know that I’m very expensive.”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh does not greet you. Dead silence does. The half-smirk he painfully gives you is heavy, and the furrowed brows haven’t an inkling of joy. It shoots daggers in your heart, to know that you are the reason for this jolly man’s despondency. 

“Listen, I don’t think we should skirt around the issue too much. It happened, these things happen. You think Hoseok and Yeji didn’t have sex before making it official?”

His matter-of-fact nature isn’t new to you. Jin has always been a very practical man. Regardless of his inane sense of humor, his logical point of view has always been flawless. 

But right now, at this very moment, logic isn’t what you are looking for. You are looking for answers, but as far withdrawn from logic as possible, to take the edge off of the tension-laden air that surrounds your table.

“Yeah, but even… unofficially… we aren’t a thing, right?” 

Your abrupt question takes Jin unaware, almond eyes widening, like a toddler caught in an act. 

“No, no! Of course not! I would never!” 

His confession slips out with an ease that hurts you, digs deep to carve out the part of you that dreamt of anything more. Your eyes fall to your knees to avoid his perceptive gaze, the sting clear as the sky on a summer day. 

You force a smile and continue. “Then there’s no issue. Anyway,” you gulp your coffee down, burning your throat, but it's a distraction from the burning inside, “I need to get to work. Anything else?”

He’s still searching you, for what, you can’t possibly fathom. From the looks of it, he should be happy with this homeostasis; he doesn’t even know what this means for you. To still stay suspended in limbo, not being able to move up or down, to continue having thorns digging into your beating soul as you watch him like nothing bothers your already frail feelings. Scene by scene, you can visualize the future, him distancing himself from you as he finds the one he calls his, with you left in the shadows. Your knees tremble in fear of the impending future.

Seeing you in a tizzy, he calls out, the voice too loud for the cafe and your mind’s prison cage. 

“We’re still best friends, right?” If you knew better, you’d say his expression is that of sadness, of regret. But your judgment is clouded with your own bothers, and you interpret it as a look of pity. Like a lovesick puppy, kicked to the streets, with nowhere to call home. 

“Yeah! Always.” You give it as much enthusiasm as you can muster. 

Best friends.

Ropes wind around your heart, tugging and causing the deep ache that sets in as you walk back into your dreary building. Each string pulls you into a different dimension where you could move on, where you could be okay with the setting you had just agreed to. Where you would keep up your end of the promise and truly remain friends with him.

But no matter how strong the tug, your heart never yields, never lets go of the castle of dreams you built, staying steadfast in its own misery, choosing to hope, choosing to live the life of unrequited love.

“And that’s a wrap! Good job everyone!”

Applause and hurrays echo across the set to bring you back to the present. The shoot has officially concluded, which means it's time for your most favorite and least favorite part of the day - Jin and you doing best friend things, like grabbing lunch, gossiping about obnoxious coworkers, threatening to disembowel each other (in Mortal Kombat, of course) and other friendly activities. 

Ever so respectful, Jin takes his time thanking every member of the set, regardless of whether they moved a cushion or held the reflector screen for hours. All the women gush over his beauty, reminding him of how, even amidst the glowing ornaments, his face was the brightest. His responses vary, from quiet little giggles, to complimenting the crew for making it happen, to straight up owning his charisma like a boss. That’s your man. 

Well, not quite. Not one bit.

After exhausting the handshakes and hugs to be received, Jin walks to you, hands pushing his robe back to give it a cape like effect. You’re just glad that the man’s child persona still stays with him, no matter the situation.  He guides you to his green room, cracking his bones on the way, (very sexily, might you add).

“Holding a pose for that long gives me cramps! You’d think dancing breaks my back, and you’d be wrong.”

You’re desperately avoiding looking at his fingers, and keep your eyes below them - shoot! His ceaseless stretching gives you a glimpse under his shirt - it is dragging your memories back to the last time you saw them, and you’d rather not. It is hurting you in more ways than one. 

Eye contact is your safest bet. Looking up, you give him a lopsided grin. “Your grandfatherly days are approaching, Jinnie.” 

“Hey!” 

The rest of the conversation was less speaking, more yelling and chasing after each other to the green room, Jin taking mock-offence at your jab at his age, and his fingers reaching out to flick your forehead in retort. In your noisy, messy fashion, you both finally enter the room, dim gold light bulbs and shiny mirrors meeting your huffing self. 

One hand on your knee, you hold on to Jin’s arm with your other, gasping for breath. 

“Your grandmotherly days are already here, Y/N,” he snorts, and earns a kick on the shin, but that doesn’t stop him from bursting into snickers.

“Wow, why does one man need 4 mirrors?” You gape at his current green room, mouth wide open. It looks better than your entire apartment, with the counter carrying top-of-the-line makeup products. Only the best for this man. “So you can admire yourself from 4 different angles?”

Jin has disappeared into one of the inner rooms, but you can hear him snort at your comment. “Come on, I’m not that conceited. When the whole crew shoots together, the extra mirrors help.” The last part of that sentence is muffled, and that cues you into an important fact. 

Jin is currently changing into something more comfortable.

A process that includes him getting naked.

Well maybe he doesn’t get fully naked, top on, top off, bottom on, bottom of-

Still. You’re sweating like a whore in church. 

And things only get tougher when he finally comes out. 

The ocean blue sweater he dons is tucked in. Who tucks in sweaters? Kim Seokjin. Why does he tuck sweaters? Oh, because he’s got an amazing waistline that he should most definitely show off, and the heat between your thighs becoming increasingly potent is a testament to that. You pretend to adjust your heels, giving the right expressions to show you’re in pain, but in actuality you are bringing your legs closer to get you some relief, just any relief. 

Ripped jeans too. You get a peek of the thighs you were denied access to the night of the fuckening. Ridged and beautiful, not a speck in sight to mar his perfection. You are glad the facial expressions for pain and pleasure are not far apart, because your thighs, albeit very lacking, are helping the imagery in your head. Just Jin, seated on one of these leather chairs, and you straddling his thigh, clit aching against the strands of the rips in his denim, the fabric soaking up the wetness, with every push forwa-

“Now that you mention it, I do look dashing.”

And there goes that dream. 

You pinch his cheeks in adoration, the vulgarity of your thoughts getting whitewashed by his silliness and blooming heart-shaped flowers in their stance. You feel your own pinch in you, wondering if this scene would be the same had you blurted your feelings out that day at the cafe.

It's times like these when you remind yourself why you choose to quieten that side. This dynamic cannot reincarnate in any other form. Any imbalance to this equilibrium could cause a serious case of best-friends-turn-awkward-acquaintances, and you don’t know if that’ll hurt you more than you currently do. You don’t plan on finding out.

But on God, he tests that resolution every single day.

Jin doesn’t even hint that he knows of the turmoil blasting behind your eyes. He nonchalantly fixes his hair, gives you a one-over as you are mentally undressing him, nonchalantly as well. Then he moves to grab his cologne, and two spurts disintegrates all the whitewashing and takes you back into the obscenities you were unfolding. 

“So I’ll just go over the shoot photos, and then we can leave! You’re cool waiting here?”

“Hmmn, yeah!” You don’t let your mouth run any longer, fearing what might slip out. 

He gives you a wide, innocent smile. “Great! See you in a bit.” Poor guy. If only he knew how debase plans you were conjuring just from the aroma of his cologne. 

It is musky, like cedar or pine, perfectly suiting him. It is the same scent you remember inhaling, face stuffed in his sweater when he was fingering you to the tenth circle of hell. As he walks away, the fragrance diminishes, save for the slightest hint of lingering. You search for the source, and find the culprit strewn across the sofa.

The outfit Jin wore for the shoot held remnants of the perfume, and when you bring the shirt close and take a long, deep whiff, you transport yourself to the land of your dreams. You relish the fever smell of his cologne, mixed with his own natural scent, deciding that this is what you wish to smell like every waking morning.

Your longing for him has crossed way beyond physical boundaries. You longed for his love, longed for his attention. Longed to be the one that brings the light to his face. From morning rays to the darkness of the night, you wanted to experience it all by his side. To be his lone star, shining bright beside the moon. 

Your hands are moving without your control, disrobing you of your thirst trap of a dress and putting on Jin’s shirt instead. One look at the mirror and you let out a silent groan - it fits you just right. Just enough to cover your ass cheeks, loose enough to let the air conditioning hit your heated pussy. While well-fitting shirts have never been the cornerstone of a successful relationship, your delusional mind takes whatever wins it gets.

Adding layers to your pipe dream, you don the robe that gave you a tough time throughout the shoot. When you press the tails of the robe to your cheek, the softness of the material is soothing. Soft, like Jin’s eyes, like his hugs, like his smile. Like him.

Leaning against the counter, you steady yourself, mind split in titillation. Your fingers find their own path, drawing circles on your breasts over his shirt, imagining Jin’s long fingers in place. While teasing your nipple to pointed peaks, you slip your other hand under your panties, trying very hard to mimic his digits, twiddling your clit between your fingers. Alas, the effect isn’t achievable, because Jin seems to know how to play you better than yourself. 

The scent is getting stronger, without any provoking, and it is doing wonders for your immersion. You let out a loud moan when your fingers press inside, and you’re just glad no one can witness this.

“Y-Y/N?”

Fuck.

You are pulled away from your dreamland that was so impenetrable that you didn’t hear Jin step into the room. All the blood gushing to your nether regions has made a U-turn to flood your brain to think of a plausible explanation for this position. Instead it makes you giddy, and when you try to stand you wobble in your heels, to be rescued by what you think is a very scandalized Jin. 

Time stands still when your eyes meet, and what you see are blown out pupils trembling, many questions fluttering between you two. Jin crosses a tenth of the distance between you, lips flutter as they try to make a decision - do they want to part and give way to the voice of question? The voice of reason? The voice that will break this hush, burst this bubble where he has the one chance to give in to his longing?

You bring your lips closer, and cause immense disquiet in his dome, the way of his heart gathering speed against rationale. Your eyes dance between matching his gaze and finding his lips, every fraction of an inch you cross sending tremors through you. You can feel the shockwaves traverse through your body, making a pitstop at your lips, tingling them awake. They move downwards, passing your heart, beating it wildly against its cage, and then to the pit of your stomach to tighten in anticipation; finally reaching the tip of your toes, where you stand right now, a nanoscopic distance between you. Each one of you is afraid to cross the bridge, unaware of the other’s desires. 

Finally, Jin acqueises and meets you on your side. 

Atomic explosions ring through your head, clearing out every single thought that is not about Jin’s lips on yours. The ropes that held your heart from beating to the tune of your want, they’ve loosened their knots to give you the leeway to love freely. As your lips exchange positions, his teeth lightly drag across your plush petal, and it brings back the most important part of that night that you couldn’t recollect - the one where his lips sang wordless songs of adoration against yours. Blind as a bat, you were.

You dig your fingers into his hair, not minding your residual arousal coating his locks, and you feel his hands doing the same to you. With your eyes closed, you feel a rough edge to his cushiony soft lips, but Jin fixes that mistake - one stray strand of hair trapped in the middle of your indulgence - he pulls it away to give you all of the kiss. The hand tucked in your tresses pushes in, silently demanding more access, and you’re nothing but ready to give it.  

His tongue sneaks in to play a game with yours - when you seek it, it goes into hiding, finding perfect pleasure in soft, sweet kisses, but when you stay, it comes back in, awakening your tongue to deepen again. Everything he is doing is too much and not enough in one go, and you whine into his mouth in desperation, seeking some well-earned relief after months of holding back.

Amidst the flurry of your lips, your back hits the vanity countertop, and Jin pushes away everything on top to make space for you, not caring what expensive item flies down the counter to accommodate your ass.

As if you’ve made up for the months of holding back, the softness of the kisses erodes, teeth coming into play more and more, reminiscent of the night that went by in a blur. He swallows every mewl you give in return, blissed out beyond repair, your neediness making his cock strain against the denim. 

His hand snakes down, spreading his fingers to get a hold of your back to push you towards him, covering any gap that dared to intervene. Now unworried about the shoot, your hands have effectively ruined his perfectly placed locks and messed them up to resemble the craze he let you spin in.

Before he can glide his tongue back in, you break the kiss, lest you lose yourself in it to the point where you forget to breathe. With attached foreheads, you take deep drags of air, letting the oxygen flow to your brain before you make some ill-advised, unclarified decisions.

