#no one can stop me from giving the old man a good fuc

[nananarc]

A Little Comic About Bullying Your Beloved Seneschal

Why order a serv to help with your implants if you can abuse your power to harrass your beloved seneschal?

So you see, Lĩnh is a telepath psyker, and when the implants are not connected properly, dampening doesn't work. She can hear everyone's thoughts. Yes, she can hear all of the seneschal's thoughts. (He's trying to do math in his head btw lmao)

This happens after she has to make the decision to blow up Rykad Minoris. The weight of being a Rogue Trader truly hits her and fried her brain. So she decided to fuck it and seduce the hot peepaw. No numbing drug is better than messing with the old man.

My Commission

Credit:

Photo by Abigail Keenan on Unsplash

Photo by Peter Oswald on Unsplash

Photo by L Moisao on Unsplash

[swifty-fox]

from the kiss asks, can you do [rough] with the ship of your choice :)

sorry this is really horny

"It still fits."

John looks up from where he'd been smoothing his hands over the lapels of his pink and greens, medals clinking faintly.

Languishing against the doorframe to their bedroom in a flattering combination of pressed slacks and slightly rumpled undershirt, Gale smiles faintly. Methodically taking apart an orange, his eyes roamed over John's frame. Ungelled hair flopped over his forehead, making him look younger than his thirty years.

John pivots back to the mirror, "Ah, nearly," he stretches his arms forward to show how the seams stretched at the shoulder, broader now at thrity-three than they'd been the last time he'd had to don the uniform.

"Hmm," Gale agrees, his once-over obvious in the mirror reflection, "Just don't flex."

Gale's jokes were always rare unexpected things, so quick you could almost miss them if you didn't hang onto every word the way John did, quietly sandwiched between dry tone and a normally serious attitude. It startles a laugh from John, who winces and presses a hand to where his jacket constricts over his chest in protest.

Still fit, still able to keep up with standard PT, just not war-time lean and twenty seven years old.

"Maybe I need to get it tailored," he admits.

Gale pops the final wedge in his mouth and steps forward, smelling of citrus and toothpaste. His hands smooth over John's chest, half appreciative groping and half smoothing invisible wrinkles, popping the button of his jacket.

"Maybe."

Stroking a thumb across the beauty marks on his lovers cheek, John grins toothily, "I bet yours fits just as perfect as the first day you put it on, you trim bastard."

"Well, maybe if you stopped drinking-"

"Ohh, have you pressed my shirt and prepared the roast for dinner too darling?" John croons, hooking Gale in by the waist of his slacks.

Fingers delving inside John's jacket to tug right back against his waist , Gale grins right back at him despite the flush rising to his cheeks, "I don't know, did you buy me a good present this year?"

"Mhm, diamonds and pearls and the prettiest of skirts for my best girl."

He's nosing along the ridge of Gale's neck, searching for the most prime spot to sink his teeth in when he hears the sharp intake of breath.

They both pause and John smiles against Gale's tanned skin, dragging his tongue across his preferred spot and ending it with a sucking kiss. Hard cock presses against John's hipbones as he tugs Gale flush, letting the width of his body cage the slighter man.

"You wanna hear what else I'll give you?"

Gale snorts, long fingers undoing the line of buttons on John's shirt with practice. "Sure," he says dryly, getting the shirt open and knotting fingers in John's chest hair until the other man groans softly, "Let's hear what you're gonna give me."

Their room is small, especially for two full grown men with a whole life together, and it spins around Gale as John rotates them rapidly, pressing him down on his elbows over the foot of the bed. The footboard bites into his stomach almost uncomfortable and Gale grunts as John drapes himself over his back.

Languid kisses trail along the exposed nape of Gale's neck, a touch too wet in a way that made his cock twitch.

"I dunno," John muses as if they were deciding what to have for dinner. Large hands drag down Gale's ribs, settling on his waist to drag his ass back against the fat line of John's cock in a slow drag, "Maybe a few little ones to start."

A moan kicks out of Gale's chest, high and breathy. John catches his breath audibly and then chuckles right in the shell of Gale's ear.

"Definitely won't be able to fit into my uniform if you do that, Bucky." Gale grunts.

"That's okay, that's okay, sweetheart," John breathes, undoing the front of Gale's slacks before he even registers where his hands have gone, dragging the fabric down around Gale's knees, "We'll get you some pretty skirts instead. "

"Fucking hell, John," Gale whines.

"It'll be better that way, easier access for whenever I need."

They're both panting, Gale's fingers tangled in the duvet so hard his knuckles pop. His briefs are tugged down to join his slacks around his knees, vicing them together. Spit lands on the small of his back, sliding down between his cheeks encouraged by two broad fingers

"Look at you, already wet for me."

Gale sucks in another breath as another heavy glob of spit lands, John gathering it on his fingers and using it to press inside Gale sharply. He chokes at the sudden too-big-too-much intrusion, stinging and perfect.

"It's okay, darling, just gotta get you ready for me since you're so delicate," John hisses pointedly and despite himself Gale laughs.

A hand steadies Gale's hip, pressing him down into the mattress so the drooling wet head of his cock presses into his stomach, the footboard bruising his hips deliciously. It opens him up more for John's touch and he slips in a third finger with another layer of spit. He tries to spread his legs to ease some of the pressure but his slacks hold his legs tight. He settles for a wobbly moan, mouth falling open and panting hot and needy onto the sheets.

The sound of a belt buckle opening behind him, out of sight and too-loud kicks something ominous in Gale's belly that burns him twice as hot.

He grins, teeth bared and hungry, "What else? What else y'gonna give me John?"

John's grip tightens and he hisses. Fingers slip out of Gale, leaving him shivering and goose-bumped at the loss, and then there's the sound of John spitting once again. The sound makes Gale whine.

"Yeah, I got what you want, don't worry."

Despite his rough tone, John breaches him slow. Eases inside with a gentle care that gives Gale time to adjust to an intrusion he wasn't quite ready for.

He clutches at John's wrist braced by his head, hissing through his teeth. It's slow minutes until John hilts himself, groaning shamelessly. Then he does that thing Gale hates and loves in equal measure where he grinds his hips forward, as if he had a spare inch to share. It never failed to send vicious too-full pleasure through Gale's body.

Gale whines, setting his teeth to John's thumb to share his feeling back with the other man. Tries to bump his hips right back but John holds him in a restraining grip.

He tuts at him, "Now, you just lay back and let me do the work, doll, this is all you're needed for."

"John," Gale pants, reduced to his name and little else.

John spits again on the draw out, slides home with a wet squelch as moisture drips down Gale's thighs, drips over his balls and onto the bedsheets. It's easy to fall into the fantasy of it all. John the only man he'd ever give the left chair to.

He settles into John's thrusts, grips his wrist and the bedsheets and makes noises he'd flush to remember the next day. John loves it, panting and groaning above him and pulling his body back in the way he just liked, carving out the shape of him in Gale's body.

"Good fucking girl, Gale," John breathes.

Sharp belt presses into the meat of his ass with every thrust, the open wings of John's shirt and jacket brushing his power back. His own undershirt is tucked up around his waist, they're undressed only enough to get the business done. Every hit of John inside has Gale gasping, arching back to meet him at the prompting of John's hand on his hip. His cock drags through rough sheets dampened by his own arousal and he drops a hand to touch himself.

John tuts in displeasure, steals both Gale's wrists in his hand and pulls them above his head, drawing out the line of his body.

"Ass," Gale hisses, but most of his ire is ruined by the way he sobs at the hit of John's cockhead against his prostate.

John laughs, breathless and just as affected, bends down to bite over Gale's shoulder in admonishment, "Sorry darling, the men down at the club swear things tend to take better if you don't touch yourself."

"They, do do they?" Gale asks nastily.

A playful snarl against the nape of his neck, teeth latching onto the skin like a dog with its favorite toy before John soothes over the skin with soft tongue laps and rough stubble. Teases his thumb around the rim of Gale's hole, until his stomach is clenching and he's close to begging.

"I'll try anything to get you nice and bred for me."

"I should muzzle you."

A finger hooks in Gales open jaw, drawing his mouth down so John can spit on his tongue, twisting his hips just so. Gale swallows so the saliva isn't wasted on the sheets, comes so hard he loses hearing for several moments. John lets him ride it out until he's limp, gasping for breath and shivering.

And even though Gale is wrung out and exhausted and oversensitive, John flips him onto his back and presses back inside , bending over to kiss him roughly.

"Gonna make sure it sticks, Okay?" John says against his lips

[justrainandcoffee]

Never is too late (Tommy Shelby x male!oc) + (Alfie Solomons) part 3

Masterlist - Previous Part

Summary: Jared goes to London before it's too late to repair the damage his brother James can cause. Alfie Solomons hears the word he never expected to hear from his wife: Divorce. And for the first time in over two years he realises, he really realises, the pain he caused in Rose. || Tommy denies his new feelings.

Warnings: Angst. Lot of angst. || Internalised homophobia, mentions of cheating. Tommy is in denial in the saddest way possible 😔.

Words: 2.3k

"I'm going to London. You're welcome to come with me," Jared said to Tommy while they were walking through the dirty streets of Birmingham.

Tommy's heart stopped when he heard that. Unaware of the war that was about to startt in the heart of Camden Town, last thing was Alfie hearing from him. And especially not Rose.

"My brother," Jared said looking at him "is doing an innapropiate use of his dick. This fucking idiot."

"I'm sure your brother is a big boy that knows what he's doing."

"Not always. I'm not forbidden him doing anything, I'm just trying to make him understand that some pussies are not worth of a bullet."

"Is he fucking the queen consort?"

Jared smirked "something like that. So, for a few days I'm not going to be here. Are you going to miss having me around?"

"No."

"Keep sayin' that, Thomas Shelby. Say it until you believe your own lies."

.

Things in Camden Town were going from bad to very bad.

Few people didn't enter in the category of "no one bother Alfie Solomons when he orders it" and one of them was Samuel, Rose's brother. And his personal lawyer.

The last few days, after Rose kissing James, Alfie's mood was worse than ever before. Now, not even Ollie talked to him. Alfie's days start going straight to his office in the mornings, the one that didn't leave until the sunset. No one knew what was happening and didn't dare to ask either. But Samuel was there because he needed answers.

Far away in time was than thin kid that used to mock the young couple when they were still teenagers. The Samuel entering Alfie's was a 30 year-old man and he was furious. Before Alfie could known what was happening, Samuel's fist found his brother-in-law jaw and the blow resounded inside the office.

"What the fuck did you do to my sister. Give me a reason, Alfie, give me a fucking reason to not destroy your fucking face! What did you do to her!!"

Alfie looked at him angrily. Touching his sore face, just let out a grunt.

"Fuck off, Samuel."

"I'm not going to fuck off a shit, Alfie! I'm not one of your men! I'm your family!"

"What do you want, hmm? What do ya want me to tell ya?"

"Tell me why Rose called me this morning asking how much time it'd take a divorce. I thought it was for a friend, one of the women she hosts in Pebblebrock, but no… I couldn't believe my ears. Not she and you. So answer to me, fucker. What the hell did you do to Rosie?"

Alfie let himself fell in his chair. Whoever the bastard was, he was brainwashing Rose because there was no way that she was ready to leave him, if it wasn't for her new love. No, Alfie shook his head, Rose wasn't easy to manipulate and let alone by a man. His Rosie had found comfort in someone else and the one to blame was him and that was what made him angry.

"She gave you everything, son of the bitch. If I didn't bring the papers it's because I'm giving you the chance to fix your fucking mistakes before it's too late. Don't doubt for a second that I'm going to do whatever it's the best for her, even if that means divorcing you. Of all people in universe, you decided to hurt her. If what I think it's true, then I wish you the worst, Solomons. Your Rosie, of all people…- you decided to hurt her. You don't deserve her, prick."

Samuel left his place slamming the door behind him.

Rose was in her own office, in Pebblebrock when the phone rang.

"Rose Coldwell speaking, good afternoon."

"Rosie, Rosie listen to me."

"Alfie."

"Yes. Sweetheart, luv, fuckin' hell, pet. I know I hurt ya, but please… your brother just left, he spoke about divorce, papers… Rosie, please. I can't live without you. Without you, I don't exist!"

"Don't manipulate me, Alfie."

"I'm not!!"

"You're repeating a song I heard here on daily basis: 'I'm going to change, Mrs. Solomons, please allow my wife to see me. Mrs. Solomons I promise it won't happen again, I love her.' So, Alfie, you're not being original. Why do you suddenly care? And you can live without me, you certainly can because you've been living with a woman that wasn't me at all for the last two years."

"I know. But I love you."

"You keep saying that but I don't see it. I don't feel your love although I know it exists. There was a time where I was everything to you. I knew an Alfie once that could give his right arm for me. The Alfie I fell in love with, could never let me cry to sleep. My first love, the Alfie who was a teen working in a bakery and who promised me the sun and the moon could be disgusted by you. And you have the toupee to call me and say you love me? Why do you care about me now? Sign the papers, Alfie."

"Samuel refused to fill the papers."

"Then I'm going to hire a better lawyer."

"You don't want to divorce me."

"No. But for the first time in over two years I opened the eyes."

"Someone else made you open the eyes," Alfie couldn't help but let his jealousy and resentment talk. "Who's that fucker? I saw you."

Rose remained in silence for few seconds before answering "his name is James. And he helped me to understand that you're not the only man in the world capable of feeling something nice for me. Maybe we started our relationship too soon, Alfie. We were kids playing to be young adults in love. Maybe I didn't give you the chance to explore your real desires. Maybe I didn't have the chance to prove myself that I'm worth to be loved."

"My real desires? Rosie, I'm not homosexual. I love you and I desire you same as ever. And you are more than worthy to be loved."

"Then, why did you put him before me? Since when Thomas Shelby was the only one in your mind? Every time you look at me and you say you love me your eyes are empty. There's no love in your eyes. Without me, you're free because me, unlike you, I always looked forward your happiness before mine."

Rose ended the call before she was betrayed by her own trembling voice.

Alfie was right. She didn't want to divorce him, but she was also tired.

.

James was waiting for his brother in the lobby of the hotel with Oscarwilde next to him. It was about time that Jared was taking back his pet, but James knew too well that despite how much he loved the white borzoi, Jared's real reasons to be there were far from being related to the dog.

Once Oscarwilde recognised the man in front of him, the guests, and people working, there were witnesses of the most genuine happiness they'll probably see the whole day when the animal began to jump around his real master, wagging his tail and whimpering at his feet.

"It's okay, baby! Papa is back. He's back!" Jared kneeled in front of him and let his dog kiss his face. Even sophisticated dogs as Oscarwilde was, missed the most beloved person in their world.

Two glasses of whiskey were in front of them not longer after both brothers finally entered the bar that the hotel had and when finally Oscarwilde calmed enough to let them talk.

"I know why you are here and I know it's not because of the dog." James spoke first looking at Jared.

"Then you know me," he said.

"Of course I fucking know you. You're here to tell me that I need to leave Rose alone."

"Not exactly. I'm here to warn you that she's a vulnerable woman who is hurt because her stupid husband didn't take care of her, but that if he opens his eyes then you have no chance."

"And you are here to be the saviour."

"God, James…" Jared sighed "I'm not Cupid, but I know love make us do stupid things. Tommy didn't spoke so nuch, almost nothing really, but for what I know the Solomons have a long story together. And even if not, she has her own business here, she's not going to go to Dublin because of you and I can't imagine you living here without losing your head in few months. It's new, you like her I understand… but I- James, I know you're smarter than this and it's not going to work. Not in this universe at least."

"But you are ready to have a chance with Thomas Shelby. Only you can't do it if Solomons is in between and that means putting Rose again in his life."

"Tom is a single man, I told you. He doesn't have any spouse and business are perfectly fine with him and me. It's different. You're going to end hurt and honestly James, I can't fix everyone's life. I just want to be in bed with the man I like, Oscarwilde, some drinks and food. I'm not asking for so many things."

James grunted. Jared didn't understand it was easy to say that when he was looking the situation from the opposite side of the street.

"Do you want to fuck her?" Jared continued, "go and do it. I'm not putting a chastity belt around you or her, I'm just trying you to understand how things are going to end. Married couples hardly ever divorced, believe me I know what I'm saying. Remember Fred? I fucking loved Fred and he loved me, but he was married. It was a miserable marriage and yet, he didn't leave her. Well, you don't want to wait for centuries until the divorce, that never is going to happen, happens. You don't and it's a fact."

