#literally today he grabbed me by my collar and shoved me against the wall while yelling at me because I fucging said something

[swanscumz]

I HEAR THE FUCKING ROOSTERS OUTSIDE ITS 4AM SHUT THE FUCK UP

it's 4:20 am now

g'night

(read the tags. Or dont. Ur choice)

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

calculated ii, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You pride yourself in being cool, calm, and collected... and then Jeon Jungkook knocks you down a peg. Well, you’re still the head Calculus I TA. The noona. The responsible one. The one who would definitely not misunderstand a situation and then end up fucking in a stairwell... right?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; intense smut (fem reader, semi-public sex, nipple play, tit slapping, fingering, wall fucking, dirty talk); jealousy; fluff; non-idol!AU - university!AU; dom!Jungkook x sub!noona!reader, ft instigator Jimin again, lol

--

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

-

You weren't a jealous person by nature. 

Mostly because you had no tolerance for lying, dishonesty, or deceit. In the off chance an ex cheated on you, you dropped them like hot coal and moved on, easily, without so much as a text. Was that the best way to end a relationship? Definitely not, but you did it anyway. 

It got you a notorious reputation, to say the least. 

So, why, as you're collecting the latest Calculus I exam and students are rushing down the steps to run to their next class, were you absolutely fuming as you spy Jeon Jungkook, tongue between his teeth, talking to a girl who looked like she was going to pass out from arousal by being in his vicinity? Why was your blood boiling, knuckles turning white as you clutch the obscenely thick stack of paper, your only thought being, I'm going to fail this fucking punk ass bitch, just you fucking wait–

"Do you need help?"

You turned your head sharply, missing Jungkook's teasing gaze as Kim Namjoon held his hands out, giving you a sheepish smile. Namjoon was the head Calculus III TA, but he was helping out today since the other Calculus I TAs couldn't make it. 

"No."

Namjoon's smile faltered. 

"Last time I let you carry these, you dropped them all."

Namjoon laughed sheepishly. "Ahahaha, yeah that did happen, huh?"

You felt bad for snapping at him. It wasn't Namjoon's fault Jungkook was an asshole. It was not Namjoon's fault Jungkook was looking like a goddamn meal in his untucked black dress shirt, ripped black jeans and heavy black boots, his long dark hair half-pinned back with a wispy curtain of black partly obscuring the right side of his face. Not that you cared. At all. You two fucked one time. One, very hot, very intense, very wild time during Calculus I office hours in this very math department building, a few floors above, just last week.

Did you have dreams about it?

...

You shook your head roughly, breaking out of your thoughts. "Come on. Let's go get some coffee. I'll buy," you said, softening your tone this time, grabbing your bag as you hoisted the stack with one arm. You began to walk out, Namjoon following you with his extra-thick backpack.

"I can help you grade. I have some time before my next class."

You laughed. "You, Kim Namjoon, double Literature and Music major and head TA for Calculus III and Physics II, have time?" you teased, seeing his ears turn red. 

He chuckled awkwardly as you two made your way to the vending machines. "Okay, I don't have the most time, maybe an hour, but there's a key, right? I'd like to help," he added cheerfully. "Since you're carrying it all."

You smiled and stopped in front of the vending machine, struggling to grab your wallet from the back pocket of your black skinny jeans. Your hands kept getting caught in the long sleeves of your cream sweater. You frowned, trying to balance everything. 

"Need help?" Namjoon asked, seeing your brows furrow. He reached for the stack of exams, but you pulled them away from his grasp. 

"No, no, I just can't get my wallet. It's in my back pocket."

"... Uh, I could pa–"

"Namjoon, it's an ass. Just take it out. I won't call the police."

He gave you a hesitant look, but you jerked your head impatiently.

"Fucking do it. You're making it weirder," you muttered.

He shrugged and yanked your black bifold wallet out of your back pocket. 

"Whatchu want?" You looked into the lit-up shelves, scanning. "Get me a green tea."

Namjoon opened your wallet to grab some bills. He raised his eyebrows. 

"I use the same brand myself."

"What?"

You turned your head to see him snickering, pointing to the condom in your wallet. You rolled your eyes at his immature reaction. 

"People get laid; get over it," you remarked coolly, but you were smiling anyway because Namjoon had cute dimples that made you laugh too.

He fed some money into the machine. "You should change it out every once in a while, though. Body heat can cause the latex to break down over time."

"I put it in there last week," you said absentmindedly, watching the green tea and the hot coffee Namjoon ordered plunk down. He raised his eyebrows again, but you gave him a pointed look and turned around, presenting your jean-covered butt.

"Put it back."

"What if I need a condom? Can I have it?" Namjoon sniggered.

"Put it back before I kick your ass," you shot back, turning your head to glare at him. A blur of black rushed past in your peripheral vision. Your eyes flickered to the direction of the movement at the same time Namjoon jammed your wallet in your pocket.

You turned back around, cocking your head into the direction of the offices. Namjoon carried the drinks, laughing behind you. 

"That would have been weird if anyone was around," he remarked to the deserted hallway. 

You shrugged. "Who hangs around the math department besides nerds like you and me?" you muttered, somewhat bitterly.

"Touché."

-

"You said you needed a ride," you muttered, watching Park Jimin stretch his legs out. It was already completely dark outside. Jimin always practiced such long hours that you often wondered if he slept. Did he even know what sleep was? The fine arts building was empty besides you two. 

"I do!" Jimin protested, going into a split that made your own crotch hurt, at least mentally. "But I have to cool down first. It's important!"

You sighed and slid down to the floor as Jimin did his routine. He hummed along as you stared at the bright lights on the ceiling. Your backpack was in the car. You played with the pink bunny keychain on your keys as you waited. 

"How did Jungkook go?" Jimin teased, tone playful.

You scowled in response.

"Ouch, that bad huh?" Jimin's head popped into your vision as he bent over backwards. "Does he have a bent dick or something?"

You rolled your eyes. "He's fine," you mumbled. "Just an asshole."

Jimin sat down, placing the soles of his feet together and pressing on his knees. They went all the way to the floor. You winced as you watched, but he seemed fine. 

"What'd he do?" 

You twisted your mouth to one side. "Doesn't matter. Don't care."

Jimin looked up. He gave you that look mothers give their children when they know they're lying. You relented, grumbling.

"Flirting around right in front of my face."

Jimin blinked at you. "I thought you guys were just fucking?"

You looked away to the mirror of the dance studio. "... We are just fucking. Did, rather."

"Are you jealous?" Jimin gasped in disbelief, scooting over to you gleefully, forgetting about his cool down. "You are!"

"I am not, Jimin. Shut up."

Jimin giggled. "Wow, one fuck and you're in lo–"

You spun around sharply and clapped a hand over his mouth, glaring at him. Jimin's eyes widened at your sudden reaction, blinking at you. You climbed to your knees, towering over him.

"Shut up, Jimin."

"The fuck is going on?"

The clear, silvery voice thundered across the dance studio practice room. You froze, whipping your head around to see Jungkook, in all-black, his pretty features twisted in rage, glaring at you and Jimin on the hardwood floor.

Fight? 

Or flight?

You scrambled to your feet and ran. Straight up bolted, right past Jungkook, not hearing him shout at Jimin, completely forgetting you were supposed to take him home.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Jungkook roared, advancing, shoulders shaking. 

"Nothing," Jimin snapped, getting to his feet. "Just like you, apparently. Look how fucking fast she ran from you!"

Jungkook grabbed Jimin's collar, shaking him forcefully. "The fuck are you talking about?" he growled, nearly spitting in Jimin's face. "She doesn't even like me, you idiot."

"You're the idiot," Jimin spat back, shoving him hard in the chest. "She literally just admitted to liking you right in front of me!"

Jungkook froze. "W-what?"

"She just now told me she was jealous because you were chatting up other girls," Jimin hissed, looking at him disdainfully. "I would have never helped you if you were going to treat her like a piece of meat."

Jungkook's face fell, anger crumbling into sudden comprehension. "I-I didn't..."

He turned away from Jimin, dropping his car keys as he chased after you, steps much faster and lighter than your erratic stumbling though the fine arts building, nearly tripping on the stairs. You were running so fast that you were making yourself winded, chest so tight you couldn't even breathe. 

Jimin sighed and picked up the fallen car keys. 

Jungkook jumped over the stair rail, making you recoil and spin around, running back up the stairs. He took them two at a time, slamming a hand against the wall to cut you off. You turned the other way and he stopped you there too, so you ducked under, trying to run. His strong arms grabbed you by the waist and dragged you back, struggling for dear life, hands clawing at the air. 

"Stop, stop," Jungkook was panting, but you started squirming against him instead, flattening your torso to try to slide out. He forcefully grabbed your shoulders and shoved you into the wall. You hissed in pain, seeing stars from your lack of oxygen and panic. He held you there, wheezing, grip so strong it almost hurt, as if he was afraid you would run away again. 

You felt wetness on your face. You started, touching your cheek. Tears blurred your vision. Jungkook lifted his head, his long black hair tousled and wild from chasing you and, even now, he was handsome. Even now, he made your heart stop. 

And then you realized that he, too, was crying. 

"J-Jimin..." Jungkook gasped. "Asked me to d-drive him home..."

You sobbed, trying to blink your tears away. "M-me too..."

Jungkook chuckled wetly despite the situation. 

"Hah... that bastard..."

You tried to twist away, but Jungkook pushed you into the wall with his chest. 

"D-don't..."

And now you were really crying now, so pathetic, so dumb, so stupid you wanted to crawl into a hole and hide, hide your face and your feelings and pretend they didn't exist. 

"Don't..." 

Jungkook's deep voice vibrated your torso as you furiously wiped your face with the sleeves of your cream sweater, stuffing your eyes with the fluffy material, trying to press them away.

"Don't cry, noona... I can't take it..."

And then he was kissing you, soft kisses on your tears, dripping his own onto your cheeks, and then your lips were on his, so full, so nice, so right, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer. Everything way too fucking wet, but it didn't matter because his tongue was against yours and you were sucking on it, shivering, whimpering his name, trying not to be pitiful, but what were you supposed to do when he made you feel this way, like you wanted to die in his arms right now? 

He whispered your name too, so softly, so desperately that you thought it was just a dream, but he had you against the wall, hands sliding up your sweater, onto your skin, so warm, stroking it and pressing his fingers into your waist, so familiar, teeth nipping at your lower lip.

"J-Jungkook..." you choked out. "We're in the middle of the stairway in the fucking f-fine arts building..."

"Don't care," he murmured, unhooking your bra, his dark hair brushing against your face. You gasped as his palms covered your already hard nipples, his moan against your lips. "Have to remind you you're mine."

He kissed your face again, massaging your breasts, resting his cheek against yours, letting you feel his smile. You closed your eyes, trying to even your breathing.

"Hah... I'm so ugly right now," you mumbled, cursing your weakness, frustrated that only a single meeting with Jeon Jungkook could turn you into this. You didn't believe in stars aligning or any of that romantic bullshit. But the instant Jeon Jungkook pressed his body against yours, you fucking knew. You absolutely knew there was no other body for you, no other body you wanted to dream about, no other person you wanted to touch, no one else you wanted but Jeon Jungkook to force you to your knees and make you look at him, pulling on your nipples, whines leaving your throat as he yanked on them, your own hands pushing your sweater and bra up so he could stare at your body and watch how he ruined you, turning your nipples pink with abuse.

Were you crazy? Probably. 

Jungkook spread his legs, leaning down, dark hair half-obscuring his face, lips parting.

"So beautiful, noona..." he breathed, swallowing hard. "You're the only one for me."

You scoffed at his words, hastily wiping your eyes. He pulled at your nipples hard, twisting them and making you yelp in pain. 

"Look at me when I speak to you," Jungkook commanded, raw and deep. Voice strained from crying, but his eyes remained dark, flint-like, shaded by his long hair. His eyes traveled down your body, to your knees against the floor, to your nipples straining in his fingertips, to your shaking hands holding up your sweater, to your face, your icy glare rippling through your drying tears. He drew in a long breath, making you wait for him. 

"There is no one else," he growled firmly above you, staring into your eyes, right at your soul. "Absolutely no one. I don't care if they're ripping off their clothes and throwing themselves at me, I will always pick you over them. I will always want you over them. I will always, always desire you under me above all others."

You chuckled darkly, feeling his grip tighten. 

"We fucked once, Jungkook. Once," you muttered bitterly. He pinched your nipples sharply and you sucked in a breath, wetness pooling in your panties. 

"Once is enough," he replied firmly. "Once is enough to know there is no other human being on Earth for me."

Maybe you were both crazy. 

He yanked your nipples harder this time. Your body jerked in pain, pressing your thighs together to get some relief. 

"Get up."

You got up shakily, with his gentle pulls in your nipples, wincing. Jungkook removed his hands and you sighed in relief, only to be silenced as he pushed up the sleeves of his black dress shirt, breathless as you saw his shapely forearms, the right covered in tattoos. He pressed his right forearm against your collarbone and you released your sweater as he held it up.

"Hands on the arm."

You placed your hands on his forearm, one on his wrist and the other just under his elbow. 

"Look at me."

Your eyes flickered up at him. Part of his hair covered his right eye. The rest of his forehead was exposed, brows furrowed, brown eyes intensely on you. His chiseled jaw clenched, lips so pink and pretty you wanted them on you. Your chest was completely exposed, your red nipples hard and poking out in the cold air. 

Then he slapped your tits with his own palm. 

You gasped sharply, skin stinging, nails digging into his skin. The sound rang in the empty staircase. Your knees shook, panties wetter than before. 

"Who is he?"

You swallowed, blinking rapidly. Your nipples prickled with pain but all you could think about was wanting more. "Who?" you croaked.

He smacked you again, right on the other nipple, and you bit your tongue, head pushing into the wall behind you, hissing. Fuck. He wasn't hitting you very hard, but he had a huge palm, expanding the surface area of the sting.

"The guy who touched your ass without my permission," Jungkook snarled, flicking your nipple hard. 

Your eyelids fluttered, knees buckling. Fuck. So good. You clutched into Jungkook's arm, panting. His arm was like iron, unmoving. 

"Namjoon?" you replied, confused. "H-he was just getting my wallet."

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. Then he raised an eyebrow and his hand, slowly spanking your tits, making sure to hit your swollen, aching nipples each time, getting you wetter and wetter with each slap. 

"He wants to fuck you," Jungkook hissed into your face. 

You were moaning far too loud, rubbing your knees together, your soaked panties bunching up in your jeans as Jungkook continued, his nails gazing your flesh, leaving red marks and pink skin in his wake. 

"B-but I don't want to fuck h-him..." you managed to get out in between your moans.

Jungkook pressed his palm flat against one of your breasts and rubbed hard. Your eyes rolled back in your head, nipple throbbing with pain as he forced it around and around. 

"Really?" he sneered, putting his face close to yours as he released your breast and moved to the other, placing his nail on it, scratching lightly. Your hips bucked and a desperate whimper fell from your lips. "Who do you want to fuck then?"

Your eyes locked with his, his impossibly dark, reigning eyes. 

"Only you."

He pinched your nipple, hard. You wailed, almost falling, but he held you firm. 

"Say my name."

So deep. So in control. 

"Only you, Jungkook."

He dropped his right arm and roughly pinched both your nipples, silencing your scream with a suffocating kiss, his clothed chest ramming into your torso. You groaned into his mouth as the rough fabric of his dress shirt touched your sensitive nipples, whimpering as he removed his hands to hold yours. Held them tight as he shoved his tongue into your mouth, thrusting into it, fucking it as if it was his cock. You took it all, fingers intertwining with his, whole body shivering. 

He pulled your hands up to his chest, breaking apart for a second. 

"Take it off," he panted impatiently. "Need your skin on mine."

You fumbled with the tiny buttons, far too small with how hazy your head was right now. You were rapidly losing your temper, finally just shoving your fingers into the placket and ripping it apart, causing the black buttons to fling everywhere. You pushed the sides of the dress shirt aside, sucking in a breath seeing his toned chest and abs, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him to you, pressing his hot skin against yours, moaning as your abused nipples touched his chest. Jungkook was chuckling, looking at the fallen buttons.

“Are you going to pick those up later?” he asked, amused.

“No,” you snapped.

“Someone will know.”

“You obviously don’t care.”

Jungkook laughed, rumbling and sexy and so very wonderful. “I most certainly do not.”

He let you press your cheek against his collarbones, hands splayed on his back. Tracing his muscles, chest heaving from too many emotions and too much running. You ran your nails down his back. His breathing hitched and he placed a large hand on your head.

“Were you jealous?” he purred, petting your hair. “Because I was talking to that girl after class? Is that why you ran off with that Namjoon guy? To make me jealous too?”

“No,” was your haughty, tight reply.

He hummed. “Really?”

His hand slid down, down your shoulder and to your bare skin. He dug his nails into the small of your back, raking them up. You whimpered, clinging to him tighter. His head dipped low against your ear, voice dropping several octaves.

“Because I was very, very jealous,” Jungkook growled, teeth snapping, every word rousing your lust. “All I could think about all day was how to punish you. My beautiful, slutty noona.”

You sunk your nails into his back, snarling right back.

“It’s your own fault for being so fucking hot that every single person who encounters you has a full-blown orgasm every time they see you, you punk ass bitch.”

You didn’t have to see his face to know he was grinning. “You didn’t. You told me to leave.”

“You didn’t know what was going on in my pants,” you shot back.

“I found out, didn’t I?”

Was it possible to want to choke someone while also wanting to be choked by them? Because that’s how you felt right now, listening to Jeon Jungkook’s stupid, sexy, smug voice in your ear.

“Shut up.”

You felt Jungkook’s body stiffen. Slowly, slowly, he backed up, out of your grasp, his hands leaving your back. You frowned, narrowing your eyes. There was a darkness in his, glaring down at you through his lashes. His lips were slightly parted, no longer smiling. You didn’t waver. His hand came up and took your chin, grip tightening into your cheeks until it was uncomfortable, tipping your head back into the wall. Lips hovering over yours, so close that he could kiss you, but he wasn’t doing it.

“Okay.”

The affirmation made your blood run cold with his unforgiving tone. He placed his lips on yours, but instead of kissing you, he breathed into your mouth, a hot, erotic stream right into the back of your throat, forcing yours back, making you inhale him. You moaned softly, but he retreated just as fast, hooking one arm around you, arching your back forcefully.

“J-Jungkook, what–”

Then he latched his lips onto one of your nipples, flicking it with his tongue, his hand around you rubbing the other as the other gripped the button of your jeans, popping it open. You cried out, hitting your head on the wall, bruising yourself as he yanked the zipper down, shoving his hand under your panties into your tight-jeans. Your nipples for far too sensitive to take more pain and yet Jungkook gave it to you, sucking and rubbing them simultaneously as he shoved one, two fingers into your slopping wet pussy, your moans echoing in the stairway as you stared up, head throbbing. Shocks of pain and pleasure traveled throughout your body, and still he shoved a third finger into you. Your body jerked, trying to spread your legs to accommodate him but your jeans were too tight and he was fucking you too hard, each thrust raising you to your tiptoes. He didn’t even have to stimulate your nipples anymore – they were just rubbing against his teeth and hand by the sheer force of him fingering you.

“A-ah, J-Jungkook, please…” you groaned, grinding into his hand, biting your lower lip hard to try and be a little quieter. “P-please, it’s t-too much...”

His eyes flickered up to you, glaring. You told me to shut up, they said.

“I’m s-sorry…” you panted out, gritting your teeth. “P-please…”

Jungkook detached his mouth, curling his lip. Hand leaving your nipple, tangling into your hair. “Are you really sorry, noona?” he drawled, yanking your head back and exposing your neck. “Are you?”

You whimpered, nodding tightly, his hand still in your hair, forcing you to tug on your own.

“Y-yes, Jungkook,” you breathed, feeling him release your hair. “I’m sorry…”

He smiled at you, an icy smile.

“That’s good.”

You felt him yank your pants down with his free hand, shoving them down to your knees. You almost tripped, but Jungkook grabbed your ass, fingertips digging into you so hard you were sure they would leave marks. He yanked you up, shoving a knee between yours and forcing your legs open. Your eyes went wide, his three fingers flexing inside you. His dark eyes boring into yours, a slow smirk forming on his lips.

“I’m still going to put another finger in you.”

He shoved a fourth into you, forcefully, and now nearly his entire hand was fucking you, pounding you into the wall. Your arms flew up to wrap around his shoulders, desperately holding on as he filled you, pushing his fingers against your walls. You gasped, clenching around his fingers, and Jungkook grinned, watching your face as he pushed you to the edge, feeling so stretched out, so embarrassingly wet that the sounds of your pussy were louder than your noises.

“Fuck, your pussy sounds so sexy,” Jungkook groaned. “Listen to that dirty pussy suck in my fingers, so fucking desperate for my cock.”

You shoved your head against the wall and squeezed your eyes shut, legs straining as you came, muscles spasming and the moan of his name racking through you, your throat already hoarse. He ripped his hand out of you and slapped your clit. Your knees buckled and you whined loudly as he gripped your ass with one wet and one dry hand, spreading it forcefully, pressing you against the wall.

“Take one leg out of your jeans,” Jungkook snarled.

You winced, pussy throbbing, giving him a what-the-fuck look.

“Do it.” He was not going to repeat himself.

You awkwardly kicked one of your sneakers off, untangling your right leg out of your pants. Now you were mostly naked in the fucking stairway with an almost shirtless Jungkook towering over you. Your poor sock fluttered to the floor, lost due to the tight ankle of your skinny jeans.

Jungkook grabbed your calf and pushed it up and out, effectively forcing you to stand on one leg.

“Jungkook, what–”

He hissed, staring at your glistening, puffy, red pussy lips, your hole opening and closing from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Fuck.”

Jungkook leaned you back into the wall, snaking his hand between your legs, moaning with you as he touched your swollen clit. Slow, languid, deliberate, rubbing your clit in circles, melting you, your eyelids fluttering closed at his sudden sweet movements.

“Wanna fuck you just like this,” Jungkook breathed, inhaling your scent. “Just like this, against the wall, in this fucking stairway, your leg around my waist.” He pressed harder, earning a wretched whimper. “Want someone to find us and see you bouncing on my cock, fucked out and screaming my name.”

Your legs trembled, trying to close, but he held them open, teasing you, drawing your next orgasm out of you, slow this time, building you into a frenzy.

“Just do it,” you gasped. “Just fucking do it.”

“I want to,” he hissed back, rubbing faster. “I didn’t bring a fucking condom.”

You chuckled despite yourself, hips shuddering into his hand. “Didn’t think you were going to fuck Jimin or something?”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes at you and pinched your clit. Instantly you yelped, your standing knee buckling, but his own slammed against yours, locking it in place. You gasped at the pain, your pussy clenching around nothing as he furiously rubbed your clit. Your insides curled and you gulped for air, feeling the pain and pleasure rise into a crescendo.

“What if I stop, noona?” Jungkook barked sharply. “Since you’re being such a fucking brat.”

You clenched your jaw, trying to push back your own orgasm, relishing in his anger.

“I have a condom,” you panted, giving him an open-mouthed smirk. “Keep one in my wallet now, j-just for you, Jungkook.”

You saw something in his eyes change, something between an amused sparkle and an agonizing lust.

“Is that so?” Jungkook purred, bringing his face close to yours. His breath lit your skin on fire, the tense knot closing in on you fast as he rubbed you even faster, so fast that it felt like a vibrator on your aching clit. “So, you can always be prepared for me? So, I can take you wherever, whenever I want?”

You bit your lip, nodding, eyes glazing over as the first wave crashed on you.

“Fuck yeeeeees, Jungkook, whatever you fucking want,” you moaned, back arching, legs shuddering, letting him rub you as your hips jerked. Viscous liquid dripping down your thighs, pussy pulsating wetly, hands flat against the wall. He was going to be the death of you, making you agree to such crazy things in the middle of your fucking orgasm.

Jungkook let go of your leg. You leaned against the wall, trying to catch your breath, pretty sure all this was going to get you expelled. Even if there was no one in the building, someone down the street probably heard you by now with how loud this was becoming. You heard rustling under you, Jungkook going through your pockets on the floor to find your wallet, pulling out the condom.

“You’re actually insane,” you panted, blinking slowly as you watched Jungkook unzip his jeans, shoving them down. “I can’t even stand.”

Fuck, even just him pulling out his half-hard cock was already getting you wet again. Jungkook smirked at you, seeing your eyes on him. He stroked the length slowly, running his large hand over it. You frowned at him, tapping your hand against the wall in annoyance.

“I’m giving you a break,” he murmured, staring at your body as he gripped his cock, pumping once. He gasped, breathing your name.

“At least let me touch it,” you pouted, not even sure how you were still upright. Just pure lust, apparently.

Jungkook looked at you through his lashes, lips parting, tongue darting between them. He thrust his hips into his hand. You stiffened, seeing his wanton, arrogant expression. He wasn’t going to let you touch it. He was going to make you watch, frustrated, as he stroked himself to full hardness.

“Jungkook…”

He cocked an eyebrow at you, rolling his body into his hand, moaning softly.

“Jungkook, please…”

His tongue danced between his lips, moving his hand up and down slowly, rocking his hips into his cock, enjoying your pleading tone, your hands clenching into fists, your body heaving at the loss of him.

“Jungkook, come on,” you whined, spreading your legs, watching the angry red head disappear and reappear in the curve of his fingers. “I want you. Please.”

He took a step towards you, still stroking himself. “Yeah?” he breathed. Another step. And another. He still didn’t tell you that you could touch him yet, so you kept your hands at your sides, switching between his dark, lustful eyes and his rapidly hardening cock thrusting into his hand. “You want me, noona? You want to touch my cock?”

And now Jungkook was right next to you, still jacking himself off, the velvety, thick head rubbing against the smooth skin of your thigh. You moaned as you felt his pre-cum smearing onto your skin, adding to his lubrication.

“Y-yes,” you whispered, eyes glued to his cock rubbing against your fucking leg. Fuck, you wanted it in your mouth so bad. “Let me touch you, Jungkook.”