“I- I was jus-”

“Shhh. Wait,” he breathes out, wanting to take a second and fully savor the moment. You nod in return, making his head move along with yours.

After sufficient air fills his lungs, Jin starts. “Y/N, we should stop.”

Last time this had happened, you had tried to force your way through his barrier, without giving his feelings a second of consideration. So this time, you don’t repeat your mistakes. “Tell me why.”

“Because, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m way deeper in this than you think.”

“Jin, I-”

“Let me finish.” He stops you before you can explain how much you reflect his emotions, possibly more. He doesn’t seem to want to listen now. “Let me finish, or else I’ll chicken out, for the millionth time.”

You’re dumbfounded. Millionth time? When was the first? Acting majors, by God. 

“I love you, Y/N.”

No, now you are dumbfounded. Your hands, holding his precious locks, drop down in shock, at sheer disbelief that all this time, he has been ready and waiting to return you the favor. Jin though, misinterprets it as a look of disdain. 

“I-I know I do, and I’m sorry that I do. I know you don’t feel the same way. You can hate me all you want, but this is the truth.”

“And yes,” he continues, refusing to halt for even half a second, afraid that the courage he mustered to confess would dissipate the moment he does, “I’m attracted to you, and I don’t know what went down here --” flicking his wrist to mention your (his) outfit, “--but I’m looking, okay? And I’m hard as fuck. But that’s not all there is to it.”

“I need all of you.” He takes an audible gulp, trying to stymy his emotions from overpowering him. “I want to take you out, I want to hold you hand, I want to bring you to all the places I love. I want to introduce you to people, not as my best friend, but so much more than that. It hurts me,” bringing his hand to his chest, he emphasizes the point of pain by clutching over his heart, “hurts to call you that because I’m lying through my fucking teeth.”

You break eye contact, because there are tears smarting your eyes at his heartfelt revelation. You can’t believe the idiot that you have been all this while. The man of your dreams stands in front of you, baring his soul, and you can’t even do him the decency of telling him what you felt yourself before jumping his bones.

And you love him, too. Maybe you haven’t said so, even to yourself, but you’ve known all this while.

You love him.

“If you are just looking for a fuck, or want any sort of a ‘benefits’ situation, we should stop. I can’t lie to myself anymore.”

“Jin, my God,” you half-sigh, half-laugh, feeling a burden lift off of you after months of pining.

“You don’t have to pacify me, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Even in this moment, he is looking out for you. His lips are curved upward to show you that he’s okay, but his pupils are shaky and restless, not in sync with his smile. You hope your next words can fix that for him.

“Pacify you? Hate you?” You shoot him an incredulous look, one you will explain to him very soon. “You are a much better person than I am, Jinnie. For months now, I’ve loved you, but even at this point, I didn’t stop to tell you.” The guilt of letting your hormones cloud your judgement for the second time lays heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry for not making this clear earlier, but let me now. I love you, Kim Seokjin. I have for way too long. I want you, I need you. You have me, in every possible way.”

It feels unparalleled to get that off your chest. The leaden weight of your emotions immediately disappears - or the fact that it's shared, makes it much, much lighter. But then you look at Jin, and he still seems to have not put two and two together. You patiently wait for him to process all the information. 

When he finally recoups, he yells, “What?!”

You let out a loud guffaw, the first one with no inhibitions in the longest time. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say anything that day at the cafe?!” 

“You said you’d never date me, asshole!” You punch his chest softly, before slipping your hands behind him and pulling him closer. “I might not look like it, but I have some dignity.”

“I said that?” Jin brings one hand to pinch his nose in annoyance. “What an idiot. I think I was just inverting everything to make sure I don’t accidentally slip up.”

You lift your head to meet his eyes again, letting him see the tears you were hiding. You find a couple in his eyes, too. But the smile on your face is genuine, and that is all that matters. “I was blind too, so don’t beat yourself up about it.” 

Flitting your eyes down to find the contour of his cock against his jeans, you ask him innocently, “How about we make up for lost time?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” And with that, your lips are engulfed again.

When you have all your guards down, the kiss tastes sweeter than before. Mere moments ago, while thoroughly enjoying the kiss, a sense of reticence had clouded your pleasure, holding you back from luxuriating in the headiness. A series of what-ifs had plagued your subconscious without your realization, but with all that cleared, you wholly submit to the kiss, emptying your mind until nothing but his name remains.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jin gasps out, when you bite into his pillowy lower lip, “I thought you looked the prettiest in the dress earlier but,” after pulling away, he drinks your current attire in, “you look the most beautiful in this.”

You snicker. “Even more than World Wide Handsome?”

His eyes bore into yours, no hint of the joking lilt he always carries in them. 

“So much more.”

Your hands find their place amidst his shaggy hair again, and you lodge his face into your neck - a command Jin acquiesces to with great pleasure. After a long, wet lick to your collarbone, he lays feather-soft kisses on the trail he left, starting from your shoulder and working inward, until he brushes against the back of your ear. You grasp at his sweater, because his lips feel so good. Your breaths are short, sucking in every time he allows your skin the luxury of a soft peck.  Once he lays a kiss on your forehead, he brings his gaze down to one of the main reasons that causes his cock to stir.

“Fuck, look at your nipples under my shirt.”

Gazing down, you can see the two pointed peaks that caught Jin’s eyes. 

“That tends to happen when I’m thinking of you.” 

He twists a nipple over the shirt, hardening it further, and you throw your head back in the satisfying pain. “Yeah, I remember.”

You are unraveling every second, the ache swishing amongst the bliss his fingers are bringing in you. He’s switched over to drawing circles around your nipple, until he snaps and tugs your shirt up, finally revealing the palmfulls of flesh awaiting his hands. 

“Ah that night, I didn’t get to do this. Take this off.” But then, he makes you put on his robe again. You throw him a questioning look, to which he responds with a sheepish smile, “Just so, you know… you don’t feel cold… or something.”

“Just say you like me in your clothes and move on.”

“I love you in my clothes,” he admits in a heartbeat, his expression that of anguish, “can we move on?”

“God, gladly.”

Unexpectedly, he bites the side of your boob - not hard at all, but feeling his teeth against your skin sends your head reeling backward. Your involuntary response is to wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your core against him. His teeth continue to nip you lightly across the expanse of your breasts, the trail of saliva he leaves cooling parts of your flushed body. Finally, finally, he latches onto your left nipple and gives it a long, pleasurable suck.

“Ahh, Jin - you’re too - God damn it - you’re too good at this.” 

Without stopping the onslaught he is unleashing on your breasts, his fingers begin to move - but soon, they stop, hesitation rippling off of their tips. His pace falters, and his mind is fighting on the next course of action.

“Can I-”

“Finish what you started that night?” you complete for him, already prepared with your answer. “Yes, please.”

All forms of uncertainty shoot out of his touch, and he confidently trudges forward. Playing with the band of your panties, he gives you a well-intended chuckle, murmuring, “As far as I remember, I was so good you passed out.”

“Boy,” You groan, intended in jest, but his teeth slide against your jaw and it mostly comes out more wanton than jovial, “let me see you have tequila for dinner and remember much the next day.”

“Fair fair,” he gives in, shifting to buss the valley of your cleavage, feeling your heart thud against your ribs holding it in place. “Well today,” he starts without moving his face, his nimble fingers moving past the barrier of your underwear, pressing two fingertips directly on your clit, and hissing like it's him at the receiving end, “I’ll give you enough to remember.”

You pull his sweater off and chuck it away, not wanting to be reminded of any blockades that kept you apart, and your hands roam the expanse of his back remembering the touch of his skin from the night at the bar. His body isn’t new to you, but the circumstances make it feel different. 

Finally, his fingers find their way inside you. 

Yes, this. This was what was missing from your drunken tryst. With your heads in place, your ardor intensifies, and you move his lips back to yours needing to release your animalistic desire into his mouth. Pleasure surges through both of you as you threaten to swallow him whole.

You can feel him being more present, and considering the merciless finger-fucking you had earned that night, this is taking it to a whole other degree. 

The night at the bar, his fingers did their best to ravish you, but now, Jin is paying attention, close attention to the way you respond. Every muscle movement is recorded in him as you struggle to accommodate three of his lengthy digits. Leaning close, he gives your peaked nipple the lightest feather lick - the suddenness sends shockwaves through you as he continues to tweeze the other, talented pianist hands performing his musical piece on both ends of you.

His fingers pump into you with determination, finding new depths to explore that he missed out on, and with a curl of his pointer, you blank out, screaming in the orgasm that is washing over you. Every skincell of your body feels the quiver of lust spreading, your cunt squeezing for an eternity, milking the orgasm out to the extent that you can. 

When you look down, your metaphorical orgasmic flood manifestes as a deluge of your arousal leaking on the table. And when you look back up, you can see the salacious ideas making their rounds in Jin’s head as he looks at the inundation you released. 

Hurried hands still convulsing from the intensity of your orgasm, you undo his belt, followed by his jeans and finally - getting the pleasure you were heartlessly denied of - his cock is out, in all its glory, twitching as the cool air hits its naked skin. Jin’s plans don’t go hand in hand with yours though.

“Are we just - holy fucking shit - just, umm, leave that to waste?” he lustfully looks down to your leaking core, and someway, through your hold on his dick, he tries to steer you into his plans.

“I don’t know about that,” you cheekily reply. You have the right idea to satisfy both of you, and get down to the task.

With the flat of your palm, you swipe across the droplets of cum you released, gathering them to transfer them onto his thick length. Jin thrusts into your hand, the wetness jolting him into attention, and he places an arm on your shoulder to steady himself. 

“You’re going to taste yourself?” he asks as you continue your vacillating motion, twisting at the base of his head with the wetness you graciously provided yourself. You give him a nonchalant look, something he is trying to do to you as well. 

“Who said I’m gonna suck you off?”

His look changes, and the one you get in return is cocky, arrogant, downright rude if you were honest. You expected him to play on with your banter, but one raised eyebrow and the lazy smirk he gives, to what he probably thinks is a joke - Zeus could land on earth and not be able to stop you from gobbling his meat. 

Your mouth is filled with his dick even before your knees hit the ground. Jin staggers back, but your suction on his dick is funnily strong enough to pull him back before falling.  You switch positions, having him balance himself against the counter, all while you refuse to leave his cock out. His giggle of endearment has you pouting, but it swells your heart and makes you want to give more, more of anything and everything. With your renewed vigor, you push yourself in until his pubes tickle your nose, and his tip tickles your throat. 

“Your-”, “I-”, “uhh-” 

Every new sentence Jin starts crumbles to your actions. You furrow your brows both in concentration on your blowing skills and trying to decode what he is trying to say. 

Jin takes a large gulp, adamant on making this one a coherent sentence. “You know, I used to imagine this, and in my dreams I used to be very sexy and suave, talking my way throug-oof-” You run your tongue over the tip of his leaking dick, emphasizing the point he is coming to, “Now I can’t even complete sentences here.”

“You being you is super sexy in itself.” And you curve your tongue to match the arch of his cock, letting the incoming saliva pool on it before letting it run down his shaft, dripping down from his balls. Strings of his precum connect to your lips, and you swipe your tongue through them, relishing the salty goodness before going back in for more. 

“Y/N, shit, did you just moan?”

How couldn’t you? The fact that he is horny for you, so much so that rivulets of precum don’t stop drizzling down your throat, has you preening. You hum your assent in response, not willing to let go even for a moment, but Jin pulls you off before you can get a chokehold on the base of his cock again. 

“Never had a woman moan while sucking me off. It’s sexy as fuck,” Jin breathes into your lips as he dives in for a kiss.

Your chest is heaving, catching the breaths you lost when you were down. “Then why’d you stop me?”

“Are you kidding me? I was about to lose it right there.”

“Jinnie, come on,” you break the fragmentary kiss you were sharing, looking into his glassy eyes, “let me feel you come on my tongue.” To emphasize your conviction, you lick his lips, persuading him of the sinful deeds your tongue is capable of doing if he’d just let you.

“Oh man, stop. What’s worse than busting a nut in your mouth? Busting it while you’re kissing me. Making me feel like a teenager.” You erupt into a loud laugh, soon followed by Jin as well. It is so him to joke about this. 