"She mentioned a divorce…"

"I bet she did. And not because she's a shitty person but because she was never in such situation. It's the hardest decision: a bit of happiness or the hope that he's going to change."

James didn't say a word and his brother put a hand in his arm "go back to Dublin until it's too late. It's going to hurt for a few days but it's going to pass quickly."

---

Tommy was in London as well. He left Arrow House nit longer after Jared left Birmingham despite he, Tommy promised himself that he wasn't going after Jared.

It was in his sister's house now and while Ada was playing on the floor with little Karl, she was talking to him as well.

"Polly told me you're busy with the Irish these days. I thought you said you didn't want nothing to do with them."

"Times change, Ada. They have access to the Americans in Boston. It's good for business."

"Fine. I just asked." Ada, same as Polly, was suspicious about Tommy's desires but she never mentioned it. Ada didn't know if Polly knew, but she was sure that his business with Alfie Solomons were more than rum and bread. But who was she to judge them?

"I need fresh air," he said suddenly walking to the door "see you later, Ada."

"See you, Tom."

No, he couldn't do that again. Not with a man, no matter how nice and warm he was.

He had sex with women, he tried to fall in love with more than once but it didn't work. And always he tried to convince himself that it was because he was too young or too busy to pay attention to them. But then, in France, the touch of a soldier showed him how different it was a man from a woman and how much he enjoyed it. But then horrors came and him, Freddie and Dan had to dig out to survive and behind him, underground, was left the soldier that showed him a new world.

For years after the war, he visited whores to have sex because he convinced himself that she liked women like Arthur and John. If his brothers were normal, he was too.

And then Alfie appeared. Alfie and all his mannerisms and way to talk. Alfie and his loud voice and laugh. Tommy couldn't say that was love at first sight but definitely it was something like that. Married as he was, in love with his wife as he was, Alfie made room in his heart for him. And even when those two years were awful because their relationship meant the sadness of Rose, Alfie gave him something that no one else before him gave to him: love.

And yet, the Jewish man chose his wife over him.

So, why he was there in London after a new man? What would be different for him if he never was lucky? Jared Walsh was a handsome man who seemed to be comfortable with who he was, and probably was flirty with dozens of men besides him.

And it was this thing, Tommy thought as he kept walking through the noisy streets. The fact that he enjoyed male lovers didn't mean he was homosexual. He wasn't, he couldn't be! If Arthur and John liked women, then he liked women too.

Tommy went to a whorehouse and paid for a girl, but they didn't do anything because he never had an erection, no matter how much he tried.

"It happens all the time," the girl said patting his shoulder "don't worry."

Tommy hid his face between his hands. He wasn't homosexual.

"I'm not!" he yelled, furious , full of anger. But no one heard him because not even the prostitute was there to accompany him.

He left the building not looking at anyone. His mind was spinning around the same thought over and over again.

"I'm not homosexual. I'm normal."

[thatdamnmutt-exe]

Smut about this pretty baby pls 🥺👉👈

Gn reader, switch Brhams (if not then sub Brhams is fine too)

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AN: Of course bestie. You’re currently a whore for brahms so i’ll help with ur obsession 💅

Requester: @hoefornamtits

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The Walls • Brahms

Plot: Brahms wants to please Echo but he doesn’t fully know how to, so Echo tries to take control to show him but they instead making Brahms feel good.

Pairing: Brahms x GN! Reader (Named: Echo)

Warnings: Sub!Brahms, Dom!GN Reader, Dirty Talk, Choking, Hair Pulling, Slight Dumbification, Neutral Private Areas, and Slight Switch Brahms if you squint.

Song: The Walls - Chase Atlantic

Extra: This goes out to my favorite bitch, yoonsie/eros/latte! here’s to you my asexual yet horny ass friend.

Word Count:

“Had a little, now she wanting more.

Told her I gotta make some calls.”

————————————————————————

echo made his way through the halls of the manor, cleaning off dust from all the old antiques. the day was almost over which meant echo would be seeing brahms soon.

the two have gotten close ever since echo made the decision to stay and continue taking care of brahms.

when echo felt content with the dusting, they made their way up to brahms room to tuck in his doll. “goodnight brahms.”

echo turned the light off and made their way to their room and jumped slightly upon seeing brahms standing in the middle of it, waiting for them.

“damn brahms, you scared the shit out of me.” echo breathed out while moving around him to change their night clothes.

as they moved to go to the bathroom to change, brahms stopped them by hugging from behind. echo could feel brahms arousal against their back, causing a shiver to run of his spin.

“brahms…” echo breathed out, eyes closing slightly as they thought about actions they could do together.

“i want… to make you feel good. show me how…” brahms pleaded. echo blushed slightly and took a deep breath before turning to face the incredibly tall man.

how could echo say no to him? seeing him so vulnerable and slightly submissive made a tingle go through their body.

echo moved brahms to lay on the bed before straddling him. “you want to learn how to make me feel good? huh baby? give me your hand.” echo commanded.

brahms moved his hand up to echo who took his hand and moved it down to their core. they took the opportunity to grind in his palm slowly, letting some moans leave their lips.

“fuck, just like that baby.” echo praised. brahms sat up to help remove echo’s shirt from their body.

brahms held out his other hand to echo which ended up with his fingers working magic along echo’s nipples.

echo’s back arched slightly into brahms touch as both pleasures suck in. “you’re so pretty.” brahms was the one to praise this time. echo smiled lightly in return as they sped up their pace a bit.

the two stayed in their positions until echo felt close to their climax. they stopped their movements and moved brahms to lay down again.

“hands are one of the more basic ways to please me if you want to take things slow and to tease with me. another thing you can do is with your tongue..” echo explained, removing their lower clothes.

they moved until their legs were on either side of of brahms head. they looked down and put their hands on his mask. brahms grabbed his hands, “can i move it slightly? i promise not to look if you’re not ready.” echo said in a sweet voice. brahms slowly removed his hands away and moved them to wrap around echo’s thighs.

echo moved the mask enough so brahm’s mouth was free. from there echo moved to hover above brahms to give him a moment to adjust. brahms fixed this and pulled echo to fully sit on his face before he started moving his tongue against echo’s hole.

echo moaned loudly from the sudden pleasure and gripping the headboard. brahms was able to figure out how to use his tongue quite quickly as he found the perfect spot to have the most effect.

“fuck brahms! you make me feel so good! you’re doing so good for me baby.” echo praised once more as their head became light headed from hoe good they felt.

they felt their end coming again and they wanted to stop brahms but brahms refused as he wanted to see what happened at the end.

“i’m so close, baby! god no one else could make me feel this good brahms.” they moaned out as they came hard. brahms moved his head slightly to lick it all up off echo.

“you also taste amazing. i want more.” brahms said as echo moved off his face and fixing his mask.

echo looked at him with a slight blush on their face before looking over brahms. some wetness still shown in his beard and his pants was starting to look overly tight.

“what about you brahms? let me make you feel good once…” echo said seductively as they moved to kiss brahms’ mask lightly.

“no no, no me this time. i want to please you.” brahms begged. echo sighed lightly before agreeing.

“well this last thing can have us both feel good. now just sit against the headboard this time and remove your pants, baby.” echo commanded again which of course brahms obeyed.

echo moved to straddle brahms, lining him up against their hole. “are you ready baby?” echo asked.

“please, please let me feel you around me. i need you so bad.” brahms whimpered as his hands moved to grasp on echo’s soft skin, pulling them as close as he could.

echo granted his wish and moved down until brahms completely bottomed out in echo. both figures released quick moans, one from feeling stretched out, the other feeling the walls clench around him.

“fuck.” brahms breathed out, feeling the best he’s ever felt. echo’s hands moved to grasp on brahms’ hair before they started to move themselves up and down on brahms.

“i’ve never been stretched out like this, fuck you fill me up so good, brahms.” echo kissed his mask once more as they sped up their pace and as brahms joined in to match their rhythm.

both of them never wanted this feeling to end, they never felt anything as good as this. echo was also slightly still sensitive from their first orgasm which brahms used to his advantage.

he moved his free hands up along echo’s chest and started abusing his nipples which earned breathy whimpers from echo. brahms watched as echo’s dominant side crumble slightly in his hands. he soaked up all the power he had over echo.

“i’m close again brahms, how about you?” echo’s back was arching into brahms’ touch and their nails digging into his back as they tried to hold back their orgasm.

“i think i’m close too.” brahms moaned out. echo moved their head down to kiss along brahms’ neck, leaving dark marks long along the base of it. they wanted to leave a reminder of this moment for both of them.

“cum with me, brahms.” echo’s breaths became quicker as they reached their limit and ended up spilling over the edge again. brahms reached his end a few seconds after echo, feeling the way echo squeezed around him.

the two stayed in that position for a bit, looking at each other while catching their breath. echo moved off brahms and attempted to stand up but fell to the floor as their legs gave out.

brahms quickly moved to their side and picked them up. “where are you going?” brahms asked.

“to the bathroom, we need to clean up.” echo smiled.

brahms stopped for a moment, “don’t need the bathroom to do that.” brahms put echo back on the bed again, placing his head between echo’s legs once more.

“round 3?” brahms asked, tilting his head slightly. before echo could respond, brahms moved his mask slightly again and dove in to taste echo once more.

————————————————————————

“This may be one hell of a night,

come with me we gonna go outside.”

[krethes]

@wolfstarmicrofic Day Twenty-Five: curl

@theresthesnitch bullied me (it wasn't hard) into another firefighter AU "micro"fic. Only mildly NSFW this time.

Read: Part One (Wildfire), Part Two (Inhale), Part Three (Accident), Part Four (Popsicle).

Days off are so rare and so precious, and tandem days off are nearly unheard of, so when they do happen, Remus wants to spend the whole day curled up with Sirius on their couch eating junk food and reading or watching television or doing things that normal couples with normal lives get to do. Such was not the case for today, because they apparently owed Andromeda a favor, though for the life of him, Remus can't remember why...

Remus knew something bad was going to happen the moment Nymphadora—sorry, "Tonks" now—showed up at the playground with purple, green, and blue hair. Andromeda just smirked when she dropped her off, told Sirius (not her child) to have fun, told Remus "good luck", and promptly got the fuck out of there.

Sirius had that look in his eye. The one that said he's about to do something exceptionally stupid. Logic and Reason (lifelong foes of Sirius Black outside of work) go flying out the window when faced with the indominatable will and fire of his little cousin, and Remus just has to hang on for the ride and run damage control.

On Nym- Tonks's sixth birthday, Sirius gave himself a concussion trying to beat her record at popping balloons taped to the ceiling with a unicorn helmet strapped to his head. On her eighth birthday, Sirius ate so many hot dogs he was sick for three days (but he'd won the contest, so it was #worthit, apparently).

Today isn't a birthday, just a favor they're doing for Andi so she can Ted can have a nice day out at a spa, but Remus can already see where this is going.

"Race you," Tonks challenges Sirius, and before Remus can even warn them both that the ground is wet from the morning's rain, they're off. Miraculously, they survive the dead sprint to the swings, and again cheat death or dismemberment despite swinging so high Tonks nearly does a loop. The jungle gym maze itself, while posing quite the challenge to directionally-deficient and grace-lacking tonks, still results in no injuries beyond a few scrapes and bruises.

Remus exhales. Perhaps he'd been too hasty in his judgment. Sirius is, after all, a professional firefighter and has a great deal of control over his body. He knows what's at stake if he hurts himself, and has probably grown out of his weird phase of trying to be the "cool uncle" to this twelve-year-old heathen.

"Bet you can't make it all the way across."

Oh. Oh no.

"Kid, I'm a firefighter-"

"And you never shut up about it." Remus knows she's teasing, just trying to bait Sirius into doing someting dumb.

"Because when you need me to come drag your scrawny butt out of a burning building because you left your straightener on-"

"That was ONE time!"

"-you'll be glad you know the world's best firefighter." From across the playground, Remus sees Sirius look at him and quickly away. "Tied with Remus." Ridiculous man.

Tonks snorts. "Good. So do it."

"I will!"

'It' appears to be a balance and ropes course that ends in a very long set of monkeybars. On paper, this shouldn't pose a problem to Sirius. He's right—their job gives them quite a lot of upper body strength, but... Sirius makes mistakes when his hubris takes the helm.

Sirius makes it all the way to the monkeybars and Remus has just decided that perhaps this won't end poorly at all until-

"Fuc- I mean, fudge! Fudge, fudge, fudge!"

Remus runs over before he can stop himself. He doesn't want to look. If he doesn't look, it'll all just be a weird fever dream and he'll wake up at home with a fully intact and unharmed Sirius in his bed and they'll eat breakfast and...

"Ow..."

"And you call me clumsy."

"Not now, Nymphadora!"

Tonks rolls her eyes but casts a guilty look Remus's way. Sirius is sprawled on the ground, woodchips and dirt in his hair, and his right ankle is rapidly swelling. Remus can see her two sides at war: the contrary preteen versus part of her that is actually quite a good human, who feels remorse and everything (a rare trait for preteens, in Remus's experience).

Remus goes into paramedic mode to the pathetic whimpers of his pathetic husband. Some gentle manipulation of the joint and careful prodding gives him some hope that it's not broken, but Sirius has always been a bit of a baby when it comes to pain. That, plus his very fine-boned, aristocratic ankles makes him an extremely difficult patient. "Tonks, I need to take him to the ER. Come with us and I'll have your mother pick you up from there."

"Nah, I'll just take an Uber!" she announces and, within ten seconds, has her phone out and a ride confirmed. Impressive. "Mom knows Sirius gets a little stupid around me, made sure I had money on my card."

Sirius groans and flops dramatically down flat against the ground. Enough life in him to have a fit of melodrama, which is promising. "I am actively dying and you're taking cheap shots?"

"Have to make them while we can; there's no use when you're dead," Remus says drily.

"Et tu, Moony? Et tu?!"

Remus, though the option to leave Sirius on the ground is increasingly tempting, gets him to sitting upright by the time Tonks's ride shows up. Remus warns her to be safe, tells her to text him immediately when she gets home, and makes sure the driver can see the swell of his biceps and the "FIRE RESCUE" and seal on his shirt. It's usually enough to keep weirdos at bay. People might fuck with police officers (jumped-up twats that they are), but no one fucks with a firefighter.

"Alright, you. Can you stand?"

"No." The bastard doesn't even try. "You'll have to carry me."

"I feel like this would be more productive if you just limped along to the truck."

"It would not."

"Sirius."

"Remus."

"Sirius."

"Remus, I'm injured! I'm dying! You can't make a dying man do things that would bring him closer to death!"

Remus looks at the silicon band on his ring finger and then up at the sky. "I love him, I love him, I love him," he mutters under his breath.

"You love me."

"Somehow." Remus rolls his eyes, crouches down, and lifts Sirius into his arms with a firm heave. Sirius weighs more than he does, and he's a heavy burden in the curl of Remus's arms, but the look on his face and the slight parting of his lips gives Remus the extra strength he needs. It's crazy. Seven years together, and they still get hot for feats of strength.

Sirius doesn't give the ER nurses any lip. Even with all of his charm and long eyelashes and beautiful face, they don't take shit or heckling from him. After some x-rays and a great deal of teasing from the staff who joke he hurts himself off-duty more than he does on, Sirius's ankle is determined to be sprained, and he's required to take four weeks off and be re-evaluated before he can return to work.

"You're telling Lily," Remus says bluntly as he helps Sirius out of the truck.

Sirius pouts and makes Remus carry him again—crutches are apparently 'torture'—into the house. "Can I tell her after I make it up to you?"

Remus almost drops him on the couch, but recovers quickly enough to set him down gently. "...What did you have in mind?" He clears his throat. "It'll have to be good. I've carried your thick ass all afternoon."

Sirius props himself on one elbow and drags Remus close by his beltloops. "But you love my thick ass," he practically purrs against Remus's fly, and he's not wrong. He really, really does. Sirius mouths the growing bulge in his jeans and flicks his silver eyes up at Remus. "Don't worry. It'll be good."

[onecanonlife]

Wilbur has never had wings. He has long since resigned himself to that fact. However much of his father's blood runs through his veins, it is not enough to grant him that gift.

Wilbur comes back to life, and his back begins to ache.

(word count: 6,141)

---------------------

It’s stupid, but when his back first begins to ache, he assumes it’s old age.