He leaned forward, lips brushing against your ear, his dark locks brushing against your cheek. His voice was a deep drawl, low and teasing, breath hot against your skin.

“Tell you what,” Jungkook purred. “I’ll let you put the condom on.” You whimpered, disappointed. “And then I’ll fuck you against this wall, nice and hard and fast, not stopping until I cum because of that delicious, sweet, tight pussy of yours.”

If you had any sanity left, it rapidly disappeared as you nodded hastily, wordlessly holding out your hands as Jungkook dropped the condom in your palm. He calmly removed his hand, his thick, fully hard cock erect as you slid the condom down, moaning as you felt the traces of his veins and muscle pulsing under your hands. Once you were done, Jungkook pushed your hands away, not giving you a chance to disobey him.

You pouted. “You’re a jerk.”

He grinned at you, lifting your leg and pinning it to your chest. “And you’re about to get fucked.”

In less than a second, Jungkook thrust his hips up and into you, tearing a gasp from your throat as he rapidly entered you, peeling apart your soaking, abused walls. You bit your tongue, grabbing his dress shirt as he rolled his hips into you again, groaning as he felt you clench around him.

“That’s it, noona,” he exhaled, slamming his hips into you. “You better fucking hold me tight. If I slip out, that’s all the fucking you’ll get from me.”

You whined, feeling him start a bruising pace, hands clamped onto your ass. Whether he was lying or not didn’t matter because you were squeezing your pussy for dear life, crying out as he thrust into you over and over, so full and overstimulated you didn’t know whether to focus on your aching, raw pussy or his cock periodically throbbing inside you, swelling against your walls.

You hooked your leg around his waist, changing the angle, instantly feeling him ram his cock into a deeper, more pleasurable spot. You tipped your head back, eyes rolling up into your head as your mouth opened, tongue sliding out. He pounded you relentlessly, your shoulder blades smacking the wall. Your swollen clit rubbed against the base of his cock repeatedly. Your body was going to ache all over tomorrow, but you still rose your hips to meet his, so drunk on the feeling of his cock stretching you out that nothing else mattered. You came suddenly, wailing Jungkook’s name, pussy spasming and squeezing him but he set his jaw and fucked you even harder, using every ounce of his energy to keep his own orgasm at bay.

“Who owns this body, noona?” he ground out. “Tell me, who owns this fucking body?”

You had to claw for your words, throat so strained your voice was thin. “Y-you do, Jungkook, oh fuck, oh fuck…”

“That’s fucking right,” he growled. “If you cum, it’s for me and only me. No. One. Else.” He punctuated each word by slapping his hips into you, sliding you up into the wall so gravity crashed you back down onto his cock. You moaned, helpless, as he hissed, shoving his face into your tits to moan hotly into your chest as he came, violent, thick jerks of his cock shuddering into you. Quickly, he gripped your hips and pulled up, hissing as half of his cock slid out, cum leaking out of the bottom of the condom and splatting onto the floor.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “Fuck.”

You could barely register anything as he hoisted you onto his shoulder, cursing loudly. Jungkook leaned against the wall with one shoulder, panting, the other half-carrying you, arm wrapped around your waist. The only thing that brought you back to reality was the fact that your bare ass was in the air and your pants were hanging off one leg.

“Jungkook,” you croaked. “Let me down.”

He lowered you, still leaning against the wall, trying to catch his breath. His hair covered almost his whole face, sweaty and glistening. He wiped some sweat off his chin with the back of his hand, flicking it away carelessly.

You pressed your back flat against the wall, using at as leverage to pull your pants back up, wincing at the now familiar cold feeling of your soaked panties meeting your abused pussy. You crouched to collect your sock and your shoe, wincing as pain radiated up your back.

Jungkook chuckled, watching you struggle with your sneaker. “Want help?”

You grunted, shoving it on. “Can we stop fucking in random ass places at school?”

“You said I could fuck you wherever I want, whenever I want,” he teased, giving you an open-mouthed smirk.

You readjusted your bra, putting it back on. You found the two bits of condom wrapping, shoving it in your pocket. “I did, but I want to see you fully naked for once, you punk.”

Jungkook laughed, rich and full. “I support this idea if you’re also fully naked.”

You made a face as you got up, trying to keep your steps steady so you didn’t seem like a drunk idiot. Or someone who just got railed by Jeon Jungkook.

“Give me the condom.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “I was going to drop it here. Mark my territory.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and took it from him as he extended his hand out. “Your buttons did that for you already,” you remarked, tying it up.

He smirked, zipping up his jeans. “You owe me a new shirt.”

“And you owe me new panties, again,” you shot back. “Where are my replacements?”

He shrugged, running a hand through his hair to push it back. Fuck. Open shirt, half-exposed forehead, smug-as-fuck Jungkook got you wet just by looking at him.

“Guess we should go shopping sometime.”

He smiled slyly, patting his pockets. His expression abruptly changed to confusion. He pulled out his wallet and phone, frowning. “Where are my car keys?” He furrowed his brow, looking at his phone. You found your keys and wallet still with you, surprised that they didn’t fall out of your pants. You phone was in your backpack, still in your car. He swiped at his phone, reading his messages.

Jungkook groaned. “I dropped them and Jimin took my car. Bastard.”

Fuck, his fucking deliciously toned and tan chest was distracting you. “I still have my keys,” you muttered, staring at his abs. Suddenly you started, realizing he was advancing on you.

“Oh?” Jungkook purred, opening his shirt wider. The fabric tumbled off his right shoulder, exposing his tattoos. His long dark hair covered part of his right eye, brown orbs glimmering with mischief.

“Wanna take me home, noona?”

Welp.

-

part iii

--

masterpost

[comfortbucky]

Hey! Can i request a cold, lonely ex-hydra reader × bucky who falls in love with her. Adding some panic attacks and nightmares of the reader.

i love this idea!!! thank u for submitting🥰

𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗶𝗻𝘃𝗶𝘁𝗲 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚ ⋆

pairing: avenger!bucky x ex-HYDRA!fem!reader

tags: enemies(?) to lovers, angst (if u squint), soft!bucky

warnings: canon level violence, description of injuries, blood is mentioned, panic attacks, anxiety, nightmares

A/N: i just came up with a random name for the HYDRA leader the reader is after🤣 so just ,,, ignore // also!!!! i tried out a different writing style than what i’m used to! hope u don’t mind🥺 just been feeling like a lot of my writing is the same and wanted to try something new!!!

word count: 3.5k (this is so long LMAO sorry 😭 literally why am i like this)

my masterlist!

completed requests!

The suit that you once considered a second skin, now felt uncomfortable and constricting, like a python squeezing the life out of you. Although, it made sense since the very organization of the uniform you were wearing did exactly that.

HYDRA.

For so long you were just another mindless pawn to them, just doing without every actually thinking. Unlike your younger brother, Alex. They indoctrinated him as well, getting a hold of both of you from a young age, but he was there when Captain America took down S.H.I.E.L.D. and it changed his entire worldview. You found everything he said about “freedom” to be stupid, naive, and dangerous. And you would later prove yourself correct.

You pull yourself from your thoughts as a group of HYDRA soldiers walk past the shrubbery you hid behind. Quickly and quietly, you get up and join them as they march towards the HYDRA base. As soon as you get inside, you manage to slip away from the rest of the group to search for your target.

Since HYDRA took the possibility of you ever having a normal life away, as far as you were concerned, your only purpose in life was to kill the man who was at the center of it all, Viktor Cross. And after months of tracking him down, formulating the perfect plan, that’s exactly what you were going to do today.

You make your way towards one of the main lab facilities, gun in hand when you see several unconscious guards lying on the floor in front of you. Shifting your gaze up, you see that the door has been ripped open, grip marks on the sides.

This was not part of the plan.

As you squeeze through the open door and enter the lab, you come to a halt, frozen in shock. There’s your target, Viktor, shoved against the wall by none other than Captain America himself. You almost let out a chuckle in disbelief at the irony of the situation. Instead, you take a step forward, and the glass cracks beneath your feet, alerting the men of your presence.

Shit.

Immediately, both sets of eyes are on you. Viktor’s lips curve into a smirk as you make your way to them.

“Agent- Miss Y/N,” he corrects himself. “What a pleasant surprise.” You ignore him and look to address Steve Rogers, AKA Captain America.

“Let him go and give him to me,” you start, Steve eyeing you cautiously. “So I can kill him,” you snarl, quickly turning to Viktor to see that his smirk had been wiped off his face.

“Aren’t you HYDRA?” He questions, nodding to your suit and eliciting a cackle from Viktor.

“Not anymore,” you mumble, before lifting a leg to kick Steve in his side. You hit him across the face with the end of your gun for good measure. He stumbles over, giving you enough time to grab Viktor’s collar, before he falls to the floor, and slam him back against the wall. His eyes are full of desperation and you felt nothing but pure, burning rage. You shove the barrel of your gun under his chin and place your hand on the trigger.

“You were such a gifted agent, Y/N. Don’t throw away such potential, come back.”

“Go to hell.”

Before you could pull the trigger, a force propels you to the ground and you feel a sharp pain in your side. Silence and then ringing fills your eyes as you squint your eyes to try and visualize the situation. Your vision is blurry, but clear enough to clouds of smoke engulf Viktor’s figure as he escapes. A muffled voice from behind you speaks, but you can’t make out any of the words they’re saying. You look down to see red. Just crimson red, staining your abdomen. Hands land on your shoulders, shaking you gently as your vision fades to black.

Viktor is in front of you, the barrel of his gun directed right at your head. He smirks as he moves his hand to the trigger.

“Hail, HYDRA.”

A gunshot goes off, forcing you to shoot up in bed, gasping for air. As you start to regain your senses, you realize you’re surrounded by a group of strangers. Well, not complete strangers, the Avengers to be exact. Part of your job required you to study their files, learn everything about them. You could recite from memory where and when they were born, their greatest strengths and weaknesses. Suddenly, your side starts to burn with pain, and you carefully lean back in bed. There’s an array of wires and tubes connected to you and you hear the rhythmic beeping of various machines. You’re in a hospital, or some sort of medical facility.

“That, is exactly why I said we should use restraints.”

You’re staring at the ceiling when you hear Iron Man, AKA Tony Stark, speak.

“Tony, she lost a liter of blood, she’s not going anywhere.”

Steve appears in your view, looking down at you.

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe.”

You shift your gaze away from him. The last thing you expected to come out of this mission was to meet the Avengers, let alone them save you.

Steve sighs, “We’re not gonna hurt you. We wanna find Viktor too.”

There’s nothing he could say that could get you to speak. Your hatred for HYDRA didn’t mean you suddenly liked the Avengers. If anything, they were part of the problem too, so you stay silent.

“Told you, she’s not gonna talk,” Tony quips. From your research, you had come to learn that he was an arrogant man, and his statement only proved you right. “Maybe you should get Manchurian Candidate to come down, give her an ex-HYDRA buddy,” he says sarcastically.

Upon hearing “ex-HYDRA buddy,” you furrow your brows. Maybe it was the lack of blood in your body, but it took you a second to process his words and understand who he was referring to. Your eyes dart back to look at Steve’s but he’s gone.

“I’ll be back.” His voice trails off as he exits the room.

You’re still staring at the ceiling when you hear footsteps return and then several others departing.

There’s only one other person in the room beside you. Without even looking up, you already know who it is. His breathing was slow and steady until you started to shift in bed to reposition yourself. His breath hitched for a moment, before returning back to his normal breathing pattern.

“Killing him isn’t gonna make you feel better.” His comment makes you roll your eyes as you slowly sit up to look at him. There were no logical thoughts in your head, all you could feel was pain and fury. Anger swelled within you, your emotions boiling over.

“That’s rich, coming from the Fist of HYDRA,” you spat out. As soon as the words left your mouth, you felt your stomach drop. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one you hadn’t felt in a while. What was it? Regret?

Bucky’s face fell but he kept his eyes on you. It was a look that made you feel worse, worse than the searing pain in your side.

“I’m not a killer anymore,” he said in a tone so gentle, you felt another strange, new emotion but couldn’t quite label it. You quickly shift gears to avoid addressing the uncomfortable feelings swirling around in your stomach.

“Are you keeping me hostage to lure Viktor in? Because it's not going to work." Bucky shook his head.

"We want..." he trailed off, causing you to tilt your head in curiosity. “We need your help finding him.” You scoffed.

“What do I get out of it?” Bucky’s silence gave you your answer. Shaking your head, you start to disconnect yourself from the multitude of wires attached to you and get out of bed.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself,” he started, as you threw off your blanket and sat on the edge of the bed.

Standing up quickly, the blood from your head pooled in your legs, causing you to feel dizzy. Your head spun and your arms reached out for something, anything stable to grab onto. It was a metal hand. Despite it being cool to the touch, it ignited a heat to rise to your cheeks. You look down and mumble a thank you as Bucky helps you back into bed.

Letting out a sigh, you realize with the condition you’re in, you can’t leave. Definitely not well enough to go after Viktor alone. Shutting your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose, you curse under your breath.

“Fine,” you finally speak, keeping your eyes closed. Bucky nods, even though you don’t see, and you hear him walk off.

After a couple days of rest, you were cleared by Bruce to get discharged. Viktor had gone deep in hiding, making your job to find him a lot harder. Tony had so graciously given you an extra room in the tower, right next to Bucky’s. He was probably the one person you saw the most, purely due to location, and the fact that everyone else cautiously kept their distance from you. It made sense though, since you rarely spoke to anyone and spent most of your time in the lab looking for any clues of Viktor’s location. When you weren’t searching for him, you were training in the gym. Bucky was there a lot too, both of you waking up at ungodly hours of the morning. No words were ever exchanged between the two of you, and yet, there was some level of comfort you felt being around him. Must’ve been an ex-HYDRA thing.

“What’s on your mind?” You walk over to Alex and sit on the edge of the bed next to him. He sighs.

“What if,” he starts, furrowing his brows. “What if freedom is good?” He speaks quietly, fearful of HYDRA listening in on your conversation.

It feels like you’ve got the wind knocked out of you.

“Alex,” you grab him by the shoulders. “What the hell are you talking about?” You’re searching his eyes, trying to understand what’s gotten into him.

“Captain America.” The biggest threat to HYDRA’s existence. He looks down at his hands. “He was willing to risk his life for it. It has to be worth something right?” Alex looks back up to you with a look in his eyes that you haven’t seen since you were children. Uncertainty. You sigh and pull him into your chest, stroking his hair.

“I don’t know, kiddo. Maybe.”

You wake up in a cold sweat, panting. Hot tears fall from the corners of your eyes. It’s the same dream you’ve had for the last week. Although, you wouldn’t consider it a dream necessarily, but it wasn’t a nightmare either. Just a bittersweet memory.

Bucky could tell that something was up with you for the past week. Despite having gone through a bit of therapy, Steve’s idea, the nightmares still came to him. So Bucky was already wide awake when he heard your weeping on the other side of the wall. It didn’t help that he was also a light sleeper with super-soldier hearing. He didn’t know what was causing you to be so upset, but he didn’t want to intrude and ask. Neither of you had spoken to the other since you first arrived.

But this night was different from the rest. Usually, you would flip endlessly through channels on ur TV until you eventually fell asleep, but it wasn’t working this time. There’s a tight pain in your chest and suddenly, you’re suffocating. You rip off your covers and spring out of bed, tripping on your blankets along the way. At this point, you don’t even register the pain of slamming down, face-first on the ground. Panic has taken over your body, tears now streaming down your face. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping for relief.

He wasn’t planning on doing anything until he heard a loud thud from your room. Immediately, Bucky gets up and arrives at your door. It’s rude to just barge into someone’s room, his mom taught him that from a young age, so he settles on knocking. You don’t hear it though, the only sound you hear is the sound of your rapid breathing as you hyperventilate. Bucky hears it too and ultimately decides on inviting himself into your room.

“Y/N?”

You’re lying on your side, curled up in a fetal position with your hands covering your face, when Bucky opens the door. He quickly arrives by your side, kneeling beside you, as he examines you for any injuries.

“Are you hurt?”

You manage to shake your head in response, anxiety still flowing through your veins. Unfortunately, Bucky’s familiar with panic attacks, having had them himself. But he also knows that everyone deals with them a bit differently. Guess he did manage to learn some useful things from therapy.

“Can you try breathing with me?”

He starts to take deep breaths in and out until he sees you start to follow along with him, your hands still covering your face. There’s a part of you that feels stupid for keeping them there, but they help ground you, so you continue to shield your face. After what feels like an hour, but was probably only 10 minutes, your panic subsides. That’s when a wave of embarrassment hits you, realizing that it had been Bucky with you during your panic attack.

Slowly removing your hands from your face, you’re greeted by piercing blue eyes. You blink a couple times, realizing that Bucky had taken a spot on the ground, lying on his side to face you, his hands pressed together under his head like a pillow. He smiles and you feel warm. It’s terrifying, the new feelings that Bucky has caused you to feel and yet, you don’t mind.

“You feelin’ better?” You nod and smile back, something you haven’t genuinely done in a while.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

You stare at each other in silence, lying side by side. There’s no physical touch involved but somehow, this moment, it feels intimate. Bucky breaks the silence.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He speaks in a voice so soft, it almost sounded like a whisper.

It might’ve been the fact that he just calmed you down from a panic attack, but as you looked into his eyes, you felt the walls you had built up for the last year slowly come crashing down.

“He killed my brother,” you reply, maintaining your eyes on Bucky. You searched his eyes for any fear or pity, but all you could find was a look of understanding. His eyes were starting to become a safe place for you.

“Alex was there when Steve took down S.H.I.E.L.D., HYDRA along with it. He wanted out, out of the organization.” Taking a deep breath, you continue. “Word got around about a “rat,” so I took the blame. Viktor was about to shoot me when Alex’s dumbass ran in front of me, sacrificing himself.” You let out a chuckle, your vision getting blurry as tears swelled in your eyes. “He was a goddamn idiot, but he also had a heart of gold.”

As you start to cry, Bucky hesitatingly extends an arm to hover over your body, trying to gauge your reaction. Physical touch was something he struggled with during the beginning of his recovery, and he didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. He’s reassured when you grab onto his shirt and pull yourself closer to him, and wraps an arm around you, his other hand softly stroking your head.

You hadn’t cried like this since Alex died, bottling up all of your emotions to focus on finding the man responsible for his death. But as you sobbed into Bucky’s chest, you realize that your love for Alex had transformed into an ugly, burning hatred for Viktor. He wouldn’t want this. You didn’t want it, at least, not anymore. The only thing you wanted was your brother back, and that was impossible.

Bucky held you in his arms until you fell asleep, listening to the sounds of your slow, rhythmic breathing, dozing off shortly after.

That night with Bucky had softened your cold, hard exterior that you initially presented yourself with. You would willingly spar with Nat in the training room and join the team for breakfast or dinner. Everyone noticed and, while at first thrown off by it, happily embraced it. Especially Bucky.

Initially, he got up to work out in the early hours of the morning as a habit. Now, he woke up to see you. His heart did flips in his chest every time he walked in the gym and saw you. Since that night, you started to acknowledge his presence, turning to smile and wave as he walked through the doors. It was something he looked forward to every day.

During the day, you were focused hard on tracking down Viktor and Bucky knew that. But he also knew he wanted to spend more time with you. He looked for reasons to enter the lab, whether it was offering snacks to you throughout the day or helping Bruce or, even Tony. Anything to see you again.

Bucky realized that there was a deeper, stronger emotion that he felt for you when he would wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare. The first thing he thought about was you. Specifically, how you were the only thing that could possibly calm him down. Although he’d come in that night to help you with your panic attack, you ended up helping him as well. He hadn’t slept as soundly and peacefully as he did with you. And you hadn’t either. There were several nights when neither of you could sleep and ended up running into each other. It slowly became a routine that would begin in the kitchen, exchanging life stories, and end on the couch in the common area, entangled in each other’s arms.

Tonight you didn’t show up and Bucky panicked. He stared at the kitchen clock. It had been 20 minutes and you still hadn’t shown up. Bucky racked his brain for anything he could’ve done to scare you off, but came up with nothing. It wasn’t like you two had been officially together, Bucky had no idea what you were to each other. All he knew is that he wanted to be with you, always.

You were soundly asleep in bed, passing out as soon as your head hit the pillow. It was a particularly physically exhausting day for you, training with both Nat and Steve.

Bucky was so caught up with the thoughts racing through his head, he hadn’t noticed that his feet had taken him right to your door. He stands there for a moment, silently debating what to do. Grumbling under his breath, he musters up the courage to knock on your door. Right as he was about to turn away and shuffle off to his room, your door opens. You greet him with a yawn and a tired smile.

“Oh, hey Bucky.”

He looks at the bags under your eyes and feels instant regret wash over him, realizing that you weren’t avoiding him, but just getting some sleep.

“Sorry,” he looks down at his feet. You frown and place a hand on his cheek to lift his head up.

“Something wrong?” He avoids your gaze, partially because he’s embarrassed and partially because his cheeks were turning red because of your touch.

“No.” You cross your arms and let out a sigh.

“You’re a bad liar.” It’s his turn to sigh, as he scratches the back of his head.

“You didn’t come to the kitchen,” he lets out, in almost a whisper. It hits you. You were so tired, you had completely forgotten about your nightly tradition. “It’s stupid, sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you up," he mumbles. Bucky begins to walk off but you grab his hand. When he turns to look at you, his brows are raised at your touch.

As you start to speak, you pull him close, facing you. “It’s not stupid.” His hands move to hold your waist as yours move to wrap around his neck. You pause, an idea popping into your head. “I’m kind of tired from training today, wanna just come sleep with me?” He nods and you drag him to your bed, nestling into his arms as he holds you to his chest, his chin resting above your head. You tilt your head back to see him looking down at you. There’s a fluttering feeling in your chest and you smile.

“Just for future reference, you have an open invitation to cuddle with me, anytime.” Bucky chuckles at your offer.

“I’ll keep that in mind, doll.”

Bucky cups your face in his hand and you nuzzle your cheek in his palm. His eyes dart down to your lips before returning to your eyes.

Then, the most delicate, sweetest kiss you’ve ever received is on your lips.

You flutter your eyes open as you both pull apart. He quickly kisses your nose before pulling you back into his chest, speaking softly.

“And you have an open invitation to kiss me, anytime.”

[intheticklecloset]

If You Weren’t So Short (Haikyuu!!)

Primary Universe

This one’s something I wrote just because I wanted to! I loved the idea of Kageyama helping Hinata feel better about how short he is compared to the others, especially because it’s brought up so often, and it clearly bugs Hinata at least to some degree. I figured cheer-up tickles were a perfect solution! Enjoy! ^^

~

Kageyama was irritated. He marched through the halls of the school they were visiting for practice games, glaring at everything that moved. “Hinata!” he snapped at no one, calling his teammate’s name in frustration. He’d been looking for the redhead for ten minutes already. This was getting ridiculous. “Where are you, you moron?”

“I’m right here,” came a small voice.

Kageyama whirled. There, seated at the base of a wide pillar he couldn’t see around on his way by, was Hinata, with his knees pulled up to his chest. “Where the heck have you been, Hinata? Everyone else is already on the bus, and they sent me to go find your dumb butt. Get up! We’ve got to go.”

“Yeah, okay.” Hinata gathered his gym bag and stood, not making eye contact as he silently turned and started toward the bus loop.

“Dude, what’s wrong with you?” Kageyama asked, still irritated but mostly confused now. Usually the redhead had some sort of witty comeback for him when he started name-calling, but right now he was just letting it slide. Something was off. “I know we lost a lot of games today, but they were just practice games. And we’ll get better.”

“I know.”

They walked in silence for a few steps before the raven-haired boy grabbed his teammate by the shoulder and stopped him. “Seriously. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing.” But Hinata wasn’t looking at him.

“Bullcrap.”

“I’m not upset about the games.”

“Then what?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Hinata shrugged out of Kageyama’s grasp and kept walking. “You’ll just laugh at me.”

Kageyama grabbed his shoulder again and shoved him up against the closest wall, startling them both. Finally, the redhead met his eyes. “Hinata. What’s wrong?”

Hinata pressed his lips together, then let out a huff and looked away again. “The other players keep talking about how short I am.”

“Yeah? So?” Kageyama let him go, but didn’t move out of his space. “That’s nothing new. It’s never bothered you before.”

“Of course it’s bothered me before,” Hinata replied, surprising his teammate. “I just brush it off a lot easier because it’s usually only a person at a time. But here, there have been whole teams talking about me at once. I ran into three different captains outside the bathroom who were literally talking down to me about it.”

Kageyama frowned, but he didn’t know what to say. “Just ignore them. You know your height doesn’t matter to us.”

“But it’s all anyone can ever talk about!” Hinata yelled, startling the taller boy into taking a step back. “People take one look at me and they don’t see a competitor. They just see right over me. I’m never a threat to anyone until I’m out on that court! I’m so tired of everyone only seeing my disadvantages. I hate being so short!”

Silence settled over them as Kageyama scrambled to figure out what to say in response. The words simply wouldn’t come. But he swore the next time he saw someone talking down to Hinata because of his height, he’d personally punch them in the face. Hearing it all the time was one thing. Seeing how much it affected his friend even when he tried to hide it was another.

“Hinata,” he said at last, and all traces of irritation were absent from his tone. “Do you hate being short because it’s all anyone sees when they look at you? Or do you hate it because you think it messes up your chances of playing volleyball well?”

The redhead grumbled, “Both.”

“Bullcrap,” Kageyama said again. He grabbed the collar of his teammate’s shirt and forced him to make eye contact. “We’ve talked about this, you moron. Your height doesn’t mean you can’t play volleyball as well as the rest of us can. You’ve proven over and over that you’ve got everything you need to play and score points just like we do. You’ve got great speed and jump power, and you’re learning to control where you spike the ball with every game you play. You’re the perfect decoy, remember? Who gives a crap how tall you are?”

Hinata blinked at him, surprised into silence.

Kageyama let him go again, his scowl turning to a smirk. “Besides, if you weren’t so short, I’d have a much harder time doing this.” He got right up into his friend’s personal space and grabbed onto his ribs, tickling him.