“And babe,” all hints of embarrassment vanishing from his tone, “I’m only going to come inside you.”

“Fuck, fuck, yes. You got a condom on you?”

“Yeah, let me grab my wallet.” The instant he moves away, you feel naked, shivering from the comfort stolen away from you. But then you hear Jin grumble, “I hope I don’t have the bacon-flavored one.” And the absurdity of it all puts you at ease again.

“Ew, stop, even you can’t make that sexy. My lady boner is dying.”

He envelops you again, and you can feel the laughter echoing in his lungs before making it out to your ears. He brings your attention to the familiar rustle of foil wrapper. “Thankfully, we got chocolate.”

“Mmmh, gotta love chocolate.”

You take the condom out of his hands, and roll it onto his stiff length, flattered that he’s holding his erection for so long. 

“Okay, stick it in me!” And you smack your ass in readiness, and a very flabbergasted Jin breaks out chortling.

“Y/N, stop being my best friend for like, five minutes!” His brows are furrowed in pretense exasperation, but you can see his lips holding back a genuine smile through the grimace, just happy that your dynamics haven’t changed the slightest, even though everything else has shifted.

“Okay okay,” you try and suppress your own laughter, before continuing, “how do you want me, baby?”

“Bend over on the vanity. And keep your eyes on the mirror.” And as you move into position, his palms grab your ass and squeeze it hard, feeling your glutes push back against his grip, and he pushes you forward till you're on the tips of your toes. You watch him through the mirror, watch him admire the way your ass curves over the table edge, how your toes struggle to keep you up, and how the dimples of your back are deepened by the arch, peeking under the bunched up robe tails, just waiting for him.

“Jin.” Your hushed whisper puts him in action.

Pushing the head in is anguish and relief at the same time. His bulbous head stretches your entrance; even with your preparation, you feel it sting. The searing gets better and better with every inch slipping in, and when he finally lodges inside, you let out a heavy breath, still panting and keeping yourself from screaming bloody murder in pleasure. Jin bends forward to paint the back of your neck, sucking the flesh till the circular bruise comes to surface. 

“Can you- can you-fuck, no, wait-” Your brain is at war with itself, battling between adjusting to his girth and having him pump you into adjustment. 

You can feel Jin’s snicker from behind you, and he finally makes the decision for you. “I’ll wait, I have things to do here,” he says before playing around the patch of skin, spreading from the base of your hair to the expanse of your back, his teasing licks relaxing your walls and accommodating his girth. The pain is almost gone, expect for the lingering ache that only helps you.

“You can move now, babe.”

“Okay, okay.” Your words snap him out of the painter’s dream he was in, and he twitches inside you. Something about the ease at which you both have adopted nicknames for each other softens his heart and hardens his cock. 

Pulling out till only the head rests inside, Jin himself struggles against the third degree grip your pussy has on him. As he is thrusting inside again, your walls tense up, making it harder and harder for him to hold back. 

“Y/N, sweetie, relax. I got you.”

“Jin, I’m-” You have tears running down your eyes, the pleasure and unsurmountable happiness rolling out in fat hot drops. “Fuck me harder. I won’t last.”

“Shit. Okay, hold on then.”

To what? Is what you’re going to ask before Jin unleashes his carnality onto you. Your breasts, dripping in sweat and saliva, are plastered to the countertop, which in itself is jiggling to the beat of Jin’s thrusts. His dick is curving inside to hit you repeatedly, and you have to gather the satin fabric to wipe your eyes to keep your gaze fixed on him. 

He looks majestic. Forehead embellished with beads of sweat, his hair coiffed up, lips sanguine red after your vicious kisses - you swipe your tongue along your own lips to find them battered in response. His honey chest is heaving with every push, and a particular one hits you just right. 

You let out a guttural groan, and Jin takes note of it immediately. 

“Up,” he commands, and loops an arm under your belly to you pull you up and closer and now every thrust hits deeper into that spot he has found in you, your back connected to his chest as the two of you move in tandem; this is the most together you’ve ever felt with anyone. This moment is to be etched in your memories forever.

You scream into your fist to muffle the sounds, the edge of the table digging into your hip bone as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink. One swipe to the clit is all you have left to bring you to your release. 

And from some telepathic force, or from the clutch your pussy has on him, Jin beats you to it. His fingers come down and carefully find your swollen nub, pinching it between his fingers. If he thought you’d shown him your hardest clench, he was wrong, because right now your dam has broken, and the iron-clad grip you give his cock sends him reeling, too.

You are gushing on his dick, the rubber dripping with your wetness. Jin too releases into the condom in stuttered gasps, his thrusts becoming shorter and shallower as he comes down from his high. 

Petal-like kisses fall on your back as the two of you regain your breaths. The mirror that served you two well is covered in a fog of hot breath and perspiration, blearing your vision of yourself, but somehow, it sparkles with Jin’s reflection. His nobility-esque visuals use the haze as a valance for his appearance, framing them to make him look like you’re among the clouds. And in some way, you actually are.

“Ah, let me go.” You jiggle your shoulders back to make the man above you move. “Fuck, can you check if my spine is in place? I think you dislodged it.”

“Shut up and come hug me, I’ll squeeze it back in place.”

Now this is something you could get used to.

As he ties and throws away the used condom, you flip over to face him and fall back into his embrace, broad shoulders promising to protect you, making you feel safe in his care. Jin on the other hand is simply ecstatic to feel you on him, feeling your thumping heart beat for him, after months of pining and pondering whether anything would become of the seed of your tumultuous friendship. Now, it has blossomed to a garden of prospect and promise, every petal of every flower here reading a new opportunity to tell you how much he adores you, cherishes you, treasures you. How much he loves you.  An opportunity he doesn’t wait to use. 

“I love you.”

The pink tinge of your cheeks either comes from the sex, or from his comment, but either way, he is glad its from him. 

“I love you too, Jin. So, so very much.”

If your heart could leap out of your chest, it would do so, to find its way to his and fuse into one. But for now, your entwined bodies give you all you want. 

You hear Jin stifle a laugh, and pull back in question. He points to something odd on the countertop.

“What is that?”

The cream white surface of the table, that was maligned by your ignoble deeds, now sports two glistening, wheatish semi circles that look very similar to the sizes of one person who was splayed on top of it just moments ago. 

“Is that…” Jin is trying to contort his lips and halt the looming snicker, and he brings his eyes down to your chest (trying not to get hard again), “Did you have makeup on your chest?”

“Shut up.” All you can do is fall closer into his arms, hopefully masking the tint of embarrassment highlighting the apples of your cheeks. “I wanted to make them look extra good for you.”

He’s given up on holding back, the full-bellied laugh that resonated from him echoing across the room. But it dwindles down fast, coming to small chuckles of tenderness, and he slips his digits beneath your chin to have you meet his gaze.

“They always look good,” he whispers, his admittance setting your chest aflame, “trust me, I’d know.”

Taglist 💛:  @little7bitchh​, @afangirllikeme-blog​, @h34rt1lly, @marpotterhead​

Thank you so much for making it to the end! I hope you enjoyed the fic, my ask box is always open for your lovely opinions. To read more of my work, find my main masterlist here. :)

[vampiredecay]

Hey dear, i have a weird request but could you do a Lost boys X reader or Marko x reader Where all the boys (Marko Dwayne David paul Micheal all of them or just marko Dwayne David paul) see the reader re put bandages on his scar but the scars would be like carls in the walking dead and they see the scar ( i wonder how they would react to it?)

thank you so much for the request, sorry it took me a hot second to post! its longer than my other stories on here so far, so i hope that makes up for it. i also hope that you like what i did with it!! its angsty in the beginning but it gets fluffier <3

Scar Tissue

rating: teen

word count: 2,908

tags/warnings: swearing, mentions of being in pain, mentions of scars, mentions of being in the hospital, harassment, fluff, the boys being sweet, the lost boys x male!reader, male pronouns used, poly!lost boys

--

You could have never predicted how your life had gone so sideways. Not in a million years- before the accident, you were pretty much an average joe. Decent family, decent friends, decent existence. Nothing was ever really exciting, but you were okay with that. Life didn’t need to be crazy or unpredictable to be fulfilling.

But, you supposed, the price of being a living being on this Earth was that life could never truly be predictable at all. It couldn’t be, with the events that followed you losing your eye, and pretty much all normalcy you grew to live with.

It was extremely painful at first, physically and emotionally. You had lost a vital part of your body, and you could never get it back. It was disorienting, and uncomfortable, like an itch you could never scratch. The skin around your eye was incredibly sensitive, the lightest movement or touch sending shockwaves of burning pain through your nerves. Tears were always on the brink of spilling over anytime you or a doctor had to replace medicine and bandages to keep the wound clean.

In the end, the pain wasn’t the worst part about it. No, you could deal with the pain. The people in your life, however, suddenly changing and disappearing was way, way worse.

Friends slowly stop coming to visit you at the hospital, calls go unanswered, gazes averted. Your parents supported you, of course. They still loved you, and you knew nothing could change that. But sometimes even they got this look in their eyes, something a little too close to pity.

It was an incredibly lonely first couple of months.

But the loneliness and the heartache slowly healed, along with your eye. The scarring lightened and stopped bleeding, and your skin no longer felt as if it was on fire every time you turned your head. You still had to keep it under wraps, to keep out infection, and to keep other people from seeing how bad it was. You knew that people seeing the bandages would cause looks and questions, but it was better than people actually seeing the wound, which would surely cause reactions that you didn’t have the patience to deal with.

As you were healing, you were also relearning how to do things in your daily life. Your sight and depth perception drastically changed, so things like walking and doing simple tasks had to be practiced all over again. You had to take things slow, which you hated, you couldn’t leave the house very often until you got used to walking without bumping into things.

The first place you wanted to go once you were able to was the boardwalk. It was one of your favorite places in the world, so loud and full of life and happiness. It was absolutely what you needed after all of the hardship you had to deal with lately.

So one night, when it got late and your parents turned in for the night, you went out and caught a bus to the nearest stop to the boardwalk. From there you walked until you saw the bright lights and heard loud screaming and chatter and laughter. You smiled as you took in the sight of the people and the games and the rides, it felt like you were breathing for the first time in months.

The first thing you did was buy a big thing of cotton candy and a soda, roaming the boardwalk and consuming sugary goodness. As you walked, you noticed that some people were giving you looks, but you ignored them, focused on just having a good time and living your best life.

Walking around for long periods of time still gave you a bit of trouble, you were starting to get a little dizzy, so after a bit you sat down on a bench to give your brain time to catch up with the rest of your body. This was nice too, you got to relax and just watch people for a bit. There were all sorts of people out tonight, families and tourists and couples, teenagers and surf nazis and locals, all in one spot, the heart of Santa Carla, enjoying the wonders it had to offer.

There was a group of guys that caught your eye, though. You didn’t mean to stare at them; in fact, you knew not to, you’ve seen them around the boardwalk in the past, and heard the rumors surrounding them. But, in your defense, it has been a while since you’ve been there, and you forgot how magnetic they can be.

They were milling near their motorbikes, smoking and talking and lightly harassing anyone that happened to walk by. Three blondes and two brunettes- had there always been five of them? You could have sworn there was only four- all dressed in black and leather, looking dangerous and infuriatingly hot. You would have noticed more, but by accident you make eye contact with one of the guys and you rip your attention away from them.

Shit, god damnit, you’ve been spotted now. There’s only one thing to do, and it’s to walk quickly away and hope you don’t run into them later.

You get up too quickly though, and you stumble straight into a man walking with who you assume to be his girlfriend.

“Hey! Watch it-” He starts to say, pissed off that someone ran into him, but then he takes a good look at you and lets out a laugh. “Oh, I guess you really can’t, huh?”

The girlfriend lets out a giggle, smirking behind a hand over her lips. You mumble out an apology and try to go around them, but the man blocks your path. “What was that? C’mon man I can’t hear you, you mute too or something?”

You look up at him and scoff, anger building inside you. Who the hell did this asshole think he was? Without thinking, you say “Yeah, real funny and original. Bet lines like that really score you in bed.”

There’s some laughter around you, making you realize that a crowd has been drawn. The man’s face turned bright red, his mouth curved downward into a frown and he got up in your space. “Oh, so you’re a tough guy now, huh?” He pushed you in the chest, making you stumble back. You get dizzy and almost fall, but you don’t hit the ground. Instead, your back hits someone's chest. You freeze, then slowly turn your head, to see a guy with spiky platinum blond hair staring at the man who pushed you. The four other guys with him were also there, glaring at the crowd of people just watching.