The thing is that he doesn’t have any real frame of reference for what constitutes as old and what does not. His father is old, but his father has lived for literally thousands of years. Technoblade is not quite so old as that, but Technoblade never dies is more than just a catchphrase. Tommy is young, he’s sure of that much, but Tommy has days where he wakes up and his head and ribs won’t stop aching, remnants of that third death that have never quite left him, so Tommy is perhaps not the best gauge of what pains are and are not normal for a young person.

Wilbur doesn’t think that he’s particularly old. He’s still not yet thirty, unless he counts the void years. Then, he’s older than thirty. Then, he’s older than his own bones. He tries not to dwell on the void years, because dwelling on the void years gives him urges that he’s still learning how to ignore. Urges like informing everyone gaily and at length when the inevitable heat death of the universe will be, or giving everyone a graphic description of what happens at a microscopic level in the human body when it picks up a stomach bug.

The point is, he’s not very old. But he feels it, a lot of the time, so when he wakes up one morning and his back is killing him, he shrugs it off and goes about his day. It hurts, sure. It hurts kind of a lot. But he’s had worse. The void took him apart molecule by molecule and put him back together again so many times that he learned to love it, and compared to that, this is nothing at all.

Life in the Arctic has been—nice. It’s been nice, reconnecting with Phil, cautiously rebuilding his relationship with Technoblade. Tommy comes to visit a lot, and it’s odd, trying to juggle the kid he thinks of as a brother with his father and his father’s best friend, especially when there’s so much bad blood between the lot of them, but they make it work. And Ranboo is around a lot, and he’s a nice kid, and Niki stops by every so often, and it’s good to see her. No one else is very interested in coming to visit him, which is understandable, but she always smiles at him, and he knows that they’re still friends. Which is good.

He’s fairly sure that the four of them, Phil and Techno and Niki and Ranboo, have some sort of secret club thing going on. They always give him different answers when he asks about it; Niki blinks and tells him it’s a book club, and Ranboo does not blink because he does not have eyelids, but Ranboo claims that it’s a pet grooming society. So they’re lying to him for sure, and he thinks he could know the truth if he wanted to, if he tapped in just a bit more to those bits of void that have nestled in his heart. The temptation is strong, sometimes, but he resists.

He doesn’t want to mess with a good thing, is all. He’s found a peace here in the snow that he didn’t think he would be able to find outside of the grave. He is hesitant to call himself healing, but most days, when his head cries out for blood and fire and burning the world and himself along with it, he can push the idea away and carry on without trying to act on it. That is healing, perhaps.

Captain Puffy tells him it is, anyway, and he’s found that Captain Puffy tends to know what she’s talking about.

But so. His back hurts. And he expects it to stop after a while, because even old person aches surely can’t last forever. Except, it doesn’t, and in fact seems to only get worse over the next few days, to the point that he starts to worry that it’s going to begin interfering with his functionality. Which he doesn’t want. He needs freedom, freedom to go where he wants, even if where he wants to go usually isn’t very far. It’s the principle of the thing. He does not do well with confinement, with spaces that are too enclosed, and if this pain ends up laying him out in his room, he’s going to go insane.

Poor choice of words, that. But the point still stands, so he makes a decision. The decision is this: he’s simply not going to allow that to happen.

So he slaps a smile on his face and carries on with his business, and does his best to ignore the way his spine starts to feel like it’s cracking open and stabbing into the surrounding muscle. And he is a very good actor, if he does say so himself, so for the most part, no one seems to notice that anything is wrong. Phil asks him if he’s feeling alright, but he’s able to deflect by claiming fatigue, and Phil accepts the explanation easily. And the pain only increases, does not let up at all, but it’s a gradual sort of increase, so before too long, he figures out how to adjust to it. It’s fine. He’ll be fine.

And then Tommy stops by for a visit, and they’re chatting outside for a moment, and Tommy says something stupid and ridiculous, so he smacks him gently upside the head, which Tommy takes objection to. And then they’re wrestling, which makes the pain flare a bit, but it’s manageable, especially since he gets Tommy pinned in about four seconds flat, which. Is concerning, a bit, because he is not particularly strong, physically, so if he can pin Tommy, there are a lot of other people who could also definitely pin Tommy.

But he’s probably not thinking about it the right way. This was a play fight, not a real one, and it’s difficult, sometimes, to remember that the server is currently at peace.

He pins Tommy, both of them panting and grinning in the snow, and he doesn’t let up until Tommy admits defeat. And then he gets to his feet, and here is where he makes the error: he turns his back.

The snowball impacts him right between his shoulder blades. He stumbles forward with the force of it, and his knees hit the snow.

Tommy is already cackling, is calling him a bitch. Wilbur barely has time to think oh, shit before something spasms, and it’s like something has taken a knife to him from the inside out. He hears a strangled little scream, choked and agonized, and barely recognizes the fact that it’s coming from him, because black spots are dancing across his vision and his lungs aren’t inflating properly and he can hardly think.

“Oh, come on,” Tommy says, a wide smile still in his voice. “Don’t be such a pussy. I didn’t even pack any ice in.”

He can’t reply. The agony is centered where the snowball hit, but it’s radiating outward, and the whole of his back feels like it’s burning and freezing all at once, and he shudders violently, breaths coming in short, quick gasps. He clenches his fists, braces them against his thighs, pressing down hard enough to leave bruises.

“Wilbur?” Tommy asks, more uncertain. And then, Tommy is there, kneeling down in front of him, and his face goes all wide and panicky. “Wilbur? Holy shit, are you dying? Are you having a heart attack? A stroke? Are you freezing to death? Have I just killed you with a snowball? You’ve got three lives again, right? Where are you hurt, Wil, come one, you’ve got to tell me, you’ve gotta tell me so I can fix it, are you—”

“My back,” he manages, “my back’s been—my back’s been hurting, it wasn’t your fault, it’s just—” He cuts off with another gasp as all the muscles in his back convulse, tensing and untensing and tensing again and sending a wave of stabbing pain through his nerves.

“Oh, Prime,” Tommy says, “oh, Prime, alright, you’re gonna be fine, big man, let’s just get you inside, alright? Can you walk? Nevermind, just—” Tommy hooks his hands underneath his arms and hauls him to his feet, slinging one of his arms across his shoulders as soon as he can get them in the right position. He lets out a little whimper, and hates himself for doing so, just a little bit, but fuck, that hurts.

The stairs are a trial. His feet drag, and he would trip and fall flat on his face if it weren’t for Tommy. But then, they’re inside Phil’s house, and Tommy sits him down on Phil’s ratty little couch, and he immediately curls in on himself, hands gripping his forearms as if the pain will go away if he hugs himself hard enough.

“Okay, shirt off, Wil, let me see,” Tommy says, and he blinks dumbly for a moment.

“What?” he asks, his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth.

“No, just—you’ve got to let me see what’s wrong, yeah?”

“‘S old man aches,” he mumbles, but doesn’t try to fight it when Tommy begins manhandling his arms, pushing at his coat sleeves.

“What the fuck are you on about?” Tommy demands. “You’re not that old. Who do you think you are, Philza fucking Minecraft? Come on, just let me see—” He finally manages to get the coat off, and then the shirt, and his skin erupts in gooseflesh as it’s exposed to the air. Tommy freezes.

“What?” he asks. “What is it, what’s—”

“I don’t,” Tommy says, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t, Wilbur, I don’t know what this is, I don’t—holy shit, that’s actually kind of scary. Um! No, nevermind, don’t pay attention to me, just keep um, breathing! Breathing is good! Breathing exercises!” He breathes in and out, loud and exaggerated. “See, just like that. I’m just gonna—”

And he puts a hand out, and before Wilbur can stop him, he rests it on his back. Light and cautious, but still too much, and Wilbur stuffs a fist into his mouth to stop himself from screaming. In the same motion, he flinches away, violently, but the damage has already been done. Because the contact hurts, a lot, but what’s worse is the horror, because in the split second that Tommy’s hand touched his skin, he could feel the way that it is wrong, that his back is wrong, that there is something terribly wrong. Because there are ridges protruding from his back, long and thick and raised, and it’s wrong and it hurts and Tommy’s right, actually, this is scary, he’s fucking scared.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Tommy is saying, “I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I won’t do that again, I’m so sorry, Wilbur, are you okay? Please be okay, please—”

He nods, though it’s more like he lets his head fall and then painstakingly brings it back up a little.

“Okay, I think we need—” Tommy says. “I think that I don’t know what to do, so I think we need—” He takes a deep breath. “Phil! Phil!” Loud, panicked, earsplitting. Wilbur winces. “Phil! He is home, isn’t he? Phil!”

A second passes, and then, drifting up from the basement, a distant, “Tommy? Everything good?”

“Phil, get up here right fucking now!”

There is a beat of silence, and then there are footsteps, quiet at first but growing closer, and they are quick, hurried. Phil must have detected the genuine fear in Tommy’s voice, because Tommy and Phil generally stand on very shaky ground with each other, so while Phil will typically indulge Tommy in his whims, it depends on the day as to how far he’ll go, how quick he’ll respond. But it’s only a moment or two before Phil’s head pokes out of the floor, his hands clinging to the ladder, his face twisted in confusion.

“What on earth is the matter?” he asks, and then breaks off as his eyes land on Wilbur, who—he must be a sight. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. But terror flashes across Phil’s face, and he is crossing the floor in an instant, hands hovering over him, fluttering helplessly, though thankfully, he doesn’t touch.

“What’s wrong, where are you hurt, what—” The words come out in a jumbled flurry, but he stops just as abruptly, and Wilbur knows that he is looking at the horror show that is his back.

“It hurts, Phil,” he whispers.

“Okay,” Phil says, sounding—still concerned, but perhaps marginally calmer? “Okay, you’re going to be alright. I think I know what this is.” He settles himself on the couch right next to him and opens his arms, and Wilbur doesn’t hesitate before leaning forward, slumping against him. Phil seems to know better than to put any kind of pressure on his back, and instead places one hand on his arm and the other on the back of his head, threading his fingers through his hair.

“Then what the fuck is it?” Tommy demands.

“Tommy, I need you to run over to Techno’s and ask him for something for pain, and something for sleep. Can you do that for me?” Phil asks instead of answering, and perhaps Wilbur should be terrified by the implication that he’s going to need either of those things, but the promise of some kind of relief overrides any kind of trepidation.

“Like fuck I will,” Tommy says, “Not before you tell me what the fuck is wrong with him!”

Another convulsion wracks him. He bites his lip to keep from crying out, and tastes blood. His breath is hitching, and he can’t stop it.

“Tommy.” Phil’s voice is sharp, but then, Wilbur feels rather than hears him sigh. “It’s wings, I think. I don’t understand why now, but I went through this a long time ago, when I was very young. I recognize the signs. So Tommy, please.”

Tommy makes a surprised little sound. Wilbur isn’t looking, has his face buried in Phil’s shoulder, but he can imagine the look on his face: the slack jaw, the wide open eyes. And then, there are rushed footsteps retreating, and the door slamming, and Tommy’s muffled voice calling out for Technoblade.

And then, Wilbur processes what Phil just said.

He twists his head around so he can see his face, regretting it a moment later. Any kind of movement seems to make the pain worse, and he has to take a moment to tremble through it.

“Wings?” he whispers. “How?”

He’s never had wings.

If he were going to have wings, he would have gotten them a long time ago. He remembers nights spent as a child, staying up and hoping for feathered appendages to somehow miraculously appear on his back, just so he could be more like his dad. He remembers the crushing disappointment when he finally accepted that no matter how much divine blood runs in his veins, it is apparently not enough.

But he did accept it. He accepted it years ago. There is absolutely no reason for him to be developing wings now, as a fully-grown adult, but Phil sounds so very sure, and his back hurts so very much, and perhaps that’s consistent with actual appendages trying to sprout out of him.

“I don’t know,” Phil says. “I’ve never heard of it happening so late, even in avians. Which, I’m not exactly, but I got mine when I was a kid like they do, and I don’t—I don’t know, Wil, I really don’t, but I remember what it was like, yeah? I know what to do. It’s gonna suck for a little while, but you’re going to be fine, I promise.”

“Okay,” he croaks, “okay—” and then he has to stop talking, because the pain flares again, bright and intense and holy shit, but it’s worse this time, because now that he knows what’s going on, he can feel them. He can feel things inside of him, pushing against his muscles and his skin in ways that absolutely should not be possible, and there is too much of him to be contained in his body, and there are things inside of him trying to escape—

It’s almost like the way he gets when he thinks about the void too hard. Except not, because when he does that, he feels the urge to dissolve away, gently and peacefully, to let himself back into the quiet that is not quiet and the darkness that is not dark, where all the knowledge of the world is at his fingertips, too much for a mortal brain to contain and remain sane. That is not this. This is his own body trying to explode. There is no peace, no dissolution; it’s messy and physical and Prime he just wants it to stop.

He shifts in Phil’s grasp, fruitlessly trying to find a position that takes the pressure off, a little bit. It’s no use, of course, because he can still feel something moving under the skin of his back, and his vision whites out, and when he comes back to himself, he’s shivering, shivering and shaking and sobbing in Phil’s hold, and he doesn’t remember when he started crying but he can’t seem to make himself stop. Phil is keeping up a steady stream of soothing nonsense, and he latches onto the sound of his voice like it’s the only lifeline he has.

And then the door bursts open, and Wilbur doesn’t bother trying to look, but there are two sets of footsteps, not just one.

“Here,” Tommy says, panting, and there are several thumps, and several clinks, glass on glass.

“Oh god, don’t—and he’s doing it, he’s just dumping all of that on the floor. Don’t break those, Tommy, those aren’t splash pots. Have you never handled a potion before.” Technoblade pauses for a moment. “So, what exactly’s wrong with him? The child was making no sense at all.”

Wilbur thinks he detects a note of concern. But he’s not thinking clearly, and it’s always hard to tell anyway, with Technoblade.

“He’s got wings growing in,” Phil responds, voice clipped. Wilbur feels his hand leave his arm, and he whines at the loss of touch. And then another spasm, and he whines again, pressing his face harder into Phil’s shirt.

“Oh. Huh. Yes, that makes perfect sense, of course.”

Phil’s arm dips a bit, and Wilbur finds himself being moved, his head gently tilted back. Phil’s face comes into view, pale and blurry.

“You want to drink this for me, Wil?” he says, and then there is glass at his lips, and he parts them immediately. He doesn’t like being knocked out, doesn’t like the loss of control that comes with it, but if he has to be aware for another five minutes, he’s not going to be able to keep himself from screaming aloud.

He swallows, grimacing at the taste. The effects start hitting right away. His mind detaches from himself, and the pain drains from him. Every muscle goes lax.

He exhales.

“There we go,” Phil murmurs, “there we go. It’s gonna be alright, Wil. I’ll be here the whole time. You’re gonna be okay.”

The world falls away. He lets it. He trusts his father to catch him.

----------

He wakes up a few times, and each time, it hurts. Phil is always there, and usually, Tommy too, and sometimes Techno, and he can barely move but they always see that he’s awake, and they give him a potion and he’s under again, and he’s glad for it, because those moments of consciousness are a spiral of pain and confusion and his thoughts flying apart because he barely understands what’s going on or why he’s hurting and he just wants it to go away.

And then there is the time he wakes up and he thinks somebody is cutting his back open, and he can feel his own blood on his skin, sticky and hot, and he thrashes, trying to get away, and that makes the pain so much worse, and the sound that comes out of his mouth is inhuman, and he fights until a potion is poured down his throat and it’s back to sleep again.

And then there is the time he wakes up, and people are talking in low, hushed tones. He can’t make out what they’re saying. He cracks his eyes open, and it’s Phil and Technoblade, deep in some discussion, both looking terribly concerned. He decides he’ll ask what’s wrong later, and then closes his eyes and goes back to sleep again.

And then there is the time he wakes up, and some part of him is moving, and he doesn’t understand what it is because it’s not any of his limbs, not his arms and not his legs, and it feels alien and foreign and his back feels like it’s been shoved under a woodchipper and then tossed through a paper shredder for good measure, and he’s not aware enough to know why, so he panics. There is a bit of the void that still dwells in his heart, and he calls on it, cries out to it, and it answers, comes rushing in around him, and his mind expands to peer into galaxies.