“Gahk! Pfft wahahahait, nohohoho, KahahahgeyamaHAHAHA!!” Hinata squealed, bursting into uncontrollable giggles as he wriggled and squirmed against the wall. His gym bag fell off his shoulder to the floor. He tried grabbing onto Kageyama’s wrists and pushing him off. “Stahahahahahahahap!”

“See? Being shorter than me makes it easier for you get wrecked in a tickle fight,” Kageyama teased, grinning at Hinata’s unstoppable giggles.

“Why is thahahahahahat a gohohohohood thihihihihihing?!”

“Because it’s an easy way to make you laugh, obviously.”

“Lohohohohohosing tihihickle fights is no fuhuhuhuhuhun!” Hinata protested, shrieking when Kageyama focused on his lower ribs.

“Isn’t it?”

“STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!” Hinata was unleashing his laughter in screaming bursts now, which Kageyama knew from their previous tickle fight meant he was getting him good. “AGH!! KAHAHAHAGEYAHAHAHAMA!!”

“Kageyama, stop torturing our decoy.” A third voice entered the fray, making them both stop and turn. Nishinoya was standing several paces down the hall from them, grinning ear to ear. “At least get him on the bus first.”

Hurriedly, Kageyama let Hinata go and scrambled back, cheeks turning pink. “N-No, I wasn’t…we were just…!”

“Tickling. I know, I know, don’t freak out on me.” Noya jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Coach is getting pretty impatient, though. We seriously gotta go.”

“Right,” both of the first-years said in tandem, collecting themselves and hurrying to follow Noya to the bus loop.

As they went, Hinata glanced up at Kageyama, whose face was back to its perpetual serious look. The raven-haired boy didn’t look at him.

“So it’s fun to lose tickle fights, is it?” the redhead asked teasingly.

Kageyama growled, “Shut up. I meant it’s fun for me when you lose them, idiot.”

“Well, I didn’t lose this one, so you can wipe that smug look off your face.”

“I don’t look smug. And you did lose. You couldn’t lay a finger on me.”

“Oh yeah?” Hinata reached out to grab his side, grinning when Kageyama yelped and stumbled back.

“Knock it off!”

“This tickle fight is so not over, Kageyama.”

Kageyama growled, but said nothing more. A couple minutes later they’d reached the bus, where their coach was yelling at them to get their butts moving. They stammered their apologies and hurried to comply. Once they were seated and the bus had begun driving to take them back home, Hinata pinched Kageyama’s side again.

“You little—” Kageyama grabbed roughly onto Hinata’s ribs. “You’re just asking for it now!”

“Yohohohohou stahahahaharted it, you jeheheheherk!” Hinata reached for his friend again, but the taller boy snatched up both his wrists with one hand and pinned them to the window, then latched onto his lower ribs and drilled. Hinata jerked in his seat and instantly began laughing again. “NO, THIS ISN’T FAHAHAHAHAHAHAIR!!”

“You want a tickle fight? Fine.” Kageyama smirked at how his friend’s face contorted with joy, feeling satisfied for making him forget about why he’d been upset. “A tickle fight is exactly what you’ll get. And don’t worry.” He reached his free hand underneath Hinata’s jacket and t-shirt to scribble at his bare torso. “We’ve got plenty of time for you to lose properly. It’s a long bus ride, after all.”

“Ugh, seriously?” Tsukishima grumbled from his seat a couple of rows behind them.

“Do those guys ever not fight?” Asahi asked.

“Ah, let it go, you two,” Noya replied from his place at the ace’s side and across the aisle from Tsuki, grinning at the scene unfolding before them all. “I’m pretty sure Hinata needs a good laugh right now. I for one am looking forward to the in-flight entertainment.”

“My money’s on Kageyama,” Daichi said, just as Hinata’s laughter rose an octave, followed by hysterical pleading. The captain laughed. “Oh, yeah. Anyone want to take me on?”

“I’ll vouch for Hinata,” Suga replied. “Rile him up enough and he’s a force to be reckoned with. I imagine the same can be said for tickle fights as well as volleyball.”

With that, the rest of the Karasuno team began betting everything from popsicles at Coach’s store to dinners at the restaurant they all enjoyed to taking over clean-up duty in the gym for a week. All the while Hinata and Kageyama’s tickle fight raged on, and by the time they got home a couple of hours later, both of them were completely exhausted.

But both of them felt like winners.

[we-have-bangtan]

Fall together

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Genre: fluff, angst, best friends to lovers au

Warning: Swearing, smoking, mature content(no smut tho)

Synopsis: Jimin decides to kiss his bestfriend who he was in love with not knowing if she felt the same way.

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Jimin sat on the terrace, the rain pouring down on him, the drops of water falling fast and hard on his back, his body drenched to the bone. He didn't flinch when the rain drops fell on him, he had adjusted to the pain. The cigarette he had been smoking earlier was nothing more than ash now, too drenched to keep burning. He recalled the events of today as he lifted his chin up, feeling the rain drops pouring on him. Yn pushed up against the wall, her chest against his own, his lips descending upon her, hot and needy tongues meeting to dance together, his hands on her hips and hers around his neck, holding onto him while he devoured her. She had moaned for him, the sound so sinfully beautiful, it had him hooked; and then she had pulled away from him, cheeks red and eyes shaky, lips swollen and panting. Breathless as she opened the closet door and walked out, putting on a facade as she joined the rest of the group as if nothing happened. He wondered how long she'd play with him, how long she'd pretend like his feelings didn't exist, he was putting everything on the line for her and here she was, refusing to accept the fact that he was in love with her. He knew why she was pretending, she didn't want to throw away years of friendship for one chance at being something more. He knew there was no going back from here, no going back to the way thing were, he never planned on going back either. He didn't think he could stand being just friends with her anymore, he couldn't stand around, watching as others try and maybe even succeed in taking what he wanted the most in his life away from him. He had hoped that she'd push him away, stop him, tell hi this was not what she wanted, give him a clear fucking sign that she didn't want him, he didn't want to be given hope if he didn't have a chance with her. And yet she had strung him along, making him think that he did have a chance when she had let him kiss her like THAT. Now he didn't know how to feel, he wanted to hear her moan again, wanted to feel the euphoric high that kissing her made him feel, and at the same time, he didn't know if he could do this anymore. What if she didn't like him like that, what if she left, what if she decided he wasn't worth it. It worried him, the though of her leaving. He hear the door to the terrace swing open, he didn't turn around, knowing who it was already. "Why are you here?" he asked her, he couldn't bring himself to not care, it had become a habit. "I was looking for you" she answered, walking closer so her umbrella could shade him from the rain. "Why??" he asked, pulling himself onto his feet. "Why not" she shrugged as he took the umbrella from her so they both would be covered, her small height wasn't ideal for this. "Why do you do this to me?" he groaned as she pulled out a napkin from her pocket, dabbing at his face. "Do what?" she asked, genuinely confused as to what she was doing that was driving Jimin up the wall. "This!" He said as he pointed to the space between the two of them. "How long will you keep stringing me along?, how long will you keep pretending like I'm not right next to you proclaiming my love for every chance I can ?" he demanded as he dropped the umbrella, pacing around as he spoke, never giving Yn a chance to say anything. "I'm not pretending" Yn said quietly, almost too quietly but Jimin still heard, "Then why don't you just tell me if falling for you is waste of my time, am I just riling myself up for heartbreak Yn?" he asked, stopping right in front of her to grab her shoulders. "Should I give up?" he asked as he stood infront of her, she reached out to push his wet hair out of his face, "Come back downstairs, you'll fall sick if you're here" she said as she turned around to leave. But Jimin was not ready to let this go, not today at least, "how long will you keep putting it off Yn, just tell me if I should give up and I will" he pleaded gripping onto her wrist to stop her from leaving , she didn't say anything, moving his hand from her wrist into her hand, pulling him with her, the umbrella forgotten

as she dragged him into the warmth of the building. "Answer me please" he pleaded as he followed after her, his hand still in hers, she ignored his words, making her way down to Jimin's apartment. She unlocked the door, dragging him inside his bedroom before coming to a halt. Her hair and clothes stuck to her body from the rain, hugging each curve like it was meant to. "Go take a shower, you'll fall sick" She demanded, pulling out clothes from the closet for the two of them, "Yn you can't do that, you can't pretend to care and then refuse to answer me" Jimin huffed as he grabbed the clothes from Yn's hands, spinning her around to look at him, desperation in his eyes. "But I'm not pretending to care" she replied, looking up into his eyes, it hurt that Jimin thought she was pretending to care, there had never been a time when she hadn't cared, she always cared about him. He looked at her, searching for any insincerity, anything that would make him love her less and yet, he found nothing, all he found was genuine affection, a tenderness that he had fallen for a long time ago, it just made him love her more and it hurt to love her more, not knowing if she accepted his love or not was a risk h had planned to take, but it was still hard. "Are my feelings a joke to you?" Jimin finally snapped, he was tired of playing this game, trying to get her to realize that he wanted more, that he wanted to love as more than her best friend. "Why do you do this? How could say things like that and expect me to not fall in love? why do you not realize that I am in love with you? And that kiss, that freaking kiss, why the hell did you not pull away, why didn't you tell me to stop? Why do you keep giving me hope that I actually have a chance with you? Why do you keep making me fall if you're not going to fall with me?" Jimin yelled in one single breath as Yn stared at him, his heart pounding and out of breath. "Not falling? NOT FALLING? ARE YOU INSANE PARK JIMIN? HOLY FUCK! NOT FALLING?? YOU GO AHEAD AND CALL ME OBLIVIOUS AND ALL BUT WHAT ABOUT YOU - YOU FUCKING HYPOCRITE, DO YOU HAVE ANY CLUE HOW HARD I FELL? I'M NOT READY TO GIVE AWAY NEARLY A DECADE OF FRIENDSHIP FOR LITERALLY ONE CHANCE AT SOMETHING MORE, WE HAVE SO MUCH TO LOSE YOU ASSHOLE, THERE IS NO GOING BACK ONCE WE TIP OVER THE EDGE. DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO PRETEND TO NOT KNOW THAT YOU HAVE FEELINGS FOR ME?? I NEARLY CONFESSED LIKE 9 TIMES IN THE PAST 10 DAYS AND YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO YELL AT ME, WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE HUH? AND THAT KISS, THAT FREAKING KISS, I DIDN'T STOP YOU BECAUSE I WANTED IT AS MUCH AS YOU DID, HOW THE HELL DO YOU WANT ME TO ASK YOU TO STOP WHEN MY TONGUE IS SHOVED DOWN YOUR THROAT??" she yelled back as Jimin slowly backed away from her as tears streamed down her already wet cheeks. Well that certainly backfired, Jimin thought as he tried to process everything she had yelled, waiiitttt, did she just say she fell?, "Wait did you just say you fell, like fell in love?" Jimin asked a fuming Yn. "Boy, I will crack you like a glowstick if you tell me you didn't listen to a word I've been saying" Yn hissed, but Jimin was too busy making his way forward to take heed of the threat, pushing her up against the closet door, caging her in between before capturing her lips with his own, he felt euphoria all over again. "I've been waiting so fucking long for this" He whispered, pulling away from her, their damp bodies pressed against each other as he looked down into her eyes. "Jimin we can't" Yn pleaded as she reached up to caress his face, her palm soft against his stubble, "Why not, I fucking love you, so why the fuck not?" Jimin asked, no, begged. "There's too much to lose, it could go so wrong JImin, it could destroy both of us" she mumbled as he brushed his nose against hers. Jimin pulled away, looking down at her, "You really think I didn't think of that? I thought of it every night, I thought of it everytime I saw you, I weighted everything before I decided that I'm willing to risk it all, you're worth the risk Yn, our friendship is

worth the risk because I can't see myself being just friends with you". He retorted, Jimin had never lied to Yn and he was never going to, he was going to tell her everything he felt. "You know what fuck this shit" Yn groaned, grabbing him by the collar and latching her lips to his, Jimin was very happy to oblige, quickly taking control. Their tongues danced in harmony, what started as a sweet kiss, prolonging into a heated make-out session, what dragged Yn out of the daze was the coldness of Jimin's shirt against her skin. She quickly pulled away, earning a whine from him, "Go shower, you'll fall sick" she demanded, pushing him off her and shoving the clothes she had pulled out into his hands. "Care to join me sweetheart?" he teased as she tugged on her wet shirt, "Woahh, slow down chim, you shower in a temperature that is more than the boiling water of hell, so no thank you" she answered, turning away from him to search through the closet for a shirt for herself. Jimin pouted like a child as he stormed into the bathroom, he seemed to remember something in the middle of undressing because he popped his head out of the door, shirtless and his pants unbuttoned. "Do not leave while I'm in the bathroom, we still need to talk" He warned before going back inside, Yn shrugged, it wasn't like she was planning to leave. She went to the bathroom in the guest room to shower and get changed into one of Jimin's shirts. Jimin was still not out of the bathroom by the time Yn ordered the two of them takeout. She had no clue what took Jimin this long. Jimin's mind was going into over-drive as he thought about all the possibilities that he and Yn wouldn't work out. He had even used a love calculator in the past and it had showed him a solid 69% but he didn't have much faith in that calculator, personally, he thought he and Yn were 100% compatible, but that was just his opinion. He had already thought of the names of his three kids and two cats, the location of their house and what colors the walls would be. He was brought back to reality when the hot water ran out. Never letting hot water run out at my place, he thought to himself as he walked out of the bathroom, drying himself off before putting on the clothes Yn picked out. He walked into the living room to see Yn chowing down a plate of jajangmeon and he felt a little guilty for making her wait. "What took you so long?" she asked as she gulped down the noodles, picking at the side dishes, "The hot water was too nice to get out of" he lied, joining her side as she passed him a plate of japchae too. The two of them ate in silence, stealing a bite of each other's food once in a while before settling down to talk. "So, girlfriend~" Jimin drawled, "Girlfriend??" Yn questioned, "What you wanna be the boyfriend? I'm okay with that." Jimin said with a thoughtful nod. "Don't you think you're getting ahead of yourself Jimin?" Yn teased, rolling from her spot to his before wrapping her arms around him, "At least buy me dinner first" she jested, "Yah, didn't you pay the delivery man with my money? technically I already bought you dinner" he defended, wrapping his arm around her. Yn decided to be bold, swinging her leg onto the other side of Jimin before placing herself on his lap, a mischievous grin on her lips. Jimin was very pleased. "Well then Boyfriend~" she started, Jimin's hands finding their way to her hips, gripping her firmly in place, humming encouragingly when he heard her call him boyfriend. "I need to get home, it's getting late" she finished, ruining the whole mood, "Very romantic" Jimin quipped with a roll of his eye as she tried to get off his lap, his hands firmly holding her in place. "I try!" her retort was paired with a flirty wink. "Well girlfriend, might as well stay the night since it is so late, can't have the love of my life go home when it's so dark outside" he continued, sitting a little straighter so there was less space between the two of them. "Cute, but that won't work, try again tomorrow when I don't have work" she answered as she wiggled to get

out of his grip, "Yn darling, you might want to stop wiggling if you don't want to cause me problems" Jimin groaned as he felt Yn's core grinding against him, holy fuck this woman would drive him insane. "So Jimin-ssi are you taking me home or not?" She asked as she finally managed to get away from him, gathering her things from all over the house, "Only if you kiss me goodbye" he bargained, Yn nodded, fair enough, she was going to do it anyway. Jimin happily whistled as he lead the way to his car, Yn's hand in his as she followed behind him, dressed in his shirt and the heels she had worn when she had come to his apartment. He felt giddy, praying that they would part for the rest of their lives.

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END

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[mochiusagifanficchaos]

Sherlock x Mute!Reader •Part 2•

It's been three months now since you first met Sherlock and Watson in person.

You still work in the cafe and things were going so well, everything, just everything seemed to work out perfectly.

Sherlock became a close friend of yours and you brought him tea nearly every day, mostly up to his flat, and when you didn't, Sherlock came down to look if everything was fine with you.

You smiled as you thought about this and poured the tea into one of the new tea glasses which you bought with your boss last week.

You hear the typical ringing of a bell when a customer enters the cafe and look up to greet them with a smile.

But your lips frowned midway.

In the door were standing two men, with clown masks on, terrific grinning and with a diamond-shaped colour around the left hole for the eyes.

One of them was holding a gun in his hand, directly pointed at you. Fear crawled under your skin and you dropped the tea glass.

This one second seemed so long to you.

The glass slipped your hand...

The man with the green diamond shape on his mask was deadly looking at you and the one behind him was about to lock up the door.

The glass fell...

The few customers in the cafe were motionless and everything was silent.

Then the glass hit the ground and crashed loudly.

Two women screamed in panic and the green masked man turned his look and his gun to the two ladies and shouted:

"Don't move! Don't scream! Don't speak!  You all will be silent or you are dead!"

Everything was silent again.

But you could feel that it was a forced silent.

Everybody's muscles were tense, concentrating on not moving a single bit but also ready to defend themselves the next second.

The boss wasn't here today so nobody came out of the back door or was hiding there to contact the police.

It was at this moment when you realized that you were helpless.

But there was one thing you could do:

Hiding the key from the register.

The man who locked the door finally turned around and you could see another terrific clown mask, yet this one had a blue Diamond around the eye.

But his chubby face was oozing out of the mask and you could see his dark skin.

He started walking towards you and you felt your time running out.

You stumbled back against the wall and faked fainting.

Sliding down the wall and falling to the ground you hear the steps closing up faster.

Swiftly you get the key out of your apron pocket and let it slide into your sock.

Right in time.

The chubby man walked around the counter and grabbed the register, abrasive trying to open it.

"It won't open!", he yelled and punched the metallic box.

"Get the key, you idiot! ", the other one replied, still pointing the gun at the customers.

The chubby man looked around and smashed plates and glasses as he threw them from the counter.

You slowly eased your way back, but he already turned his face toward you.

You stopped in your motion and held your breath.

The man walked toward you, making quiet cracking sounds from the broken glass he was walking over until he stood right before you, grabbing you by your collar and pulling you back on your feet.

"Where is the key? "

With a shake of your head, you tried to make him understand that you didn't have it.

But of course, he didn't understand.

Angry he pushed you back to the ground and landed a kick in your stomach.

You couldn't breathe for a moment and the pain was overwhelming.

Tears rolled down your cheeks.

"Where is the key?!", he yelled at you but you couldn't move.

You couldn't see clearly through your tears and every breath was hurting.

Eagerly he knelt down in front of you and grabbed you by your ponytail.

His hands slipped into all your pockets in order to find the key, but it stayed gone.

"The. Key.", he said again, angrily and grabbed your tiny face rude with his gloved hand.

You whimpered and with shaking, hands tried to fish your notebook out of your apron.

He was about to beat it out of your hand but the one with the green mask, who was now standing behind you stopped him:" Let her write."

"The boss has it but he's not here right now", you wrote in shaky handwriting and immediately earned a punch in your face.

You fell back on the ground and cried noiselessly.

You were just about to give them the key as you hear a police siren in the distance.

The two-man looked at each other and the one with the gun rushed to the customers,  making them go into the backroom.

"Everyone in the other room! Give me your mobiles and move!", he yelled and watched everyone laying their phones on the tables.

The costumers hurried to get in the backroom and you could see that one of the ladies was crying.

Your eyes met and you could see in her eyes that she could feel your pain.

The man with the gun locked the door behind them.

The sound of the sirens got louder and the men started to panic.

They cuffed you to the heater right under the window and shoved a towel in your mouth, nearly making you gag.

Hurriedly they grabbed the register and climbed out of the window above you.

The chubby one wasn't able to climb the window and used your shoulder as a stair to get out of the cafe.

You could hear it cracking as his full weight pushed down on your shoulder and the pain made you numb.

The sirens were so loud now as if they were right before the cafe.

But they died down a few seconds later.

The police car wasn't about to get to you. It just passed the cafe.

You couldn't remember the last time you had cried for so long.

Maybe when your little sister died?

Or when you got your throat cut and lost your voice?

Whenever the last time was, now you felt like you had the worst time of  your life.

Your stomach and right side hurt, your shoulder seemed like it was dislocated, your eye hurt from the punch and your hands which were cuffed to the heater already had burned spots.

But you couldn't cry anymore.

You felt like but there were no tears left.

You chuckled.

I literally cried an ocean, huh.

You thought, remembering something your mother said when you were young and wouldn't stop crying.

Suddenly you heard a loud bang as somebody crashed against the door next to you.

Some customers tried to break the door open.

They throw themselves against the door again and you flinched.

Again.

And again and again.

The door swung open and crashed into the wall.

But not the back door, the front door.

The bell, which normally greeted the costumers fell to the ground and made a quiet sound comparing to the steps rushing over to you.

But every sound rang in your ears and your head felt like it was about to explode.

Then you saw Sherlock.

He rushed to you and knelt down in front of you, eyeing you worried.

Quickly he tugged the towel out of your mouth:" What happened? "

You just gave him a tired look, not able to make much movement.

But he understood.

Of course, he understood, he was the greatest detective of all time.

Watson came rushing in and froze in his action as he saw you:" Oh my god (y/n)!"

"They stole the register?", Sherlock asked you while Watson tried to break the handcuffs, but he didn't even wait for your nod and looked around the cafe to find some evidence.

Finally, Watson broke the handcuffs and your hand fell tired and numb to the ground.

"You didn't hand them the key did you?", Sherlock questioned you further and earned an angry scoff from Watson.

"She got beaten up Sherlock! Now is not the right time to ask her something heartless like this! She needs to get to the hospital! And why should she hide the key?!"

"Did you?", Sherlock just asked again, ignoring Watson and you pulled the key out of your sock with a triumphed grin.

Watson's face was priceless now:

His eyes nearly fell out of his head, his eyebrows narrowed in disbelief and his mouth was slightly standing open.

But you cared more about Sherlock's expression.

He had a small proud smile on his face and for whatever reason did this one proud smile meant the world to you now.

Why the key?

Well. Some weeks ago robberies on cafes by two men with clown masks started and the police were overwhelmed with it because it didn't make sense to them.

They called Sherlock for help and he installed some sort of protection in the register of your cafe, which gets activated when someone breaks it open with force.

The criminal would be splashed with some sort of color, that can't be washed away with regular soap.

And your only job was to hide the key.

Sherlock picked you up from the ground, carefully, to not make you feel even more pain than you already did and you let your head rest on his shoulder.

Before you even knew you drifted off as he carried you...

Part 3 will be up next weekend! Hope you liked this chapter ❤

My Wattpad: @/lilakudo

[ssson-of-sparda]

WHAT FORTUNE GAVE - Prologue (Vergil x Nero's Mother)

Summary: Turmoil has engulfed the small Island of Fortuna, shaken now more than ever by a never-ending civil war opposing the religious Order of the Sword to a group of rebels named the Guard of Sparda. As he tries to unveil his father's secret past and achieve some hidden dark purpose, Vergil crosses path with Elissa, a young lady whose thirst for vengeance and blood is as red as the dress she's wearing. He doesn't want to care and he especially doesn't want to get involved but you don't choose your fate in Fortuna. That's the story Nero is about to discover.

Tags: Romance / Angst / Fluff / Explicit Sexual Content / Explicit Language / Canon-Typical Violence / Blood and Gore / Religion / The Order of The Sword / Civil War / Rebellion / Demons / Action and Adventure / Sparda's past

Author’s note: This is one hell of an ambitious project I put myself into, but I hope you will follow me in this journey which is basically another fan fiction about Vergil and Nero's mother. Probably not the best (I've read some prreeety good ones) but one that should be (hopefully) different from what was previously posted.I worked a lot on this story, made a lot of research and used many artistic references that I catalogued at the end of each chapter for the curious ones among you. Since English is not my mother tongue, feel free to let me know if there's any grammar mistake or if some sentences don't make any sense. Anyway, enjoy your reading.