You turned to look back at the man who pushed you, all the color was drained from his face. His girlfriend was clutching his arm, trying to pull the man away but his feet were glued in place. The blond behind you smirked.

“There a problem here?”

The silence that swept over was deafening and unnatural, it was like all of the boardwalk was holding its breath waiting for an answer. The man swallowed, eyes gliding over the gang behind you, not focusing on one spot. “N-No, man. No problem.”

You let out a breath as you watch the man and his girlfriend back up, and the crowd starts to disperse. The man behind you gives a shark-like grin and chuckles deep. “Wonderful.” He says, and he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you away. You can hear your heart thundering in your chest as you walk away with them, listening as they laugh and push each other.

“N-No m-man, n-no p-problem!” One of the blonds says in a mocking wavering tone, “What a fuckin pussy!” The gang starts laughing again, it feels like the ground underneath your feet is rumbling from the force of it. After a little more walking, they stop in front of a different bench and gesture for you to sit down.

“Take a load off, little man!” You snorted as you sat down, grinning despite the slight lightheadedness. Two of the blonds sat next to you, one with a wild mane of hair and a smile to match swinging an arm behind you. You look at all of them, nodding your head a little bit. “Thank you,” You said softly, “You didn’t have to do that.”

The spiky blond shrugged his shoulders and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N” You said, and he nodded. “I’m David. This is Dwayne, Michael,” He gestured to the two brunettes, one with curly hair and sunglasses hanging off his shirt, the other with longer straight hair and not wearing a shirt at all. “And that’s Paul and Marko.” The two blonds next to you do little waves, the one that wasn’t right next to you has curly hair and a jacket so cluttered with patches it must be heavy.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Y/N!” Paul says, nudging his knee against yours, making you smile more. “It’s good to meet you guys, too.”

After the introductions were out of the way, David offered for you to hang out with them, but you declined, saying you needed to get home. At that David offered a ride instead. You hesitated, but accepted in the end. Riding behind him on his bike was terrifying and exhilarating, you clutched his middle tightly the whole way home, but the blond didn’t seem to mind.

“You should come to the boardwalk more often,” David said as you got off his bike, now at your house. He smiled at you like he was letting you in on a secret, “We’re there all night.”

From that point on, you couldn’t ignore the boy's siren call. The next couple days you would take the bus over, wander until you found them, and then do stupid shit with them all night. A lot of it consisted of them terrorizing people who even looked at them funny, but you didn’t find it scary anymore. You found it powerful. It was the best you’ve felt in a long time.

It wasn’t long, though, until the questions started. You supposed you should have seen it coming, but hanging out with them honestly made you forget.

“So Y/N,” Paul said one night, it was just you and him and Marko. You were leaning against the railing in front of the carousel, waiting for the others to get back from getting food. When you looked over at Paul, he asked “What’s up with the eye?”

Marko punched Paul's shoulder, giving him a look, and Paul threw his hands up dramatically. “What? I don’t mean anything by it, I’m just curious.”

You sighed a little bit, mulling over what to say. You weren’t mad that he asked, you just hated talking about it. “There’s nothing much to say.” You said after a couple seconds of silence. “I was in an accident. Got fucked up. End of story.” Paul and Marko both nodded, taking the hint not to ask anymore. The taller blond wrapped an arm around your shoulders and rested his chin on top of your head. A silent apology. You smiled a little and leaned into him, letting him know it was okay.

After that, David, Dwayne and Michael arrived back with food, and once everyone settled down at a nearby table to eat, David proposed that they go back to their place after eating. You were nervous to accept, but they were cool guys so far, so you didn’t see the harm in it.

Before you could voice your opinion, however, a sudden cold, wet substance suddenly splashed all over your face. You yelped and got up, trying to shake off whatever the fuck it was, when you heard laughter getting distant. Suddenly, the boys were all getting up and shouting, someone was holding onto your shoulders, and when you wiped at your eye you could see it was Dwayne. He looked absolutely livid.

“What the fuck just happened?” You asked, looking down at yourself, disgusted to find that your clothes were soaked now too. The brunette gripped your shoulders a little tighter, not enough to hurt but the pressure was there, “Some people have a death wish.”

You would have asked him to elaborate, but then something dawned on you. “Oh shit!” You exclaim, hand going up to your bandaged eye. “Fuck, I have to get home, I have to change this, fuck!” Dwayne's eyes widened a little, and he nodded, calling attention to the other boys, who were all talking angrily to each other. They all looked over, and when they heard that you needed to change your bandage, they all hurried over. “Our place is closer. Michael, take Y/N to get the supplies he needs. We’ll meet back up at the hotel.” David all but commanded, and everyone seemed to be in agreement. The rest of the boys took off on their bikes while Michael steered you in the direction of a small convenience store on the edge of the boardwalk.

“You okay?” Michael asked, worry written all over his face. You nodded at him, though in reality you were feeling gross, sticky and anxious as hell. You thought it was so nice of them to help you out, really, but you knew this meant that they would probably end up seeing your eye. Seeing your scars. The thought alone was enough to make you slightly nauseous. The brunette could tell that something more was going on with you, so he gently took your hand as you approached the shop. You looked at him, and he smiled at you, squeezing your hand gently. You gave a light smile back and looked away.

After buying the necessary wrap, tape and some bottles of water, you both get on Michaels bike and ride off to their place. You were just thinking about it now, David had said the word “hotel”. Did they stay at an actual hotel?

It didn’t take you long to figure out. When you arrived at the hotel, that was really more of a cave, you were in absolute awe of the place. It was massive and beautiful, you couldn’t believe these guys actually lived here. You had so many questions, but now that you were here, they would have to come after.

Michael led you over to a slightly dusty couch and you sat down, holding the items in your hands nervously. Everyone was sitting around you, you had a very attentive audience that you didn’t really want.

“Is there, uh, a private place I could do this?” You asked, and your heart sank when they shook their heads. “Most of the rooms collapsed when the earthquake hit. There’s not much left, and the parts that remain are too dangerous to go into.” Marko explained, and you sighed. You supposed there was no getting around it.

“Okay, well. Just, don’t say anything, okay?” You got out the bandage wrap from its packaging and took a deep breath. Slowly, you unwrapped the dirty bandage from around your face, revealing your eye to the boys.

All of their facial expressions changed, some more surprised than others. David looked the least shocked, eyes of steel trained on your face, just looking. Dwayne and Michael looked a little more concerned, Michael especially, but otherwise they tried to keep their expressions neutral. Paul and Marko looked intrigued, if anything. Like they wanted to ask questions but were reigning themselves in.

Overall, they kept quiet, and they didn’t shy away from your appearance, so you counted your blessings as you cleaned and dressed your eye as quickly as possible. When you were all finished, Marko and Paul launched themselves at you, sitting next to you with wide smiles on their faces.

“Dude! You’re so badass!” Paul shouted, and Marko was quick to agree. “You should get an eyepatch or something. Crank up the badass factor.”

You laughed at their antics, blushing a bit at their words. You could tell that they really thought you were actually cool. It warmed your chest and you smiled as they went on about eyepatch ideas.

Eventually, David dragged the two away, saying it's getting late and they should probably take you home now. You nodded in agreement, letting out a yawn. You didn’t realize just how tired you were.

Dwayne was the one who ended up taking you home, the ride was a lot gentler and smoother than it usually was, which you were grateful for. When you arrived at your house, and you got off his bike, Dwayne pulled on your arm before you could leave. You looked at him, confused, but then he got off his bike, and he stood in front of you, and he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. You froze, heart pounding. Dwayne pulled away and let go, giving you a small smile. “Have a good night, Y/N.”

You swallowed hard as he got back on his bike. “Yeah- you too.” You stumbled out, making him chuckle. He then rode back off into the night, and you were left stunned on your front lawn.

You didn’t know what would happen now, you had absolutely no clue when it came to the gang of bikers. But you found yourself at peace with it.

Life could never be predictable anymore. And you were more than okay with that.

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

38. Set it up, break it up

For everyone who's been supportive of these| fluff |making out |harry set draco up with someone Only to realise he liked draco all along |

" when was your first time ?" Seamus smugly asked Draco as he drank his butter beer from across the room sprawled over the bean bag

" I will prefer not to answer the question. It is highly confidential and that information shall only be revealed to Someone I'm with. So dear Seamus you can enjoy asking this question to other, while I would refuse to answer " Draco sophisticatedly replied, tilting his head to put on more emphasis upon his words.

" Merlin, you could've just said I'm not answering that. No need to go all Shakespearian " Ron rolled his eyes at Draco.

Harry chuckled as he joined Draco over the couch, putting his legs over Draco's laps, not that either of them ever minded that physical touch " that's Draco for you. He'll never give a direct answer. I can bet, if he were in an English Muggle class, he'd top "

" I topped nonetheless " Draco rolled his eyes, his hands automatically falling into a pattern of softly stroke the bottom of Harry's leg, a habit he's grown attached to.

" really? From what I remember I got 7 owls while you got only 6. It's just as if I was infact better than you " Harry smirked

" whatever Harry. I was the headboy " Draco rolled his eyes at harry, yet again but then again he liked these small bickerings with him. Blaise eyed them from the corner of the room, enjoying it himself, not Daring to say anything.

" and I was given the opportunity, I just denied "

" as if "

" whatever helps you sleep at night darling" Harry teased as he pinched Draco's cheeks softly

" don't " Draco growled as he swatted Harry's hand away

" one angry kitten aren't you " Harry chuckled, picking up his can of butter beer and drinking it.

" don't call me that " Draco sneered, not in a furious way, just slightly threatening way.

" anywaysss " Seamus echoed, breaking off their not so private conversation " when was your first time harry ?"

" Ron, you might wanna cover your ears for this one " Harry chuckled. Ron gave him a look but refused to do so " it was after war, when I got back with Ginny, in the time we were going out for a short time "

" what about in 6th year ?" Dean asked snuggling closer to Seamus on the bean bag

" we couldn't really ever get to it. I mean for one neither of us were ready, and we were just kids. Although when we did it after we got back together, we realised almost instantly it wasn't something we enjoyed, not that part, just with opposite sex kind of thing. Well mostly her, no offense. Or it could've been we weren't just attracted to each other that way " Harry explained

" really ? I always thought you guys would work out you know " Dean said. Harry looked at Dean amused but didn't say anything.

" I never thought you guys would end up together really. Never seemed as if so " Seamus added

" interest me in why ?" Harry asked

" it just, I always knew you were sort of bi even before you started going with Ginny. It was Evident really sometimes. And with Ginny herself, she didn't seem like a person to be with a guy. I mean coming from I figured my sexuality really early on, I just sometimes knew it.. besides after the first time you guys broke up, it seemed almost impossible for it work later on " Seamus explained. Everyone including Draco thought about what he had said and nobody could even deny that it was a lie.

" what's your dating track anyway right now Harry ?" Blaise asked standing over the chair behind Ron.

" oh it's not that bad. I do go out on a few dates. I went on a date last week infact and believe me that guy was really good, dashing, almost ced- well Cedric diggory Kinda hot but right in the middle of the date, I feel something going up my leg. I almost choked on my Tuna fish and he goes, do you like it ? I was more shocked than anything else. It was weird if anything "

" so what next ?"

" I didn't call him back. I think somewhere along the date, he might've said he had feet fetish.. he would much rather make love to my feets than me and it was just plainly weird "

" people have all different sorts of fetishes " Ron frowned

" yeah, I respect them but feet fetishes just creeps me out " Harry almost shivered at the thought of it.

And everyone soon fell into talking about weirdest kinks and fetishes, something they all were rather amused to be in conversation about, except, Harry.

Draco stopped stroking Harry's leg for a moment to softly clutch on them to seek his attention.

" it's alright Harry.. you can't change anything.. besides I think he lived a good life" Draco softly said.

" I still can't forget though. It's almost as if I can still see it happening in front of my eyes " Harry Whispered back.

" I know. He was a brave guy though. You can't do anything anymore. I'm sure- he'd want you to get over it too " Draco whispered. Harry bit his lip softly before nodding. To provide comfort, Draco again started stroking Harry's legs.