Philza is at his side a moment later, and he is able to look at him and see all the weight of years that lie behind his eyes, and all the years that lie ahead of him, and the moment of his death, all spiraling out like a tapestry and like a mass, and the music is atonal, confused, but a closer glance reveals it to be twelve-tone, order in the chaotic lines. Wilbur is with the void again, and his heart still beats, but it’s a near thing, and he could stop it if he chose.

“Do you want to know, Philza?” he asks, words spilling from his lips like rain, like the river, like the flood. “Do you want to know when it will happen? I can see it. I can see how some part of you wants it. All our histories are like tangled up threads, but they all come to an end, and I can see those endings, Philza, I can tell you about them if you like.”

Pain constricts Philza’s face, and Wilbur doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know who wouldn’t love the void and its peace and its everything.

“I know, Wilbur,” Philza says, “I know, but how about you come back to me now, okay? Come back to me?”

“We’re all little bits of code, Philza,” he informs him. “None of us are real. We’re little bits of code and words on a page and lines in a script written by our better selves. Nothing in this world really matters. We might as well have all the fun we can before the lights go out. Do you want to know when that will be, Philza? Not too long after you, Philza. Not too long at all. I told Tommy, he knows, he didn’t want to know but that’s alright, he’s better off for it, if he hasn’t forgotten.”

“Come back, Wil, come on,” Philza says, “you can do it. You’ve got a heartbeat, do you feel it?”

Philza takes his hand and places it over his heart, and—that’s right. He’s alive. He’d forgotten. The void spins, and then it tucks itself away again, waiting for the next moment he needs it, and he is left with only vague impressions of what he’s just said and a vague idea that everything hurts and something is wrong with his back and he’d like to go to sleep now, please.

“Alright, yeah,” Phil says, “here, you can have this, you can sleep. You’re doing so well, Wil, I promise it’s almost done.”

He takes the potion. Or tries to; Phil has to hold it for him.

“Okay,” he says faintly. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” he hears Phil say, very far away. “So long as you come back, everything’s okay.”

He goes back to sleep again. He thinks he wakes up a few more times, but he doesn’t really remember. He doesn’t really want to.

----------

And then: awareness.

The first thing he processes is that everything aches, deeply and acutely, but none of it feels nearly as bad as it did before, and not even as bad as it’s been over the past couple of weeks. It’s irritating, painful, but more than manageable, really, practically a relief. The second thing he processes is that he’s lying on his stomach, and that there is something weighing him down.

His mind puzzles over this for a moment. He tries to roll over, to see what’s going on, but something stops him, and then he remembers: wings.

He’s got wings. There are wings on his back. Growing out of him. A part of his body. Wings.

As soon as he realizes that, he becomes aware of them. And it is so very strange, to suddenly have access to two extra limbs, to suddenly have additional body parts to move about and control. It’s a feeling impossible to describe, and he has to take several minutes to process it, to try to become accustomed to it. It doesn’t really work, but he tries moving them anyway, just a bit of a flex, and—

Ouch.

He groans, shoving his face into the pillow. A mistake. That was a mistake. He’d rather like to go back to sleep now and pretend that none of this is happening.

But his vocalization draws attention, and then there is a hand on his shoulder, gently brushing him just enough to feel, not enough to pain him. He turns his head to the side, reluctantly, and Phil is kneeling beside him, his face open and soft and clearly relieved, his lips curling into a slight smile.

“Hey,” he says. “How you feeling, Wil?”

He considers this, and decides on honesty. “Bit like I’ve been caught between a piston and a wall for the past couple of days,” he admits. “Better than before, though.”

“Good to hear,” Phil says, and then his face goes a bit more serious. “How much of that do you remember?”

“Not much?” he says. “I don’t think? Impressions, I guess. I know I wasn’t having a good time. I’m glad I don’t remember it too clearly. I was out for most of it, yeah?”

“Most of it,” Phil agrees, and Wilbur thinks that perhaps there is something he’s not saying, but he doesn’t feel like pressing the matter. He can guess what it is, anyway; there is a chill in his chest, and his thoughts feel just slightly more fractured than usual, so it’s not hard to assume what might have happened. Not hard to assume where he might have gone. He’s sure he’ll feel terrible about it when everything stops feeling so surreal.

He has wings.

“It’s over now?” he asks, and winces at the way his voice cracks. “It’s done?”

Phil’s eyes do the thing where they go immeasurably soft and crinkly at the edges, and it’s love and relief and sadness all at once. “It’s done,” he agrees, and then hesitates. “You’re not gonna be able to fly on them for a while, but would you like to see?”

He doesn’t understand why Phil is being so cautious about it. Of course he wants to see. If he’s going to be put through hell, he wants to see what came of it. He wants it to be worth it.

“Usually, when wings grow in, they’re all downy and shit. Like a baby bird,” Phil says, probably in response to whatever face he’s sure he’s making. “Flight feathers come in over the next few weeks.” He pauses again, and Wilbur thinks he understands his reticence, now, understands the still-present concern.

“But that’s not what happened with mine,” he states, and Phil shakes his head.

“Yours are fully fledged,” he says. “Probably part of why it hurt so much. I don’t know why, Wil. But do you wanna have a look?”

Wordless, he nods, and Phil takes that as his cue to reach out and help him sit upright. It’s far more effort than it should be, compounded by the fact that his sense of balance feels all wrong, and that’s going to take some getting used to, he can already tell. And he’s sore, like he’s run a marathon or fought another half dozen wars all in one go, and his head spins a little bit when he finally situates himself. He closes his eyes against it, breathing in sharply.

He feels Phil guiding his wings forward, into his field of vision. He opens his eyes.

They are very big, is the first thing he notices. They would have to be, of course, to hold his weight up. Magic and suspension of disbelief only stretches so far. They are very large, and the feathers are very large, and they are very angular and neat as well, so neat that someone has to have arranged them while he was unconscious, because there’s no way that they came out looking like that.

The color, though. The color. He swallows, hard.

They are black, perhaps. They look black. But he knows on an instinctive level that they are black in the same way that the void is black, and that if someone were to stare at them for too long, they would realize as much, would realize that actually, they are not black at all, but rather some color or some lack of color that is beyond human comprehension. The void translates as black to the human mind because it is as close as the human mind can get to true perception, and most of the time, Wilbur remembers it as black, but it was not, and his wings are not, and he is never going to be free of it, is he?

On some level, he knew that. Knew that the void is in him and about him, and no matter what he does, it will never leave him completely, not after all the years he spent with it, intertwined with the infinite nothing. But now he has wings on his back, and they should be a connection between him and Phil, should be something to celebrate, but he stares at the plumage and feels sick to his stomach.

“Wil?” Phil asks. He sounds confused, sounds worried by his reaction. “You okay, mate?”

He’s not sure how to phrase this in a way that Phil will understand. Not sure that he wants to.

“Void,” he manages, voice a broken whisper. “They look like void, Phil.”

He looks up just in time to see Phil’s face crumple.

“Wil—”

“They look just like it, Phil,” he continues. “Just like it. And I know I’m not always good about, about being here, about keeping myself stable, but I’m trying. I try to ignore it when it calls, I try not to reach out to it, and when I fail, I, I try to come back, I do, I swear. I can’t—I can’t have these, Phil, they’re from it, that’s why I’m getting them now, maybe it triggered something, I don’t know, but I can’t, Phil, I can’t—”

He reaches out toward them, intending to do—something, maybe, and Phil must have a better idea than he does, because his hand darts out and snags his, stopping him in his tracks.

“No, Wil, don’t do that, okay? We can work on it, we’ll figure it out, but please don’t—”

“You’re up!”

He and Phil both freeze, and as one, look to the door. Tommy is standing there, grinning like nobody’s business, and Technoblade is lurking behind him, his face contorted into an expression that looks like he wants to murder someone but really just means he’s feeling very awkward.

Tommy glances back and forth between the two of him, and his face slowly falls.

“Is everything okay?” he asks. “Nothing—I mean, it all went right, didn’t it?”

He blinks. Tilts his head slightly. Gently removes his hand from Phil’s grasp, and then spreads out his wings behind him, putting them on full display, as far out as he can make them go, and it aches and he’s not going to be able to hold them there for long, but it’s worth it. He wants Tommy to see. Because Tommy will know. Tommy remembers. And unlike him, Tommy hates to remember. Tommy hates the void. So perhaps this is an act of self-sabotage. That’s what Captain Puffy would say. But he does it anyway, because he wants someone else to see and understand, understand in a way he knows Phil won’t be able to.

“I’ve got void wings, Tommy,” he says, and a smile splits his face. “See them?”

Tommy’s eyes widen, and he flinches.

Gratification is not nearly as sweet as he thought it would be. Actually, he just sort of feels like crying.

But then, Tommy’s brows draw together. And he steps further into the room, coming closer and closer until he’s standing right up against the bed, staring at the feathers. Wilbur holds himself very still.

“I see,” Tommy says slowly, “but Wilbur, I’m not sure you do.”

“What are you talking about?” he asks, and cranes his neck to try to see whatever Tommy’s looking at. For a moment, he doesn’t; there’s just the feathers, void feathers, death feathers, a reminder that—

But arctic sunlight slants through the window, and if he shifts his angle just a little bit—

The noise that escapes him is small and involuntary. He hopes no one calls him on it, but that’s the least of his concerns right now. Because the colors do not change, not exactly, but if he holds them to the light, the sun illuminates the feathers, haloing their edges in gold, and there is a sheen of color running across them, a sheen that ripples and moves as he shifts them in the sunbeam, and it is a beautiful, rich blue.

And they’re lovely.

“Oh,” he says, and Tommy laughs at him, the fucking gremlin.

“Yeah, fucking oh,” he says. “You’re such a moron. They’re so fucking ace, Wilbur.”

“I think that maybe you need to work on rememberin’,” Technoblade says from the doorway, “that you’re the sum of all your experiences, and not just one.”

Wilbur stares at him.

“Oh my god,” he finally says. “That’s so cheesy. Who the hell are you and what have you done with Technoblade?”

“Alright,” Techno grumbles, “see if I do anythin’ nice for you ever again. I didn’t come up here to receive this kind of treatment. This is an outrage.”

He laughs. He laughs, from the sheer relief of it, and his trepidation is melting away like snow in the sunshine, and he can allow himself to revel in it, to revel in the wings on his back, and he is sore and tired but this is what glory feels like, maybe, and perhaps he can fly into the air and there will be no wax to drip away.

Perhaps these wings are of the void, but they are of him, too.

And he looks to Phil again, and Phil is smiling at him, warm and happy. His own wings are flared out behind him, tattered at the edges, so many feathers torn or still missing entirely, and the more time that passes, the more and more likely it is that those feathers are never going to grow back, that Phil truly will never fly again. Phil has already resigned himself to it, he knows, but Wilbur has never given up hope, will never be able to bring himself to give up hope.

“It’s not fair that I can fly when you can’t,” he says quietly, and the room goes still and quiet. Especially when it’s my fault, he doesn’t say, though he knows everyone hears it.

“Wil,” Phil says, “nothing could bring me more joy than this.”

And Wilbur hears what he means: you, here.

So he flexes his wings and revels in the ache and revels in the sunshine and revels at his family, here, his father sitting by him and his friend-protege-brother poking at curiously at his feathers and Technoblade still in the doorway, not leaving even for all his grumbling. He revels in this, revels in this life, and for a time, the void recedes entirely.

And in its wake is the sunlight.

[whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst]

Texts from The Lost Tomb, part 2

Quick side note—I love the smell of jasmine and I was lighting a candle when I realized oh I have a terrible idea, must write it down:D

Zhang and Wu Chat, 9:12am

Zhang Qiling: There is something for you on the table.

Wu Xie: ?

Zhang Qiling: There is something for you on the table.

Wu Xie: No no I read it just fine

I’m just a little confused, Wang Meng usually leaves mail in the office. Oh well, maybe he’s taking more initiative. A terrifying thought. Thanks for letting me know!

Zhang Qiling: *speech bubbles appearing and disappearing*

Main Chat, 9:15am

Wu Xie: okay guys not to panic anyone after the creepy letter thing but

Wang Pangzi: WHAT

Zhang Qiling: For once, I agree with the capitalization. Are you alright?

Wu Xie: I think someone got into our house, they left me something

Wang Pangzi: !!!!!

Zhang Qiling: I’m coming down from the roof now, I will meet you in the kitchen and take you to the safe house. Don’t move.

Wang Pangzi: SHITSHITSHITSHIT HANG ON IM CALLING EVERYONE LIVING DEAD AND OTHERWISE TO GET ON THIS. WE ARE MOVING HOME BASE TO ZURICH AND CHANGING OUR NAMES IDGAF

Wu Xie: it’s odd though…they left a definite death threat before but now a bouquet of jasmine flowers? With a Pablo Neruda poem attached, which kind of seems like the opposite of threatening??

Wang Pangzi: WHAT.

Zhang Qiling: You are not in danger.

Wang Pangzi: OH MY GOD AHAHAHAHA BRB IM TEXTING HEI XIAZI

Wu Xie: I mean I agree, this doesn’t seem dangerous, but is something going on that you two know about and I don’t?

Wang Pangzi: PABLO NERUDA IM CRYING XIAO GE WHY IM PISSING MYSELF

Zhang Qiling: It’s all fine. Ignore Pangzi. I’ll come in anyway to get rid of the flowers. It must have been a mistake.

Wu Xie: Oh, that’s sad. Someone didn’t get their flowers:(

Wang Pangzi: ARE YOU FUC—

Wu Xie: Even so, do you think it would be okay to keep them?

Zhang Qiling: …do you like them?

Wu Xie: I mean I’ll still call the florist and let them know, but what are the chances one of my favorite floral scents and one of my favorite poets somehow get delivered here? It’s practically fate:)

Wang Pangzi: SURE SEEMS THAT WAY HUH MAYBE YOU SHOULD THINK A LITTLE HARDER ABOUT THIS WITH THAT GENIUS IDIOT BRAIN SO I CAN FINALLY GET A BREAK

Zhang Qiling: If you like the gift, you are meant to keep it.

Babysitters Club Chat, 9:30am

Wang Pangzi: YOU. FUCKING. CHICKEN. YOUR QILIN CARD HAS BEEN REVOKED.

Zhang Qiling: I don’t understand what you are talking about. I am turning off my phone and going back to the roof to keep watch. Please stop talking about this in the main chat.

Wang Pangzi: OHH NO NO NO YOU ARE NOT GETTING AWAY WITH THIS, LITTLE BLACK RIDING HOOD.

YOU SENT HIM FLOWERS. WITH A POEM. PABLO. FUCKING. NERUDA. YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO BE SMOOTHER THAN THE GREAT PANGZI AND THEN RUN AWAY JUST BECAUSE OUR IDIOT IS BEING HIS IDIOT SELF. EXPLAIN.

Zhang Qiling: Fine. After I lost my memory, Wu Xie let me read his old journals to try to jog some memories, or at least give me recent context for my life. I saw the date of the entry where he wrote that he met me for the first time, outside his uncle’s house. I rescued him from a mugging, not that I remember it. Today is that date. Satisfied?

Wang Pangzi: IM TORN BETWEEN LAUGHING AND CRYING AND HOPPING UP ON THE ROOF TO HOLD YOU. XIAO GE, YOU ROMANTIC. AN ANNIVERSARY PRESENT????????

Zhang Qiling: Say nothing. It was a foolish desire I had, to show him how much—

It doesn’t matter.

And do not come up to the roof, you will fall.

Wang Pangzi: FOOLISH MY GORGEOUS ASS

IM DONE DUCKING AROUND WITH THIS

OH HONEY YOU GOT A BIG STORM COMING

Zhang Qiling: The forecast is indeed overcast, but I do not sense rain approaching?

Mere Mortals Chat, 9:53am

Wang Pangzi: HE IS TRYING TO DATE YOU.

Wu Xie: ?

Wang Pangzi: DO NOT CALL THE FLORIST. THEY WILL JUST TELL YOU ABOUT AN EMOTIONALLY STUNTED TOOTHPICK WHO BOUGHT THEM FOR YOU.

Wu Xie: a toothpick?

Wang Pangzi: WHY MUST I DO EVERYTHING AROUND HERE. IS THIS HOW WANG MENG FEELS ALL THE TIME

Wu Xie: I’m confused, Wang Meng bought me flowers?