In twenty-five years, Aifric’s Alehouse hadn’t changed even just a tiny bit. Same hefty old furniture. Same mucky walls and filthy floor covered in layers of dry alcohol that stick your shoes to the wooden slats each time you take a step. Same lamentable drunkards in search of more alcohol to drown their sorrows in, their arms around women that would pretend to adore them for a night in exchange for a bit of money. And, now that Vergil dared breathe a little, same foul stench of humidity, staleness and sweat, typical of this kind of underground bars from the no-go areas of the Castle Town of Fortuna. And the music … Don’t let him think about the music.          Never thought he would come back here one day.                   His firm gloved hand grabbed the backrest of a wobbly stool that scratched the old wooden floor with an unpleasant creak as he pulled it to sit on it, revealing his presence to the brown-skinned man sipping his beer in silence next to him, his defeated pockmarked face hidden under a thick dirty white cloak that hadn’t been washed in probably years and that had lost almost all its glorious golden embroideries.     Vergil eyed at him for a second, the same way the Moor had eyed at him when, more than two decades ago, he had sit on this very same stool, his then young frame hidden under a cloak similar to his and yet less odorous, a young wanderer looking for stories and answers. Strange how things seems to move in circle.          “You’re too late. You know that?” The man’s voice was thickly and hoarse, due to the long years of alcohol abuse and contempt towards the world, towards that silver-haired ghost back from a distant past but especially towards himself. “Twenty-five fucking years too late to be more precise.” He got no answer to that reproach, not a word, just a nod and a pregnant silence that made him scoff. But his laugh, once so hearty and alive, held today nothing but melancholy and despise. “But at least she was right. You did come back.”           Vergil peeped at the man again from the corner of his icy blue eyes, longer this time, but still with that eternal impassibility he was known for, hiding his slight surprise and his judgemental thoughts he knew deep down he shouldn’t have. But the barfly next to him was nothing like the man he had met years ago. This man was just the broken shadow of the one everyone in Fortuna once called Adel the Honourable¹ , Captain of the Guard of Sparda.           “What the fuck are you doing here … Vergil?” He spat on his name, literally, not caring about what the solemn Son of Sparda would think of him, would do to him. He spat to show him his disgust, his hatred, even though he knew that a bit of saliva wasn’t enough to show the extent of his feelings. “Where is she?” Vergil asked with a calm voice that made Adel grimace (that voice was as nasally and annoying as he remembered) and finally glare at him, allowing Vergil to see how the years and the pain had marked and scared his once-handsome face. “You got some nerve to ask that now.”           “ I need to see her.”Adel firmly hit the counter with his empty glass before turning around to stare at Vergil, giving him a long disdainful look he thought he could only give himself. “Sure, I’ll bring you to her. But you might want to give me that damn sword of yours so that I shove it deep in your stone-cold heart first.” Vergil smirked. This was way too reminiscent of old foolish squabbles he once found very amusing … though quite pathetic and most of the time one-sided.       “Why don’t you use that crossbow² of yours instead?” The taunt wasn’t meant to defy him if one could read through Vergil’s phlegmatic voice. But the Moor³ interpreted it that way and yet refused to react to it, knowing how vain it would be.   “I don’t have it anymore.” Adel opened his cloak to reveal a leather sling with no weapon attached to it. “I don’t have anything anymore. And we know full well that it wouldn’t have done shit to you.”        “Trust me, Adel. I know what it’s like to lose everything.” Was it an attempt at sounding

sympathetic? Probably. After all, Vergil still felt somewhat confused by the occasional waves of humanity surging up from inside of him.        “Do you?” He laughed with bitterness, not believing him for one second. “Bullshit! And you know why? Cause you never had anything!”  If Vergil took this as a personal attack he didn’t let his body show it, but he nevertheless let out one simple sentence, a boast he knew would displease the brown-skinned man, a display of his pride and superiority he always thought he had over that mere human. “I had her.”        Quite expectedly, Adel jumped from his stool and before falling back against the bar, tried to grab Vergil by his blue collar. But it looked too pathetic and clumsy to be considered menacing or dangerous. “Fucking stop talking about her!” He pointed his finger at him in defiance while tears formed in his dull black eyes that had long lost their charming spark. “She fucking loved you! She loved you so damn much and you never cared, not a damn second. So don’t come to me with all your ceremony and shit, pretending you care now?” He sobbed loudly and wiped his eyes with his fists, a gesture that only made Vergil frown. How low had that man sunk! And how wrong he was.       “Nero needs to know.” The silver-haired man finally said, not very willing to continue this conversation due to a growing lack of patience. “He needs to know about his mother.”There was a new brief silence that could only be filled with glasses clinking, noisy hubbub and prostitutes giggles. Both men gauged each other, wondering who should talk first and what to say after the name of the boy the woman they both loved had given birth to was brought into the discussion. “So you finally know.” The Moor finally said as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “How does it feel?” Vergil didn’t want to talk about his feelings, especially not with a man he hadn’t seen in years and that would be too eager to judge him. His feelings were his to ponder and only his.             “My feelings are none of your concern.” The brevity of Vergil’s sentences was annoying to Adel who had almost forgotten how it was to have a conversation with the stoic Son of Sparda. And when some people would call it introversion he would call it self-importance, despicable self-importance. “Do you ever think of her?”           New intended silence. But yes, there were times when Vergil did think of her because that’s what happens when someone as special as her shares even just a tiny bit of his life. He thought of her when he was at his best and when he was at his lowest. And he had been thinking of her even more lately, each time he would look at Nero or think of him, each time he would remember his journey in Fortuna. She was a part of his past he would never be able to cast away. But again, none of Adel’s business. “Look, you don’t need to talk to me about her. Just tell Nero. I bet you know how to find him.”Glad to finally leave, Vergil stood up and dusted his long dark coat he felt had been soiled by such a dirty place. But right after he turned around to walk away, his old acquaintance spoke again with disarming heartfelt honesty. “It feels like hell to me.” Vergil stopped and slightly looked back at him from the corner of his eyes, at his defeated look staring deep in his empty glass again. “Like fucking hell actually. Seeing that kid of yours growing up to be just like her but at the same time just like you right under my nose. That smug smirk he got from you on the lips he inherited from her. Everything about that child makes me want to vomit or plug my eyes out because that makes me realise all I lost, all I could have had if you had never stepped a foot in Fortuna. You took her away from me, away from everyone, and when you finally got out from my life, you dared leave behind you a living reminder of your victory over me to torture me for the rest of my miserable days.” Vergil stood still, withstanding the man’s rancour without batting an eyelash.    “The fact you considered her love a victory maybe is the reason why you

never had her.” Vergil replied and before pushing the double-leaf door of the bar, waited for an instant as if he was expecting something to come in, but Adel was stubborn and not keen on accepting defeat. “You took her away from your son!” He shouted and smiled when Vergil froze again on his way out.       “ If that’s true, go tell him that then.”

***

Nico was pissed. Nero could tell it by the way she was furiously trying to fix the neon blue sign of their van. But what could he do about it? It wasn’t his fault if a starving empusa had decided to snack on the E while Nico was parked waiting for her friend to come back from his demon ass kicking routine. “D vil May Cry” Nero read out loud with a pout. “I don’t know, Nico. Works for me.” And yet, he had a feeling being angry because of a damn light was just a pretext to let out some pent up frustration due to god knew what. “Really? Is that how you gonna treat your family heritage now?” The black-haired woman harrumphed, threatening to hit her friend with a monkey wrench. “Is that how you gonna treat my precious Minotaurus after all he did for ya? After he followed you right into that hellish ficus?”          “Qliphoth.” He corrected with a smile.          “Yeah whatever.” Nero had a brief laugh but eventually shrugged, not seeing the problem as he read the neon sign on the van again. “The E doesn’t light up anymore. So what? We still know it’s Devil May Cry.”           “When your deadbeat dad tore your arm out from its socket, didn’t I give ya a new one?”   Nero grumbled, not finding the comparison funny or admissible. “That’s not the same! You can’t compare my arm to a damn neon letter. I needed my arm!”            “And Devil May Cry needs its E! So stop complainin’ and pass me the stillson.” She ordered as she kept on adjusting the colourful wires hidden in the dented bodywork of the van. Nero sighed but handed her the tool anyway. “I thought you were tired of being my pet mechanic.”          “ I am but like I said, I can’t let you treat my baby like that.”     And then, he dared say it. “Seriously. I thought you would be busy reading those new files you found in your father’s old stuff? You didn’t say anything about what they were.” And, as Nico dropped the wrench on the hood, he immediately knew he maybe shouldn’t have asked that.           “Cause they were not interesting. Just pieces of diaries he wrote when he was young, explainin’ how he started working for the Order and why he didn’t want me or my mother in his life anymore.” Nero frowned, not believing Nico for an instant. Her sentence didn’t make any sense to him cause he was sure any child who had grown up without a parent would be even just a tiny bit interested in knowing who they were or what they did. He knew he was.             God! What he would give to know even a just of small piece of information about his mother, about who she was, how she looked like. But unfortunately for him, the only person who had all the answers to his questions was never prompt to give them, acting more like a vault than a chatterbox. “And that doesn’t interest you? Raaah come on, Nico!” He clicked his tongue.            “I’m interested in his work. Nothing else. I couldn’t care less about his adventure with that other chick which is FYI apparently one of the reason why that asshole left my mother and me.”            “ You father left your mother for someone else?” Nico glared at Nero, catching a judgment in his voice that never was there.      “ Well I least I know why my father left my mother… No, actually, I know my mum, period.” Nero hadn’t heard that kind of words in years but the burn was as painful as he remembered. How many times he had heard the kids in Fortuna disrespecting him, disrespecting his mother, claiming she was a prostitute⁴ from the ill repute places of Fortuna. How many horrors he had to listen to. And how many punches he had received, and given, because of them. “Damn! I’m sorry, Nero. I didn’t mean.” Nico declared, horrified by her unusual behaviour and by the sudden sadness Nero tried to conceal in his blue eyes.  “Forget it. I’m used to it.” He gestured her to let go and went rummaging in the toolbox for no particular reason but to occupy his mind with something else. But Nico wasn’t willing to end their conversation like that, the feeling of guilt eating at her. “I’m sure your mother was someone fantastic, Nero.” She had a soft comforting smile.

“I mean, she had to be, you know … to stand your father.”            Nero chuckled but there was still that hint of misery, that very particular misery he only felt when thinking of his mother. A mix of bitterness, void and love. “Maybe she never really had to stand him. Maybe she was … a prostitute like everybody said.” Nico frowned; refusing to believe Nero would go for such bullshit. Didn’t he know how close-minded and rumour-hungry the people in Fortuna were?    “Nah, I don’t think so.” She declared as she funnily wrinkled her nose. “No money in the world would be enough to accept to spend a night with your dad. Your mother had to veeeery nice and patient and ooooh so in love with him.” Nero spared a glance at Nico, deeply moved by her attempt at comforting him and hoping she was right. “Damn, I beg that poor woman was a saint, ‘cause Vergil might look yummy to most people’s standards but he ain’t fun.” Her lips pinched together, she had a sort of deep serious frown that wrinkled her entire forehead, a somewhat amusing grimace Nero was sure was meant to emulate his father characteristic impenetrability. She kinda nailed it but …         “ Did you just say my father looks yummy?” Nero asked, quite disgusted. A crush on Lady, that he could get, but on his father … It made him shiver and want to throw up. “Huh, to most people standards!” She repeating, clapping her hands between each syllables. “I’m not most people.” Nero’s eyes widened when he heard familiar slow and steady footsteps coming from behind the door of the garage. “I mean, do you really think I could feel even just a tiny bit attracted to ‘Power! I need more power!’?” She imitated with a cavernous voice and Nero tried not to laugh. But it wasn’t Nico’s new impersonation of Vergil that was making him want to do so. It was actually his father standing on top of the stairs, stoic and still like a marble statue staring impassibly at Nico making a fool of him. Maybe he should warn her of his presence. Yes, maybe he should.            He timidly pointed at his father standing right behind her; still unsure he wanted this scene to stop. But he couldn’t wait to see Nico’s face when she would notice Vergil. And oh god, how priceless it was.    Nico was an intrepid, loud and lovely person but when her dark eyes took a small glance of Vergil, she froze and cleared her throat, definitely uncomfortable and … yeah a tiny bit scared. “But it has its charm. You’ve got some charm. That’s undeniable.” She rectified, looking at Vergil who eventually nodded, a faint smile on his face that meant more ‘yeah right’ than ‘how funny’ in Vergil language. He didn’t find this funny at all.            “Good evening to you too, Nicoletta. Nero.” He nodded once again, casting his aura of solemnity all over the garage. “Nico. Just Nico … nevermind.” Nico mumbled in a whisper that Vergil heard but chose to ignore. Nicknames were not his thing… They had never been his thing.He went down the stairs, his hand resting on the hilt of his precious Yamato as always and looked at the van with a new frown. “You two are busy working on some repairs, perhaps.” He asked in an effort to be as familial as possible, something that wasn’t his forte at all. It made the two friends exchange a curious glance. “ Yes … I mean, no, we were done.” Nero replied, wondering what his father was doing here. After all, unexpected visits were not in Vergil’s habits.         “ No, we were not. Gotta fix that E, remember?” Nico tapped at the letter with insistence.             “ That again?” The young man sighed. “Is Dante here?” That could explain Vergil’s presence in Fortuna. But as 90% of the time – or more – the Son of Sparda evicted an answer, changing the subject – or ignoring it – with a destabilizing yet infuriating indifference.           “ Miss Goldstein is right, a E is important.” He spoke, his icy blue eyes looking towards a distant past, towards memories he held in his heart he was rediscovering more and more with each day spent with his family, with his son.         “ Thank you! See, I told you!” Nico

shouted, proud to be right.  “ What are you doing here?” Nero finally questioned, impatient to finally know the truth behind his father’s presence. “I was in Fortuna visiting an old acquaintance.” Vergil weighed his words with smoothness as he paced in the garage looking at his surroundings without no real interest in them.         “ You … got acquaintances?” The slight frown of disbelief on Nero’s face made him suddenly look so much like his father but Vergil didn’t notice, too busy staring at the extinguished E that looked so dull surrounded by such neon blue lights when it should have shone as brightly as them if not more. “Hopefully, he should visit you soon.”         “ Wait! What? Why?” Nero always saw his father as an impenetrable mystery, even when he was just V, but right now he couldn’t tolerate him being so evasive.      “To give you the answers you want.” And he couldn’t not tolerate him being a stolid piece of shit either. “About my mother?” Or a mute one. But with Vergil, silence often meant a lot. “Hey! You can’t just leave me like that!” Nero caught his father’s right arm with a violent strength, a vision that stirred a new one, an old one, one Vergil regretted. “Plus, why would you send a stranger in my house to talk to me about my mother? Why don’t you do it yourself?” God! If she knew what he had done to their son. What would she say? What would she do? “Silence. I thought so. You don’t even have the courage to tell me her name so why should I expect more from you.”    In his lifetime, only a few persons had been able to defeat Vergil, one of them being his son. So, after looking down at his boots for a second, he walked away, not keen on riling up Nero even more, not today.“Elissa.⁵” The name, left unpronounced for so many years, burnt Vergil's tongue when each blazing letter, probably angry to have been reduced to dormant embers for so long, managed to escape the barrier of his tight lips. But Vergil welcomed this fiery pain without blinking and even dared say it again, embracing the ignition once more with a soft melancholic smile. He was part demon. Fire couldn't hurt him. So why being afraid of it? “Your mother’s name was Elissa.” Plus there was no danger in saying her name, just liberation. It was a beautiful name, after all. And for a second, he felt like his young self again. “Now fix it, would you?” That E meant a lot to Vergil.

REFERENCES: ¹ Adel The Honourable: Adel is a Persian name derived from the Arabic عَدَلَ meaning "to act justly". I added the title "the Honourable" to reinforce the idea his character was made to be fair, honest and just. Adel also belongs to the House of Montefeltro, a name you will discover later. ² crossbow: I intended to give Adel a simple bow as it is the weapon of righteousness (ndlr: Robin Hood) but then I chose to give him a crossbow because I thought the addition of the word "cross" was giving a religious connotation that suited his character. The fact that he lost the weapon is of course meaningful. ³ The Moor: reference to Shakespeare's Othello. ⁴ claiming she was a prostitute: This idea of Nero's mother being a prostitute was directly taken from Devil May Cry: Deadly Fortune. In the novel, we learn that Nero was often bullied by the other kids claiming his mother was a whore. ⁵ Elissa: Elissa is the other name that was given to Dido, first queen of Carthage and lover of the demi-god Aeneas, in Virgil's Aeneid. Her name is composed of the Punic reflex of "El-" meaning "god", and "‐issa" that means "fire", hence why her name burns Vergil's lips when he says it. Her name carrying the word "fire" also echoes the red colour of her dress and her hair as well as her affiliation to the House of Minos you will read about later. In a nutshell, this girl is on fire! ;-)

[skinsharpenedteeth]

NYE Malex prompt fill

A thousand, thousand years ago @mander3-swish sent me a prompt for a list for quote “Can we pretend never said that?” and i have literally had the WIP in my docs every since. Well, today I FINALLY wrote out a little story for the prompt. I am *SO* sorry it took this long to fill it. I hope you enjoy it!

Story under the cut, or feel free to check it out on AO3.

              The crowded main floor of the UFO Emporium felt claustrophobic to Alex as more and more people were packed into the already filled space. The room was dark with strobes and lasers cutting through the air while techno remixes of the Top 100 boomed over the speaker system. New Year’s Eve and he was alone once again. Alex tugged on the collar of his shirt and made his way over to the bar that was set up in the center of the room. Maria was behind it with Max and Liz slinging drinks for everyone. He caught Liz’s attention and she nodded, finishing up the beer she was pouring and getting started on something for him. He turned and let leaned his elbows back onto the bar as he surveyed the crowd and surreptitiously looked for someone relatively quiet to hide out.

              “Are you cruising for a hook up?” A familiar voice asked next to his ear and Alex jumped to stand up straight as he turned to look at Michael. Michael looked… good. His jeans were clean but worn, his belt buckle was alarmingly prominent at his waist, and as per usual, he’d neglected to button half the buttons on his shirt, but he looked sober and there was a light in his eyes that Alex hadn’t seen in months. A beat too late, Alex scoffed at Michael’s remark and tried to act like he hadn’t just spent that awkward second checking Guerin out. He hadn’t seen him this close in a while and it was tragic how starved he felt to take in every detail of him now that he was near.

              “I don’t know, are you?” Alex asked, trying to sound snarky but hearing the flirtatious edge to his voice instead. Michael raised his eyebrows at him, and Alex flushed in embarrassment. “Can we please pretend I never said that?”

              “Sure,” Michael agreed easily, though he still looked Alex over with interest. Liz came over and set down two drinks in front of them, barely sparing them a smile before turning to start making her next customer’s order. Alex picked up his double shot of bourbon and coke and took a slow sip, trying not to obviously appreciate the way Michael’s lips wrapped around the lip of his beer bottle. It was always like this for Alex, stolen glances and awkward encounters. Public interaction was never their forte and he knew he shouldered a lot of blame for that.

              “So, who are you here with? Forrest?” Michael asked over the music, having to lean close as another song started and the bass seemed to drown out everyone’s individual voices. Alex shook his head in response, getting another sip of his drink before leaning close to Michael’s ear to respond.

              “I’m supposed to be here with Greg. At least, he’s my ride,” Alex answered. Michael looked at him in confusion and Alex shrugged.

              “I’m pretty sure he’s with Isobel and Kyle. Want to get out of here?” Michael responded, but Alex only caught half of what he said.

              “What?” Alex yelled, trying to be heard over the music. Michael opened his mouth to respond, but when the DJ started in on the foghorn button he scowled. With a tilt of his head, he beckoned Alex to follow him away from the bar. They left their drinks behind as they started to push away from the center of the room. The crowd quickly started to swallow him, and Alex lost Michael for a moment as he tried to navigate around the drunks with their stupid New Years Eve tiaras and top hats. He stopped and looked around, trying to spot the honey brown curls that usually led him straight to Michael, but he couldn’t see anything. His brain started to panic a little until he felt an abnormally warm hand close of his. He looked to his right and there was Michael smiling softly at him. This time when Michael set off, he kept Alex’s hand in his as he wormed his way through the bustle of revelers. Alex concentrated on the strength of his fingers and the warm shot of electricity that danced through him at Michael’s touch. A simple touch probably shouldn’t have meant that much, but since his breakup with Forrest, Alex had been isolating himself and it was possible he’d become more than a little touch starved because of it.

              Michael led them to one of the far walls and just when Alex thought that was as far as they’d go, he was pulled through a door marked “No Admittance” and pulled into a service hallway. Michael locked the door behind them and kept pulling Alex along the hallway further away from the main room even though the hallway was easily quiet enough for them to speak without having to yell. Having worked for the Emporium before the fire, Alex was pretty sure this was the hallway that would lead them back to the backstage area. A sharp right turn put them into the area where the large travel cases for the rented stereo equipment was stored. Alex was about to ask them where Michael was taking them when he pushed open an unmarked door and they ended up in one of the back storage rooms. The light was dim, but it was almost silent amongst the alien props and discarded display cases and office furniture. Michael finally dropped Alex’s hand and took his phone out of his pocket.

              “We have ten minutes until midnight,” Michael announced, shoving the phone back into his pants. Alex opened and closed his mouth a few times in confusion. Michael was looking unsure, bashful even as he watched Alex watch him. Alex didn’t know what they were doing so he shrugged and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

              “What are we doing in here, Michael?” Alex asked, looking around at the dusty remains of the old emporium that was stacked around them.

              “Do you know the superstition that whatever you’re doing on New Years will trend for the following year?” Michael asked in lieu of answering Alex’s question. Alex furrowed his brow but nodded, watching Michael swallow nervously as he stepped closer to Alex. Alex could feel the heat of him even a foot away. Even nervous, he still looked like he was the silver lining of Alex’s fucked up life since returning to Roswell. Michael reached forward and gently removed Alex’s hands from his pockets and then held them in his own.

              “I really just wanted to be with you when the ball dropped. I know its stupid, but I want a better year next year and I’m hoping it means seeing a lot more of you,” Michael confessed quietly, eyes trained on Alex’s hands in his. Alex felt like the breath had been knocked out of him at Michael’s words, but he closed his hands over Michael’s and squeezed in silent agreement.

              “So you stole me away to hide in what amounts to a large storage closet?” Alex asked, smiling a little at the unintentional irony. Michael, however, looked stricken at the observation.

              “Fuck, no. That’s not what I meant to… I just figured this was, uh… more romantic than a bathroom stall?” Michael countered, smiling a little when Alex started chuckling at his explanation.

              “Oh, option two was a bathroom stall? Damn, Guerin, not that I don’t appreciate you sparing me the scent of urine cakes, but…” Alex trailed off as he pointedly looked around their surroundings.

              “Fuck, we don’t speak for a while and I always forget what an asshole you are,” Michael laughed, taking his hands from Alex’s and pushing his chest playfully. “Jesus, you’re so mean.”

              “Well, what do you really want next year, Michael? Because you’ve got...,” Alex looked at his watch before continuing, “…3 minutes.”

              Michael looked at him thoughtfully, bottom lip trapped between his teeth, and Alex found himself holding his breath as he waited for Michael to speak. Alex opened his mouth again to say something snarky, arm coming up so he could check the time again, and Michael moved forward in a flash. He walked Alex back the two steps until he was against the cold metal door and his hands came up to pin Alex’s wrists. He wasn’t hurting Alex and he didn’t look angry as he did it.

              “This isn’t a closet, it’s somewhere private. It’s somewhere I can kiss you like I always want to kiss you and not just in the ways that are socially appropriate,” Michael breathed against Alex’s lips before making good on his word. It wasn’t a sweet, chaste peck that would be fine for friends and family, or even a long, smoldering open mouthed caress that would be fine for New Years Eve on the dance floor surrounded by hundreds of other people doing the same. It was a rough and ardent, tongue searching every inch of Alex’s mouth, teeth nipping at lips, only rough half breaths through noses permitted type of kiss. It was the only kind of kiss that made Alex glad Michael had pinned his wrists to the door, because his body wanted to surrender and wanted to writhe and take, take, take. Faintly Alex could hear the throbbing yells of the crowd counting down in the main room, but his heart was beating so much faster and it felt too slow to him to be real. Michael let go of his wrists, hands sliding down to grab Alex’s waist and pull him flush against Michael’s body. With his hands free, Alex tangled his hands in Michael’s curls, making fists of them and tugging gently the way he knew drove Michael crazy. He wanted the volume between them turned up to eleven. He’d missed this undeniable connection between the two of them.

              When they had to part, had to press their foreheads together and gulp down air, Alex unclenched his hands and let them slide down to grip the open sides of Michael’s shirt.

              “Happy New Year,” Michael breathed, Cheshire grin in place even as he kept panting.

              “Yeah. Happy New Year. Fuck,” Alex replied, voice slightly awed.

              “You wanna go somewhere else even more private?” Michael suggested, hands slipping under the hem of Alex’s shirt to grasp at the smooth muscles at his waist.

              “Not until you and I go on a real first date. I’m going to teach you about romance through immersion,” Alex said, punctuating his statement with a soft kiss that made his toes curl just as much as the previous, hungry kisses had. Michael returned it, his hands sliding up Alex’s back before he moved and tucked his face into the hollow between Alex’s shoulder and neck. It took Alex a moment to realize that Michael was hugging him, but when his brain finally came back online, he wrapped his arms around Michael’s shoulder and kissed his neck and ear lightly. “Let’s make sure this trends for us this year, yeah?”

              Michael nodded against him and it felt like maybe they were finally in a place to do it right that time. This had to be a better year.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

heartspace, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Min Yoongi will always be the one. The one on top, the one above all others, the one who has a space in your heart. Sometimes, Yoongi questions it. You have to remind him that no one commands you like he can, and he reminds you that no one can take you from him.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; smut (fem reader, fingering, nipple play, m-receiving oral, doggy, scratching / marking, hair-pulling, cock warming); PWP; softdom!Yoongi

yes, I have been planning this ever since I released ‘headspace’. happy birthday Yoongi! <3 I would have pretty words for you, but I literally write smut about you, so how about you not practice your English here because I know you’re secretly fluent. I’ll give you the ‘I-love-you’ speech some other time XD

--

"I'm here."

You felt his fingers trail down your exposed arms, drumming down your skin. He took your hands, tracing your silver rings, humming satisfyingly. A familiar view, a fair skinned wrist with silver chain bracelets. He curled his long fingers around yours, caressing the inside of them. You could smell his cologne, scarcely sweet and musky woods, just a hint here and there, wisps that seemed almost imaginary. 

"To remind you that you're mine."

His grip tightened around your wrists.

A swift pull, spinning you around in your computer chair, tearing you away from the keyboard. Fluffed black hair, brushing against dark brown, cat-like eyes. A pensive smile and two silver hoops on each ear. All black, turtleneck, leather jacket, slacks. Your favorite. 

Your shadow. 

Min Yoongi. 

"I... I can explain."

The smile turned into a smirk. 

"No need."

He intertwined his fingers with yours, squeezing them, unforgiving metal of the rings digging into both your hands. Leaned down, pushing your rolling chair into your desk so it stopped, husky voice against your chin. He stroked one of your silver rings, spinning it around your index finger. 

"Yoongi..."

He purred your name, drawing it out syllable by syllable, letting it slowly assault your ears. Your skin tingled as he pulled you up, your loose black t-shirt too thin, feeling far too much as he tugged you to him, his inescapable gravity and wicked smirk. 

“You smell different today,” he murmured, your bare legs brushing against his slacks.

You did smell different. Like burning wood and roasted sweet chestnuts, a new scent you found that instantly attracted you. That’s how you were. You encountered things and you immediately loved them, intensely, addictively, forever.

Just like Min Yoongi.

“Mmm.”

His hand traveled under the hem of your shirt, grabbing your thigh and sinking his fingers into it with a soft hiss. You bit your lip, closing your eyes, falling into the touch, letting it consume you. There were not a lot of things that could make you give in, but you believed in your instincts and trusted them. Your instincts always told you where to go, what to do, who to go to. With one glance, you could pinpoint if you would like something or not, even in unfamiliar territory. Your instincts always guided you to your loves. The things you loved always became significant, always changed your life, always had your devotion through time, space, and dreams.