" feels nice" Harry smiled at Draco, who simply smiled back.

" talking off that, what say about going on a date with someone ?" Harry asked Draco but had inevitably grabbed attention from a few others in the room.

Draco raised his eyebrows in strange surprise " really ?"

" I met some guy at the animal shop across the street. He seemed like someone you could date " Harry replied

" why me, why not you ?" Draco defensively asked

" well, he's not my type but he's yours and he did seem to notice you with me a couple of days ago, so I thought maybe you could talk to him and see if you'd like to go out with him " Harry suggested.

Draco frowned at harry before clearing his throat " I'll pay that animal shop a visit then "

" great " Harry grinned

" I'm gonna use the loo " Draco sighed and got up abruptly

" unbelievable " Blaise announced. Harry looked around the room to receive strange looks " what are you all staring at me for ?" Harry asked confused

But nobody responded except that most of them groaned, leaving Harry more confused. Draco returned a few minutes, chatted a bit and then left claiming he had to feed his cat.

As a few weeks goes on by, Harry discovered that draco did started going with the guy he had told him about and was infact in a happy place to be with him. And it was all fun and games until Harry was offended that Draco no longer gave him that much time anymore or the fact that he kept cancelling on him over and over or that he longer was interested in watching movies with harry but sure had fun plans with his so called boyfriend or the guy he's dating, he cared no less. By which he meant, he did cared. To say his friends were tired of Harry ranting on about Draco cancelling on him that one time Ron even put up muffalito charm on him. It was splendid how things were going, in a sarcastic way of course until Draco decided it was time for him to make everyone meet his boyfriend, and harry wanted to burn himself on flames.

" I frankly don't understand why the expensive dinner, I mean, couldn't he had just invited us to his place or his so called boyfriend's place " Harry vented air quoting boyfriend

" Harry you were the one who set him up in the first place, stop being mad at him and jealous not to mention " Hermione rolled her eyes eating the chips off the packet

" jealous, I'm not jealous " Harry defensively said

" sure " Ron rolled his eyes.

" look Harry, you're clearly jealous that he isn't spending as much as time with you and its bothering you, so just talk to him about it " Hermione suggested shrugging her shoulder

" look, I don't know what's cooking in both of your brains but I'm-not-jealous " harry slammed the cloth over the counter and went inside his bedroom

" I miss the time when he wasn't such a dramatic ass " Ron taunted

" I can hear you " Harry yelled from inside the room, hearing faint whispers from Ron and Hermione in the living room..

And the truth infact was that Harry was jealous, which he Only discovered over the dinner when Draco was practically almost all over him that harry wanted to tell him to just sit in his lap, didn't of course. And to make it worse, he was jealous of how good they actually looked, which resulted in harry losing his appetite and almost groaning every five minutes. Hermione had to kick him under the table to behave a couple of times.

Spending the night in his thoughts, Harry came across things he wished he had known earlier or things he never felt but whatever it was, he felt frustrated in himself to set Draco up and he had no idea what to do next, so he decided to take advice from the only man he knew the best was at.

" Harry ? What a pleasant surprise. Ron's not at home though " Blaise said as he opened the door for him

" I actually came here to talk to you " Harry sighed as he went in. Blaise frowned in surprise before walking behind Harry himself

" well what can I interest you in, a joke, a mimickery,-"

" an advice actually " Harry groaned as he slumped down on the couch.

" oh- Ron's better at that-"

" he isn't, he told me to talk to you " Harry replied. Blaise walked into the kitchen, opening the window to the living room to converse through the kitchen.

" did he ? What can I help you with then ?" Blaise asked as he poured water for Harry and walking in to give it to him.

" I think, that I might have feelings for Draco" Harry replied

" you are officially the last person to know that " Blaise chuckled as he walked back into the kitchen and fetched something to eat.

" what ? You guys knew that ?" Harry sat uptight

" of course " Blaise scrunched his eyebrows as an obvious face

" why didn't you guys tell me ?" Harry asked agitated with his friends

" because these are the things we're not supposed to tell you, you're the one supposed to tell us, you dimwit " Blaise rolled his eyes, throwing his hands in the air.

" well you could've at least warned me " Harry groaned

" how could you not have known !! When did you even figure It out anyways?" Blaise asked as he shut the cabinet for the last time, bringing a packet of cookies and chips with him and slumping down in front of Harry.

" I think I've known for a bit since he started going out, but last night i was pretty confirmed that I was jealous " Harry Told him

" well I'd like to say you are that ruined your chances but guessing you came for advice, you came here to know how to fix it and I'll tell you, I do not have even the slightest idea how to fix your shit soup "

" what ?" Harry emphasised

" Harry, you yourself set him up with someone almost exactly like you. If Draco even Liked you at some point, now he knows that you don't like him and he's probably moved on and supposedly happy in his newfound relationship "

" Blaise, If I wanted to listen to how I fucked it up I wouldn't had come to you. I need to know how can I fix this " harry sarcastically responded raising his eyebrows

" look the easiest way is to simply confess or move on. I can't help you harry even if I wanted to. Draco seems happy " Blaise told him emphatically.

Harry was disappointed but knew Blaise was right, there was possibly nothing he could've done to make it right, at least not something that would sabotage their relationship.

It took harry a couple more days to become normal with the fact that draco was dating and finally paving his way to move on, which was definitely hard. And harry could've assumed he was doing good until Draco invited him for a picnic, claiming they haven't gotten out individually in a while. Normally harry would've been very ecstatic about it but considering the phase he was going through it was hard but didn't deny his sweet offer.

" took you a bit long- and your boyfriend's here too " harry pressed his lips in a thin line when he saw them coming together.

"it was just us but his plans got cancelled last moment so he tagged alone.. i hope you don't mind " Draco plead guilty

Harry sighed before giving him a firm smile and nodding " it's going to be one hell of a day "

Halfway through the picnic, harry Would've assumed he would be the thrid wheel but it was infact quite opposite, his boyfriend, jake was infact the third wheel who basically had no idea about draco's life which surprised harry a little more than it should have.

" you- jake, you alright ?" Harry asked looking over draco's shoulder at his boyfriend who looked puzzled

" what? I'm fine, just thinking " he gave them a firm smile.. draco leaned a bit into jake as if to give him the feeling he was still here but jake rejected it, much to draco's surprise.

" what you thinking about ?" Harry asked furrowing his eyebrows.

" what exactly I'm doing here?-"

" shit- I'm sorry for making you feel as if I'm intruding-"

" no, it's not that. It's just so clear that you both are so meant to be together, yet here I am on a picnic with two people who are supposed to be together but are not because of me-"

" that's not true " draco interjected

" is it not ? " Jake asked more firmly than before, not forgetting to give a smile so as to not sound harsh.

Draco opened his mouth to say something but closed it again.

" even if it is true for me, I don't think Draco feels that way . Besides you guys are dating, I don't want to be the reason for your break up" harry replied sympathetically

" you're not harry. I just- I can see it, maybe you two are blind but I'm not.. Enjoy yourselves " jake said as he abruptly stood up

" jake don't be like that " draco too stood up

Jake sighed taking draco's hands in his own " I'll stay if you admit you don't have any feelings for him, if you've never wanted to be with him, if you've felt anything closer to what you feel for him about Me. Admit it freely and I'll stay"

But draco couldn't say anything..

" thought so. I'd be fine by the way. I don't think I've seen two people belonging to each more than you two " and jake departed.

Draco stood there a few minutes watching him walk away, his shoulder slouched as if not believing that he'd just been dumped.

" draco-"

" you're a jerk " draco turned around

" what ?" Harry asked confused

" you're an insolent jerk " draco picked up from dry leaves from the ground and hitting harry with that.

" what the fuck did I do ?" Harry shielded himself as draco threw more and more leaves and grasses

" you fucking moron, you were Flirting with me " draco huffed stopping for a moment

" I wasn't flirting " harry whined. Draco gave him a look before picking up more leaves and throwing it at him

" okay, okay. I was but hey it's your fault to go along with it " harry stumbled back over the ground

" well it's not my fault if you're bloody good at it "

" is it my fault that you enjoyed and I'm not the only victim here, you were flirting too " harry looked up at Draco from the ground

" I wasn't flirting " draco narrowed his eyes. Harry hooked his leg around that of draco, making him trip over and fall over harry, who he instantly rolled over, pinning draco to ground.

" were you not ?" Harry breathed

" it doesn't matter-"

" you were flirting back" harry commanded

" okay, fine I was but you had no right- hmph" draco moaned softly as harry kissed him over the lips, kissing until the need for oxygen finally had made sense again.

" now tell me, how long have you wanted this?" Harry huffed.

Draco rolled his eyes, still pink from all the kissing " I haven't wanted this "

" okay " harry frowned as he leaned down, his lips lightly brushing over that of draco's " you sure ?" Harry asked not moving an inch closer or further

Draco's breath choked down, desperately wanting to lean forward to kiss him again but didn't to avoid giving harry the satisfaction of having the upper hand.

" you don't want me to kiss you again then? That's right yeah " harry whispered as he bit Draco's lower lip, earning a soft moan and his body involuntarily pressed against harry's

" seems otherwise " harry whispered.

" merlin " draco moaned. Smirking harry pulled away looking at Draco from a distance.

Sucking his cheeks, draco immediately pulled harry to him and kissed him again, this time in more desperation and rush.

" guess who's got the upper hand now " draco moaned as he freed his hands and put them in his hair.

" you" harry chuckled, Thoroughly enjoying kissing draco himself.

" jerk " draco chuckled

" you're the jerk " harry chuckled

" and you broke his heart " harry whispered against his lips smiling

" eh, he always knew it anyways " draco shrugged

" you really are a jerk then " harry smiled as he pulled away a bit, admiring draco.

" and you're the jerk who just broke my relationship and has basically manipulated me into kissing you " draco raised an eyebrow amusingly

" I don't regret it " harry regret

" me either " draco smiled and leaned in again.

Requests open

Day 37- you're my home, draco | Day 39- cuddle me in

[babybluebex]

buggy code [bucky barnes x reader]

➽ pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 4.1k ➽ summary: everyone on the team has nicknames, and you wonder why bucky doesn’t like the one you gave him.   ➽ warnings: mentions of injuries, insecure bucky ➽ a/n: enjoy!​

Everybody had a special name for the Winter Soldier. For mostly everyone, he was Bucky. It fit him; short and curt, the hard K sound in the middle demanding attention. Bucky didn’t quite care for any other name. He had lived his entire life being called Bucky and, even after waking up in a different world than the one he left, he didn’t think a name change was in order. Nobody did. 

And then I came along. The nicknames started as a joke between me and Thor when I couldn’t pronounce his hammer’s name right (in my defense, the name starts with M-J-O and only gets worse from there). Jokingly, one day, I called it Mojo, and Thor laughed. I don’t think that Y/N is a particularly hard name, but Thor found a way to butcher it every single time he spoke to me. The joke bled out from Thor and me and into me and Tony, which then led to the whole team having their own name for me. Wanda called me “ducky”; Steve called me “little one”; Thor used every nickname for Y/N that he could find (which was different every day, but the theme was consistent); and Tony called me “kiddo”. 

However, once the nickname precedent was set, nobody bothered to tell me about the Bucky situation. He was nice, albeit cold at times, and I had only seen him truly angry once. I had called him James. He got quiet and I saw a muscle in his jaw jump as he clenched his teeth, and he said, “Don’t ever call me that again. You hear me? Ever.” He absconded from the room quickly, leaving me and Steve alone, and my heart sank. I felt like an absolute shitbag for upsetting Bucky like that. Steve sat down next to me quietly. Steve was one of those quiet and understanding types, and he cast a glance at the door that Bucky had stormed out of. 

“That was… Odd,” Steve said. 

“You mean you don’t know what that was about?” I asked. 

“No,” Steve said. His brow furrowed, and he mumbled, “No clue.”

“Should I apologize?” I asked. 

“For what?” Steve asked, turning back to me. “You did nothing wrong.” 

“I still upset him, even if I didn’t mean to,” I shrugged. “I… I dunno. I feel like I should.” 

“If you want to,” Steve said. “He’ll probably get mad at you for trying to apologize.”

I scoffed. “What’s new? Bucky’s mad at everyone, all the time. I just… He never snapped at me like that before.” 