Wang Pangzi: IT IS SUCH A GOOD THING YOU'RE PRETTY

Wang Pangzi: YOU MAY WANT TO SIT DOWN FOR THIS

Zhang and Wu Chat, 11:08am

Wu Xie: Xiao Ge…this is so sweet. You are…I’m tearing up over here in the kitchen.

Zhang Qiling: You are crying? What has happened? Are you hurt?

Wu Xie: please come to the kitchen so I can hug you. And tell you some things

Zhang Qiling: On my way. You need to tell me who made you cry.

Wu Xie: oh I will.

Main Chat, 7:00am

Wang Pangzi: A MAN SHOULDNT HAVE TO WALK IN ON PURE SMUT WHEN HE IS TRYING TO GET SOME COFFEE IN THE MORNING YA NASTIES

Wu Xie: okay holding hands at the breakfast table is not smut

Fuck off Pangzi

Zhang Qiling: I will happily reserve our affection for more private moments. That moment was not meant for you.

Wang Pangzi: AFTER ALL THE WORK I DID DONT YOU DUCKING DARE “RESERVE” ANYTHING

DUCKING

DUCK

*FUCK

Zhang Qiling: We will also reserve that for private moments.

Wang Pangzi: …

Wu Xie: Omg Xiao Ge!!! Stop! Or switch to private chat and don’t stop;)

Wang Pangzi: I MISS THE TOMBS.

[jimlingss]

Speaking of AUs and plots, OC damages someones car by accident and instead of money they want to be paid back in dates.

Anonymous said: For the request: “I can make you a deal you can’t refuse.”

↳ Auto Date Claim

2.3k || 100% Light Fluff || Kim Seokjin

Seokjin grips the steering wheel.

He blows through the yellow light even though he should’ve stopped but there’s no time to waste, not when the last thing he wants is to be late for the meeting. Everything has to be perfect.

Which is what makes this phone call the worst.

“I’m not coming.”

“What?!” Jin looks to the display screen where there’s Jisoo’s name as if he can telepathically send her his exasperated expression. “Why not?!” 

“You know why. I don’t want to be a doll that’s supposed to sit there silently, Seokjin. I’m done.”

“No. Please. You know how important this meeting is to me. You can’t be doing this—”

“Oh, yes I can.”

She hangs up. Seokjin groans, the urge to slam his forehead against the steering wheel overwhelming. But he resists and when he gets to the next red light, he frantically calls Yoongi.

The dial tone rings over his car speakers and then the man picks up. Yoongi is calm by nature and there’s little that can faze him. But now, his voice pitches up every so slightly. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you on your way to meeting the Jeon’s?”

“Yeah, but Jisoo just called to tell me she’s not coming.”

“Oh shit.”

Family. Marriage. Commitment. They’re essential pillars for the Jeon’s who’ve been married for fifty years. They’re old school, the epitome of tradition. The plan was for Jin to look like a family man too, to add to his own integrity and to show that he shares the Jeon’s company values. And everything matters when it comes to the contract they’ve been trying to sign for the past year. A minuscule detail like this could tip the scales and make the Jeon’s sign with the competitor instead.

“Is Irene there?” Jin asks as he drives. “Maybe she can come instead.”

“She’s already running an errand for Hoseok. Just...make something up. Maybe you can say—”

At the exact same time, as Seokjin stops for a red light, the entire car jolts forward without warning. He nearly slams his head on the wheel — this time, unintentionally. 

What the fuc—

“Yoongi, wait. I just got rear-ended.”

“What?!”

As if things couldn’t get worse today. Jin undoes his seat belt and climbs out of the car. The perpetrator of the accident also gets out and he looks at you who’s completely wide-eyed.

“I’m so sorry!” you screech in horror. “I was just singing to this new album and looking around, I’ve never driven on this street before and I wasn’t paying attention, I’m so so sorry.”

You come to look at the damage at his bumper and a gasp tears from your throat. It’s a Maserati.

You don’t know much about cars, but even you’re aware this is a luxury vehicle imported from somewhere in Europe. Germany. France. Italy. One of those fancy countries where you haven’t even dreamed of traveling to. You don’t know much but one thing’s certain — you’re so fucked.

As you’re losing your mind, Seokjin taps his foot and checks his watch. 

His eyes bulge when he realizes the hour’s almost up. “Do you have your insurance information?” he blurts, interrupting your internal meltdown.

“I-Insurance?” You deflate all at once. “I don’t.”

Seokjin sighs and glances over his shoulder. The Hwagae Hotel where the meeting was taking place was so close that he could practically see the entrance door from here.

There’s no more time to waste.

“I’m heading to the Hwagae Hotel.” He points down the street. “Do you want to talk about it there?”

You nod dejectedly and get back into your car to follow him into the hotel’s parking lot before you slow down traffic any more than you already have. Getting more angry drivers on your back is the last thing you need at the moment. At the same time, your mind scrambles for solutions. But it comes up empty.

God fucking dammit. You shouldn’t have been cheap. You should’ve just gone hungry for an entire week to get the car insurance. Why on earth did you think you didn’t need it?!

By the time you get out of your car again, you’re on the verge of tears.

You eye the expensive, sleek black car. Then your eyes stray to the stranger.

“I...I don’t have much money I can give you.”

Jin glances at his watch and then at you. He finally gets a good look at you. Or rather, he notices your simple skirt and blouse ensemble. In an instant, a light bulb flickers in his brain.

“You don’t need to pay if you follow me.” His head nudges towards the hotel and your eyes become rounded at the suggestion. You gawk at the door of the hotel and back at him within seconds, entirely horrified. Seokjin quickly clarifies, “I have a business brunch inside and I need a partner to go with. You don’t need to do anything. You can just stay silent and eat.”

Seokjin watches as you look at the car and then his crisp suit before you’re slowly coming to nod. “A-Alright.”

He turns on his heel and struts into the hotel lobby without waiting for you.

Seokjin wouldn’t necessarily call himself a spontaneous person, but when push comes to shove and it’s the last moment, he’s good at coming up with fixes. He prides himself on it, having been the person who jumped in at the last second to repair things on more than one occasion. 

Podium mic not working at the charity banquet? He ran to the nearby mall and bought a portable karaoke microphone at a booth. The client has a pollen allergy he didn’t know about? He threw the flowers on the table out the window when she turned around. The handouts for the shareholder meeting were forgotten? He announced they were going paperless. 

The point is: Seokjin will do whatever it takes. Even if his methods are unconventional.

He enters the lavish hotel restaurant, already finding the couple by the windows. He brushes past the hostess with a sparkling smile and peeks over his shoulder to make sure you’re still following after him.

“Seokjin!”

They’re an old couple in professional garb. The man is in a gray suit while the woman is in a modest navy dress. He doesn’t miss the Louis Vuitton purse next to her wine glass filled with water.

“It’s good to see you, Mr. Jeon. You as well, Mrs. Jeon.” 

He shakes their hands and at once, Mrs. Jeon looks at you with her brows raised. “And who is this?”

“This is my partner….”

“Y/N,” you fill in for him, realizing he doesn’t even know your name. You’ve been through your fair share of meetings, so you smile and shake their hands with ease. 

As strange as the situation is, you’re just relieved he wasn’t lying about it. You had the impression he wasn’t, but you were ready to hightail it out of here if he brought you into a hotel room.

“I didn’t know you had a partner, Seokjin,” the older man notes, impressed and curious.

Jin laughs. “Well, I’m glad you know now.” 

Everyone takes their seats and the waiter comes by to fill your glasses of water and ask if anyone wants a particular drink. Once he’s sauntered away, the woman across from you makes conversation. “What do you do, Y/N?”

So much for having to do nothing. “I’m an intern at JML.”

“Oh, I have a friend’s niece who works there. Are you looking to become an accountant then?” her husband asks.

“Hopefully.” You smile before lifting the glass of water to your lips.

“That’s so nice,” Mrs. Jeon sighs. “You young-ins should work and develop a career while you still have the chance. Heaven knows things become so much more difficult once you start a family.”

Family? It’s a foreign concept to hear considering it’s not a subject even in the realm of your concern. You manage to stiffly nod.

“How did you two meet?”

You almost spit out your water.

Seokjin reaches over to pat your back as you wheeze. “Are you alright...darling?”

You wipe your mouth with the tablecloth napkin. What was this guy’s name again? Seokho? No that wasn’t it. It had a J in it. Seok...ju? No….

“Seokjin, I’m fine.”

Mrs. Jeon watches the interaction through rose-coloured glasses and smiles knowingly. “My apologies if it’s an intrusive question. I just adore a good love story.”

“Actually, it’s a funny story.” Jin smiles as a sweat bead practically rolls down his face. “Y/N here rear-ended my car when I was on my way to a meeting and that’s how we got to know each other.”

He looks at you and starts to laugh. After a delayed moment, you join in and inwardly cringe at how awkward it sounds. Yet the old couple doesn’t notice.

“How long have you been together?” Mr. Jeon asks with a warm smile, hands threaded on the table.

You look at him and his laughter dies down. “T-Thr-Two years! Yes, two years.”

“Well isn’t that sweet,” she swoons to her husband who nods in approval. “Are you going to get married soon? It’s not good to let a young woman wait too long.”

If you didn’t choke before, you might again. This time from your own saliva.

Mr. Jeon hums. “Yes, I personally don’t think one should wait long if they know it’s the right person.”

“That’s right.”

“Well that’s good news,” Seokjin interjects before you get the chance and he suddenly blurts, “Because we’re already married.”

Your head whirls to him, neck nearly breaking from the whiplash. You gawk at his profile.

Mrs. Jeon gasps in amazement. Mr. Jeon appears intrigued.

As the proclamation leaves his lips, it’s already too late to take it back. Seokjin isn’t spontaneous. He’s just good at quick fixes, too good that they become permanent fixes.

The point is: Seokjin’s an absolute idiot sometimes.

“Really?! Where’s the ring?” 

“We’re getting it fixed at the moment. Y/N lost a bit of weight so it kept slipping off her fingers.”

He turns to you and you stare at him incredulously before deadpanning, “Right.”

“When did you get married?” Mr. Jeon asks.

“Recently,” Seokjin lies without batting a single lash. It’s not hard to pitch an idea or an outlandish one at that when he used to work as a door-to-door salesman during his teenage years and then a car salesman during his college years. 

Seokjin’s entire career has been built on convincing others.

“So you’re newlyweds then.”

You give him a look. Jin smiles. 

“Yes. We are.”

By the end of brunch, you know more about Kim Seokjin than you ever intended to know — case in point, you’re now aware of his last name. You know he’s three years older than you are, that he’s been working at his company for four, and he’s pretty high up on the corporate ladder but is still continuing to climb it. You even know about the possible contract between his company and the Jeon’s, and the open plot of land on Hwarang avenue that would apparently be the perfect location to expand the Golden Resort and turn it into a franchise.

You’re sure he knows way more about you than he’d like to know too.

“I’ll be honest, I was unsure if I wanted to sign with your company, Seokjin. But you’ve shown me you have a lot of integrity and a strong work ethic. I think our values are compatible as well.” Mr. Jeon shakes hands with Seokjin. “You’ll get a call from my office soon and I think you’ll like what you’ll hear.”

“Thank you so much, sir.”

“You’re a lovely couple,” Mrs. Jeon adds on as she looks at the pair of you standing next to one another. “I look forward to seeing you again soon, Y/N.”

“Y-Yes…”

The two of them bid their final farewells and Mr. Jeon lifts his hand to the valet across the lot. Mrs. Jeon hangs off his arm as their Cadillac is driven up to the door. They get in soon after.

It’s silent between you and Seokjin.

“So…..we’re married, huh?”

“I’m sorry.” He turns to you with a heavy sigh. “It was a really important client I have to sign with and they really value family and relationships.”

You nod. It doesn’t really matter now — what’s important is that it’s over. But one thing isn’t. “About your car….”

The both of you walk across the lot to his vehicle and he finally has the time to get a good look at the damage.

There’s a clear dent in his back bumper and a scratch. But luckily, there doesn’t seem to be much anywhere else.

“It’s a ninety nine thousand dollar car.”

You wheeze. “Pardon?”

“I don’t know how much the damage will be, but it might cost a bit.”

Oh my god.

Seokjin suddenly turns to you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I can make you a deal you can’t refuse. I know you don’t have the means to pay for the damage, so you won’t have to. But in exchange, accompany me to business brunches or galas. It won’t be often and it’ll be similar to what you just experienced. You won’t have to say much and you can even eat for free.”

There’s a drawn out pause. You blink at him owlishly.

“I accidentally told him you were my wife and if you weren’t there from now on, it’ll look suspicious,” Seokjin explains. “It’ll be just for a little while. Maybe half a year? I’ll figure something out after that. How does it sound?”

You know you don’t have much of a choice.

You don’t have insurance and you don’t have money to pay out of pocket. If anything, the offer is generous and Seokjin seems trustworthy — especially considering you’ve gotten to know him in the past hour.

For all those reasons, maybe that’s why you nod. “I can do that.”

He smiles and you brace yourself for a whirlwind.

[believeitseeitdoit]

Back To School Night

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: cursing, fluffy as hell, overload of cuteness? Don’t read if you don’t like happy endings

Summary: you’re setting up your school classroom when your boyfriend Bucky comes to support you and save the day

This is an un-beta’d Drabble, solely to be read for a smile and maybe some happiness, be kind or go away

You’re sweating like a whore in church as you set up the last of the chairs for your classroom. Every desk had a team logo and every chair had 4 tennis balls on the bottoms to prevent that horrid scraping noise. Your class theme this year was secret agents, and you used the old SHIELD symbol as your continuing logo. Each group was given a team mascot, a different avenger, and your desk was set up as the director’s office. You were insanely proud of how much work you had accomplished and put into this new adventure, finally getting your own classroom and students to teach, you hadn't stopped smiling for a week after you and Bucky had found out you got the job.

Climbing off the floor and dusting your knees off, you shoot a text to Bucky showing him your handiwork and get a thumbs up in response alongside an update on the meeting he’s in with Fury and Sam.

Bucky: I swear if Nick compliments the bird man again on his plans, ima slap a hoe.

You burst out a giggle at your boyfriend’s text lingo, and fire back a simple memo.

Y/N: Darling, murder is illegal, even for dead not dead ex assassin current hero super soldiers 😘.

Setting the phone back on your desk, you take stock of what else you need to be ready for the open house tonight. The interactive board is queued and your presentation bio for the families is ready, you have deodorant and your freshen up bag in your purse so you don’t actually look like a pig, and your work clothes are…. SHIT! You internally screech, you had left the other bag full of your nice clothes in the garage when you left this morning. Fuck fuck fuck, you continue to scold yourself while formulating a plan of how to get the rest of your room ready and get yourself taken care of in the next… hour?! Shit fuck shit damn it aghrrrrr FUCKKKKK ME!

You slap a palm to your forehead and decide to just roll with it. Quite honestly, leggings and a t-shirt in late July is not unheard of, and the parents might even appreciate your casual demeanor…. your boss is kosher, but you still worry about the impression you could make shine you have only been a substitute for her before now.

Instead of dwelling, you decide to speed through the finishing touches on your room; door decorations first, then the string lights in the reading corner, little airplanes and origami hanging from the ceiling tiles last. A few taps to the smart board bring up your classroom friendly Spotify and you get to work as The Lion King original soundtrack chimes through surprisingly decent speakers. The SHIELD logo and your handmade heli-carrier ramp lookalike instantly reinvigorate your spirit of setting up, and you sing along to the Disney tunes while you tack up the lights for a soft fairy glow.

Due to your rather pitchy and obnoxious rendition of “gonna make a man out of you”, you didn’t hear the knock at the door. So when Bucky slid up behind you and wrapped you in his arms for a hug, you screamed bloody murder and elbowed him in the gut.

“Ahh! Fuck what the- Bucky god damnit what are you doing?! You scared the hell out of me!” You run to pause the music and chastise your soldier for his sneaking.

“Doll, I did knock, but you were a little preoccupied getting ready for your Idol audition” he chuckled as he looked around the room.

“This looks great Y/N, your kids are gonna love this. I am so proud of you for finally getting your dream.” He wraps an arm around your waist and his vibranium hand in your hair to angle you up to meet his gaze.

Those eyes are more electrifying than a lightning strike, and a thousand times prettier, you can’t help but be sucked in by them. You smile and push up onto your toes, going in for a chaste kiss.