They became obsessions and they never stopped.

Yoongi buried his face into your neck and inhaled, moaning softly.

“Smells so good. Warm. Like a comforting memory,” he mumbled.

“Reminded me of you.”

And it had. The second you smelled it; memories of his embrace had blanketed around you.

He lifted his head and his eyes were on yours. Half-lidded, plagued by dark circles, the loveliest black-brown in the whole world. You normally hated eye contact, but not in this space, not with him. Your hands slid under his leather jacket, wrapping around his waist. Yoongi leaned in, kissing you once more, pressing your body to his, leather and softness. He reached into his jacket and possessively tucked one of your hands in his.

“Sometimes,” he muttered against your lips. “Sometimes I think I don’t have your love.” His fingers caressed yours as you kneaded his waist underneath the turtleneck. "Do you not want me around anymore?"

A small smile drifted onto your lips. You reached up with your free hand and tugged the collar of your t-shirt down, revealing your silver necklaces. 

"You're always with me."

Yoongi’s dark eyes traveled down your neck, to the first one, seeing the tiny circular overlapping pendants. His name etched in the lower one, his birthstone set in the upper one. A tiny, contented smile. The others were a tangle of chains and charms, but Yoongi was the one who mattered most, so he was on top. 

Always on top. 

“What if you lose that?” he teased.

You chuckled. “So what? I could lose everything I own, but I would still love you, Yoongi.” You placed your forehead against his. “My head could be full of someone else, but there is always a space in my heart for you.”

The things you loved.

They are always and forever.

He raised his hand and placed a single fingertip in between your collarbones. Your spine tingled, scalp prickling as he slid it up your neck, lips parting as he watched it travel over your skin, up your chin and onto your plush lips, nail snagging on the softness.

“Such lovely words, but this mouth can do such dirty things,” Yoongi breathed, the side of his curving upwards playfully. You quirked your eyebrow and opened your mouth, licking the tip of his finger with your tongue, smiling around it.

“I can have pure feelings and a filthy mind.”

Yoongi cocked his brow to match yours, smirk widening to reveal his white teeth. “And you certainly do. I have no idea how your mind works.”

And then before you could respond, Yoongi shoved two fingers into your mouth, rubbing them against your tongue. You chuckled, wrapping your lips around them, sucking daintily, tongue swirling, slipping between them, drawing figure-eights. His eyes on you, darkening, darkening, the sparks of desire stroked to black flame, burning intensely as you placed the tip of your tongue all the way down to the skin where his two fingers connected, down to his knuckles, his fingers almost down your throat.

“You have such a tiny mouth,” he purred. “Astounded that my cock can fit in there.”

Yoongi pulled his fingers out and you gasped, strings of saliva dripping down and snapping against your chin. There was something about his expression, not trying to trick you, not trying to seduce you, simply aware of what he was going to do and that he was going to do it. There was no one to stop him. 

In fact, you patiently awaited it.

His free hand closed on the hem of your pajama shirt and slipped under, pushing your panties to one side and shoving his wet fingers into your pussy.

“Ah, Y-Yoongi!”

He smiled, sliding his fingers in and out, and you raised one of your legs, hooking it around his hip, one hand on his shoulder, moaning as he rubbed the inside of your walls, feeling all of you, watching your face the entire time, your pussy throbbing at the knowledge of being observed so intently. His other hand snuck up your back, drawing patterns on the thin black fabric, hardly a barrier from his touch, and then he traveled further up, running his fingers through your hair, tangling them at the base and yanking back, neck exposed, your moans deepening, saturated with lust, the pace of his fingers inside you increasing. You clenched around them, breath hitching at the pricks of pain, viscous juices soaking his hand and coating his knuckles. Yoongi leaned forward, inhaling your scent once more.

“Cum for me,” he purred, teeth on your neck, nipping lightly, pinches of red marks.

Pulling a little harder, thrusting a little deeper, sucking on the space in between your collarbones, your teeth sinking into your lower lip, whimpering as the sensitive skin was bitten and the insides of your walls roughly rubbed, grinding into his hand to stimulate your clit and it was too hot, too much, pushing you over the edge.

“Oh, fuck, Yoongi…”

Pussy clamping around his digits, pulsating violently, your juices sliding down the back of his hand and his palm, covering him with you. A short reprieve, Yoongi letting you ride the high, sighing in satisfaction as he felt your walls shiver with the aftershocks. His other hand released your hair and you panted hard, tipping your head back up, only to be forced to raise your arms as Yoongi yanked your shirt up. You pulled it over your head, shaking your hair out, now wild and messy. He snapped a finger on your black bra strap, impatient expression telling you to take it off. You undid it with one hand and, as soon was it fell to the floor, Yoongi ripped his fingers out of you. You yelped at the suddenness, abruptly turning into a moan as Yoongi took his slick fingers covered in your cum and smeared them over your breasts, circling around your hard nipples, pinching them in between his slippery touch.

“Fuck, I love these nipples,” Yoongi muttered, dipping his head down to your chest, breathing in the scent of your orgasm. “So fucking big and soft and hard, all at once.”

He wrapped his lips around one and sucked off your juices with a moan, cleaning up his mess by licking all over your breasts. He placed his two wet fingers around the other, pinching and tugging on it, trailing his tongue up and down, up and down, matching pace, drenching your skin with his saliva before collecting it all back up and circling the sensitive hardened nub with the wetness, flicking his tongue against it, gentle, intense, continuous, until you were shaking and shivering against him.

Your hands came up and held his head, pushing back his black hair, moaning as you ran your fingers through it, over and over, his large hands pressing your tits together and playing on your nipples with his lips and fingers, sucking hard.

There were a lot of words in this world and none of them could describe exactly how Yoongi made you feel, like he could set everything on fire while also being the water rushing through you, burning and drowning, his brown orbs looking up at you, silent, but clear with his lust, reflecting you in his eyes. 

A mirror, so akin to you.

And yet not, because he was Min Yoongi. 

His other hand fitted in the curve of your back, forcing you to arch more, trailing his tongue over your chest, humming at your soft cries. 

"You always look so good no matter what I'm doing to you," he mused, lazily licking off your other nipple. 

"It's because you're the one doing it," you panted, shivering as he blew on your wet skin. 

"Hm, I don't think so. I think you're just hot as hell."

He kissed up your chest, on your lips once more, sighing softly, your sharp sweet taste on his lips, both hands on your breasts, pinching your nipples with his knuckles. You whined into his mouth, and he shushed you with rough kisses as he rubbed them just as roughly, pain and pleasure, working you until you were breathless, gasping, pleading for more. He chuckled, releasing them, earning a frantic whimper, his mouth still pressed to yours. You heard him shrug off the leather jacket, dumping it on the chair. Nudging you forward to the bed, staying in stride with you, and you, grip on his turtleneck, yanking it out of his slacks, his smirk against your smirk. 

"What if," Yoongi murmured, hands enveloping yours, tracing your silver rings. "One of my rings was here?" Tapping your left ring finger, mischievous spark underneath his lashes. 

"Do I get to put one here?" you teased, sliding one between his and wrapping it around his left ring finger. 

"Ah, they should match, shouldn't they?"

You grinned, tumbling onto the bed and dragging him with you, Yoongi quirking an eyebrow, tone rich and deep as he continued.

"You like white gold or platinum?"

You tugged his turtleneck up and off his head, letting it fall to the floor, running a hand through his fluffed black hair as you mused.

"I'll let you pick," you purred. "And then I can pick one."

"For where?"

"For here."

Yoongi sucked in a breath, narrowing his eyes and mouth at you, cheeks puffing a little, but there was no mistaking the amusement in his words. 

"At least service him before you start putting him in prison."

You unlatched your grip on his clothed cock. 

"What am I, but of service?" 

He watched your tongue trace your lips as you slid down, unbuttoning his slacks, zipper being teased down, a pleased smile growing as his clothes were tugged off, crumpling to the floor. 

"Let me help you," Yoongi drawled as you lowered your head, calm hands gathering your hair to a long ponytail, winding it around his palm before turning his hand around, fitting his hold to the back of your head. You raised an eyebrow at his smirk.

"It's going to be like that?"

His eyes darkened, black hair falling over them. 

"You love it like that."

That's true. Familiar words came back to you, almost like a mantra.

What if you live like that?

Tongue sliding out, licking him all over, dripping saliva down his length, his cock already hard and insistent against your lips, hot and trembling, pleading for attention, but you nuzzled past, wrapping your lips around one of his balls and swirling your tongue around it, listening to his deep moan, smokey and raspy, your name mixed with his sounds of appreciation, hand firm on the back of your head. You switched sides, back and forth, sucking one as you licked the other, accompanied by loud slurps that made Yoongi's hips jerk, euphoric gasps filling your room. 

"Fuck, that's a dangerous mouth..." he hissed. "You could make anyone fall for you with your mouth alone."

You snaked your tongue along his stiff length, side to side, tracing the contours with your wet muscle, finally coating the tip with a thick layer of warmth, seeing Yoongi watch you with hunger, his long fingers pressed into your scalp. 

"Down," he growled. 

You obeyed. 

Swallowing it all, all the way to the base, his cock twitching in your mouth. Yoongi gasped sharply, holding you down, your throat constricting around the head, barely able to breathe, but you were in Yoongi's hands now. 

Your favorite pair of hands to command you.

"Fuck... fuck..."

He tilted his hips and you fell on your side, silver necklaces jangling, steadying yourself with your elbow. Slow but forceful, sliding out and pushing back in, moaning softly as he fucked your face, your hands in his sides, nails digging in, whining around his thickness, pushing your tongue against the bottom to make it tighter, better, his strong taste coating your mouth, so good your mind was a bit hazy from it or was it the intensity of his thrusts that was leaving you breathless?

You tensed your throat muscles and Yoongi chuckled, breathing hard.

"You sure you haven't practiced on someone else? You're too good at this, fuck..."

It was impossible to reply, think, or breathe, clawing at his back, rocking your body with his, your own power intoxicating you, knowing Yoongi was close to his end by the increased speed and roughness, grip on your head unforgiving, bouncing you back and forth with the force of his hips, your wet lips smacking his balls and crotch, the head repeatedly burying itself in your throat, stretching it out just like how Yoongi would stretch you out soon.

"Fuck, I know you love it when I use your mouth like this," he snarled. 

I do. I love all the things you do to me. 

He clenched his jaw and a grating hiss fell from his lips, thrusting deep and spilling down your throat, you whimpering as you swallowed hurriedly, hands splayed over his back and ass, holding him there so you could drink it all, tongue pressed along his length to feel his cock throb with every spurt of cum painted down your throat. There was no time to think about breathing, completely dazed by his strong taste and the forced manner that you had to consume his orgasm, visceral and obscene.

"Time for your other hole."

You drew back, gasping for air, hair cascading around you as Yoongi let go, taking advantage of your hazy state clawing for oxygen. You barely registered him pushing you down to the sheets, hands and knees, ass up and ready, his own hands on your hips to peel your wet pussy lips apart, watching your glistening opening flexing, the reaction both your muscles and your desire.

Waiting for him. 

Wanting him. 

"Mmm, my pretty pussy," he purred possessively.

Your body already knew what to do even if your mind was still trying to catch up. He took the condom from your shaking, outstretched hand and ripped it open. You didn't have to wait long. He leaned forward. The swollen, hot head pressed against your opening. Not moving, chest against your back. 

"Yoongi, please..." you gasped hoarsely.

"Please what?"

This fucking tease. "Please... fuck me."

His hand crawled up the sheets, deft fingers dancing, up your wrist, and onto your hand, your silver rings glinting in the low light. He placed his fingers in between yours, lips against your ear. 

"My perfect plaything, aren't you?"

A swift thrust and you were moaning, fingers closing in around his, suddenly so full and so deep that you saw white for a brief moment, but there was no time, no time as Yoongi slid back and slammed into you again, crotch to ass, untangling his hand from yours so he could right himself and fuck you hard, just the way you liked, just the way you needed. 

"Mmm, what a beautiful back."

You buried your face into the pillows, his fingernails scraping down your skin, sending shocks and stings all over you, helpless cries at his wonderful scratches, the exact pressure so that he left marks all over you but didn't break skin, so good paired with his harsh thrusts, making you claw for the headboard, planting your hands on it and bucking back into his hard length, heightening the pleasure and mixing it with pain, Yoongi's satisfied grunts behind you, necklaces jingling on your chest. Sensation, sound, emotion, all of it, building up inside, winding the coil, tighter, tighter. 

Nothing else mattering but being fucked by Yoongi's cock. 

"This body is for me, isn't it?" Yoongi growled, racking his nails down your back.

"Whenever you want, fuck, oh fuck, Yoongi!"

He kept going, the fire of your orgasm burning hot, crashing waves threatening to take you under, but still he gripped your hips and fucked you into the bed, the bed frame squeaks drowned out by the loud squelches of his rock-hard cock reentering you over and over again. 

"That's what I thought," he snickered, leaning down and earning a wail, so deep it felt like he was hitting your cervix, the head swelling as your walls clenched around him. "No one can take you from me, isn't that right?"

You responded automatically, your body once again responding quicker than your brain could, the answer always there, lingering in your mind, unwavering, pure instinct.

"No one."

The words rushing out with ravenous conviction, nails curling into the headboard, so much forced pleasure, savoring in Yoongi’s roughness, pussy pulsating so strongly that you weren't sure what was an orgasm and what wasn't. All over you, through you, in you, clouding your mind and thoughts. Absolute precision, knowing exactly how to fill you, and you clenching him back, molding to him to deliver the pleasure he loved, primal needs being satisfied, everything feeling so good that you became lightheaded, and yet you still found yourself uttering between moans and gasps, declaration being ripped from you because of Yoongi’s perfect cock destroying you mentally and physically.

"It will always be you above all others, Yoongi."

His fingers wrapped in your hair and yanked back, the sudden pain making you scream his name, liquid gushing down his cock and balls, thick and viscous, sticking to both your inner thighs. Your name falling from his lips, a half-moan, half-hiss, his entire length jolting inside you, filling the condom, and Yoongi rolled his hips into you once more, feeling it all, every contour of your pussy constricting around his throbbing cock. 

"Fuck..."

Two voices that sounded like one, rough, grating, instinctive, matching in time. Sparks coursing through your veins, body shivering with the aftereffects, squeezing the remnants out of him. His hand reached around; strands still tangled in his fingers.

Yoongi cupped your chin roughly, caressing your skin. 

"Above all others, hm?" he breathed, the depth of his voice soothing your thudding heart. Both of you sinking down into the bed, knees giving out, and he was still inside you, gripped tight by your stubbornness, his arms around your shaking body. You closed your eyes, Min Yoongi surrounding you, invading your space with his possessive embrace, his unavoidable presence, his inescapable hold, and you, a willing captive, letting him take over.

His lips against your ear, a familiar purr, your always and forever whisper. 

Your shadow. 

"I like that."

--

masterpost

-

who said people are animals of wisdom? for me, obviously, we are animals of regret people change, just as I've changed there is nothing permanent in the world everything is just a happening passing through

My blog is named after ‘People’ by Agust D, the only song that I’ve ever felt every word and every line, rapped and sang with that exact pitch and emotion, describe me. I’ve always wondered, these thoughts I have, will anyone ever be able to put them into words?

so what? what if you live like that?

And you did, Yoongi, and for that, I am grateful.

[arya-skywalker]

Starved for Attention Part 1 (Sanders Sides Fanfic)

Notes: So I started this thing months ago, before Janus even had a name. It’s based loosely on this gorgeous art (tw starvation and chains), by @altruistic-skittles

However it has grown dramatically, and will now likely be 2-4 parts. Thanks to the Joan Collective / TSS Content Creators Server for encouraging me and bouncing ideas around. Apply here to join

This is vaguely canonverse, after Virgil was accepted but before Deceit revealed himself to Thomas.

TW: starvation, malnourishment, imprisonment, chains, Janus does not like Patton

Ships: Roceit and Anxceit (not a love triangle tho, they’re just trying to help him, Anxceit here is more platonic anyway)

Part 2

~*~

Janus leaned against the wall of his cell, watching the chains sway in the chill breeze, listening to the discordant music as they clanged against each other. He rubbed his arms, trying to ignore how skeletal they were. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a full meal, the last time he had been allowed outside the cell.

Footsteps approached.

Janus quickly adjusted his position, crossing one leg over the other, lounging without a care in the world. Don’t show weakness. You are in control. He forced a smile, watching the figure come into view. “Ah, Your Highnesss. How kind of you to come vissit.”

Roman stopped in front of the barred door, fiddling with his sword. “I.... you look awful.”

Janus laughed. “Do I? I haven’t had the luxury of a mirror,” he said dryly.

“Oh. I didn’t mean.... uh... do you want one?” Roman fumbled at his belt, then held out a pocket mirror, slipping it through the bars.

Janus watched as the mirror rolled over to him and landed face-down. It would be so easy to ignore it, to pretend he was still his handsome self. It would be easy to break the mirror and use the shards as a weapon.

But he did neither. Janus picked up the mirror, surprised by how heavy such a small item could be. He took a deep breath and smoothed his expression before daring to look at his reflection.

He was even more gaunt than he feared. His bones were disturbingly clear through his thin flesh. His cheeks were sunken. Dark bags under his eyes marked his lack of sleep. His scales had lost their shine.

He wished he hadn’t looked.

Janus closed the pocket mirror with a click and set it down. “Why are you here, my prince?” He asked, realizing Roman was still standing there.

“I... umm... figured you might want some company?”

Janus arched an eyebrow. “You mean you want company that isn’t one of your goody-two-shoes friends up there.”

Roman scuffed the floor with his polished boots. “They don’t support me like they used to,” he muttered. “It just feels like... whenever I make progress something always sends us back to where we started!”

“Mmm.... they don’t listen to you,” Janus said. “Jussst as they refuse to listen to me and your dear brother.”

“Well... I.... that’s—“ Roman stammered.

Janus straightened, his snake eye gleaming. “It’s the same.”

“I’m... not sure if that’s....” Roman rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh come now! You and I know I am not a monssster.” Janus tilted his head to the side. “Remind me again why I am locked away down here.”

“You know why.”

Janus clicked his tongue. “Humor me, my prince.”

Roman frowned. “Well.... you... you’re one of the Dark Sides.”

“A term you invented. Try again.”

“Uh.... because.... Thomas thinks that lying is wrong.”

“Mmm... getting closer. Now.... how did I end up stuck down here?” Janus inched closer to the bars. Roman blinked. Clearly that was too far of a jump. Janus sighed. “Thomas’s mind is.... unique, as I’m sure you know. I am in charge of hiding things that Thomas doesn’t want to know or they would hurt him if he did know. But who or what hides me?”

Roman’s brow furrowed. “You did this to yourself?”

Janus laughed harshly. “No, no. I am not nearly so self-sacrificing.” He coughed, taking a moment to get control over himself. “No. The mind palace itsself is doing this to me. Thomas’s sssubconsciouss if you prefer. Something deep within, sentient in a way, but not strong enough to be a side on its own.”

“Oh....”

Janus leaned forward. “Let me go. I can help you, my prince, but not from this cell.”

Roman opened and closed his mouth, looking much like a confused fish washed ashore. “I... You....”

“Come now. The others are no help to you. We both need allies,” Janus said. If he wasn’t so weak, he would have waltzed up to the barred door and grabbed Roman’s collar, pulling him close for a kiss between the bars. But he could barely summon the strength to stand, let alone drag himself across the cell.

Roman lowered his gaze, then suddenly brightened. “Oh right. I brought food!” He shoved a crumpled paper bag between the bars and dropped it.

Janus lunged for the food instinctively, somehow managing to catch it before it hit the disgusting floor. His body screamed in protest— but it was worth it. He opened the bag to find an apple, a mystery sandwich, a water bottle, and a cookie. His mouth watered. “Thank you, my prince,” he said sincerely before digging into the meal.

“I told Pat I was going on an adventure and he insisted on packing something,” Roman said sheepishly. “And I know you don’t get fed enough so.... yeah. You’re welcome. I’ll... uh... let you eat in peace. Farewell!”

He sunk out before Janus could protest. But it was better this way. Janus didn’t want anyone to see him gorge on the blessed meal. Sure, sides technically didn’t need to eat. But he could pretend the food helped. And for a little while, maybe he could believe it.

~*~

Janus awoke to the distinct impression of someone watching him. He frowned and stirred, glancing at the barred door to see Virgil crouched in the shadows. “Here to gloat?” he drawled.

“Not today, no.” Virgil moved closer to the bars. He looked.... worried? Ridiculous. “What the hell happened?”

Janus shrugged. “Thomas said himself of lying— ‘That’s a side of myself I would prefer not to feed into’,” he said, mimicking Thomas’s voice. “For some reason, that was taken literally. So here I am, starving in the dark. Happy?”

“Fuck that.” Virgil pelted a granola bar at him. Then another. Then a bottled protein shake. “There. Eat up.”

Janus flinched and held his hands in front of his face, then blinked when he realized Virgil was throwing food at him. “You... you’re helping me?”

“This doesn’t mean I like you,” Virgil said quickly. “But you need to be strong enough to do your job in case Thomas does need you for whatever reason. So... yeah.” He stuffed his hands in his hoodie pocket.

Janus picked up the granola bars and opened the shake, taking a few careful sips of the almost-too-sweet drink. “How long were you sitting there for?”

Virgil smiled sideways. “Do you really want to know?”

Janus glanced over and decided he didn’t. “What else do you want?”

Virgil shrugged. “I want you to swear on whatever means anything to you that you won’t hurt Thomas or any of the other Sides,” he said.

“I swear I won’t harm anyone intentionally,” Janus said, taking off a glove and holding his hand over his heart.

Virgil exhaled sharply and rubbed his face. “Why should I trust you? How do I know you aren’t just.... lying again?”

“Mmm. You can’t possibly know for sure,” Janus said, fixing his gloves. “But you know as well as I do that repression will only hurt Thomas in the end.”

Virgil was silent for a while, then shook himself and stood. “Just... be careful, alright? I’ll check in to make sure you don’t die or get sick or whatever.” He gestured vaguely as he sunk out.

Janus was alone again. He pulled his knees to his chest and closed his eyes.

~*~

Logan was the next visitor. “Deceit? I have been informed of your condition and thought it may be a good idea to investigate myself.”

Janus lifted his head to look over, then narrowed his eyes upon seeing the first aid kit. “You are not a doctor.”

“Perhaps not. But I have researched medicine extensively.”

Janus bared his fangs. “Don’t even think about coming at me with needles.”

Logan sighed. “I simply wish to monitor your condition to ensure you are not in severe danger.”

“Logic, I am starving. But we are imaginary. You know wounds and illnesses don’t have lasting effects. Besides, you are out there, and I am in here. How do you plan on getting inside the cell, hmm?”

“I have also researched how to pick a lock.” With that, Logan stepped forward and stuck something into the lock, fiddling with it until it popped open.

Janus froze, staring at him. The door was unlocked. The cell was open. He could.... he could....

Logan sat beside him on the cold floor. “Allow me to take your vitals.”

“Wait. Don’t touch me. Pleasse.” Janus recoiled, hating himself for it.

Logan blinked and adjusted his glasses. “Oh. My apologies. You must be touch starved. Unfortunately I am not very experienced with that sort of things. Patton is much—“

“No. I do not want to sssee Patton,” Janus hissed. Morality might not be directly responsible for his imprisonment, but if Thomas didn’t think lying was so bad, he wouldn’t be in this situation. Patton was part of the reason he was stuck down here.

Logan hesitated. “Perhaps Virgil?”

Janus rested his head on his knees. “Fine,” he mumbled.

Janus heard him leave— and lock the door. Of course they didn’t trust him enough to leave the cell open. Why would they? He was Deceit.

[kinktae]

bitchin’ || pt. 3 (M)

↳ PART OF MY REWIND SERIES

The 80s were a time of choices. Which perm was right for you? What color neon would you wear next? None of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with Jeon Jungkook.

pairing: fratboy!jungkook x reader

word count: 6.4k

genre: 1980s au, eventual smut, e2l

warnings: multiple smut scenes, science talk, banter, jealousy, alcohol & LOTS of colorful 80s slang lmao

A/N: This fic was inspired by To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before & Stranger Things 3. Thank you to @junqkook for letting me use her likeness and @httpjeon for editing this chapter!

OFFICIAL PLAYLIST

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10

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PART THREE

"You're a psychopath." You accused.

Jungkook let out a scoff, eyes rolling in dismissal.

"You're being dramatic."

"Stop the car."

"Y/N." Jungkook scolded, reaching over to turn down the radio's volume.

"I'm serious, asshole. Let me out!" You huffed before lowering your eyes into small slits. "You're probably driving me off to a remote location just so you can kill me. Bet you're just like that sicko Ted Bundy that they got locked up in Florida right now."

Jungkook's head snapped over to look at you, disbelief in his wide eyes.

"Holy shit, all I did was change the radio station!"

You flashed him an exasperated look.

"You changed it while Wham! was playing. What is wrong with you?"

Jungkook had shown up at the door of your dorm right on time, grinning lopsidedly in his yellow windbreaker as you opened the door, his blatant eagerness effectively souring your mood.

You were entirely against this date at first; it hardly seemed necessary to get to know someone who you already knew you had nothing in common with. Not to mention the fact that you seemed to be the only one who cared that this relationship between you two was literally fake.

If it weren't for Yara physically shoving you out the door, you would have never gotten into Jungkook's ridiculously nice Chevy as he hauled off you to wherever he had decided your date was. He refused to answer when you asked him where the two of you were headed so, needless to say, you were already on high alert.

Him changing the station as soon as Everything She Wants playing was the final straw.

"Nothing is wrong with me, dweeb. I just don't really like their sound. I don't really like a lot of artists on the radio nowadays." Jungkook confessed, shoulders shrugging as he kept his eyes on the road.