“Don’t take it to heart,” Steve told me, and his icy blue eyes helped convince me. 

The door to Bucky’s room was closed like always, but even the energy that came from it made me uneasy. It was quiet-- again, not abnormal-- but it frightened me. I hated saying sorry; according to some, it was one of my major character flaws. I felt sick to my stomach as I knocked on the door. Would he even answer? I felt the burning of tears in my eyes, and I pawed them away with the sleeve of my sweater just in time for the door to swing open. My breath caught in my throat once confronted by the White Wolf, and I could barely stutter out, “I… F-Fuck, I’m so sorry, Bucky.” 

His jaw was tight, his eyes unwavering. I couldn’t stand when he did that. I understand where the whole “no emotion” thing came from, but it was infuriating sometimes. This wasn’t Russia. I wasn’t Hydra. Finally, Bucky took a deep breath, and his demeanor loosened up. “Don’t,” he said softly. “Don’t be… S’not your fault.” 

“I still feel like an asshole,” I mumbled. “I was just joking around--”

“The way you do with Thor and Stark and all of them, I know,” Bucky interjected. “But you didn’t…” He paused to sigh, and he brushed his hair behind his ear. “You did nothing wrong, sweetheart.”  

Sweetheart was new. Bucky didn’t play the nickname game like the rest of us did, as evident earlier. He called Steve brother every so often, usually whilst roughhousing after a mission, but sweetheart was something that he had never called me before. He must have seen how I bristled slightly, because he said, “Oh, so Wilson can call you sweetheart just fine, but I can’t?” 

“That’s different,” I replied quickly. 

“How?” Bucky countered instantly. He looked like he was only in his thirties, but he had the arguing skills of someone his own age. Fuck, he annoyed me. “How is Wilson any different from me?” 

“That’s not--” I began. “Wilson always calls me that. You don’t call me… Anything.”

Bucky hummed quietly. “So, you’re telling me that, as long as I don’t call you what Wilson calls you, you’ll tolerate the nicknames?” 

“That’s not what I meant, Bucky,” I said. “I meant that you never, ever had a nickname for me.” 

“Maybe we should change that,” Bucky said, and his lips quirked into a smile. “We have a long night ahead of us. You should go try to get some rest… Baby.” With a cheeky wink and a smile, Bucky closed the door in my face. 

Bastard. 

Bucky was right. The night was long and ended with more of us limping back to the Compound than walking normally. Bucky and Steve took care of each other when they got banged up in a fight, and, as the youngest (really, second youngest to Peter, but he never normally came on smaller missions like this), Steve usually took it upon himself to take care of me too. My shoulder was killing me in a way that it never had before, and I wasn’t sure that it wasn’t dislocated in some fashion. I sat on the couch in the common area, nursing my arm and trying to ignore the pain enough to gauge if I was tired enough to attempt sleep, and I expected the sudden presence behind me to be that of the super soldier. “Hey, big guy,” I chuckled. “Can you check out my shoulder?” 

A cold hand landed on my bare skin, and I jumped in shock. Vibranium was less than fun to experience when unprepared. I had identified a super soldier, yes, but the wrong one. “Looks swollen,” Bucky observed. 

“No shit,” I mumbled. “You scared me; thought you were Steve.” 

“Sorry,” Bucky said easily. “Yeah… I’m no medical expert, but, based on how swollen and red it is, I’d say you fucked your shoulder up pretty good.”

“Gee, really?” I said and rolled my neck to pop it. “Thanks for your input, Dr. Barnes. Can I get a second opinion?” 

“Woah, hostile,” Bucky chuckled. “I’m sure Strange can fix that up for you, baby.” 

I nodded in agreement, choosing to ignore the nickname. If I ignored it, it would go away… Right? Bucky noticed, though, and he said, “What? Not into that name? Okay, I’ll come up with something else.” 

“Or don’t,” I shrugged absentmindedly, and I hissed in a breath as my shoulder exploded with pain. Definitely dislocated. “Fuck.” 

“Oh, jeez,” Bucky mumbled, and he moved around in front of me. He lowered himself to my height where I sat, settling himself on one knee, and his warm hand landed gently on my arm. “I learned about this a long time ago… I think I remember how to put it back into the socket.” 

 “I’m sorry, but fuck that,” I laughed. “I’ll get Strange to do it.” 

“If I mess you up even more, I give you permission to yell at me,” Bucky said. “Let me try. Yeah?” 

I sighed, rolling my eyes. “Fine,” I acquiesced. 

Bucky shuffled himself closer to me, putting gentle but firm hands on my upper arm. He sat there for a moment, something happening in his brain, before saying, “C’mere, you.” His hands fell down to my waist, and he carefully tugged me further to the edge of the couch to allow himself closer to me. Something bloomed in my stomach when he grabbed my waist like that, but I pushed it aside. This was neither the time nor place to get horny. He replaced his hands on my arm, and the tip of his tongue poked out of his lips as he carefully maneuvered my arm, testing its mobility. He noticed my winces of my pain, and he finally mumbled, “Alright. On three, I’m gonna tug your arm this way. There’ll be a pop and it’ll hurt, but it should be back in place. Alright?” 

“Yeah,” I said. I felt like I would pass out from the pain. “Hurry it up.” 

Bucky nodded, and his vibranium hand carefully squeezed my thigh. “Grab my hand if you need to,” he said. “Alright… One--” 

He tugged my arm sharply away from my body, and there was a sickening pop. I cried out in a mixture of shock and pain, and then a tepid anger. “You said three, you shitbag!” I groaned. “What happened to two and three?” 

“Must’ve miscounted,” Bucky said, smiling and chuckling. “Feel any better?” 

I rolled my shoulder hesitantly, but found there to be virtually no pain. There was an ache, sure, and maybe a torn muscle, but the joint seemed to be back where it belonged. “Yeah,” I said. “A lot, actually. Thanks.” 

“No sweat,” Bucky said. He smiled and chuckled, then added, “You said my name when you yelled.” 

I tried to recall only seconds earlier, but the moment was a blur. “Did I?” I ask. That was embarrassing. 

Bucky nodded. “You called out ‘James’,” he told me. 

My eyes widened, and my heart jumped into my throat. “Oh, fuck,” I mumbled. “Oh, shit. Bucky, I’m really sorry.”

“No, no,” Bucky said. “It’s fine. Don’t stress. I actually don’t mind it.” 

“Mind what?” I asked. 

“Being called James,” Bucky said. “It’s been a while since I was called anything but Bucky or the Winter Soldier or… James’s nice. Short and sweet and… Nice.” 

“Why did you…” I began, and I pressed my fingers into my palm. “Why did you get so angry when I called you that earlier?” 

Bucky sighed. It was a heavy sigh, the sigh of 90 years worth of emotions threatening to be released. “I… I don’t know,” he said finally. “I really have no idea. I guess because it was different. It was like my old life. You were trying to be nice and funny, and nobody…” He swallowed thickly, and his gaze dropped from mine. “Everybody still sees me as the Winter Soldier. Like, they think I’ll break at any minute, and Bucky will be gone. Nat and Wilson and Steve can tell you all about dealing with him, if you want to know about it. But you don’t see me like that. You see me as someone kind; even before the war, I was never really the kind type. You see me as someone different than what everybody here-- everybody, period-- sees me as. You don’t see me as Bucky or Sergeant Barnes or whoever. You see me as--”

“James.” I whispered. 

“I’m not used to people like you,” Bucky continued. “I… I think I was confused. And I get mad when I’m confused. I’ve always done that. I didn’t--”

“James,” I repeated, firmer and louder. I wasn’t testing the name. I was addressing him. My hand went to his face, resting gently under his jaw, and I tilted his head up to look at me. “Don’t. I understand.” 

Bucky gave me a small smile, the most he could muster when he wasn’t telling a god-awful joke, but he didn’t try to remove my hand. His eyes, as blue as the sky on a clear day, were watching me. Not watching; I had seen him watch someone. There was something more in his gaze that I couldn’t quite identify, and it scared the shit out of me. It was friendly, I could sense that, and I had a suspicion on what it was, but I didn’t want to know for sure. Eventually, I took a deep breath, and I took my hand off of his face. “You should get some sleep,” I told him. “You need it.” 

“Right,” Bucky nodded. “You do too. Come get me if that shoulder starts bothering you; I’ll see what I can do.” 

“Sure,” I agreed. “‘Night, James.” 

There was a silence before the super soldier responded to me. “‘Night, bug.” 

“Bug?” I scoffed. 

Bucky shrugged. “Just trying something out.”

I nodded and kept my place on the couch as Bucky worked himself to his feet, and he left the room quietly. I watched him leave and I pressed my palms into my knees before I started to stand. However, my endeavor was interrupted by Steve hitting his knuckles against the doorframe. He certainly had heard our conversation. His arms were crossed and he was giving me a strange look, and I huffed in frustration. “What do you want, Rogers?”

“Buck had a girlfriend he left behind when we went to war,” Steve began. “Always talked about wanting to marry her when he got back.” 

“And?”

Steve smiled. “She used to call him James. Never Bucky; James. I’m sure that’s why he got mad.” 

“Oh,” I mumbled lowley. “I had no idea.” 

“I didn’t either, until recently,” Steve said. “But guess what? He called her ‘ladybug’. ‘Bug’ for short.” 

As much as I hated to admit it, I needed help. I tossed and turned in bed for hours, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in that didn’t aggravate my shoulder too much, but, just as I was always about to drift to sleep, a spasm of pain woke me up. I had taken painkillers hours before and I was tempted to take more-- the kind that brought sleep this time-- but I remembered what Bucky had told me. Come get him if I needed help. I truly didn’t want to take him up on that offer, but I was sure that he was awake. I probably wouldn’t be bothering him. I hoped not. 

I zipped up my hoodie as I carefully maneuvered through the Compound, trying to move quietly. Years of training under Nat’s tutelage had taught me how to be as silent as a ghost, but I was always worried that I would fuck up somehow. We were safe, though, and I had no reason to be on high alert. Finally, I wound up in front of Bucky’s door, and I saw the door cracked open. Bucky was the sort of guy that valued privacy, and he always had his door closed unless he wasn’t in the room. 

“Oh.” A voice rumbled from behind me, and I turned to see Bucky. His hair was rumpled, his eyes tired and hooded. He wore sweatpants and a thin white shirt, the bulge of his dog tags visible under the collar. I heard the soft whirring of his arm in the silence of the hall, and he added, “There you are. You weren’t in your room.” 

“Were you looking for me?” I asked. 

“I was going to see how your shoulder was,” Bucky explained. “It’s been bothering me all night.”

“Been bothering you?” I repeated and stifled a laugh. “It’s been hell for me. I can’t sleep at all.” 

“You took meds?” Bucky asked, and I nodded. He moved closer to me, and he added, “Drank some water? You might be dehydrated.” 

“I’m fine, James,” I mumbled. “I just figured that you would be up too. My head’s still buzzing from tonight. Even without the shoulder, I don’t think I could sleep.” 

I didn’t even realize that I had called him James. It felt natural now. “Well, I am awake,” Bucky chuckled. “I’m not gonna sleep tonight either. We’re about an hour from sunrise anyway; that’s sorta a foregone thing now, huh?” 

I nodded. Bucky’s eyes canvased me, sticking to my shoulder and arm, and he mumbled, “Your one arm’s limp. Is it just your shoulder or your whole arm now?” 

I looked at my arm, hanging at my side as my other was in my pocket. I could feel the shooting pain every time I moved it, but, when it was still, it was a dull throb of sorts. I relayed this to Bucky, and the wrinkles in his forehead grew deeper as he listened. He wordlessly took my uninjured arm in his warm grip and tugged me into his room. A single lamp was on, the curtains drawn and the bed made impeccably, as if he had never even touched it. I’m sure the tidiness was a result of his military training; Steve and Wilson were the same way. “I read something,” Bucky began. “About skin-to-skin contact. How it helps relieve pain and improve heart and lung function.”

I scoffed as I sat on the corner of his bed. “Yeah, for newborn babies,” I told him. 

Bucky sighed jokingly. “Do you want my help or not, bug?” 

Bug. Ladybug. “I didn’t really come for help,” I said. “Just company.” 

“Just company,” Bucky repeated under his breath as he sat down next to me. “I can do that.” 