“I couldn’t have gotten this far without you baby, you have been there for me every step of the way. Now I have one question, can you reach up and fix that banner?” You look above him and notice a team symbol is out of sorts, conveniently the Falcon team.

Bucky chuckles and shifts the cardboard back into its frame, “Sam’s doesn’t deserve to be level, he needs the shift. Oh I came here for a reason, here you are my lady.” He picks up the bag you hadn’t noticed during your curse-scapade.

“Thank fucking god, omygod Bucky I fricking love you so much baby, I can’t believe I forgot it this morning I just had so much junk in the truck already and it slipped my mind.” You profusely thank your boyfriend and go to kiss him again when the intercom buzzes.

“15 minutes until open class night begins faculty, please be ready at your doors in 15 minutes!” The secretary calls out in her cheery voice, reminding you of your current debacle.

“Shit, ok, um I’m gonna change, can you just shut the door please? Stand guard or something so my principal doesn’t get an eye full of my sports bra or my boyfriend?” You run with the bag of clothing to behind your desk and quickly strip down the sweaty items and spritz a bit of smell good on between changes.

Bucky can help but smile at you and laugh as you fall sideways onto your ass trying to shimmy your work jeans on. The tight merlot dyed denim hugs you in all the right places, but in July your sweat does not help anything. Sparing you some bruised pride, he scoops you up and sets you onto the desk so he can help finish getting you ready.

“Doll, arms in the sleeves. I’ll button while you fluff your hair out of that ponytail and I grabbed your dry shampoo so use it. No greased pigs in the heli-carrier please.”

Bucky jokes with you while buttoning your sleeveless blouse.

A handful of minutes later, you are toeing on your ‘Jesus sandals,’ a knock off pair of Birkenstock’s that you love to wear for school. Bucky smiles from your desk chair and gives you a wolf whistle.

“Ya know what’s missing in this room?” He asks as he stands to hug you and walk to the front of the room by the doorway.

“What did I forget?!” You reply frantically, looking around for something else missing.

“Nothing love, I just think you need a sign that says Mrs. Barnes instead of Miss Y/L/N.” Bucky states casually as he pulls two items from his pockets.

You look into his hands and find a custom SHIELD office tag labeled “Mrs. Barnes” and a velvet box.

“Are you fucking serious, James Barnes? I just put on mascara!” You start to whimper and try to hold back the tears of joy.

“Soooo, is that a yes? You gonna be my wife? Make me the happiest man on the planet?” He asks impatiently.

“You bet your super soldier fine ass I am Bucky. But I’ll warn you, you’re gonna be coming to every school event from now on.” You wink at him before reaching up for a passionate kiss to seal the deal.

[wordstro]

[12:06 PM] + pirate!au + “you really think you can steal from me and get away with it?”

2.3k, implications of seggsy times but no descriptions of it at all, surprisingly not angsty - just pirate king hongjoong

-

it was supposed to be an easy steal. take over a shift at the bar to catch his attention, distract him, find the rusty coin your clients wanted you to steal so badly, toss it under your dresser, out of sight, out of mind, all while he’s preoccupied, wait until morning to complete the assignment, collect the reward money. easy. 

and it was. 

except you miscalculated one single, important detail. your target wasn’t just any pirate. he was the pirate king. 

he was captain kim hongjoong. 

the initial start of the plan ran smoothly, in fact he had been kind to you that night, his dark eyes watchful, observant, safe even throughout the night. he cleaned you up afterwards, made sure you were hydrated and comfortably tucked away, and left a peck on your forehead before he slipped out into the summer night, his pretty smile and dark eyes seared into your brain. a trickle of guilt crept under your skin as you slipped out the bed the moment the door clicked shut behind you. you fished out the rusty coin your client was willing to pay handsomely for and tried to think of the reward rather than the guilt. you expected the pirate king from the rumors. the mean, bloodthirsty, horrible man that everyone across the great seas knew. stealing from that version of him would have felt less burdensome than the man who stepped into your bedroom. 

the next morning, however, everything went to shit. you spent most of the walk to port examining the rusty coin, flipping it over in your fingers as you wondered what kind of value it could possibly have - clearly there was something there if your rich clients were willing to spend thousands of gold pieces on this and it was in the personal possession of the elusive pirate king. it looked like any other old coin from the northern islands.

as you slipped through the crowded marketplace towards port, you made a plan, grinning to yourself. 

let’s just say your business practices were never the most ethical.

you quickly found out that, apparently, neither was your client’s.

the eye-patched ex-navy captain handed you a heavy pouch of gold, watching you weigh it in your palms before clipping it to your belt beside your own pouch of gold coins.

you plucked the rusty coin from the folds of your shirt. the moment the coin passed from your hand to your clients crooked fingers, his gun was on you.

he shouted at you, claimed that you knew too much and he did not leave loose ends, fingers twitching over the trigger, and you barely let him finish his speech before you lunged at him. he dropped his gun, letting loose a gunshot into the sky. you truly did not believe he would have actually shot you. navy men were supposed to have morals, no matter their current affiliations with the navy.

still, you wasted no time in snatching the coin right back, elbowing the man in the nose when he tried yank at your hair. you gasped in pain when he punched you, landing on your ass with a throbbing lip and, undoubtedly, a giant, unsightly bruise blooming over your cheek. the force of his hit left you seeing stars, clutching your stinging face as you scrambled across the deck, the coin digging into your palm. he loomed over you, but you kicked at his legs, tripping him up long enough for you to scramble to your feet, a nervous giggle spilling from your lips as you watched him teeter at the edge of the port, flailing his arms 

after a moment of stunned silence - you’re sure you sounded insane, giggling to cope with such a deadly situation - his crewmates finally turned on you, brandishing their weapons, anger rolling off them in heavy waves. one of them advanced on you, swinging his sword. you tried to step back, but he managed to slice at your skin, making you yelp in pain.

that’s when you made the decision to reel your arm back and toss the damn coin into the ocean, as far as you could throw it. the silence on the port following the soft plop was deafening. you were not planning on sticking around for the aftermath, not with the way the ex-navy man clutched his crewmates as they pulled him from the dock nor with the way he screamed bloody murder a moment later, swiveling on you, fists clenched and veins popping out along his forehead.

you did what you do best. you ran.

his crewmates were clearly torn between retrieving the coin and coming after you. you did want to look back and find out if they were, intent on putting as much distance between yourself and your furious client as possible as you weaved through the familiar marketplace, ducking under bystanders and around merchant stalls.

now here you are, cursing your luck as you weave through the marketplace, trying and failing to staunch the bleeding from the cut on your leg. you can still hear the shouting from the dock, but you don’t dare look back, veering around the corner. all you can do is hope that you don’t leave a blood trail for your client and his crew to follow. you can only hope that you didn’t just -

you’re yanked back, so hard you let out a sharp yelp. you thrash in the grip, but it’s too strong and you think, gods, this is it, this is how i die, fuck, fuck, fuc -

“get off - hongjoong?” you freeze at the familiar face looming over you, thinking shit shit shit as he glares at you, gaze icy, stiff. he’s furious. he looks every bit the part of the pirate king the rumors warned you about and nothing like the man you met the night before. you can’t quite blame him for it, not when you stole something so obviously precious from him. 

your coin pouch burns against your hip, almost as badly as your wounds. you try to pull away, but he yanks you forward until he hovers inches from you, dark eyes burning holes into your face. if looks could kill, you’d be dead a thousand times over.  

he speaks sharply, grip tightening around your shoulders, “you really think you can steal from me and get away with it?”

maybe it’s the adrenaline rush from turning on your client or stupidity or something else entirely turning your mouth loose, but you raise a brow, grinning half-heartedly, your heart slamming against your ribs all the while, “that’s exactly what happened, though.”

he bristles at your smile, his scowl deepening and his grip tight enough to leave bruises. 

“oh, i know.” he yanks you out of the alley, and you stumble in his hold, reminded of the night before and how he pulled you into your apartment the moment you opened the door for him. you shove the thought from your mind, focusing on his pinched brows and furious eyes as he looks over his shoulder at you, “and i intend on having you scour every inch of that beach until you find the fucking coin. once you do, i’ll skin you alive and leave you for the fish.”

you dig your heels into the dirt, “hong -”

“let’s go.” his voice is low, commanding, never once letting up on his grip on you.

you protest the entire time he drags you back through the marketplace, but he does not relent. the townspeople do nothing, as expected. your hometown is a safe haven for pirates, and the people here make it a point to never meddle in pirate’s business. no matter what. you can’t even find it in yourself to be disappointed when you pass by familiar faces and they merely glance away. 

he pulls you all the way back to the port. your ex-navy client is shouting at his crewmates across the port, desperate as he points to the sea. you barely have time to look at the consequences of your actions when hongjoong finally lets go of you.

“climb,” he orders.

you glance up at the steps leading into his ship. black sails flutter overhead, and the ship is huge. you glance sideways, at the ocean, and hongjoong shoves your back. “don’t you fucking dare. now, eyes forward and climb.”

you could jump, still, but he’ll probably just shoot you and let you drown. frankly, you are not in the mood to die such a gruesome, undignified death.

you climb into his ship, nearly face-planting onto the deck when he grabs your arm only to toss you forward. it’s embarrassingly easy for him to knock you onto your knees. he looks down at you, expressionless, and your cheeks heat up in embarrassment when you realize you two are not alone on this deck. you groan, fixing your gaze on hongjoong. 

“look. if you’d just listen to me -” you start. he gives you a sharp look that you think could skin you alive all on it’s own. you wonder if you should have just jumped into the ocean and taken your chances. you don’t back down, however, rolling your eyes. you’re not sure what’s come over you. maybe it’s the realization that you’re going to die either way or maybe it’s just that you know he’s not always like this, at least he wasn’t yesterday, and you can’t imagine someone like that could be as cruel as the rumors say. you glare, “don’t look at me like that - the fucking coin isn’t in the ocean.”

his eyes narrow, “i watched you throw it. we all did.”

you flush at the thought of an audience, glancing at the men eyeing you with various degrees of irritation. you scratch the back of your neck, hurrying to explain yourself.

“well, okay. i see how that looked, and i get it, but i swear i didn’t throw the coi - ow!”

hongjoong is crouched in front of you, butt of his pistol pressed to the sword cut on your thigh. the wound burns and you attempt to slide back. he doesn’t let you, grabbing your jaw, fingers tightening. He presses his thumb into the growing bruise on your cheek, jostling your split lip. the pain curls inside you, unshed tears springing to your eyes. hongjoong’s dark eyes are void of any of the kindness and warmth, the comfort, he held the night before and it makes this moment worse.

he says, “if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop lying to me.”

you tear yours eyes off his face, focusing instead on the men around you. their irritation has morphed into disdain. another spike of fear runs down your spine at your situation and this time you deflate, hating how defeated and tired you are. hongjoong adds pressure to your bruise, the wound on your thigh, and you look back up at him, jerking away from his grip.

he...lets you, his hand falling from your face. he must have seen the fear in your eyes, the beginnings of complacency. it’s unfair. you were only trying to make a decent living in a town devoid of any kind of decency. it’s just your luck that’d you’d fuck up so royally.

you’re afraid he’ll grab your face again, but settles back to a crouch in front of you, resting his elbows on his knees as he stares intently at you, waiting for you to speak. the butt of the pistol remains at your thigh, though he lets up on the pressure there, too.

you gulp under his scrutinizing stare, the silence stretching on between you two. he merely raises a brow. 

“the coin pouch,” you take a deep breath before you dip a chin towards your hip, “i switched your coin with one of them, so it’s still in there.” his brows furrow together and his eyes fill with disbelief, his jaw ticking and his fingers flexing near his knees. 

he starts to move as he bites out, “you -”

“i swear i’m telling the truth! no, please listen -” you shake your head quickly, hands in the air, ignoring the sounds of guns clicking all around you, “the one with the pink ribbon is my coin pouch. the client offered a shit ton of gold pieces for that damn thing so i figured i’d switch it with a fake, collect the reward, and after he leaves port, i thought you’d -” you pause under his intense gaze, recollecting your jumbled thoughts, “i thought you’d come back for the coin once your realized. i was going to give it to you, demand a reward or something, you know? though in hindsight, that was probably a death wish in the making. but still. double the money and all that, right? so...i....well...”

you clamp your mouth shut when he reaches out and tears your pouch off your hip. he casually dumps the contents of pouch onto the deck, the sounds of coins rattling against wood grating on your ears. the rusty coin stands out. not only is it bigger than the others, but it’s nearly the color of the wooden deck. 

the relief in his eyes, however, has your shoulders slumping, watching as he tucks the coin into his pockets with a strange gentleness.

you tear your eyes from him, glancing around the deck, past a few of his crewmates and the large sails, and you say, “you’re not gonna make me walk the plank are you?”

there’s a small snort behind you, but you don’t turn to the sound. not when hongjoong turns his sharp gaze on you, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. “maybe i fucking should.”

you wince, “i am sorry, okay. i was just doing what i had to. for survival and all.”

hongjoong just stares at you, gaze unreadable. it reminds you of the look he gave you when you first laid eyes on him last night.

“i’ll just...uh,” you clear your throat, jabbing a thumb behind you, towards the port, “i’ll go.”

you figure it’s best to dismiss yourself before hongjoong remembers his promise to skin you alive. you push yourself to your feet. one of his crewmates, a man with long dark hair pulled into a messy bun, helps you to your feet, patting your back as he does so.

“you double-crossed the navy.”

you look up at hongjoong, glancing past him, to the ship where your client is overseeing his crew as they wade through the ocean. you frown, “did i?”

you thought he was merely an ex-navy-captain-turned-bounty-hunter. the eyepatch was not very professional of him, not to mention that current navy members typically avoid your hometown due to how much money the merchants pay them to stay far, far away. you only took the man’s job because ex-navy members tend to hold onto all their morals long after serving. they’re easier to scam.

you shrug, then, “they have no jurisdiction here. it’ll be fine.”

you stumble from the burning cut in your leg, however, yelping as you flail. one of his crewmates catches you before you actually fall flat on your face. he doesn’t let go, steadying you carefully. you barely register his face, focusing on hongjoong’s next words.

he says, “stay on board until they're done searching for the coin at least.”

one of his tall, scary-looking crewmates lets out a low whistle and an obnoxious snicker. hongjoong throws him a scowl, before turning back to you. 

he gestures to your figure, “you can do whatever you want, but we both know you’re in no shape to run if one of them catches you. we have a doctor that can check your injuries."

his eyes are neither kind nor warm. merely factual. clinical. you wonder, briefly, if you imagined the looks he gave you last night, the feathery soft touches in between the tugs at your hair and your clothing, the small, sweet smiles and his sweet nothings.

still, you know he’s right. he knows it as well. you sigh and say, “fine.”

hongjoong doesn’t smile, doesn’t say another word. he merely nods once, brisk and short, before he spins on his heels and walks away. 

[nooneandeveryone]

Can i request fic of arkin,asa and abby where asa gets curious on how arkin will react to abby making advancements and well he watches arkin and abby start fucking but eventually asa decides to join in on the fun?

So I thought... hey that sounds fun. It'll be a nice quick write up. Well. 1,995 words later it's larger than expected. I HOPE YOU'RE PROUD OF YOURSELF

I switch POVs through out because I wanted to.

warnings for breathplay, throat stepping

--Arkin--

It must’ve been hours, Arkin could barely feel his fingertips. He’d been left tied and gagged in a bare room. He’d managed to loosen the ropes somewhat, given enough time he could probably work his way out of them. He’d rather find something sharp to cut them with. He had wiggled to the edge of the room in hopes of finding something. An old nail or screw, anything.

He heard the dead bolts open on the door. He was ready to brace himself, expecting to be dragged off somewhere.

But instead, a young woman was shoved into the room. The door locked loudly behind her.

She was obviously another victim. She had old wounds on one of her hands. While she had intact clothes, they were still grubby. And she had the same haunted expression of someone who’d seen a lot of death.

She also seemed very unsure about why she was there. She had noticed Arkin then looked back at the door.

Carefully, she edged her way over to him, obviously checking for traps as she went.

Arkin made a pleading sound through the gag. Even if this was some kind of weird trick by the killer, she might at least get him out of the ropes.

She did crouch down and pull his gag free.

“...get me out of this!” Arkin said, managing to not sound as desperate as he felt.

She hesitated and looked back at the door again. “I don’t--I think he’s testing us…” her voice was shaky and uncertain.