"Oh God. I'm fake dating a monster." You breathed dramatically.

Jungkook rolled his eyes, no longer in the mood to entertain this conversation as he turned the knob on the radio back up.

It proved to be in vain, however, as your stubborn self refused to let the conversation drop there, your own hand reached over to reverse what he had just accomplished– the song currently playing fading back into the dull background.

"Madonna." You pressed.

"What about her?" Jungkook droned unenthusiastically.

You furrowed your eyebrows, annoyed. "What do you think about her?"

"Oh. Industry sellout."

"What?!" You nearly shrieked, jaw dropped as you stared at Jungkook's cool expression. You let out a disappointed noise.

"Cyndi Lauper?"

"Mediocre at best."

"Duran Duran?!" You exclaimed. "Wait, no. Don't answer that, I don't think my heart could take it if you didn't like them."

Jungkook chuckled, glancing over at your distraught expression, "Duran Duran is okay."

"Just okay?" You marveled, crossing your arms over your chest.

You were wearing a patterned collar shirt today and when Jungkook first laid his eyes on it, he couldn't help but think it looked exactly like the carpet belonging to the arcade he and friends used to go to in high school. On your left wrist was a bright yellow scrunchie that he swore he saw Yara wear once.

He wondered for a moment what it might look like in your hair.

"You know what the problem is with music today? It's all synthesized, I mean you can hardly call it music." Jungkook continued, pushing his previous thought away. "What's that song by The Buggles?"

"Uh... Video Killed the Radio Star?" You offered.

"Yes! God, that song just barfs me out." He shuttered, a prominent frown on his face.

"Fine, then. What do you consider real music then?"

"Hm, let's see. Twisted Sister, Bon Jovi, Van Halen, Def Leppard–"

"Oh, I see. The meathead is also a metalhead." You mused, the sides of your mouth twitching up slightly.

"Can you headbang to Prince? I don't think so." The meathead in question offered cheekily, wagging a finger at you.

You had just opened your mouth to quip back when your surroundings suddenly dawned on you; Jungkook had pulled into the parking lot of what you recognized to be a roller rink.

"We're going roller skating?" You asked as the boy shifted into park, causing him to look up at you.

"You don't sound excited." He pointed out.

You didn't bother to confirm or deny his accusation.

"Weren't roller rinks considered cool in the 70s... when we were kids?" Was your response.

Jungkook had unbuckled himself from his seat, reaching over into the back of his car to grab his backpack, carefully lugging the brown bag over his shoulder.

"They're still cool. Man, quit being such a downer you're ruining our date." He warned.

"Hey! What did we say, this isn't a date. It's a bonding activity." You piped up, opening the passenger door. "Besides, I'm not being a downer, I just…"

Your sentence trailed off as the two of you hopped out of the car, excited chatter from a family parked nearby filling your ears.

"You just what?" Jungkook pressed as the two of you made your way over.

"Nevermind."

There was a cold rush of air that hit you as Jungkook pulled open the door to the building, causing you to cross your arms over your chest, following him into the dimly lit space.

You could make out the sound of Take on Me by a-ha playing overhead from where you could see the actual rink located in the back. From the looks of it, the arena appeared to be somewhat empty today.

Radical. Fewer people to embarrass yourself in front of.

"Where do we go now?"

"To get our skates, duh." Jungkook stated, flashing you a look. "Haven't you ever been to a roller rink?"

You didn't get the chance to respond to the condescending boy because before you knew it, your hand was intertwined with his and you were being lugged over to where a bored-looking man was waiting behind a desk, a wall of worn-out beige skates behind him.

You stood beside Jungkook awkwardly as he spoke to the employee, speaking up only to protest when Jungkook tried to pay for you and to tell the roller rink man what size skates you needed.

Sat on a nearby bench, the two of you began to change shoes; Jungkook was rambling on and on about how excited he was to skate and how he was gonna lap you ten times over.

Slipping your first foot into the wheeled shoe, you let out a sigh.

"I have to, uh, tell you something..." You began, capturing Jungkook's attention.

"Sure, what's up?"

Pressing your lips together, you laced up the skate, the neon green shoelace glowing under the room's fluorescent lighting.

"So… I never actually... learned how to roller skate." You confessed through a shrug, ignoring the way Jungkook looked at you in surprise.

"Man, you really were robbed of a childhood. And here I thought you were some kind of superhuman who could do anything."

"Firstly, don't question my superiority over you common folk. I am superhuman." You scolded, pushing a finger into his chest playfully.

Jungkook let out a laugh, rolling his eyes at your words.

"Secondly, I mean, we were a family of six. If I got rollerskates, then everyone had to get roller skates. We just didn't have that kind of money." You explained.

"Woah. Family of six, huh? So you have siblings then." He noted.

"Yep. Three."

"Tell me about them."

Looking up from where you were slipping on your second skate, you met Jungkook's eyes, surprised to see genuine interest in them.

"Well… Sammy is the oldest. He moved out when I was, like, thirteen so we were never that close but I see him every time I go back home."

You had finished fastening both skates, placing each wheeled foot on the colorful carpet. You took a moment to drag your legs front and back, enjoying the way the wheels rolled beneath you.

"Then there's the twins, Rosa and Lia."

"Hold on. Twins? Wait… did they go to our high school?" Jungkook asked, his interest in this conversation doubled.

"Yep. They were two grades above us." You confirmed.

"Oh shit, yeah, I remember your sisters, they were mad hot." Jungkook let out a low whistle, before stiffening, flashing you an apologetic look. "Uh, in a totally non-meathead way."

You offered the scared-looking boy a small smile, shaking your head.

"No, it's okay. They are pretty, um, hot, I guess."

Suddenly, you made an effort to stand up, and Jungkook jumped to his feet to help you— you waved him off, of course. The carpet provided enough grip to allow you to walk somewhat easily.

"I still can't believe the Y/L/N Twins had a little sister. And that little sister was in my grade. How come no one ever talked about you?" Jungkook asked as the two of you reached the rink.

You gripped onto the short wall that lay along the rink's entire perimeter, clearly meant for people like you to hold onto so that they wouldn't bust their asses.

"Some kids in our grade asked me if we were related but I would always lie and tell them we weren't. Honestly, I had this weird complex towards them. I hated them for a little while."

Jungkook wasn't expecting such a confession to come from you, and it was clear that you weren't either with the way your face turned away from his, twisting up in regret.

"Really? Why's that?" He asked despite himself.

You felt yourself perk up as the familiar tune of a Duran Duran song came on, lifting your mood immediately.

"It's– ah, nevermind, it was really stupid. I don't feel that way anymore." You waved him off through a laugh, not wanting to unload onto him the heaviness of your childhood insecurities.

"I don't care if it's stupid, you can tell me. I want to know."

You stare at him for a moment, unsure of whether or not to tell him. There was a sense of sincerity in his eyes that wore you down, however. You let out a sigh.

"I dunno, I think it started early on. They were older and there were two of them, so I was kind of the third wheel."

"Ah. Yeah, isn't there some special bond only twins have?" Jungkook added.

"Yeah… Yeah, I understand it now that I'm older, but when I was younger, it just pissed me off." You chuckled bitterly, eyes flickering towards a couple skating around in the ring.

"It wasn't until I entered high school that I actually started to resent them, though. I kind of got stuck in this ugly duckling phase and my sisters… they're beautiful, right? Popular with boys, lots of friends…"

You trailed off, eyebrows furrowing as an unwanted feeling of reminiscence crept into you.

"I liked learning. And I was good at it. And it wasn't like I didn't have friends. I made friends with people who liked the same things I did. I wasn't alone." You continued, Jungkook's eyes glued to your profile.

"My friends used to beg for me to come over and study with them, you know." You looked over at the messy-haired boy, a shy grin on your face.

"It felt really good for people to acknowledge the hard work I put into school. It made me feel... cool, I guess."

"So when people asked about my sisters, I lied. Because I thought if I told them, then they would see everything that I wasn't. They would have something to compare me to and they would see that I actually wasn't that cool."

Your face fell into an unreadable expression, your knuckles turning white as your grip on the wall tightened.

The only person who ever knew you had felt this way about your sisters and yourself was Yara. But Jungkook wasn't Yara. He was just a boy in high school who occasionally bumped into you in the hallways, never paying any mind to where he was going.

Hesitantly, you turned towards him, only to find him already looking at you. Suddenly, a wave of embarrassment washed over you.

"I told you it was dumb." You laughed nervously.

It wasn't that you cared much what Jungkook thought but you had a feeling a guy like him, who was popular and carefree, wouldn't be able to sympathize in the way you would like him to.

"No, I'm just… surprised, that's all."

Jungkook certainly was surprised. You had built up quite the impression on him from the very moment you two met. It was hard to imagine that the girl who was so unapologetically herself was ever unsure or insecure.

Somehow, the idea tugged at his heart, as if he understood you more if only just a little.

Entering the rink, Jungkook skated in smoothly, looking as laid back and natural as always. You raised an eyebrow, doubting that your entrance would be that seamless.

"Feet shoulder-width apart. Keep your knees slightly bent."

Realizing these were instructions, you frowned, walking over to the rink's entrance.

And sure as day, your first step onto the shiny wooden floor was a less of a step and more of a slip, your hands reaching out to grip onto the wall before your balance was completely thrown off.

Jungkook took his bottom lip into his mouth, trying his hardest to swallow down the chuckle that threatened to escape. Instead of laughing at your instability, however, he skated towards you, an amused glint behind his eyes.

"Don't be scared, I'll catch you if you fall."

You offered him a glare, "Thanks, meathead, but I don't plan on falling."

Mustering up your strength, you pushed yourself off the wall, taking a bold step forward. You hadn't wobbled more than two steps when you once again lost your balance, arms flailing around wildly as you tried to prevent yourself from toppling over.

Your feet slipped from underneath you, however, sending you flying backward. Before you could hit the ground though, a pair of arms found you, hoisting you up by the waist as your legs lay sprawled in front of you.

"C'mon now, stand up." Jungkook urged, causing you to let out a shaky breath. You thought your ass was grass for sure that time.

"Can't. It's useless. Just let go, Jungkook. I'll crawl my way off the rink." You shook your head.

Your savior laughed, "New plan. Hold onto me. We'll do a lap around the rink together until you can skate on your own."

Embarrassed, you agreed, carefully making your way back up into a standing position with Jungkook's help.

It certainly wasn't smooth. There was something incredibly unnatural about rollerskating; Jungkook had told you to pretend like you were a duck which only confused you more because not only were you not a duck but you hardly understand the logic behind his thinking as ducks, most certainly, did not know how to roller skate.

With hands wrapped around Jungkook's bicep, however, you found yourself making your first lap. There was one other couple on the rink skating alongside the two of you; they were young— probably still in high school, and you wondered for a moment if to them Jungkook and you actually looked like a real couple.

"What's your major? I just realized I never asked." You brought up casually, the song overhead coming to an end. Lights were hanging that projected down onto the wooden floor, moving around in tempo with the upbeat music that was playing.

If you could actually skate, you imagined this must be loads of fun.

"Exercise science." He told you.

You nodded, "Makes sense."

It was evident that Jungkook took good care of himself, even if you weren't holding onto his bicep, you'd be able to tell.

"What's yours?" He countered. "Biology?"

"Yep. I really wanted to major in Neuroscience but my scholarship wouldn't cover it."

"Oh, you're on a scholarship?"

"Yeah, it's how I'm paying for college, actually. My dad made it pretty clear early on that he wasn't paying for our college tuition." You explained.

"Could you guys not afford it?"

"Mm, well yeah money was a big part of it but he also doesn't really see the value in a college degree. He got a job without one. That's why I worked so hard in school. I knew I had to do well if I had any chance of getting into college—"

Your sentence fell flat as a loud yelp fell from you, stunned as you realized you had just slipped and fallen onto your ass.

Jungkook was doubled over in laughter, your shocked expression far too funny to hold back his amusement this time.

"What the hell! You said you would catch me!" You gaped, the sides of your mouth quirking up at the sound of Jungkook laughing harder, desperate gasps of air breaking through his giggles.

"Quit laughing, pea brain. I'll seriously dump your ass right here and right now if you don't help me back up."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He snickered before moving over to help you up, his eyes watery and smile wide.

"This is so embarrassing…" You muttered under your breath, feeling unstable like a newborn deer.

Another chuckle found Jungkook, finding the way you were pouting sourly just too cute.

"If my ass bruises I'm going to be seriously pissed." You declared stubbornly, before intertwining your hand into Jungkook's.

Jungkook knew you were only doing so to ensure your balance but something about the gesture had his chest tightening in a way he didn't understand.

"So, uh, your siblings! They're all out of high school, right? What do they do?" Jungkook started suddenly, in an attempt to sway his thoughts.

You were humming along to whatever song was filling the room and Jungkook wished he was familiar with the tune so that he could hum along with you.

"Oh, Rosa is an intern for our hometown's newspaper but between you and me those assholes don't even let her write. She does coffee and burger runs for men in charge. And Lia sells ice cream at the mall."

"What about your brother?" Jungkook asked.

"He's training to be a cop just like my dad."

"And your mom?"

"She works at a convenience store."

And so the rest of the evening played out, the two of you sharing pleasantries and learning about one another, with only a few more falls on your part.

Jungkook told you his story, how he was an only child to a set of lawyer parents that let him do whatever he wanted as compensation for being so busy all the time. You bit your tongue but it made sense, considering his behavior in high school. Still, Jungkook turned out alright, you thought. Contract or not, you wouldn't willingly spend an evening falling on your ass with someone who wasn't at least a decent person.

You and Jungkook were sat at a table at the roller rink, a box of cheesy pizza set out in front of you.

"I don't understand. If you love film so much, then why aren't you majoring in it?"

"I don't know if I'm even any good at it. Just because I have a camera and like to use it doesn't make me a director." Jungkook shrugged in response.

"No, but if it makes you happy, then that's all that matters. If you love something and it inspires you then why wouldn't you do everything within your power to go after it?"

You had that look on you again. The kind of look that made Jungkook think that if he were to lean in close, he could see flames ablaze behind your eyes. It was the kind of look at sent his curiosity and admiration for you soaring.

"Isn't that lame? A guy majoring in the arts?" He asked, sounding uncertain.

You let out a grunt, growing frustrated with Jungkook's placid nature.

"What's lame is that anyone should have to be ashamed for doing what they love. Do you know how many times I get asked, 'Why biology? Why not education?' by my male professors? Fuck what anyone else thinks Jungkook! Do what makes you happy." You declared with a clenched fist, eyes glimmering with fervor.

You had gotten so worked up, Jungkook realized; he knew right then and there that you were speaking from the heart and that he was a lucky man to get to see you this way. Even if you had begun to shout and were scaring him slightly.

Turning away from you, the cool-headed boy ran his eyes over the room's walls, pausing only when he found a neon clock perched along one of them.

"What's wrong?" You wondered, following his eyes.

"October 16th, 1985. 6:48PM."

"Yes. That's today's date and time. What about it?" You pressed, growing confused.

"Remember it." He warned.

"Why?"

"It's when I fell in love with you."

Suddenly, you let out a laugh— it was the kind that comes out unexpectedly and makes a loud, unattractive noise and it surprised you both. Your hand clamped down over your mouth as if on impulse before your shocked expression broke, a cascade of giggles washed over you. Jungkook could only stare at you in bewildered awe, wondering if that wasn't the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Jungkook shifted back up on the bed, his back having grown sore. Pulling his notebook closer, he gripped his pen. Somewhere in the background, he could hear you muttering to yourself as you worked at your desk, knees pulled up to your chest where your chin could rest on top of them.

The two of you were doing homework in your dorm room, a common occurrence for the two of you nowadays.

Jungkook let himself spare you a glance from where he sat on your bed. You had thrown your hair up into a lazy bun earlier on, but now it would seem it that you had once again let your hair down.

You had the end of your pencil tucked between your lips, captivating Jungkook's attention for longer than he had intended.

Jungkook wasn't sure if it was safe to say that you were friends, mainly because of the contract that was holding the two of you together, but seeing as you two now spent nearly every afternoon together, he couldn't help but think he had whittled you down into tolerating him.

Not that you'd ever admit that, of course.

You let out an audible sigh, whatever task you were working on clearly giving you trouble as you tapped the end of your pencil against your bottom lip contemplatively.

"Break?" Jungkook called out lazily, tearing his eyes off from your lips.

Jungkook watched as you stared down at your textbook for a moment before ultimately swiveling your chair around to face him.

"Yeah, okay." You agreed, lugging yourself off your chair only to hop onto your bed, causing Jungkook to bounce slightly, the springs of your mattress protesting.

Face scrunching up, you brought your legs up onto the bed, extending them out in front of you to stretch out your stiff joints.

Jungkook couldn't help but grin slightly as your foot brushed against his knee. You were wearing your favorite pair of socks – they were a bright red and fluffy, a cartoon picture of Santa Claus knitted into each. Jungkook nearly lost a lung the first time he saw you wear them, but you were quick to defend them, saying that keeping your feet warm was always in season.

"I still can't believe you bought Christmas socks. It's not even Halloween." He began in an effort to make conversation. You rolled your eyes, smacking the side of your foot against his knee lightly.

"You act like I was actively searching to buy Christmas socks. I was on the hunt for fluffy socks and these just happened to be the fluffiest pair the store offered." You defended.

"I would gladly wear Halloween socks if I found fluffy ones." You added, bringing your offensive socks back over to you as you sat cross-legged.

"Speaking of Halloween," Jungkook began, eyeing you cautiously, "the party is in three days."

Cocking your head to the side, you contemplated today's date before concluding that the sweater-clad boy was correct.

"Oh shit."

"We need—"

"— costumes, yeah." You cut Jungkook off, nodding.

Jungkook blinked as he took in your words before shaking his head.

"No, I meant—"

"Yara suggested Bonnie and Clyde or Danny and Sandy from Grease but I don't really know how I feel about a couple's costume. Doesn't that seem too obvious like 'Hey, look at us! We're totally banging!' Do you know what I mean? Also, can we not just dress up as whatever we want to? Can couples really not do anything without each other? I remember whenever I showed up to a party without Erik, everyone would ask about him and why he didn't come. He didn't go because I didn't invite him, morons." You finished with an irritated huff.

"Woah, hold on... you went to parties?" Jungkook marveled, halting your ramble. "Also, who the hell is Erik?"

"My ex-boyfriend. And yes I went to parties. I was in a lot of school clubs and they threw parties sometimes." You shrugged.

"Oh. Nevermind, I thought you meant actual parties."

"Fuck you, asshole. Those were actual parties!" A surprised laugh tumbled out of you. "Anyway, we can go costume shopping tomorrow if you're free–"

"Y/N." Jungkook interrupted, a stern look on his face. You shut your once open mouth, flashing him a cautious look as you offered him your full attention.

"I'm going to kiss you."

Your body tensed in surprise, eyes going wide, "What?"

"At this party. I'm going to kiss you, remember?"

"Oh... Oh!" Your eyebrows raised as his words sunk in.

"Yeah." Jungkook nodded, reaching over to shut his notebook that was now going unused. He wasn't in the mood to study anymore.

"Okay, then. Lay it on me."

"Huh?"

"Kiss me now. Like a bandaid. C'mon, meathead, rip that sucker off." You ordered authoritatively, causing Jungkook to shake his head.

You certainly know how to set the mood.

"Fine." Jungkook mused dryly.

Your composure crumbled, however, as the handsome boy began to lean forward, eyes fixated on your lips.

"Wait!" You blurted, throwing your hands in front of you to halt Jungkook from coming any closer.

"What?" Jungkook pressed, looking slightly irritated.

"No... No, I'm just... I think I'm nervous." You blinked.

At your words, Jungkook's expression noticeably softened. You had this look on your face that he had never seen you wear before. You usually carried yourself with such self-assurance and confidence, but this version of you that was sitting in front of Jungkook... this you looked vulnerable.

"Why are you nervous?" He cooed.

"Because!" You huffed, not noticing the way Jungkook's eyes were set on yours gently. "I dunno, it's just... it's you I'm kissing."

"Is that a bad thing?" He asked.

A silent moment ticked past as you failed to respond immediately.

"...No."

"You hesitated." He glared, tone falling flatly.

"Well, I don't know! Who knows where that mouth has been?!" You accused, pointing a finger towards him. He smacked away your finger easily, a frown finding his face.

"Y/N."

"Sorry, sorry! I get mean when I feel threatened, it's like my defense mechanism." You apologized.

Jungkook chuckled, enjoying the inner turmoil you were clearly going through.

"Close your eyes."

You frowned at his words, knowing what doing so would entail.

"You're overthinking this. It's just a kiss. I don't bite, I promise." He teased cheesily.

You held his eyes for a moment. If there was anything you could give Jungkook credit for was the way he made even the most astronomically complex subject seem so simple, as if you were silly for even fretting over it in the first place.

Taking comfort in that thought, you let your eyes fall shut, hands finding purchase around the duvet you sat on.

You felt the mattress shift, your weight shifting forward as Jungkook moved closer, causing your heart to pound.

And then, he kissed you.

The kiss couldn't have lasted longer than a second, and you hardly had time to register the feeling before the sound of the mattress groaning as Jungkook shifting back into his original spot rang out.

You opened your eyes.

"Oh." You breathed.

"See? Was that as bad as you thought it would be?" Jungkook mused.

"You were right. I don't know why I had hyped this moment so much in my head." You shook your head, laughing lightly despite the way your heart had yet to calm down.

"Told ya."

You nodded, "I mean if anything that was super underwhelming."

"Yeah, like— Hey, hold on. I know it was just a peck but you don't have to phrase it like that, damn." Jungkook's eyebrows furrowed.

"No, it's a good thing!" You tried to reassure him, uncrossing your legs. "I think one of the reasons I was so nervous was because I was afraid the kiss was gonna be good but, nope! Totally ordinary!"

Jungkook let out a low hum. He knew what you meant but there was still something within him that couldn't help but feel bitter. He knew you would accredit it to what you liked to call his 'raging man pride' – whatever it was, it had him pouting without him even knowing.

"That offended you." You observed easily.

"No, it didn't." He brushed off.

"Yes it did, I can see it on your face. I've thrown your fragile man ego off balance and now you're insecure over your kissing abilities." You offered him a sympathetic look.

"Woah, woah, woah. You didn't do any of the sorts because my man ego isn't that easily toppled over, okay? I've got a rock-solid foundation, thank you very much." He scoffed defensively causing you to snort.

"And for your information, I can't be offended because it wasn't like I actually kissed you so suck on that."

You frowned on his words, "What do you mean you didn't actually kiss me?"

"Y/N, please. If I had kissed you like how I usually do it would've knocked you dead." He insisted, nose sticking up in a way that reminded you of Yara.

"What the hell? Why didn't you kiss me you usually do?" You replied sharply, catching Jungkook off guard.

"Uh..."

"Isn't that the whole point of this?" You continued, hand reaching over to flick at the tip of Jungkook's nose.

You held your glare as he flinched in surprise. A scowl took over him.

"What the hell was that for?! I didn't think–"

"I don't want to embarrass myself on Saturday. I need to make sure I know what I'm doing so don't half-ass things! Kiss me like you would your real girlfriend, dumbass!" You scolded, hand reaching over to place another attack against the boy's nose.

Before you got the chance, however, Jungkook's hand came up and wrapped itself around your wrist, stopping you. You attempted to pull back your trapped hand but Jungkook's grip was unforgiving, his dark stare locked onto you.

"What are you doing? Let go." You huffed.

"God, how am I meant to kiss you if you won't shut up."

You hardly had time to register his words when the hand around your wrist was used to yank you forward, Jungkook's mouth finding yours once again.

You were absolutely caught off guard, eyes held open in shock until the moment his other hand found your face, palm cupping your jaw as his fingers pressed into the bone softly, urging your head to tilt to meet his kiss better.

The hand that Jungkook still kept captive curled itself into a fist as you struggled to reciprocate his pace, taken off guard by his sudden vigor.

His lips were softer than you expected and you prayed that the hand that held your cheek wouldn't be able to feel the way your face was burning. The second he finally let go of your hands, you were quick to find purchase on the back of his shirt, gripping the fabric in hopes to give yourself something to hold onto as you lost yourself to the way your shared breaths filled the room every time your lips separated only to meet again immediately.

It wasn't until Jungkook's tongue ran against your bottom lip that reason finally took ahold of you. Pressing back against Jungkook's chest, you broke the passionate exchange, your wide eyes meeting his hazy ones.

"Something wrong?" He breathed heavily, his tongue darting out briefly to wet his bottom lip. The sight causes something in you to stir, so you turn your head to the side, choosing to stare at the wall across the room instead.

"N-Nothing. Just… I need to catch my breath is all." You lied.

It was more than that. This was precisely what you were afraid of. The kiss was good and it was making it very, very hard to want to continue keeping Jungkook at a respectable distance. You really didn't hate the kid and maybe if the circumstances were different the two of you would've gone on to be actual friends but you knew exactly how this was going to end. Jungkook and Kiri would get back together, you'd get your event and as much as you'd like to think Jungkook and you could continue on hanging out like this, you knew that was impossible. There was no way you could face Kiri after all this – not when you were the girl who was meant to be dating Jungkook all this time. You had helped him deceive her; watching and supporting Jungkook through a relationship built on lies was not exactly on your to-do list.

"Can I give you a hickey?"

Jungkook's words pulled you from your thoughts.

"Huh?" You replied, intelligently. That had been the absolute last thing you had been expecting to leave Jungkook's mouth.

"I know it's sometimes seen as a possessive thing so I, like, get why you wouldn't want one but it would definitely get the message across to everyone. If you're down, of course."

You could feel the urge to say no rise up your throat. Jungkook was right, hickeys seemed like a display of ownership – just a primitive way to claim someone as yours as if the emotional commitment wasn't enough. But there was something in the back of your head that was reasoning that he had a point. Furthermore, you could almost imagine the way Yara would be insisting you follow through with it if she were here right now and not in class.

God, she was going to lose her mind when you told her what had just gone down between you and Jungkook in your dorm room.