“Can you?” I asked with a smirk. “Are you sure?”

“I’m not totally inept, Y/N,” Bucky said. “I can make conversation.”

“I know,” I sighed lightly. “Just teasing you.” 

“You tease me so much that one would think that you don’t actually like me,” Bucky said. 

I rolled my eyes. “Of course I like you,” I said. “Sometimes, I don’t think you like me.” 

“Yeah, don’t take it personal,” Bucky said softly. “I sorta turn a lot of people off. The whole murderous, brainwashed soldier thing tends to do that.” 

“That’s a shame,” I said. “You’re actually a pretty cool person.” 

“Even when I’m killing people?” Bucky asked with a chuckle. 

“Especially then,” I said, playfully pushing his shoulder. “Not too many girls are into that, but I’m in the same business, so I like it.” 

“Into it?” Bucky repeated with a smile. “Like… In what way?” 

“I think it’s cool,” I said. I knew what he was pushing for, and I guess that I was giving off that impression, coming into his room in the early morning for “company”. I had meant it in earnest, but, now that I thought about it, it certainly sounded like I had come to fuck him. “Not the whole… Being tortured, but… I admire that you’ve turned this into something that can help people.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Bucky said. “To help people…” 

I saw his humor deflating. There was more he wanted to say, far more. If I knew Bucky, though, he was fit to clam up, and the conversation was about over. “You are helping people, Buck,” I offered. “Keeping them safe, protecting them…” 

“Protection can only get you so far,” Bucky said, standing up and rolling his neck. “Y/N, when you’re like me, you’re never sure if you’re really helping. People tell me that I am, but I’ll never be certain. It’s a fucking curse, one that I haven’t turned it into anything good.” He swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. 

“Well,” I began softly, standing up. I joined Bucky at the window and carefully took his hand, and I examined the metallic knuckles and the different slants of vibranium that made up each finger. I thought he would pull his hand away, tell me to stop, but his hand only whirred quietly and closed around mine. “Let me be the one to tell you that you are helping people. Like tonight, not only did you take down all of those goons, but you helped me.” 

“What help did I do?” Bucky scoffed. 

“I mean, it’s not fully healed, but you made my shoulder better,” I said. “Bucky--” I reached up for his face and pressed my hand to his rough cheek, and I forced his head down. His steel-blue eyes met mine, and I took a deep breath. “You are good. You are a good man and I will do whatever you need me to in order for you to believe that.” 

Bucky was quiet for a few long moments, then he finally whispered, “You don’t need to do anything.” 

“So you believe me?” I asked. 

“I didn’t say that,” Bucky whispered. “You don’t want to help me.” 

“Why not?” I huffed, dropping my hand. “Do you think you’re too far gone?”

“I don’t think it,” Bucky said. “I know it.” 

“James,” I said, my emotions biting through my words. My eyes stung and my throat was tight, and I knew that I was seconds away from crying. “You are not too far gone. You know how I know?” I surged closer to him and put my hand flat on his chest to feel his heartbeat, and I said, “You’re alive. As long as you’re alive, you can get better. Stop being stubborn--”

“I’m stubborn?” Bucky laughed. “You’re so convinced that you can fix me that you won’t take no for an answer.” 

“I don’t want to fix you,” I said quickly. “I want you to know that-- Fuck. Look at me, you prick.” Bucky fixed his eyes on my face, and I put my palms on his cheeks. He couldn’t look away. “James Buchanan Barnes, you are a good man. You help people. You are magnificent. I know it, everyone here knows it, and I will not rest until you see yourself the way I see you.”

The air between us was tense, and Bucky lifted a hand up to his face. He enveloped my small hand with his, his warm fingers carefully brushing mine, almost like he couldn’t believe that someone was holding his face so tenderly. He lowered his eyes, then lifted them back up to meet me, and he dropped his hands. 

With that, his entire body language changed. The wrinkles in his forehead disappeared, his shoulders fell, and he let out a heavy breath. His bottom lip fell open as he looked at me, and I whispered, “Do you feel better?” 

He nodded slowly, a lock of dark hair falling into his eyes. “I like the way you say my name,” he told me. I gently pushed the hair from his face to behind his ear, and he swallowed thickly. “Say it again. Please?” 

“James,” I said softly. “Buchanan. Barnes.” I took a deep breath, and I quietly laughed, “Bucky Barnes. You are the greatest man I’ve ever met.” 

Bucky put his hands on my waist and pulled me flush against my body, and he hugged me tightly. His mouth buried into my shoulder, and he held me for what felt like hours. He needed it. My tears finally fell, and I sniffled as I wrapped my arms around his muscled body in order to squeeze him tightly. “Are you crying?” Bucky whispered, his lips hitting my shoulder as he spoke. 

“I just…” I began. “I love you, James.” 

I didn’t know what to expect when I finally confessed to Bucky what I had tried to deny, but he stayed still. He barely had a reaction, unless you count a sigh as a reaction. Finally, just as I thought my anxiety would burn a hole through my stomach, his hands fell down my body, skating just above my hips and down to the backs of my thighs. With the strength of a thousand men, he pulled me up into him, wrapping my legs around his waist, and he pulled his face out of my shoulder to let me see his pink cheeks and radiant eyes. He said nothing as his lips pressed against mine, and I instantly kissed back. My Bucky, my soldier, my love, my James. The world felt right. 

“I love you too,” Bucky whispered. “Y/N.”

“Did you really…” I started. “Do you call me ‘bug’ because… Because of ladybug?” 

Bucky tilted his head as a soft smile came over his pink lips. “Did Steve tell you that?” He asked. I nodded, and he gave a little laugh that rumbled in his broad chest. He carried me to the bed and set me down carefully, and he laid down next to me. My head easily laid on his chest and his strong arm went around my body, holding me close to him. There wasn’t even an inch of space between us, but I loved it. “Yes and no. I got the idea from that, but it means something different. That girl back then, her name was Dot, so ladybug made sense… But you’re a different kind of bug. You’re a bug in the sense that you’re not supposed to be here.” He carefully tapped his forehead, and he closed his eyes as my finger replaced his. “You’re a bug in my code. I didn’t want to fall in love after everything I’ve done, but… Fuck, you managed to get in there.” 

“Glad I did,” I whispered, placing a kiss on his forehead. “My James.” 

“I’m glad you did too,” Bucky whispered. “My little bug.” 

[hurting-fictional-people]

Okay guys, so I think I’m getting attached to these characters and might have more ideas for them... so please let me know if you’d be interested in seeing more?

CW: (putting them here because tumblr decided to be weird about my tags tonight) a whole lot of angst and betrayal, stabbed whumpee (recovering from it... kinda), collar and chains, IV mention. Please tell me if I missed something

Continued from here

tagging @thelazywitchphotographer and @swift-perseides

-

“You said you’d set Whumpee free if I gave you the information,” someone hisses somewhere above them.

The timbre of that voice is a familiar caress, soothing the uneasiness that threatened to take over as soon as consciousness approached. Still, there’s a sharp edge to it that propels Whumpee’s eyes to flutter open, even as it calms the fear.

“Can you prove it?” 

That’s the sound that truly awakens them. The sound they hoped never to hear again, that sends chills down their spine and makes them squint their eyes against the dim light and groggily look around.

“Can I p– you know you said it, Whumper. Stop fucking around,” Caretaker growls. “If you don’t want to let me go, then fine. Keep me here. Torture me if you will. But leave them alone.”

“Ah, to be young and in love,” Whumper sighs.

Someone towers over Whumpee, large shoulders they know better than their own stand by their bed, restraining their line of sight to the wall to their right and the one in front of their bed.

“I gave you what you wanted. Now let them go.”

Before they can think about it, before they can even truly remember where they are or why or with whom, their hand reaches out and touches the soft skin of Caretaker’s arm, making them stiffen and turn around with a furrowed brow over softening eyes.

“You’re awake.”

It’s the worry underneath the words that brings it all back. The betrayal months before, all the hurt and bitterness, and then those last hours – minutes? – with a hole in their abdomen silently draining their life away, suffocating in pain.

They pull their hand back.

“What happened?” Whumpee rasps out, only then noticing how dry their throat feels. 

They know what happened. Every second of it is etched on their mind forever, but the question still slips out, the need for reassurance bigger than anything else.

“I got you fixed,” Caretaker gives them a sad smile, “just like I promised I would.” 

“Actually, I got you fixed,” Whumper says, walking around Caretaker to stop in front of Whumpee’s bed. “You’re welcome.”

Whumpee’s eyes dart between the two of them, narrowing at the way Whumper’s gaze shines with something dark while Caretaker holds themself statue still. 

“How are you feeling, dear?” Whumper asks.

“Like I’ve been stabbed,” they grumble, frowning when Whumper chuckles. “Why am I not dead?” 

“Poor thing, you were really out of it, weren’t you?” Whumper smiles as they hold Whumpee’s ankle through the sheets and rub circles that would’ve been calming coming from anyone else. “Caretaker took the deal in the end. Almost too late, but my doctors are pretty good, so you should heal just fine. If given proper time, that is.”

“So, what now?” they ask, half wanting to just close their eyes and pretend to still be asleep. Their throat pleads for water, but they don’t want to ask either of them, so they just swallow saliva and pretend it helps.

“Well, that’s a question for Caretaker to answer,” Whumper says, turning toward the third person in the room, the one keeping disturbingly silent, arms crossed and jaw clenched. Probably regretting saving them in the first place.

But Caretaker doesn’t say anything. All they do is glare at Whumper from their spot beside Whumpee’s bed.

“What do you mean?” Whumpee asks after a few seconds, stifling a yawn, eyelids pleading to close.

“They mean that they have no word,” Caretaker snaps. “Whumper wants to make another bargain even though they never fulfilled the first one.”

“Fine. But why am I here?” Whumpee whispers, forcing their eyes to stay open long enough to hear the answer.

“Because you’re the bargaining chip, lovely,” Whumper smirks, squeezing Whumpee’s ankle until they gasp.

Whumpee’s heart drops to the floor, and then lower. 

Caretaker has saved them once, which was a miracle in itself. Expecting them to do it twice is just too much. 

“Can we discuss this later, since you don’t seem inclined to negotiate right now?” Caretaker nods toward the door. “Whumpee needs to rest.”

“I guess they will be needing their strength very soon if you don’t change your mind,” Whumper sighs, winking at Whumpee as they walk to the door. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone for now.”

The lock clicks behind them, but neither Caretaker nor Whumpee acknowledges it. They’re too busy staring at each other to do much else. 

Deep bags mar the skin under Caretaker’s eyes, just like it always happens when they don’t get enough sleep, and Whumpee hates themself for still remembering that.

“Why did you–“ save me, Whumpee tries to say, but their voice fails when a dry cough makes their chest heave and their wound hurt. 

Caretaker is immediately leaning close, one hand splayed on their back and the other on their tight, each touch raising goosebumps along their skin. “W-water,” they rasp, closing their eyes at the humiliation.

But Caretaker doesn’t seem to notice how defeated Whumpee’s eyes are, how their cheeks burn red for having to ask them for something so simple. They simply grab a plastic water bottle from the bedside table and hand it to Whumpee. They gulp down the entire thing.

“How are you feeling?” Caretaker asks once they sag back on the mattress.

“Like shit.”

It’s true, but the irritated tone is nothing but a defense mechanism, and they fear as much as they hope that Caretaker notices it. 

The pain is a constant weight in Whumpee’s stomach, and the medication slowly dripping into their veins through an IV makes them nauseous and sleepy, but none of it makes Whumpee any less confused or sad whenever they look at Caretaker.

Why did Caretaker save them? A blurry memory tickles their brain, of sobs that didn’t come from their lips, of trembling hands holding theirs, warm lips kissing their forehead when they couldn’t convince their eyes to stay open anymore. It dissolves before they can grasp it, leaving only an empty feeling behind.

“You should sleep,” Caretaker says when the silence grows uncomfortable.

“Are you regretting saving me already?” Whumpee whispers, averting their gaze.

“What? No.” It sounds so real they almost believe it. They want to, so badly, but they’d already made the mistake of trusting Caretaker once before. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

There’s a hurt edge to their voice that makes Whumpee’s eyebrows rise as they look Caretaker straight in the eye. “Tell you what?”

“What Whumper did. That you were bleeding out.”

Oh.