Arkin strained against the ropes keeping his arms behind his back. The freak had used a weird overly complicated series of knots that kept his arms together. “I don’t give a fuck what he’s doing!” he said in frustration. “Help me outta this!”

--Abby--

Abby had seen the tied up man before, on the monitors in His room. She had asked about him. Predictably, she got no verbal response. He had simply gestured to her then the screen. He wanted to know why she was interested. “He’s… he’s kind of cute,” she said nervously, she hoped showing interest in someone that wasn’t Him wasn’t against the rules. She shrank back just in case it was.

Instead He made a hand motion that meant he agreed with her.

Just a few hours later she found herself shoved into a room with the same man. Only now he was tied up and helpless on the floor.

She usually could guess what He wanted from her, but this time she was at a loss. Was this a weird gift? A test? A trick?

The least she could do was take out his gag.

He did look better in person than the monitors. Did He tie him up <i>for</i> her? Or was he dangerous? She edged back, he certainly wasn’t happy, that could be bad.

Perhaps sensing this, the tied man’s voice went softer. “Hey. It’s okay… I’m Arkin, what’s your name?”

“Abby…”

“Okay, Abby. Listen, my hands are going numb. Can you at least try to loosen the ropes? He wouldn’t have put you in here if he didn’t want you to do something.”

Did Arkin understand Him too?

“O-Okay…”

--Asa--

It was going well, he thought. He’ll leave them in there together for a few hours, or maybe a day, and see if anything changes. While there were a few outcomes he would like to see, he was more interested in seeing what they chose to do on their own. He could have easily told Abby precisely what he wanted but chose not to.

He’ll stay the night at the hotel to keep an eye on them. He had no pressing unmasked matters to attend to tomorrow. It would be a shame to miss anything interesting.

--Arkin--

It took a lot of coaxing for Arkin to convince Abby to at least untie his legs. She was very concerned with making the masked man angry. The masked man remained silent for her too, leaving her to guess what he wanted and hope she was right. She’d definitely been here longer than Arkin.

Then they were just left alone in that room.

They sat on the floor in an uneasy silence. She eventually moved to sit next to Arkin and leaned into him. He didn’t question it, they were in a fairly cool room and she had on a sleeveless dress.

“I think it’s safe to untie me,” he told her gently.

She curled up against his side, she still looked apprehensive but not as fearful as she was. She clearly wasn’t ready to untie him, however. They stayed like that and eventually, they both fell asleep.

It wasn’t the most comfortable sleep but it was… comforting. Not just for the shared body heat.

In between bouts of fitful sleep, Abby finally decided to untie him. Again, he didn’t question it, he just groaned as blood flow slowly restored itself. His arms felt heavy and hurt. The ropes had left clear indentations down his arms.

She curled herself against him again, this time taking one of his arms in hers. She rubbed her hands up and down his forearm, where most of the rope marks were left. It felt amazingly good. His arms and shoulders had almost completely cramped up. She mumbled a barely audible apology, as her hands worked further up his arm.

Arkin could barely string together words in reply, because of the pure relief of pain being rubbed away. “...it’s fine,” he managed to slur out. He really did understand why she didn’t untie him sooner.

She moved her hands to his other arm, which turned into him spooning her on the floor. It wasn’t a conscious effort on his part, it just seemed like the natural thing to do.

Things began to shift as she rubbed his forearm. It took him a moment to realize his hand had settled against her inner thigh. She was still rubbing the knots in his arm and didn’t seem to care where his hand was.

Then her hand moved to his wrist and very gently guided his hand between her legs.

Should they really be doing this?

“The rules are different here,” Abby said, turning her head back to look at him.

She was right. They were prisoners to a murderer who enjoyed inflicting pain. There was rarely a moment where he felt anything else. Arkin shifted to bring her back flush to his chest. He slid his hand fully between her legs. There wasn’t much in the way of clothing to get past. His fingers slid down and found she was already quite wet.

God, what did that freak do to them to make them like this?

He slid his fingers back up, working a circular motion until he found her clit. She let out a small gasp. It was encouraging, despite not knowing her, just to get a positive reaction from someone. Someone who isn’t actively trying to hurt him.

She tried to stay quiet, with only little squeaks escaping. Generally, Arkin would prefer a more vocal partner but like she said, the rules are different here. The masked freak could be watching or listening. For some twisted reason, the thought actually excited him. He’ll just try to push that as far out of his mind as he can.

--Abby--

She still wasn’t sure if what they were doing was allowed. She hoped it was. It seemed likely. He left her in here with Arkin far longer than she’s been around any of the others. Maybe, He wanted her to have this?

This felt very good. Arkin kept varying the speed he moved his fingers. He’d slow down if she made louder sounds. Was he a tease or was he worried they’d get caught?

The first time she came, she closed a hand over her mouth. It was safer to be quiet. Her other hand desperately gripped his forearm. He did not stop, with her mouth covered he seemed to take that as an invitation to speed up. Two fingers slid down to press inside her for a moment then he went right back to her clit.

When she came the second time, she ground her hips back into him. He’d had an erection for a while, she’d felt it, but he wasn’t doing anything about it. She ground back again, getting a little grunt out of him. It was surprisingly gratifying.

Finally, she decided to do something about it. She turned around to face him and gently pushed him onto his back. She opened his pants, her fingers brushing over his dick. He drew in a hissing breath.

“Okay?” she asked cautiously. He just nodded in response.

She straddled his hips and let out a long breath. She took a moment to just slide her wet and swollen labia against his dick. He made a cute little choking sound; he was trying very hard not to make noise.

She shifted her hips and let his dick slide into her. She had gotten very tight after repeated orgasms.

Now it was even harder for him to keep quiet.

The door opened.

--Asa--

Asa was very pleased to see Abby reacted just as he expected. She immediately covered Arkin’s mouth with her hands and told him to not move. He heard her repeat “Just wait.” over and over to Arkin. She kept her gaze averted and pulled her shoulders together in her usual show of submission. Arkin, however, looked like he was ready to jump up at any second. But he was following Abby’s instructions.

He stood in the doorway long enough to convey he was not angry. If he had been angry he would’ve rushed in. No, this was working out better than expected.

He took slow measured steps toward them. His head tilted as he looked them over. He moved his hand in a signal for them to continue.

Abby understood, of course, but looked apprehensive. Arkin, predictably, looked angry, he also understood.

Arkin growled and tore Abby’s hands off his mouth. “You fuc--” is all he got out before Asa moved forward and stepped on his neck. Just enough pressure to keep him quiet and struggled to breathe.

He gestured to Abby to continue.

And she did. Her hips rocked against Arkin.

Arkin struggled and clawed at his boot and leg.

Asa let out a low pleased hum.

Abby relaxed, as she always did when she understood what he wanted. He ran his hand through her hair to reinforce it.

She performed beautifully. She started to move with more force. Actively fucking herself on Arkin’s dick.

---Arkin---

It’s completely insane!

He’s gasping for air, trying to get the freak’s boot off his throat. Yet, somehow, he’s still fucking hard. And the monster is encouraging her!

Logically, he understands that she has no choice. In the moment, he can’t help but feel betrayed. She’s doing what the monster wants!

The worst of it is, it feels good.

He glanced up to see a hungry look in the man’s eyes. A little jolt of pleasure hit him and he almost felt sick.

Abby suddenly ground into him, which brought a new wave of pleasure. He choked against the man’s boot.

When he glanced up again, the man’s dick was out and Abby was running his tongue up and down it.

Arkin tried to scream but the boot came down harder, his air completely cut off. He felt Abby’s muscles spasm on his dick. He could hear her actually moaning now.

His vision started to darken but he could see the man bury his dick deep into her throat. An orgasm hit her so hard it felt like she was trying to crush his dick.

Just barely hanging on to consciousness, he saw the man pull out. A string of cum fell directly on Arkin's face.

A sick pleasure ripped through him seconds before he blacked out

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

SCOTTISH WHISKY

Filip “Chibs” Telford x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: NSFW, SMUT

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford ✨

Author comments: You know, another dirty dream. I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​@sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @ifoundmyhappythought @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @minnicelli ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

“Do you know where is Oswald's warehouse?”

“Yes”.

“Bring the crane”.

That's enough information from Jax, before he hangs up the call. You don't ask. You only take the orders and you execute them. Zipping the jacket of Teller-Morrow and wearing the black sunglasses, you walk towards the big van to check for the direction in your phone. Following the navigator indications by some secondary roads, it takes you almost twenty minute to reach the property. For some reason, you don't get surprised when finding the motorbikes practically destroyed, the guys try to stand them up dragging them close to the crane.

Stepping out of it, you raise an eyebrow somewhat curious, pressing the button in the remote control to lift down the ramp. Their faces are torn between frustration and anger. Pursuing your lips, you look at the president rubbing his face with both hands.

“Who is that beautiful lady?” A strong irish accent makes you twist your neck slightly.

You didn't repair on the four unknown men presents there. You know Romero and Luis. You have seen them sometimes at the club. But not the others.

“I'm talking to you, lady”. The man says again.

Jax is looking at you pleading with his blue eyes to not reply. But that suited man seems like the problem there, and who gave you more work than you can handle having to fix their motorbikes. Or, at least, having to try it. The crew is behind you, knowing well that they're going to enjoy your protective and savage mood because of them. Jackson took you out of the streets. Jackson gave you a home, a family. Jackson saved your life without asking him to do it. No one fucks with him in your presence.

With a soft and falsely smile, you walk close to the irish. The president tries to stop you, by raising an arm on air. Holding his hand for an instant, you nod at him, letting him know that it's okay for you, before continuing your steps. Shorting the distance. Your hands travels to the lapels of his black jacket, seeing sideways how his men point at you, waiting for a false step to shoot you. But the irish one not even flinches, touring your body from top to bottom with his dirty orbs.

“If I would… want to drink a good whisky…” Your voice is melodious and sweet, putting on well the tie around his pale neck. “I would drink an old scottish aged in Jerez's barrels. Not a whisky mixed in the bathtub from a basement”.

You can hear the chuckles behind your back. Are you making a reference about Chibs? Maybe. That man drives you crazy. He's intelligent, has a good aim and his accent is insane for your mind. Even so, you're not into the irish game.

“Do you know I could cut your throat right now, and that your… friends couldn't do anything to avoid it?” He says slowly, dragging every word above his tongue.

“I'm just a mechanic, sir, who cares?”. Palming his chest, you pull your body some inches away. “But, you have already made a fool of yourself, don't you think make it twice it would be too much?”

Actually, you don't give a shit about him, nor about what he can do. He's not going to scare you. Turning over your sneakers on, you come back to Jax position.

“I'll see what can I save of the bikes, boss”.

“Thank you”. His smile is sincere, full of pride because of you.

“I know those magic hands can do miracles”. Tig says placing a hand on your shoulders while Happy is opening you the crane door.

“I appreciate the faith you have in me”. You joke on him, sitting on your seat. “See you at the club, guys”.

Chibs is looking at you, supporting his body against Jax, having a drag of a cigar. You know how much he loves his Harley, supervising every fix up you have had to do. Without no words, Happy close the door narrowing your hand, before drive out of Oswald's property.

“I think the girl has pretty clear what she wants, brother”. Jax palms Chibs back, earning Tig, Happy and Bobby's laughs.

“Scottish whisky”. Happy says with a singing voice.

“Now you don' have any doubts, man”. Bobby tease him, while the other chuckles.

“Lass!” A rough voice claims for your attention, giving you some chills and almost drowning with your own saliva.

Even if Jax smiled when you talked to the unknown irish, sounds like Chibs disagrees. Standing up from the floor, you turn at him hiding your tremble hands behind your back. He's walking towards you with firm steps and somewhat like an angry look. Facing you, he licks his incisors with a nod.

“Walk”. Pointing with a forefinger the clubhouse, you raise up your worries eyes to Jax. He's too serious too, and you're sure he's not going to say anything in you defense.

You obey. You fucked up what they gave you for a misplaced comment by your pretty mouth, which can't stand being closed. Moving your feet over the asphalt and your hands kept inside the pocket of your jacket, you follow the way into the empty club.

“Samcro meeting-room”. He just say, stopping his steps close to the main door. Again, you keep yourself in silence, nodding a little scared swallowing.

Probably they're going to kick you out from there and Chibs is in charge of letting you know because, maybe, he's european and has a direct connection with the irish. Resting your waist against the big wooden table with the grim reaper carved on, you wait impatiently moving a leg in a nervous gesture. The blind covers the window to the clubhouse, so you don't know what's happening, until Chibs opens the door carrying a bottle of whisky and a short glass, specifically for that kind of drink. Closing again the door behind his back, he places the glass to serve it before offering you. Showing him a confused look, you hold it with your right hand.

“Drink”.

For a moment you think it's poisoned, but that doesn't have any sense. Obeying again, you have a sip feeling how the liquid rips your throat, noticing every nuance in. Above all, the aged flavor that wood gives it.

“Tha' is how a good wheske' tastes”. He says taking it off from your fingers and leaving it somewhat away on the table. “And now, 'em gonna shew'ya how a good old scottesh' wheske' tastes”.

All your doubts disappear when the man crashes his lips against yours. You weren't expecting it, but definitely, whisky tastes better in his tongue. The kiss is more needy than you want to show him, nailing your fingers on the back of his head to pushing him closer while his arms get tangled in your waist. You can hardly breathe, but this doesn't look like a problem when he guides you blinded to the sofa, forcing you to sit on his lap. The heat running under your clothes when he urges your waist to move over the lump on his tight jeans.

Biting your lower lip, one of his hands covered by the leather gloves toures your nipples over your shirt, squeezing it and making you gasp. Chibs seems like he knows pretty well your body, as if he studied it before, one of the many times you've caught him looking at you. His hand going down your stomach gives you some delighted chills, while your tongues keep fighting anxious, sneaking it under your sweatpants and your panties. And before you can do any move, Chibs thrusts hard his middle finger inside you, screaming out loud his name on his mouth. The scottish chuckles licking your lips, feeling how the big golden ring below the leather press your narrowness with delicious pounds. Tangling your fingers on his jacket, you let him do with you whatever he wants, enjoying every moan that comes out from your throat.

“Ya like't?” He asks with shaky breath and a scratchy voice that turns you a little more heated.

“Yeah…” You mutter looking for his eyes, bouncing on his hand needing for more contact.

“Do ya wan' me ti fuc' ya?” He asks, sliding a second finger into you with a hard push hiting your g-spot.

“Please… Please”. You beg then, nodding as you can.

“Tonig'”. He just say, knowing how much it teases you making you sob for a second. “Enjoe' my hand, lass”.

His fingers pound you faster, nailing both hands on the back of his head, while he's drinking every gesture you draw on your face under his mercy. He's dominant by nature, like an alpha, but he could never imagine that dominate you would be his favorite thing, making you squeeze under his fury and sexually caresses. A third finger being slide inside your wetness forces you to scream because of the pleasure. Two big rings pressing your tightness, with the leather provoking a friction that burns your skin in a good way.

“Don't stop, please, Chibs…”

“Beg fo' cum, princess”. He demands.

“C'mon… please… fuck, your hand feels so good”. You cry noisily touching his nose with yours. “Fuck… let me cum, please… I need it. Fuck! It… It feels so fuckin' good, holy shit”.

“Good girl, ya have my permission”. He says after some seconds watching your pleading face, whilst your lower lip.

“Thank you, daddy”. You whisper right on his mouth, after containing yourself for a while.

Your body can't handle anymore his hand fucking you so hard, making tremble your legs as he nails his free fingers on your throat to support your body, in the moment you're about to fall when the ecstasy finds your body hitting it with heat and pleasure.

“Fuck, Filip!” You moan as loudly as your voice lets you.

But he doesn't stop, with the wetted sound the leader makes every time it thrusts your pussy flooding the room, so naughty and dirty that you forget for a second the soft stinging the glove makes you feel.

“Tonig' 'em gonna fuck ya harder”.

“Yes, please…” You beg for it, really needed.

His fingers go slow, moving his hand calmly, until he pulls it out to direct it to his mouth licking it before look for your mouth. Your cum, the taste of whisky on your tongue, the taste of beer on his, all getting mixed with your saliva in a dearly and gently kiss.

“Wei' fo' me tonig' here. Alrai', princess?”

“Yes”. You just say, trying to fill your lungs with some air.