"Sure."

"Really?"

Jungkook's eyes were doe-like and you found it hard to face them.

"Y-Yeah, whatever, I don't care." You shrugged, hoping to give off an air of nonchalance.

"Wicked." He grinned boyishly, a hand coming down to push against your torso.

Your back met the bed and you didn't even have time to voice your confusion before Jungkook climbed over you, silencing your thoughts.

"Just easier this way." He told you, as if able to read your mind.

You feel yourself tense up as his lips meet your neck, pressing a cautionary kiss there.

"You don't have to be so stiff, I'll try to make it feel good." Jungkook leaned over to coo into your ear, causing a shiver to run over you.

You nodded, relaxing yourself the best you could as you tilted your head over to expose more of your neck to the awaiting boy.

You bit down on your lip, fighting down the sigh that threatened to spill from your mouth as Jungkook began to pepper kisses onto your neck, the feeling surprisingly pleasant. Your chest was rising and falling rhythmically, trying hold in your heart that threatened to leap out of it.

The feeling of Jungkook's tongue on your skin caused a small squeak to leave you, Jungkook taking the sensitive skin into his mouth to sucking at it. Before you could even think to stop yourself, one of your hands intertwined itself into his hair, tugging at it lightly as you felt his teeth scrape against your skin. To your disbelief, Jungkook let out a low grunt, sucking at your skin harder as if in retaliation. The noise echoed against your skin and, embarrassingly, you felt your nipples harden against the cup of your bra, a clear indication that you were getting aroused.

Shit. You were totally getting turned on; you could hardly thread together a single coherent thought and your whole body felt hot.

You tugged at Jungkook's scalp again without thinking and another noise of content left the curly-haired boy's mouth; you nearly threw out a sound of your own as he licked a hot stripe against the afflicted skin.

Before things could escalate any further, however, Jungkook pulled away from your neck, moving back to sit on his heels, his chest rising and falling unevenly.

"There. That should do it." He breathed out.

You sent him a small nod, eyes unable to pull away from the mouth that was just on you.

To say Jungkook's man ego was now pleased as hell would be an understatement. Your face was twisted in embarrassment, eyes watery and unable to meet Jungkook's the longer he stared. The left side of your neck had patches of pretty pink bruises etched into it and he couldn't deny the sick way his chest swelled with pride at knowing you would be wearing the marks he put on you.

"What?" You mumbled shyly, unable to stay still under his stare for much longer.

Jungkook was silent for a moment, lost in the dangerous thoughts his mind was filled with as he looked at the way you were laid out in front of him.

Finally, he shook his head as if to clear his mind.

"Nothing. Just admiring my work." He grinned sweetly before leaning over to press a chaste kiss onto your forehead, leaving you a hundred degrees warmer than you originally were.

[heirloommtomatoes]

don’t read the last page but i stay

Mickey and Ian go on another lunch date :) Just some quick super simple fluff! Literally nothing at all happens in this other then a cute date. These boys deserve nothing but sweet domesticity forever and ever, thanks.

Word Count: 2.3k~

———

Mickey picks Ian up from his afternoon shifts whenever they can cram it into their schedule. Do they live together? Sure. Did they get out of prison barely a year ago where their combined shared space was half the size of their Gallagher house bedroom? Sure. Do they still try to spend almost every waking moment together? Absolutely.

Ian’s schedule as an EMT, as sporadic as it has the potential to be, has fallen into a steady routine the past few months. Since Debbie’s arrest, Lip moving out, and the increased responsibility in the Gallagher house, Rita makes sure that every Friday Ian hands his shift over by 5pm. Mickey was promoted at his work — a promotion that warranted his first real Gallagher party a few months back — and is working steadily at the mall as the general security manager.

Ian’s laughing with the new members of his team over some pictures of their kids from last weekend when his phone buzzes. He slides it half-way out of his pocket to look at the screen:

Mick: hey dipshit I took a photo of me waiting for you

Mick: Attachment: 1 Image

Ian swipes on the message and unlocks his phone. The photo is of a mummified, presumably ancient corpse sitting cross-legged on a ridge, probably out of some National Geographic article he’d found while scrolling endlessly through random news pages while waiting for him. He stifles a laugh as he types his response.

Ian: 🖕

Ian: be out in a sec

Mick: 🖕

“That your husband?” Samantha, a younger EMT fresh out of training, nods toward his phone.

“Yeah,” Ian responds as he slips his phone back into his pocket, “Meeting him for dinner and drinks.”

Rita looks over her shoulder from where she’s rummaging around her locker. Ian expects her to make some witty remark at his expense as per usual, but instead: “You got the best relationship record outta any of us here, Gallagher,” she says with a self-deprecating laugh.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, “Eleven years, a bipolar diagnosis, and several prison stints seems to be the trick.”

He doesn’t mean to really joke about it; if what they went through together doesn’t count as some seriously real shit, he’s terrified to think of what does. But if he can’t make light of it now and then, if he can’t at least try to ponder the distance between then and now and look back at how far they’ve come and laugh at the simple joy of it all, then what the hell else is he supposed to do?

Laughs ripple around the locker room as Ian raises an warm to wave goodbye to everyone, overlapping “Bye Ian!”s and “Have a good weekend”s following him out.

Ian emerges from the garage, shrugging off his EMT jacket in the mid-afternoon summer sun in a way that makes Mickey’s heart flutter in his chest. He carries it loosely in a hand at his side.

“Bout time, Gallagher,” Mickey says to him with a grin. He’s been smiling a lot these days, he thinks; not that that’s anything new around Ian. He’s been making him smile since he was seventeen.

“Hey,” Ian responds easily, throwing an arm around his shoulders and planting a kiss to his cheek. A blush creeps up Mickey’s face and he grins at the ground as they walk. Ian starts babbling about the kid who broke his arm on the monkey bars and an older woman who fell down her stairs and Mickey listens, butting in for the odd comment or exclamation here and there as they make their way down the block to Boystown. It’s become their once-a-month Friday evening tradition. Mickey picks him up from work, they fill each other in on their days as they walk, they grab dinner and drinks either at one of their favourite spots in Boystown if they’re feeling like they want their own little escape, or at The Alibi if they feel like keeping it close to home. Today is too beautiful of a day to not make use of the clean outdoor patios the bars in Boystown can provide.

Mickey recounts his day when Ian’s done and maybe it doesn’t sound quite as glamorous on the surface of things, but it barely occurs to either of them. They’re both doing something they’re good at, something they’re each coming to realize they genuinely enjoy, something that makes them feel useful, and if that isn’t success, what is?

“So this old woman stuffs a bra between her boobs. Like hell I was gonna reach in there and drag it out,” Mickey huffs as he finishes up his story. Well, maybe something they genuinely enjoy most of the time. Ian laughs and it’s Mickey’s favourite sound. It’ll always be Mickey’s favourite sound.

“You sure you’re not gay?” Ian asks skeptically, recounting all the times Mickey’s jokingly —and not-as-jokingly — denied the label.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Mickey says, casting a mischievous glance his way, “My husband is, though.”

“Ohh, I see,” Ian says with a nod, casually changing the subject as he remembers Mickey’s earlier texts, “Oh hey listen, that was a really cute photo of you earlier, Mick. You’ve found your angles, I’m impressed,” Ian says, his voice dripping with mischievous sarcasm.

“Ohhh, thanks, man,” Mickey responds with a playful nudge to Ian’s ribs, “My beauty secret is this really cool thing my husband does called making me wait for ten fucking minutes.”

Ian raises his brows at him. Game on. He opens his mouth to respond in kind, but Mickey’s grabbing him by the upper arm and tugging him into a brick-lined alleyway. Ian grunts in protest, hands flying to Mickey’s biceps to steady himself before he’s shoved against the wall.

Mickey’s kissing him like he’s been thinking about doing all day while Ian’s out here being fucking Superman, like he’s been thinking about doing his whole life. He feels Ian’s smile against his mouth and his heart leaps in his chest and he loves him. He loves him. Mickey’s not sure how or when it happens, but suddenly Ian’s grabbing him and he’s being spun and his back’s being shoved against the wall so quickly his breath almost leaves him.

“Watch it, tough guy,” he breaths, and doesn’t mean a word of it. It’s the closest he’ll come to saying do whatever you want with me.

Ian huffs a laugh, threading his left hand into Mickey’s right as he studies his husband’s face. The cold metal of his wedding band brushes against his fingers and Mickey leans forward, capturing Ian’s lips in a warm kiss that reminds him of the dugouts, reminds him of when they were teenagers too skittish and childish and young to know what to do with the swelling in their chests every time they looked at each other. Ian’s the first to pull back, but he tugs on Mickey’s hand and leads them out of the alley.

“I’m hungry,” he says with a shrug by way of explanation when Mickey gives him an incredulous stare.

“So am I,” Mickey replies quickly, glancing pointedly downwards toward Ian’s crotch. Ian barks a laugh and rolls his eyes. He’s never said it out loud, but damn if he doesn’t love how fucking funny his husband is. No one really knows that about Mickey, he thinks. Distantly he remember’s Mickey’s “now they’re black and blue balls” in the hotel room that one night when they were teenagers. Damn if he didn’t think about that one and swoon over his protectiveness and Southside charm for a good week after. In the back of his mind, he remembers Byron’s list of complaints: he’s socially inept, he’s politically ignorant, he’s violent…

Meanwhile, Ian looks fondly at Mickey and knows that he’s funny, he’s thoughtful, he’s loyal, he’s his husband.

“The fuck you starin’ at?” Mickey snaps at him, an eyebrow raised halfway up his damn forehead.

Ian rolls his eyes, “Nothin’. What do you wanna eat?”

Ian sees the hint of a shy smile on his face as Mickey turns his gaze to the various restaurants they’ve been passing, “Uh, I’m kinda feelin’ Sheffield’s, man. That sound good to you?” He asks, looking back at Ian. The midday sun silhouettes his head, creating a halo out of his red hair and glowing against the hard edges of his face. Mickey remembers the round-faced, freckled boy at the convenience store with the floppy bangs and oversized flannels. Hell, he remembers him before that. He remembers third grade, and some loser with a mop of curly red locks and oversized front teeth leaning over and asking him for a pencil. Looking at him now with his wedding band catching the light, his chiseled jaw, and the lop-sided grin directed right at Mickey, he looks like fucking Adonis.

“…Mick?” Ian’s voice snaps him back to reality.

“Huh?”

“I was saying we’re here, Neil Armstrong,” Ian quips, “Come back to Earth, I wanna eat.”

“Ay, references like that are my thing,” Mickey says as Ian’s arm around his shoulder steers them toward Sheffield’s. They continue bickering as they walk in the restaurant, much to the server’s constant exasperation as she leads them to the patio. “Since when?” “Since fuckin’…always, man.”

They sit out in the Chicago summer sun, basking in the warmth of it together as they sip their drinks. Mickey, ever the loyalist, gets the cheapest beer on the menu after casting his eyes over the ludicrously long list of names, only a third of which he can pronounce. That’s what you get for going to a brewery, he figures absentmindedly to Ian. Ian gets one of the beers lower in proof, but he knows it’ll still bring him a pleasant buzz.

“If nothing else man, your meds make getting drunk economical as hell,” Mickey says to him with a breathy laugh as he hands the waiter their menus with a nod.

“You’re telling me,” Ian responds as he leans back lazily, comfortably spreading his legs in the chair as he grabs the sunglasses hanging off his shirt collar and slides them over his eyes. Mickey follows suit with his own pair of sunglasses and damn if the two of them don’t look good. Mickey changed out of his work uniform before coming to meet him and he’s wearing a pair of jeans that actually fit him, a black tank and blue short sleeve button up top that’s open and fluttering in the light breeze. He looks so relaxed and in his element, and Ian can’t help but wonder if this is what he used to wear in Mexico. For once the memory isn’t tinged with heartache; they’re here now.

“You look good,” Ian says, eyeing Mickey up and down from across the wooden picnic-like table.

Mickey flashes him a smile, “Says you,” he responds, and it’s so disgustingly sweet and domestic that he barely knows what to do with himself. He’ll never get used to this, he thinks, and he doesn’t want to. Ian smiles in return before Micky continues and leans forward, “I was thinking about getting my GED.”

“No shit,” Ian responds, mimicking Mickey in leaning forward across the table, a casual hand still around his beer, “What prompted that?” He asks before taking a sip.

Mickey shrugs, “I like my job now, but I was talking to Larry and he thinks it’d be a good idea. It’d give me better hirability or whatever, and…I dunno, I like my job now,” he repeats almost sheepishly, like he’s about to admit something terrible, “But I’ve been thinking about wanting…more, I guess?”

Ian smiles and reaches across to put a hand over the one Mickey has resting casually on the table, “Let’s make it happen, then.”

Mickey meets his eye for a brief moment with a shy half-smile that he hides by taking a sip of his beer.

“I’m serious, Mick. We can get some study books for you, Kev and V can look after the kids when you need the house to be quiet for two seconds so you can study…” he trails off, lowering his head slightly to prompt Mickey to meet his gaze.

“Alright, alright, Jesus,” Mickey finally says with a chuckle, turning his hand over to grasp Ian’s and rub his thumb over his knuckles, “Love you,” he adds quietly, but it’s not shy or embarrassed or scared; it’s just for Ian, and only Ian.

The two of them sit for what could be hours or minutes longer, chatting about their future plans like it’s nothing but it means fucking everything to both of them. Neither of them had ever really let themselves dream of a future like this. Whenever Ian’s mind had wandered to thinking of moments like this, of sentences like “Kev and V can look after the kids”, he’d dismissed it as the wishful thinking of a manic episode. “Fucked for life” had practically been Mickey’s life mantra. They share a house, they share food, they take turns making dinner, they have monthly goddamn traditions that include sunshine and drinks and risky kisses in alleyways.

They stay at Sheffield’s far longer than they had originally intended as the waiter informs them there’s live music that evening. So they stay, both buzzed on their beers and drunk on happiness and sun and music, sharing insults and laughs, basking in the comfort and familiarity of each other’s presence as the sun casts an orange glow over the Chicago skyline.

[apenapaperandadoofus]

Hello! I started following your blog recently and I honestly love your work. Reading your HC brightens up my day. This may be a odd one but can I request a MC walking into the kitchen and seeing SE Saeran trying to teach Saeyoung how to cook? Please and thank you! I just love the Choi twins so much and would love to see sibling interact!!

Aw, thank you! And sure, that’s the cutest request ever 🥺🥺

Saeran teaching Saeyoung how to cook:

Warnings: LOTS OF FLUFF, BEWARE

It was a sunny Sunday morning. The birds were singing outside your window, and there were no clouds in the sky. It was an absolutely beautiful day.

You woke up and smiled. Every day you woke up happy because you had such an amazing life. You were in love with the most beautiful man ever, and you had managed to rescue his twin brother and reunite them again. The RFA was absolutely amazing, you had such good times with them.

Also, with the twins, every day was full of excitement! You did lots of things together and you enjoyed spending time with them so much. Sometimes it was gardening with Saeran, or helping Saeyoung with his robots, or even watching a movie with the both of them! It was truly the best thing ever.

As you turned around to hug your boyfriend you felt the cold mattress where he was supposed to be. What? Where was he? You quickly stood up and rubbed your eyes, looking for him.

Hmm, so he wasn’t in your room.

Slowly you stood up and walked over to the hallway still seeking no sign of him. When you were about to call his name you heard some yelling from the kitchen and decided to go investigate. You slowly peeked your head into the kitchen, trying to use the wall as a hiding spot, and you saw a pair of familiar redheads. You wanted to see what they were doing, but you quickly stopped as you heard Saeran yelling something.

You had to bit your lips to try not to blow your cover, but you wanted to laugh so bad. Saeran was currently nagging Saeyoung about something.

Both of them had aprons on, the only difference was that Saeyoung was wearing a mini chef hat. You imagined that he had tried to get Saeran to wear one too so they could match but he obviously refused. You stayed quiet as you watched the two of them talk.

“Saeyoung! How the fuck are you so bad at cooking that you literally BURN RICE?! How do you even do that?!”

Saeyoung did a fake pouty face and curled his hands, making motions as if he were a cat.

“I told you, I’m sorry! Please dear brother forgive me~ Look, you can’t stay mad at a cute cat like me forever can you? Meaoowww, meaowwww, mea-AGH”

Saeyoung screamed as Saeran elbowed his stomach and he knelt down on the floor, Saeran glaring at him. “Saeyoung stop being so weird. Seriously, am I the only normal one in this household? Anyway, Y/N will be awake pretty soon and you said you wanted to make breakfast for her, didn’t you? So stop messing around and start cooking.”

Saeran had his hands on his hips, and his eyebrows were furrowed. You thought he looked like Vanderwood right now, nagging at Saeyoung for not doing his work. You had to suppress the urge to laugh again.

“Fine, just please don’t glare at me my sweet brother~ What do I do now?” Saeyoung asked as he stood up and cleaned some imaginary dust from his body. His twin grunted and ran a hand through his hair.

“Well, I’m going to have to fry the rice again, since someone burnt it.” He glared at Saeyoung once again and continued, “so right now you can go and scramble the eggs a bit, you have to quickly remove them from the pan. Meanwhile, I’ll chop the scallions.”

Saeyoung saluted and yelled a yes sir! While walking over to the stove and breaking the eggs. Both redheads were cooking in comfortable silence when Saeran looked at Saeyoung (who was adding something that was in a little jar to your eggs) and quickly grabbed it from him.

“THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” He yelled.

Saeyoung was taken aback and he glanced at the eggs and then at Saeran. And then back at the eggs and Saeran once again.

“I thought you were supposed to put a bit of salt on the eggs?” He raised an eyebrow. Saeran grunted and rolled his eyes.

“You are, but this right here is sugar. The salt is in the one with the red lid. And it literally says salt, Saeyoung are you kidding me? How can you not even know where the goddamn salt is in your own home.”

Saeyoung shrugged and nervously chuckled. “Then it’s a good thing you realized pretty quickly, that would have been bad”

“Seriously, you’re an adult, you should know how to cook. You can survive on just chips and Dr.Pepper! That’s bad for your health you idiot.”

Saeran gently pushed Saeyoung out of the way and added the scallions he was chopping, storing the eggs. Saeyoung leaned against the wall and looked at Saeran. After a few minutes, Saeran mixed the eggs with the rice and banged the pan on the stove.

“Stop looking at me like that you’re making me nervous!!!” He yelled. Then he saw Saeyoung flinch and he gulped, regretting having yelled at him. He slowly made his way to him and rubbed his neck. “Sorry. Just don’t do that, it makes me anxious.” Saeran said.

Saeyoung smiled and looked at his brother. “Yeah sorry. It’s just...I was looking at you and thinking about how amazing it is to do this sort of thing with you. I never thought we’d ever be able to...you know. Be a normal family. But here we are. And...I dunno, I just got happy.” He let out a small laugh and rubbed his eyes, where tears were forming.

Saeran’s eyes were wide and he looked at his brother with a shocked expression. Then he awkwardly placed a hand on his shoulder and looked at the ground, his face red.

“Um. Well, I guess I’m happy too. Being with you and....Y/N. It’s great. I would have never imagined that I’d be here with you guys right now so...yeah. Um- I-I’m kind of really happy too Saeyoung. When you were...well...gone, I maybe missed you a bit.”

Saeyoung slowly smiled as his brother’s face became redder with each word he mumbled, still looking at the ground. Then he grabbed Saeran and hugged him.

“Aww~ My little brother missed me!”

Saeran quickly yelled and tried to squirm out of the hug. “I-I told you that it was a MAYBE! I never really said I missed you! Ugh..stupid brother...” he whispered as Saeyoung kept holding on tight and he stopped fighting back. But then Saeyoung screamed, which scared Saeran who was slowly closing his eyes and even smiling a bit.

“THE FOOD IS BURNING SAERAN WHAT DO WE DO?!” He frantically yelled and Saeran came back to reality. “IDIOT WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME SOONER!” Saeran yelled and turned the stove off. He was yelling at Saeyoung again and you finally decided to come out of your hiding spot.

“Mornin’ guys!” You cheerfully said. Saeran, who was grabbing Saeyoung by the collar quickly let him go and basically shoved a plate of food to you.

“We made breakfast.” He said. Saeyoung quickly nodded beside him, a bright smile in his face.

“Yeah! Well, Saeran did almost all the work. But we did your favorite!”

You smiled gratefully and thanked both guys, then you all made your way to the table where you sat down and started eating your food.

You were having the first bite when all of a sudden you coughed. Saeran then did the same and he looked at Saeyoung.

The eggs...tasted weird.

Then Saeran accusingly glared at Saeyoung and stood up. “YOU SWITCHED THE SALT WITH THE SUGAR!”

Saeyoung giggled and shrugged, saying a little oops.

Then you giggled as he quickly bolted out of the kitchen with Saeran close behind. “SAEYOUNG I SWEAR YOU WILL DIE TODAY!!!” He screamed.

You laughed as you saw the two brothers run back and fort, a warm feeling spreading over your chest. You were so lucky to be with these two guys, and you loved them both.

They would always bring a smile to your face and you adored that they had become close. Truly a beautiful sight!

[teaspoon-full-of-sugar]

uniform

pairing: xavier plympton x reader

warnings: xavier’s kind of a dick, public sex, oral (fem recieving), teasing, thigh riding/dry humping, unprotected sex.. that’s basically it

word count: 2.1k

synopsis: xavier thinks y/n needs to let loose.

author’s note: hello, hi, this is a complete au—it has absolutely nothing to do with AHS 1984, but i was rewatching stranger things, and i got to thinking about how xavier could pull off the sailor uniform, and this hot mess was created.

some background for those who don’t watch stranger things and/or haven’t seen season 3, scoops ahoy is an ice cream shop, and the workers wear these uniforms. that’s literally it—self-indulgent public smut with xavier in a sailor uniform; there’s basically no plot. if you’re not comfortable with that, please don’t read :) xx all the love

— 

With a line nearly out the door, nautical music playing loudly, and children running around like wild animals, Scoops Ahoy is a madhouse. Ever since summer began and the mall opened up, it's been packed every day of the week. Behind the counter, Y/N grinds her teeth angrily as she shoves ice cream into the hundredth waffle cone she's had to make today, glancing up occasionally to the door. Xavier, her coworker, a spoiled rich boy who does nothing but bitch and whine, is two hours late for his shift. Not that she's really surprised, and even if he were here, he wouldn't be much help. She hands the waffle cone to a little girl, giving her a tight smile.

"Ahoy," she says blandly to the next customer. "Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I'm Y/N, and I'll be your captain. Can I interest you in some S.S Butterscotch or Peanut Butter-Chocolate Swirl?" Y/N's not really sure how much time has passed, but it feels like an eternity until she finally sees a pair of blue eyes and bleached hair strut through the door. She's gotten through the entire line of people, and now, she has to clean up the mess she made during the rush. 

"Good morning, princess."

"It's two in the afternoon." She scrapes down the sides of a tub of ice cream, which has melted, leaving her arms sticky. He checks his watch. 

"Oh, so it is." He smirks, leaning against the counter. He looks like he just rolled out of bed, with the red tie of his uniform tied in a lazy knot, and his red striped socks are barely pulled up over his ankles. Even his name tag is crooked. The tight blue shorts leave very little to the imagination, from his thick thighs to his bulging crotch. When she first met Xavier, she will admit that she thought he was attractive, and then, he spoke. She hasn't been able to stand him ever since. 

"You're more pissed than usual. That time of the month?" She resists the urge to punch him in the teeth. 

 "You're two and a half hours late." 

"I got busy." She rolls her eyes at the poor excuse, lips pursing. 

"Where's your cap?" 

"Oh, I left it at home, didn't feel like wearing it. It covers my best feature." He runs his fingers through his hair fondly. It looks soft and feathery, and she wonders what it would feel like in between—

No, get it together, Y/N.

"Are you serious?" She glares at him. "It's policy. You have to wear it." "Relax, Y/N," he scoffs, hiking his shorts up as he puts his hands on his hips. "Have you ever loosened up? Ever? In your entire life?" 

"Have you ever not been conceited? Ever? In your entire life?" She asks mockingly. "Besides, having fun and being responsible are two very different things." She gathers the dirty ice cream scoops in her arms and throws them into the dish bin. "I'll be in the back, doing my job. I can trust you up here alone, right?" 

"Yes, mom." 

The back of the parlor is quiet, calming. It's nice not having to hear the same, monotonous nautical song for hours on end. She's washing dishes, which, any other time, would make her more irritated, but the steam from the hot water is relaxing, and the sweet scent of melted ice cream makes her anger from earlier soften. 

Then, the door suddenly slams closed. She jumps and turns to see Xavier standing behind her, hips cocked and leaning against the wall. 

 "You can't leave the front unattended," she says. He reaches behind her and turns off the water. They've never been this close before; it makes her breathing stop. He smells expensive, like woods and frosted lavender. He tilts his head to the side, a teasing smile on his face. 

"You're cute when you're irritated. Did you know that?" She scoffs. 

"That's so insulting—" 

"Shh, princess. Be quiet," he says, pressing his lips softly to her neck, hands smoothing over the curve of her waist teasingly. "Have some fun for once." Her mouth dries when his hands move down to cup the backs of her thighs, dangerously close to the curve of her ass. She wants to push him off and slap him for even trying something on her, but his body is so warm against her, and she sinks into him. 

 "Xavier," she sighs, her eyes fluttering closed. "We can't—" She can hear families chattering behind the partition. 

The cloudy windows do very little to conceal the shapes of their bodies pressed close together. Montana and Brooke are scheduled to arrive in a half an hour; they could walk in on them at any moment. A rush of excitement settles in her stomach. 

"Yes, we can," he hums, fiddling with the bottom of her shorts, "You ever wonder how much more relaxed you would be if you just let go?" 

"I can let go," she says stubbornly, nostrils flaring. 

"Oh, yeah? Prove it, princess," he says, smirking. 