“You could’ve died, Whumpee. You almost did. If you had just told me they had stabbed you, it would never have gotten to that point.”

“Why do you sound so angry? You’re the one who taught me not to trust anyone. ‘I’m sorry I hurt you but I’d do it again’, remember? You are the one who said those words. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think it would matter.”

Caretaker furrows their brows, opens their mouth, and turns around. Before they do, though, Whumpee catches the flash of pain and sadness crossing their eyes and pretends not to notice the glint of tears there.

The seconds tick by, and as the silence extends, pain and exertion make Whumpee’s eyes take longer and longer to open each time they blink. They are almost asleep when Caretaker’s voice sounds again.

“It’s not true, you know. It would’ve mattered. It’ll always matter when it comes to you.”

But Whumpee is already dreaming once they stop talking.

-

“So, have you made your choice?” Whumper asks from behind a ridiculously large desk. Caretaker folds their arms and doesn’t fight the will to bare their teeth. “We’ve talked through it already, Caretaker. It won’t even be any sort of bother, you just have to go in, pretend I let you free, and come back with the drive I gave you.”

“You and I both know it’s not that simple. You want me to infiltrate my own team, lie to their faces, and hand our biggest enemy a drive filled with classified information,” they bite back, hands curling into fists.

“Well, you can always say no,” Whumper leans back in their chair and grins. “You know I’ll even let you walk out if you do. And then I’ll have a pretty little pet to play with. The only downside is that dear Whumpee won’t last very long as my plaything with that wound of theirs.”

The words might as well be a blade sinking into their heart. And Whumper knows it, relishes the knowledge, laughing when Caretaker holds their breath.

It’s been three days since Whumpee’s woken up. Three days of poorly hiding the desperate need to be by their side, to make sure nothing would ever hurt them again. Three days of knowing that each small noise of pain Whumpee lets out, each hazy look they get whenever Caretaker says something kind or offers help, each distrustful glance, it’s all Caretaker’s fault.

Whumper doesn’t even bother hiding how much pleasure they take from locking Caretaker up until they can’t help but bang on the door and beg to see Whumpee. And when they do, it’s only to be hit by a new wave of pain breaking against their heart, flooding their veins with sorrow every time their eyes meet. 

“Don’t fucking touch them,” Caretaker spits out, taking a step forward before they can stop themself.

“Is that a ‘yes Whumper, I agree with your terms’ I’m hearing, dear?”

“How can I trust you won’t hurt them while I’m gone?”

Whumper’s lips tug upwards, growing into a mocking, open smile. “You can’t. And I won’t even bother promising I won’t. So if I were you, I’d hurry up, because each second you try to stall me makes me even more excited to play with little Whumpee, and I don’t think they’ll appreciate my games as much as I will.”

It’s almost funny how a handful of words is capable of completely shattering someone’s heart, of stealing the ground from under their feet and filling them with dread all at once. 

“Don’t you dare touch them,” Caretaker says, but it’s scared and quivery and both of them notice. “How the fuck do you expect me to leave with you saying you’ll hurt Whumpee?”

“Do they know how much you care about them?” Whumper muses, getting up and sauntering around the table. “Because I remember rather clearly Whumpee telling me you’d sooner offer them ruin than help.”

“What do you care?” they say through clenched teeth.

“It’s just intriguing how desperate you are to keep them safe and how oblivious they are of it. What did you do to make them so distrustful of you?”

Tore their heart apart with my bare hands. The answer comes to their mind unbidden, bringing a sharp twist of pain along with it. They can still see Whumpee’s shocked face, tears streaming down their cheeks, eyes desperately searching theirs for an excuse that wasn’t there for a treason they had no way to deny, no matter how much they wished to. I’m sorry I hurt you, but I did it for the greater good, and I’d do it again, Caretaker had said with all the pride and coldness a soldier could master. 

They had kept their own tears for later, when no one could see them shatter.

“Is your life so miserable you have to feed off of someone else’s or are you just a nosy bastard?”

Whumper laughs, and they wish they could punch that laugh out of that smug face. “I’ll give you the details now and you’ll leave tomorrow. And just because of the insult you won’t get to say goodbye to Whumpee.”

Caretaker glares in response but doesn’t argue. They don’t deserve to be near Whumpee, not after everything, and are pretty sure Whumpee wouldn’t want it either. Besides, the simple thought of seeing the face they love so fiercely fill with suspicion each time Caretaker opens their mouth makes them want to weep. 

Still, as long as they are alive to do so, Caretaker will gladly take the suspicion and anything else Whumpee throws at them. They deserve far worse anyway.

-

Each breath Whumpee takes hurts, and they are about to start crying out of frustration when the door opens. They don’t dare recognize the sharp tug of disappointment in their heart when the face that appears isn’t Caretaker’s.

“Good morning, love, how’s that wound?”, Whumper asks.

“Fine.” There’s an air of amusement around them that makes Whumpee shiver, even if they don’t know exactly why. “Where’s Caretaker?”

It leaves their lips before it hits their brain, and Whumpee has to bite their tongue to avoid slapping their forehead for it. Stupid. Caretaker shouldn’t mean anything to them anymore.

“Oh, dear. You still care about them, don’t you?”

Whumpee doesn’t even open their mouth, not when the answer they can voice would be a blatant lie and they’d both know it.

“It’s really unfortunate to have feelings for someone who doesn’t reciprocate them, isn’t it?” Whumper says, drinking in the slight frown between Whumpee’s brows, the way they look away to hide how much the words hurt them. 

Before the wave of bitterness can crash over Whumpee, Whumper nods to someone outside the room and two guards step inside. 

Their heart starts to pound, thrumming louder at each step the men take toward them.

“What, what’s going on?”

“We’re going somewhere else today, love. I assumed you needed the help to walk.”

They are shaking their head before Whumper even finishes the sentence. With a smile stretching across their face, they raise their brows, as if inviting Whumpee to do it themself.

They know what’s going to happen even before it does, and by the glee on Whumper’s face they do too, but Whumpee still kicks the thin blanket away and gets up on wobbly legs before taking two steps forward. On the third, the pain becomes unbearable. On the fourth, they can’t help but hold their injury and hunch their shoulders. Whumper watches them with mock concern as Whumpee stumbles out of the room. When they finally fall to their knees two steps later, Whumper simply tuts from their spot against the door.

“I guess you did need the help, huh?” they say, and Whumpee catches only a glance of their smile as they wave for the guards. 

Two pairs of hands grab Whumpee’s arms and pull them up, and they can’t hold back a scream when it makes their entire abdomen explode in pain. 

They are hauled over countless hallways, into a room made of concrete walls and nothing more, barely big enough for all of them.

“Please,” they breathe. “What are you doing? What about your deal with Caretaker?”

“Caretaker left, Whumpee.”

It’s the softness in their voice that makes Whumpee’s head turn to them, all wide eyes and parted lips. 

“The bargain we told you about was for them to either betray their team and keep you safe or go away and leave you behind. They made their choice.”

Whumpee can only stare at Whumper’s sympathetic smile. The words take a while to truly sink in, and when they do, all Whumpee does is take a deep breath. 

They’d been expecting this all along, they tell themself. They knew they couldn’t trust Caretaker, knew they’d never come first. They know it, they do. But then why does it hurt so much?

“And you see, Caretaker’s leaving made me kind of mad,” Whumper says as Whumpee is dumped on the cell’s cold floor, falling on all fours. “Betrayals make me bloodthirsty, I’m sure you’ll understand. And since you’re mine now, how can I resist it?”

Whumpee’s mouth dries at that. Terror shoots through their veins at the same time sadness tightens their heart.

The two men who’d carried them there take a step forward at the words and grab chains from a hook behind the door they hadn’t noticed before. As the chains are hung on metal loops attached to the wall, Whumpee realizes how wrong they’d been. The cell walls aren’t completely barren after all.

And when the guards crouch down in front of them, Whumpee can barely find strength through the panic and the pain radiating from their stomach to fight. 

They do, though. Even when it burns and sends waves of dizziness down their body, Whumpee thrashes in hands that don’t budge, jerks against grips that only tighten. 

But none of it matters when metal cuffs lock around both their wrists, nor when the chain is shortened until their arms are pulled straight above their head, back touching the wall. At least they are still sitting. Not that they could get up if they wanted to.

“Whumper, pl–“

But it isn’t over yet, they realize when another shiny gray circle approaches. Whumpee lets out a choked whine, but it’s all they can do before the collar closes around their throat and locks their neck to the wall as well. An uninvited sob escapes their lips, and there’s nothing they can do to stop it either.

“You look beautiful in chains, love,” Whumper says from the door, grinning with sadistic satisfaction at Whumpee’s weakness.

Humiliation tinges their cheeks red when Whumper’s gaze travels up and down their body. Chained, collared, like a dog, unable to do more than wiggle their arms and weakly kick their legs.

“Why are you doing this?” Whumpee asks, voice airy and desperate, searching for an explanation they know isn’t there.

“Because I wanted to. Because it brings me joy to see you struggle. I wouldn’t keep thrashing like that, though, you’ll wear yourself out very quickly with that unfortunate wound of yours, and we don’t want this to end too soon, do we?”

They leave the cell with a giggle and a wave of goodbye, and when the door doesn’t lock behind them, Whumpee almost chokes on a bitter laugh.

The cell is big enough for them to lie down straight if the chains weren’t keeping them tightly tied to the wall. But as time goes by, it seems to get smaller and smaller, closing in on them with each ragged breath Whumpee takes. The chains clink together as they squirm, but there’s no give. Their wound hurts through it all, burning with each movement, but stopping feels like giving up and if they do, then what? 

No one knows where they are but Caretaker and they’ve already made it clear they won’t help. They’ve already given up on Whumpee, left them once again.

No one cares. There is no saving this time. 

Whumpee chokes on rage and grief as tears stream down their cheeks, for a love that should never have been born, for the heart that has been broken in so many pieces they don’t know how it can still find strength enough to keep beating in their chest.

Whumpee stares at the gray walls and feels a scream building, and there’s no one there to stop it from bursting out, containing all of their anger and sadness and betrayal and spilling it over to the world. But even though it’s left their chest, the cry keeps echoing, bouncing around the walls, and none of the feelings are gone. They are all still there, still boiling inside of Whumpee.

So Whumpee sobs and pulls at the chains until their wrists are raw and bleeding, and don’t stop until both their strength and their voice are gone and there’s nothing else to do but sag on the chains. 

-

Caretaker is in the elevator when the phone Whumper’s given them buzzes. Seven floors to go before they have to face their team. A few seconds before they have to betray the people who are nothing less than their family.

Even so, it’s not that thought that sends a shiver down their spine. 

No one but Whumper has that number. The phone was given to them with specific instructions to be used solely to communicate with them. It’s Whumpee’s wide eyes that shine in their mind when Caretaker unlocks the phone, and it’s the memory of their smile that makes Caretaker’s heart race as they stare at the text and the video attached to it.

Got bored. You better hurry up.

Their hand trembles as they click on the video and Whumpee’s thin figure fills the screen, arms chained above their head, legs loose on the ground in front of them. Their eyes are closed, and for an instant, Caretaker’s heart stops in fear. But then Whumpee’s head starts to loll forward before being violently pulled back, and at the same time relief makes Caretaker suck in a sharp breath, the thing shining around Whumpee’s neck makes their heart sink through the floor. 

The collar surrounds the soft skin Caretaker’s tasted more than once, marring the perfect curve of their throat. When it yanks their head back, it hits the wall behind them and their eyes snap open. Whumpee stares at the ceiling for a moment before their mouth opens in a scream Caretaker feels in their soul, even if they can’t hear it. They feel it with their whole heart, and when Whumpee starts pulling against the chains, Caretaker thinks they’ll puke.

The video ends with them panting silently through the soundless video, the glint of tears wetting their cheeks. 

And then the elevator stops, and Caretaker barely has two seconds to wipe away their own tears before the doors open. 

When their teammates run toward them, none of them sees the way their eyes shine for the dread it is. 

As they smile and let lie after lie slip through their teeth, the only thing resounding in their mind is Whumpee’s silent screams. And as they deceive and betray, no one seems to notice the way their hands tremble or how they can’t convince their lips to smile no matter how happy they should’ve been to be back with the team. Not when the ten seconds keep playing over and over again inside their mind.

(next)