She knows that he's trying to get a rise out of her, and if she concedes, she'll just be giving him what he wants, but his lips look so soft and plump, and his creamy thighs are thick and taut. She sighs. Who knew legs could be so attractive? She grabs a hold of him by the neck and pulls him toward her. The kiss is rough, with their teeth clashing together, biting and slipping over wet skin, and their hands ripping at each others' uniforms. 

He guides her on top of the employee break table, their lips never breaking. Her heart races as he tugs the collar of her uniform down and sucks on her skin. She bites at her swollen lips to silence the moans threatening to break free, hands cupping the back of his neck. Her hips grind against his. He breaks away, holding her jaw tightly in her hand. She leans in to kiss him again, but their lips barely meet before he's pushing her back. 

 "Are you gonna be a good girl and be quiet for me? Hmm?" If she were standing, she's sure she would've melted into a puddle at his words. She nods, a quiet whine slipping from her throat. He smiles and kneels between her legs, pulling the hem of her shorts and panties slowly down her legs. He moves her feet flat on top of the table and mouths over her calf, teeth tugging gently at the top of her striped socks. His fingers dance on the tops of her thighs, slowly and teasing. 

"So pretty," he hums, leaning in close and inhaling her scent. "Such a pretty pussy. Whose is it?" He runs his fingers lazily over her folds, and she chokes on her breath, hips bucking. 

"Yours," she breaths out quietly. "Your pussy." He smiles. 

 "That's right." He bites on her inner thigh while his fingers spread her open. She drips onto the table, muscles quivering. He pulls back the hood of her clit and presses his lips gently against it. She whimpers, her eyes closing as she threads her fingers through his hair, pushing him deeper into her, hungry for more. He slaps her leg. 

 "Eyes open." She struggles to do as he says when his tongue flattens against her, massaging her sensitive clit. A choked moan slips past her lips when their eyes meet, his blue gaze clouded with arousal. She tugs on his hair, back arching. Her hips grind against his mouth. He bites her sensitive lips then sucks on them soothingly. He laps at her clit, leaving a trail of spit down to her aching opening. 

Her stomach tenses and curls into itself with each precise ministration, a throbbing ache beginning to pool in her stomach and muscles quivering from over exertion. Her feet fall from the tabletop, digging her heels into his shoulders. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly she can feel her orgasm coming. She would never want to give him the satisfaction of know that he was that good at it, so she blames it on the fact that she hasn’t been with someone in nearly six months. Nevertheless, she doesn’t want the feeling of his warm tongue between her legs to end. Her hips move to meet his mouth eagerly, body craving to meet her end. 

She can feel it deep in her stomach, and it strengthens with every passing second. He breaks away suddenly and stands. She wants to cry out and beg for him to continue, but she's afraid that he won't if she makes any more noise. A silent whine bubbles in her chest. She aches desperately, hips bucking up to get any sort of friction. He holds onto her neck, guiding their lips together. His tongue strokes her languidly, so she can fully taste herself. He leans his forehead against her, chest to chest. He can feel her unsteady breaths and racing heart. 

 "You're being such a good girl for me, so quiet, even though I didn't let you come. Who knows what would happen if anyone heard us. Maybe we would even get fired." His eyes widen jokingly, but she can't focus on his mocking, not when her body burns with frustration. 

She moans quietly, tugging his thigh into her pussy and grinding against him, leaving a wet patch on his shorts. He grips onto her ass, fingers twisting and digging into her hot flesh as he lifts her into him. She whines at the unfamiliar feeling of his rough shorts against her tender pussy, hips twitching to find that right angle that will finally make her fall apart. She shifts slightly, grinding harshly against his clothed cock, and he groans, cheeks reddening. 

"So wet, princess, I can feel you through my shorts," he chuckles, hands stalling her hips. She pulls at the hem of his shorts, barely tugging them down to expose is swollen cock.

Of course, he didn't wear underwear.

He rubs the head against her, sliding it teasingly through her folds. He puckers his lips, and a drop of saliva falls down onto her throbbing clit. She shivers when it slips down to her folds, meeting where his cock has settled right at her opening. He moans when he finally sinks into her, warm walls coating him in wet arousal. He pulls out slowly, letting her feel every inch, before slamming back; the power behind his thrust moves the table, knocking things onto the floor. She gasps, her hands gripping his fleshy ass. 

 "Oh, God," she finally moans out, eyes rolling back as he pounds into her. "So good." 

"Yeah, princess?" He sighs, breathing jagged. The table knocks against the wall with every thrust, but neither can make themselves care. He presses a hand onto her abdomen, feeling a slight movement beneath it. He smirks. "Do you feel that? Feel how deep I am?" He grinds into her. 

 She feels as though she has no control over her body, her hips move at their own rhythm, her breaths become shallow, and her muscles tighten and relax with a mind of their own. He wraps his arms around her midsection, cradling her to his chest. All she can see is a blur of blue with red and white stripes as his thrusts become sloppy and deeper. 

 She pulls him toward her by his tie, their lips colliding, wet and clumsy. He's just as soft as she imagined him, his skin silky against her, and his lips are sweet and plump. Her end sneaks up on her until she's barely hanging on, body lurching toward him. 

"Gonna come," she whines, fingers rubbing her clit messily, her walls clenched tightly around him. 

 "Gonna come with me, princess?" She nods hurriedly, eager to reach her peak. Her legs close around his waist involuntarily when she feels him come, pushing her over the edge. Her orgasm leaves her trembling in his arms, thighs twitching. She whimpers when he pulls out, his cum dripping onto the table. Her chest heaves, broken gasps heating the air. 

 "So pretty," he says and caresses her folds, fingers dipping inside gently to gather their releases. He pulls her shorts from her ankles back up to her hips, her body pliant beneath him. He rubs her clothed pussy soothingly, already feeling the area dampen. 

The sound of the bell chiming out front knocks her out of her stupor. She sits taller, more alert, eyes wide. 

"Don't worry, princess, I'll get that," he says. He smooths out his hair and winks at her before leaving out the door with messy shorts and a smug smile. 

 —

[shhh-no-ones-home]

bases loaded* highschool!ricky horror x reader

+++++++++ Highschool au woo!

originally i was like ‘hey maybe they could like sneak into an empty classroom’ and then i remembered in my highschool there are batting cages for softball practice in a long narrow room above the gym. also the only way you can get to it is a staircase that goes from the basement at the end of the hall with the art/shop/weight training rooms all the way up to the gym and the batting cages above it, its like a four story staircase. (i know it sounds weird but our school has had a lot of additions over the years, theres a wrestling room in the back of the ‘new’ gym too) but thats kind of where the idea for this came from so if it reads weird or doesnt seem like a normal highschool set up, i promise it is because i lived it, its literally in my highschool lol.

* -  You two sneak off during class to find an empty room (this was  og promt). He has to keep you quiet during a hard fucking so you dont get caught

Song: mrs infamous (my sweetness) by palaye royale

tag list: @thisplace-ishaunted @svintsandghosts @theoneandonlykymberlee @alilpunkrock @cynic-spirit @musicsexandpizza69 @ryansitkowskiswifey +++++++++

"Meet me at the end of the shop hallway during sixth period."

I replayed that sentence in my mind over and over again. He sounded so needy whispering it in my ear as the bell rang to release us from lunch. I couldn't stop thinking about it, and it made me blush each time. I thought about if skipping class would be worth it but it always was. We were seniors after all, which meant what few classes we did have, we didn't have much to do at this point. I rounded the corner and spotted him at the other end of the hallway, smoking out the open window. I walked quickly towards him, hoping none of the art teachers would notice me. When I got to him I smiled.

"Did you miss me?"

I said quietly, making him jump. He sighed out in relief.

"Jesus y/n."

I laughed a little bit.

"You said to meet you. What are we doing?"

He smirked at me before putting his cigarette out on the window sill.

"We, are going to have a little fun."

He grabbed my hand and started towards the stairs.

"Since we haven't been able to hang out after school for the past like two weeks I figured we could have some time to ourselves during. Besides, it's not like we have anything better to do."

I smiled to myself as he looked around, leading me up the stairs once the coast was clear.

"And we're heading to the batting cages because?"

this stair case only went to one place and i had a pretty good idea of what he wanted to do. He looked at me over his shoulder and smirked.

"It's private, and with it being over the gym no one will hear us."

I raised a brow.

"Oh?"

He sent me a wicked smile before turning back around. When we got to the top he paused, letting go of my hand.

"Isn't it locked during school hours?"

I asked. He just ignored me, kneeling down and pulling two pins out of his hoodie pocket.

"Nothings locked if you try hard enough."

He said smoothly, moving to pick the lock. I smiled to myself as the door popped open and he stood up. He held it and kissed me endearingly.

"After you m'lady."

i smirked at him.

"How thoughtful."

He followed in after me. The whole room was dark aside from the light coming in from the 'windows' to the gym. You could hear the coaches  instructing students, it sounded like they were playing kick ball today which meant we'd be home free in the noise department. i walked along the far wall, making sure no one down below would be able to see us at the angle. there were gym mats littering the floor along with a few racks of equipment and large nets to catch the balls that were hit. in one corner however there was a medium sized table with two chairs behind it, where the coaches usually kept their clip boards and the water coolers and things. today however it was empty. i walked quietly over to it, leaning my hands on it to make sure it wouldnt squeak under my weight. when it didnt make a sound i turned around and slid up onto it, kicking my legs under me and watching ricky as he looked around. by now the gym class had started their game and you could hear the loud sound of rubber being hit and students yelling to their teammates.

"you stalling for a reason kiddo?"

i asked, pulling rickys attention to me. he held his pointer finger to his lips to shush me as he peered out the glass-less window down at the class. he looked back to me after a second and smiled. i watched him intently as he strutted carefully over to me, placing his hands firmly on the table on either side of my thighs.

"you ready to go?"

he asked smoothly, staring into me, his gaze falling momentarily to my lips. i shuddered, running my hands lightly up his arms. i always could get lost in his ocean eyes, the dark makeup pulling me in deeper as he beckoned me with his siren song. i nodded to him before capturing his lips in mine, pulling him to me as i kissed him hungrily. we slowly began making out and i could feel his hands move to my hips, squeezing them gently as he stood up. i detached from him and inhaled deeply, looking up at him with an innocent gaze.

"i love you ricky."

i said a little dazed. he smiled at me before kissing me lightly, his one hand moving to my face to caress my cheek.

"i love you too y/n."

he waited for my response and as soon as i smiled at him, bringing my hands to hold his waist to me, he was back to my lips. i hummed against him as he shoved his tongue in my mouth. as we continued to make out i moved to get his jacket off, unzipping it slowly and pushing it down his arms. he dropped it to the table next to me and returned his hands to my exposed thighs. he pulled away from my mouth, moving down my neck as i snaked my fingers into the hair at the base of his neck, just under his black beanie.

"im so glad you wore a skirt today."

he mumbled against my collar bone, making me shudder at his hot breath.

"so am i."

i sighed out, feeling him slip his hand between my legs. he moved his head back up to kiss me as he ran two fingers over my clothed heat.

"so needy."

he said seductively, making me blush.

"i missed your touch."

he moaned low in his throat at my comment before pushing my skirt up quickly and pulling me to the edge of the table. i caught myself, dropping both hands to the table behind me as i leaned back. when i looked down between the two of us i could see his bulge pressed hard against his tight jeans.

"god, i need you so bad right now."

his voice was barely above a whisper. i pecked his lips before looking back down between us. i slowly began to undo his jeans, looking back to his face every once in a while to see his eyes screwed shut as i grazed him, pushing his bottoms down. he breathed deeply, barely opening his eyes as he pulled himself out of his jeans. i groaned to myself as he pressed his member against my thigh, spreading my legs apart and pushing my panties to the side.

"you ready baby?"

he asked lowly. i raised a brow.

"did you bring it?"

he looked confused for a second before realizing what i was asking and pulling his pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. when he opened it i could see it was half empty but he had remembered to bring a condom this time.

"got it."

he said, pulling it out and tearing it open. i helped him roll it on before leaning back again. i moaned as he ran himself over my slit, getting my wet over his tip before he guided himself into me. He reached up to cover my mouth with his hand and looking panicked for a second.

"youve gotta be quiet princess, or we're not gonna get very far."

i nodded and he dropped his hand back to the table. i scooted closer to the edge of the table as he pulled halfway out and pushed back into me a few times. as he began thrusting a little harder i brought one leg up to hook around his waist, bringing him closer to me. as he got rougher he finally remembered to take care of me, bring his hand down to circle my clit. i dropped my head back immediatly, giving him access to kiss and suck at my neck again. my eyes screwed shut as he pounded into me, breathing heavily against my skin. i moaned again and he shot upright, covering my mouth as he continued fucking me hard. i looked at him with dark eyes, reaching for his shirt and gripping it tightly.

"ricky."

i moaned into his hand. he decided that wasnt enough though and replaced his hand with his mouth, kissing me roughly as  his movements got sloppier and more uneven. i could feel him twitch as he kept moving, thrusting into me and pushing his thumb against my clit. then i felt it, my vision went blurry for a second as my orgasm wracked through my body, making my thighs quiver against his waist. he thrusted hard one last time before pausing and sighing heavily into my mouth as he came. we both sat there breathing heavily for a second before he pulled out of me. as he was pulling the condom off we both heard a whistle blow from inside the gym, then one of the coaches yelled for the class to clean up.

"you ready to dash?"

he asked, pulling his pants back up and helping me down off the table. i nodded, fixing my panties and my skirt back into place.

"lets hope we dont get caught."

i winked at him, picking his hoodie up and draping it over my shoulders. he smirked down at me, taking my hand in his and pulling me towards the door.

"do we ever?"

[projectsoleil]

NOW STREAMING... MOON ROVER ADVENTURES S5EP18: THE SUNRISE FINALE | GABRIELLE MORNINGSTAR | CHAPTER 3 EXECUTION

Gabi finds himself in the arms of a couple people as the votes finish being counted, as his fate is decided. The hugs are returned as tightly as possible, clutching with every ounce of strength left in him, until the other person is shaking with him. When they pull away, he whispers thanks. 

(Being held is only reminding him of the arms of the few he wants nothing more than to be in right now—face buried in Abe's shoulder, hidden against his chest with his lips pressed to the crown of his head; the soothing touch of Pheo's damaged hands through his curls, soft whispers of assurance; the swirling heat of a hearth and the unwavering, unshaking, protective embrace of Gale. Gabi rubs the heel of his hand over the tears burning down his cheeks instead, head down, and casts his gaze to—)

(—Hawk?)

Hawk crashes to the floor in an awful thump, convulsing on the ground while Tyr’s expression remains one that wasn’t joy at the situation, rather, dread at what was coming next. From Hawk, their attention went to Gabi, who's pupils were shrunk, trembling.

[Mr. Morningstar...it’s time...]

Tyr approaches Gabi slowly and offers their nub to him, though instead of taking it, the young man scoops Tyr up into his arms, holding him like one would a toddler or cat. For another hug, or in hopes to keep him from shooting at anyone else? From AI-T's podium, Rover suddenly goes rigid, and looking more robot-like than he ever has, turns and starts walking stiffly towards them. The redheaded bot stops once they get to the usual spot by the wall, and Gabi turns to look at him momentarily. A hand is lifted, and albeit shaky, presses against the center of the star on Rover's chest. The door in the wall pulls open, and as they turn back to give the room one last look, Fenrir, who has been silently waiting, shoves his phone against Maxwell's chest, then along with Galehaut, jumps to attention—bolting towards them.

"Fuck all that! Fuck all this!" Galehaut shouts. "When I said on our own terms, I meant it! Moon, I'm not gonna let them—!"

As they quickly approach, Tyr offers a small apology to the one that held them in his arms...

[I am sorry, Mr. Morningstar.]

They raise their nub, and like with Hawk, out launches a small pod shaped object that latches onto both of them and sends a powerful shock through their bodies. 

Ah—Gabi grips Tyr tightly to his chest and makes a terrible, strangled sound as the two join Hawk on the floor. His gaze rips from them to stare wide-eyed and glossy at the rest of the room. He shakes his head a few times, backing up, backing up. Lips parted, like he's trying to say something, but his voice never reaches them—Rover steps between Gabi and the rest of you, obscuring the smaller body from view. The bot looks over his shoulder and gives the room an empty, dark, protective look, before the door slams shut, taking them away. 

A minute passes...two...three...until finally the screen lights up with the single message:

PLEASE ENJOY THE PRESENTATION WE HAVE PREPARED

before fading back to black.

[TW: DESCRIPTIONS OF BEING BEATEN, GORE] 

…

The lights dim, casting your cohort into a spill of long stretching shadows. There's a brief silence that follows, until a familiar, cheery theme song begins to chime through the room, growing in volume as the television screen flickers to life.

♫♪ i can reach all the stars in the sky with you by my side! ♪♫

The obnoxious tune of children singing is accompanied with a cartoon music video of what looks like a television show—shooting stars fall across the screen in a sparkly transition effect, opening up to the robot you’ve all grown familiar with over the course of the last month, cartoonified and walking around the moon to the beat of the song. 

♫♪ and if we don't make it today, we'll try, try, try again another day! ♪♫

He's decked out in his hero suit, grinning ear to ear at the audience, and begins leaping from the moon to another planet. It plays in this sort of loop, with Moon Rover marching on rotating planets, waving at passing cartoon versions of.. well, you! He passes by Fenrir and gives him two high-fives, Snapshot he hip-checks, waving at Zero Sum and Oleander on a water-themed planet, Angel they clang a wine glass with...

♫♪ so let's shoot for the stars, and hang out on the moon, and together we'll be anything, anything, anything we've ever wanted to be! ♪♫

It ends with Moon Rover landing on the Earth, joining the rest of the show's cast. Heroes and villains in dramatic poses, making up your full group, including Collin and Ivo hovering by the sides of the screen. 

Well... it includes everyone but one.

We zoom in on the cartoon Rover, who winks at the audience and gestures to follow him, before turning around into a transition. When the scene returns, we're joined with the real Rover, standing in what looks like the middle of the foyer of a massive house. He grins bright, wide, and opens his arms up to the viewers. 

“HEYY, STAR TROOP! ‘m so glad y’were able to tune in today!" 

He places his hands on his hips, leaning forward into the camera. 

“Y’ready for today’s mission? T’day we got somethin’ a little different — we’re takin’ a trip back t’my childhood home! Keheh—betcha thought I lived in a rocket, yeah? Nope! I came from a house, just like yours!” 

The hero beams at the audience and takes a step back, allowing the camera to sweep over the area better: yeah, he is in a foyer—the main entrance of a mansion—except, it’s as if someone has destroyed the place. Pictures are ripped from the wall, furniture toppled over--there’s areas that are just straight up blown up, holes broken through walls, the chandelier hanging slanted, too covered in char to glisten anymore, parts of the staircases caved in. Tire marks are burnt into the floor, the walls, the ceiling.   

There’s a 360 degree pan of the entrance, before it stops on Rover, where he’s gesturing to follow him again. He walks over broken wood and ash, until he gets to a form laying on the floor behind a fallen loveseat: bound at the wrists and ankles, Moon is trying to wiggle himself free.  

“Today we’ve got a suuuuper special guest!” He squats down next to Moon, grabbing a fistfull of his hair and pulling his head up off the floor. The boy winces, pieces of glass and dirt stuck into his cheeks. “The villain who hurt poor, poor Venus! An' subsequently hurt loads more through his choices! I already went ahead an' caught him, so, of course, all what's left is teachin' this no-good hooligan a lesson! Will you help me, Star Troop??"

There’s a blur of movement, and the binds on Moon’s hands and feet are cut—he immediately goes to scramble away, but with a simple step on the corner of his hoodie, he slams back to the ground. Nonchalantly, without hesitation or warning, Rover kicks Moon in the stomach—knocking him backwards in a cry.

Despite being kicked aside like a limp doll, Moon pushes himself up onto his elbows, grimacing, and begins crawling. Rover strolls slowly after him, easy and with a bounce to his step. When he reaches him, he bends down to grab the collar of his shirt, pick him up, and punch him directly in the jaw. It isn't pretty, the next seconds—if this were cinematic in any definition of the word, the moment would be done through silhouettes, the shadow of Rover pulling his arm back and bringing it down mercilessly into the smaller man's form, the ugly sounds of flesh being beaten being the only sense of how awful it is.

You don't get that pleasure. You see it all: no pretty cuts or dramatic angles to censor the boy's face splitting open, blood spilling up from fractured ribs into wet coughs, red splattering across Rover's hero costume. If anyone else was in his place, literally anyone else in the courtroom, this would be solved in an instant — a magma punch, a swipe of a sword, the crack of lightning, and this wouldn’t even be a fight. But Moon isn’t a hero. Not in the super-deep, metaphoric sort of way, but just that: Moon was a civilian. 

He’s dropped to the ground in a gross crack, whining, but moving regardless. He scrambles to his feet this time, using the help of a chair thrown on its side. He runs. He isn’t fast, especially now with his hand clutched to his chest, wheezing, but he runs… not to the front door like you’d expect, but deeper into the mansion. Rover walks behind him, chatting to the audience, you suppose, but now you’re following Moon. 

A door is flug open, and he staggers into a huge workshop. For someone who is frequently found scrawling on his arms to organize roaring thoughts and ideas, the place is surprisingly spotless, orgazined: filled with tools and kilns and forges and anvils. Computer software you know costs millions just by the sight. The young man’s eyes dart desperately around the room, and he makes a bee-line for the back wall full of displayed gear. A weapon? Is he looking for something to use? He grabs a pair of gauntlets first, something similar to Galehaut’s color scheme, before throwing them on the ground. A pair of yellow lense goggles—no. A botched looking race car—no. A pair of motorized wheelies—no. Equipment, equipment, equipment! He didn’t make weapons! He didn’t— 

“Found ya!” 

—whack!— 

Something whizzes past Moon’s head, smacking his hand away from the wall in the process. He turns around, and a small, helicopter-like birdbot is hovering in the air in front of him. Moon blinks, and then the bird shoots forward, whacking him a few more times in the head. It looks less like it hurts, and more like it’s just a distraction. The boy stumbles to the side, tripping over a small dogbot waddling by his feet. He crashes into the wall, and an array of different gear topples over.

It’s more pathetic than tragic, watching his own work fall on his head. He collapses under the weight, but ever-stubborn, ever-determined, ever-unbreakable, Moon whines and pushes his way out, tries to get to his feet once, fails, twice, fails again, and on the third—

—on the third, a red hand snaps forward and grips his throat, pulls him free, and dangles him up into the air, grinning widely. 

“Didn’t think y’could run, didja? Y’know, people want y’blood! They voted for it! Y’think I could let down the Star Troop now?? After how badly ya did?? They need someone they can trust, afterall!”

Moon grips Rover’s forearm with both his hands, clawing weakly at his gloves. The tips of his toes can just barely reach the pile of gear beneath him, so he’s at the very least got a bit of footing. Not that it matters—it’s no use, of course it’s no use—Moon reaches out to push at his bot’s face, push him away, do anything, anything— ah, wait? No.. he’s.. 

With a trembling hand, Moon sinks three of his fingers into the back of Rover’s head, prompting a hatch to pull away and open up in his chest, exposing a variety of wires and a pinpad. Rover doesn’t seem concerned, just keeps on holding Moon by the neck, even as the blonde starts fumbling a code in the pad.

He's dying. A small red button opens up between all the switches and buttons in Rover’s chest, and Moon's frantic, desperate reaching for the button slows down considerably. Really, it's kind of anti-climatic for a death, nevermind a supposed fantastical execution. Maybe that was what Moon deserved, though — something quiet, uneventful, alone. 

Click! 

...Just kidding! He presses the button. Rover’s grip falls away immediately, dropping Moon in a heap on the floor and leaving him doubled over, gasping and coughing, gulping down air like he'd been drowning. In front of him, Rover’s expression seems frozen, and his body begins… going limp? No, no.. it almost looks like he’s.. shutting down? A second later, Rover has joined Moon on his knees in front of him, his smile frozen, his shoulders slumping, his right eye flashing red. His right eye flashing red.. slowly. 

“...keh..” 

There is hardly any distance between the two, but when Moon pushes himself up and wraps his arms around his robot, hooking his chin on his shoulder, the effort looks akin to dragging your hands down a wall of glass shards. 

“...’bout.. time we wrapped this up, huh?” His voice would’ve been impossible to hear had this not been meant for entertainment — hoarse, whisper-quiet.

The sentence seems to, somehow, despite the red light increasing in speed, prompt a corrupt, laggy voice to start speaking: “..S-S-SHOOT FOR THE STARS—!” 

“—even.. if y’miss..” 

Moon grabs fistfulls of the back of Rover’s suit, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“..you’ll land on the—!”

…

…

[♫♪♫♪♫♪] 

The screen blacks out, rattling — the sound from the speakers blowing out from sheer force of the explosion. You… you feel like you should feel it in the courtroom—the floor shaking and rumbling beneath you, but you don’t. Somehow, it makes it feel more empty. More far away. 

As the scene settles, the dust and smoke beginning to clear, you notice blood splattered on the lense of the camera—blurred and out of focus, but unmistakably blood. Debris and metal parts are scattered everywhere, wires twisted and still burning like lit fuses. Something drips from the ceiling, and you're unsure if it's blood or a combination of that and flesh. But more importantly, you see the remains of a human body — the parts you'd never want to see; splintered bone, limbs still stuck in clothes, a head in the corner of the scene, blonde hair smoking, lulling on the slanted floor, and what you catch sight of his face is burnt through to the inside of his mouth, burnt through to his skull.

He looks like he was screaming, and though you know he wasn't in his last moments, this image will likely be the thing you remember when you think of him.

...

Life is continuous. 

Tonight, the sky will finish clearing the storm and the moon will glow across the horizon like it has every other night, and how it will continue to shine for every other night after this. For nothing has really changed—and that's the bonus of playing a stage hero robot that could be replicated, right? Built on? Upgraded? For years and years and years to come, beyond your short life, he can still do something amazing without you. 

Yeah, the world will keep going on without you. 

You wanted that.

(Didn't you?) 

[Gabrielle & Rover Morningstar have been executed.] 

(thank you han for the art!)