[nothing-but-dreamy]

QUARANTINE

Pairing: FFXV!NYX ULRIC x MALE!READER

Words: 2.140

Warnings: fluff

A/N: @slowkib - here you go :) I hope you like it. Thanks for this request

A/N II: This is a loosely sequel to MESSAGES. So, if you wanna know how these two have met, you can catch up on it but it's not necessary :)

Synopsis: Yn got hit by a virus what means he and Nyx have to be quarantined. But Nyx finds a way to 'sweeten' the time for YN to recover quickly.

Nyx and YN were dating for a few months and so, YN’s sister was determined to meet the man who had stolen her brother’s heart like a thief with the promise to never give it back. She stayed over the weekend. Two whole days, all three had a lot of fun together. YN was happy to see how good Nyx and his sister got along and all too fast, the time was over again and YN’s sister had to go back home.

While Nyx cleaned up a few plates and glasses, he looked at YN who had a content smile on his lips even if he seemed to be a bit pale, “Your sister is nice. I like her.”

“I'm happy to hear that because she already loves you. She threatened me to treat you right or else she would ... Well… trust me, I wouldn't have a good life anymore.”, YN said and coughed softly.

Nyx blinked several times, staring at YN, disbelieving that his boyfriend, a skilled fighter and great soldier of the royal Kingsglaive, would be intimidated by his sister who was two heads shorter than he was, "You... She can threaten you? I mean, for real?", Nyx asked amused.

"Always had, always will. She might be younger and smaller than me but she can be a beast if she wants.", YN answered with a grin, remembering what kind of troublemaker she had been in their childhood.

"Good to know.", Nyx said grinning.

"Don't you dare to-", but YN stopped as a coughing attack prevented him from speaking further.

Concerned, Nyx laid his hand on YN’s shoulder, checking on him as he became even paler, "Are you alright?"

YN just waved with his hand, "Yeah, yeah", he said hoarsely, slapping against his chest, "I just choked on something.", he whispered.

But the next day, YN laid in bed, coughing violently and fighting with the full aftermath of the virus that held Insomnia in its iron grip for a few months. Obviously, without knowing it, YN's sister had been infected and now, he was the one with all the symptoms: fever, fatigue, muscle aches, headache, sore throat and nausea saying, the whole package.

While caring as best as he could for a suffering YN, Nyx did what the citizens were encouraged to do: he called a doctor, YN got tested and the result was clear: positive.

Nyx was tested negative but still, because they lived together, they had to be both quarantined for two weeks. As the next step, Nyx had to inform their Captain. Drautos wasn't pleased about the information that two of his men were out of service because of some ‘common cold’. As the Captain asked why they had to be both in quarantine, Nyx saw himself forced to tell the truth and revealed the relationship he had with YN. But, somehow, Nyx got the impression that the relationship itself wasn't the biggest problem rather the fact that the Captain had been completely unaware about it during the last months.

But because the Captain still wanted to have the upper hand like always, he sent Nyx and YN a big pile of documents and paperwork that got postponed because of the last battles. Nyx wasn't pleased about the boring 'office' work but as long as he and YN were quarantined, there was no way Nyx could say anything against it … or run away from it to fight a small, cozy fight against some demons which he would prefer more in this moment.

Luckily, YN recovered quickly and so, after one week, he was almost the old one. Almost. He was still a bit tired, was coughing and needed to rest but at least, he was fit enough to help Nyx a little bit with the paperwork. Especially, YN did it to prevent a raging war inside their apartment. While YN had been forced to stay in bed, he already had heard Nyx cursing while working.

First YN thought Nyx was just annoyed about the work itself but then, one afternoon as they sat together to work through the piles of documents, YN realized that Nyx wasn't just 'annoyed' rather, he was frustrated and even kinda aggressive.

"This stupid thing!", Nyx called out while pressing keys randomly on his PC.

YN raised his glance questioningly from his own PC and papers to look at the hero, who obviously got defeated by a bunch of wires and circuit pressed into a plastic case, "Everything's good over there?" he asked, grinning as Nyx slammed his whole hand on all keys he could find at the same time.

"Sure! Fuc- it works pretty wonderful!", he hissed through gritted teeth. Once again, Nyx pressed a bunch of keys he had no idea of their functions. As the PC finally just gave up and shutted down, Nyx leant back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose with closed eyes while sighing deeply, completely defeated.

YN tried his hardest to keep the grin out of his face but it wasn't working. Nyx heard the muffled sound of suppressed laughter and the moment he looked slowly up, his beloved boyfriend burst out with laughter. Even tears of joy were running down his cheeks.

Nyx gritted his teeth, "Good to see that you’re feeling better again. At least one of us has fun here.", he said annoyedly, standing up from the chair to look out of the window to become calmer again. It was cold, raining and all in all not the worst weather to be forced to stay inside.

YN felt guilty for laughing. He hurried over to Nyx and from behind, he snaked his arms around Nyx' waist, pressing a soft kiss on the outer rim of Nyx' ear, one of his weak spots, "Come on. Don't be like that. I didn't mean to laugh at you. It was just ... you fight against demons and whatsoever and then, you get defeated by a PC? Seriously?", YN chuckled.

Nyx scoffed, "I tell you, this thing has a will on its own. And it's mocking me. Besides, we're Glaives. We fight. We don't do 'paperwork'.", he said, quoting the Captain's words in a silly voice.

"So, what? You wanna disobey and ignore the Captain's order? Again?", YN asked amused, knowing how rebellious Nyx could be from time to time.

Nyx grinned, turning around in YN's arms and lying his own around his neck, glad that YN already had some color back in his face, "What shall he do? We're in quarantine. We're not allowed to leave this place or to invite someone in ... at all.", he said with a low voice.

YN raised an eyebrow, knowing this kind of mischievous glance already from the hero, "You have something in mind then?"

"Oh, yes. Indeed, I have.", Nyx nodded with a grin.

Ten minutes later, Nyx had collected everything he needed while YN just had watched him, sitting in an armchair. Nyx had prohibited him to do anything else than just waiting because even if YN felt better he was still stricken. On the other hand, Nyx wanted to have his idea as a small surprise. So, he collected all the pillows and blankets he could find and threw them into the living room which was quickly turned upside down. Nyx took some chairs, arranged them with the couch and had built something that represented a cozy fort. The couch was the fort's backrest. Chairs left and right were holding up the blankets while the carpet was covered with pillows and bed covers to make it even more comfy. As Nyx was done, he stepped next to YN, lying an arm around his shoulders, "What do you say?"

"That looks pretty perfect. You have done that before, don't you?", YN asked and looked up. There was already a melancholic smile on Nyx' lips.

"Yeah, I did this often with Selena. Mostly, when she was feeling sad or when she was sick. Then, I built one of these, stole some ice cream and cookies from the kitchen and then, we hid there the whole day. We were talking or watching TV until we fell asleep.", Nyx remembered, pulling YN closer to his side before he pressed a soft kiss on his boyfriend's crown while inhaling his scent to feed the painful memories with sweet new fuel to make them comfortable again.

YN enjoyed the affection with closed eyes, "So, you stole ice cream, huh?", he asked softly to light Nyx' mood up again. He was happy that it worked as he heard him chuckling.

"Well, stealing would mean no one knew about it. I'm sure our mother knew it. I mean, back then, as a kid, I felt pretty smart but now, I know that someone had to buy the things, so I'm sure she knew when we would build our little cave and prepared the sweets for us."

YN frowned. Everything was perfect except the fact that they had no sweets in the kitchen, "Shall we order-", but he got stopped as someone knocked at the door.

"Not necessary. I already took care of that, too.", Nyx said with a grin and went to the front door, opened it and came back with a paper bag full of stuff Crowe had brought after Nyx had texted her.

"What's that?", YN asked curiously, closing up on Nyx.

"Everything we need to get you back on track.", Nyx said grinning.

"But I'm already feeling better.", YN argued half-heartedly as he saw the colorful labels of the bag's contents.

"Yes, but 'better' is still not completely recovered. So, here, the ice cream will help you with your sore throat. Cookies are great in warm milk with honey to fight against the temperature of your fever. And the chocolate will just make you happy.", Nyx listed while pointing at the different items.

"And the gummi bears? Are they for my running nose?", YN asked chuckling, pulling out the bag of sweets.

Nyx snatched it out of YN's hand, "Oh, these are for me. At last, I need something to throw at you when you say stupid things again. Gummi bears for a running nose... never heard such a silly thing.", Nyx mumbled while rolling with his eyes and bringing the bag in the kitchen.

YN laughed, took his laptop and crawled into the pillow fort to get comfortable already while waiting for Nyx to come back.

Ten minutes later, Nyx appeared with a tablet which was laden with bowls full of ice cream, sweets and two mugs with warm milk. YN received the tablet, placing it in the middle. Nyx crawled next to YN's side before he closed the door made out of a blanket to enclose them with coziness. Pressing on a switch, a chain of light went on which was installed around the chair and illuminated the fort in a soft warm, romantically light. Nyx leant against the couch with his back, raised his arm to give YN the space to cuddle against him, using Nyx' upper body as a pillow.

YN was just about to start the movie he had picked out on Netflix as Nyx got a call on the headset he had still in his ear out of habit. Cursing under his breath, he answered the call, "Yeah? Hey, Captain. Yes, we're still in quarantine. One more week, that’s correct, Sir. Yes, he's feeling better but he's still not recovered completely. He still has to rest.", Nyx answered the Captain's questions. To underline Nyx' statement, YN coughed slightly.

Nyx had difficulties to keep the amusement out of his voice and nudged YN's side in revenge because the coughing was so badly acted, "What did you say, Sir? Oh, yeah, the paperwork. We're working on it. Yes, at this very moment, we're sitting in the living room and looking at the screen. Yes, Sir. Alright. Good da- huh, he hung up already.", Nyx said with a smirk, taking the headset out of his ear to lay it aside where he wouldn't notice it at all for the rest of the day.

"You lied to the Captain.", YN stated with a smirk.

Nyx looked him in the eyes while shaking his head, "No, I said the truth. We're in the living room, looking at some screen. The paperwork can wait. First, I want to make sure that you're fit again.", he breathed before he kissed YN softly, "And now, we should hurry with the ice cream or we will have just soup left."

"You could put some gummi bears into it to keep the consistency- hey!", YN called out as a gummi bear hit his hand.

"I warned you.", Nyx said grinning before YN cuddled back against Nyx' side, the best place in the world to recover from whatever virus there might ever be.

[missallsundayyy]

Bandit and A School Girl

For today's fic its gon be bout my BIGGEST crush EVER. CHROLLO FUCKING LUCILFER. So I actually wrote more for this fic I think this is part 5 or sumn but I decide that this is my favourite part to post on this blog so here u go. Something bout Chrollo being a sugar fucking daddy turns me on so hard ON GOD. YES Im a Chrollo Stan and I'll always be ~~~ I actually have this fit posted somewhere as well and IF you guys want more parts just tell me & I'll post it here. Oh and also I don't really write with OC's I guess its just my preference I would usually come out with my own name but in this case I am borrowing a haracter from Seven Deadly Sins......Elizabeth Liones simply because she's the perfect character to portray my fic vision.

"I know that stare and look. Don't. There's something wrong about her. Elizabeth is one of the hottest girls on our campus but boys that goes on a date with her never want to talk to her or even look at her again. Despite that.......she's very smart and also one of the top students here." a boy her age said to Chrollo while he was waiting for Elizabeth to end her class.

He found this interesting, he was getting to know more about her without her telling him. He had already seen first hand that she can be erratic but this was from another pov of the girl.

"Do you think I'm compatible with her then?" Chrollo's demeanor changed to one of those cheeky school boys that had a crush on a ridiculously pretty highschool girl. The brown haired boy laughed and scratched his head "You look much older than Elizabeth and you're probably not from this school. Judging by your appearance and body posture, you're probably a very determined person and also a confident man." the random guy briefly summarised him. Chrollo laughed "Your observation explanations must be a mandatory skill here I guess" he said .

"To be honest, most of us are just trying. God seemed to gift some students here with high IQ and abilities to absorb every knowledge given to them in a heartbeat and Elizabeth is one of them. I'm quite jealous" he joked. "Well don't say I didn't warn you, Elizabeth is very attractive but she's suspicious at the same time and I don't mean it in a good way" Chrollo nodded at the guy's departure with a smile before returning his gaze to Elizabeth "You might be a serpent in disguise " he mentally thought.

"You're not some ordinary guy with a crush yourself" the random student muttered to himself, looking back to Chrollo giving him one last suspicious glance.

Chrollo of course felt the hostile glance, he might be just trying to pursue someone he likes but he will never let his guard down, He smiled to himself

"Elite school indeed."

TIME SKIP

"You know you didn't have to fetch me from class, my dorm is on this campus." Elizabeth said sweetly to Chrollo.

They were walking towards the campus café. "Well there's nothing wrong about wanting to see the girl I like isn't it" he flirted playfully. To anyone that knew Chrollo will find his current behaviour mystifying, he never showed such emotions with anyone but was able to with Elizabeth.

"If you like me so much why don't we go on dates like girlfriend and boyfriends" she joked cutely. He smiled at her not so subtle hint. "If you want me to take you on date you should have just asked. I would love nothing more to go out with you, afterall how can I turn down such a request when a young attractive schoolgirl wants to go out with an old man like me" he teased and Elizabeth burst out laughing. "Oh! so you agree I'm an old man then" he raised his brows down at her. She shook her head still laughing, "You know I don't think that way and I think you're a very very handsome man Chrollo" she said shyly, her face tinted with a slight blush.

"Do you like this school Elizabeth? Are you enjoying yourself?'' They sat down on a bench on the campus grounds and Elizabeth leaned on Chrollo's shoulder. "Oh god that was such a long lecture, I am mentally tired" she whined softly but continued "I love studying in this school but I know and feel there's more that I can learn. It's not enough for me here." she said whilst playing with the sleeves of his buttoned up shirt.

He looked so handsome Elizabeth felt like jumping onto him right now. She was zoning out on him , her mind went dirty and she suddenly had a brilliant idea, thrilling if she would say so herself.

"I want to show you something, Chrollo! Come!"

She abruptly stood up and took his hand and dragged him with her towards the campus. Chrollo smiled, she was tiredly whining one second and dragging him around the next.

Elizabeth dragged Chrollo into her Constitutional classroom that was now empty.

"I hate this class the most, it's repetitive and the hours are ridiculous" Elizabeth complained.

Chrollo took the classroom layout into mind "So you want me to burn this class for you my dear?" he asked seriously. Elizabeth turned to him and laughed at his words "You're funny you know that, we're not here for public vandalism" she said softly walking towards him innocently.

Elizabeth grabbed Chrollo's collar and kissed him roughly. His hands instantly grabbed her waists and her small hands roamed and slowly crept its way under his white shirt. Her palms greedily roamed his hard abs, even if she didn't have a view of him, touching him made her see his glory in her mind. She had already memorized him mentally and there is no way she could forget. Her lips left his and she planted small kisses down his throat and her tongue gilded back up teasingly against his Adam's apple. Her lips planted small kisses and she went towards his right right ear.

"We're here so I can suck you off"

She whispered and her right hand palmed his hardening cock through his pants, her voice filled with lust she couldn't contain herself, everytime she thought of him in class she got so god damn fucking wet. Just by the thought of him. He grunt at her vulgar words, he became harder just by her words. "You're very naughty Elizabeth, the classroom is not locked. What if a lecturer comes in then?" he was struggling to finish his sentence because her hand movements were getting too much for him. "Then I'll be in trouble danchou......" moaned in his ear. That was the last straw for him. He grabbed her silver hair roughly and yanked her down in front of his crotch.

"You better stop talking like that and put me in that sweet mouth of yours." he growled at her. Elizabeth giggled at his request, her small hands hurriedly fumble with his pants and in a second she had him down her throat. "fuckkkkk..el..elizabet..th yo..you're such a good fucking girl" he moaned and encouraged her actions. His fingers run through her silky smooth hair, appreciating her feminine features greatly. The look she gave sucking his cock like that, the lewd sounds from her doing the deed. The sloppy wet sound echoing throughout her classroom accompanied by her soft moans of enjoyment made him want to stop her and ram her against one of these school desks. He decided against the idea because he loved how determined the sexy young girl was in giving him pleasure like this. Her head bobbed up and down, coating his very large member with her saliva, it was as if she was in her own world.

Elizabeth was truly enjoying what she was doing, she didn't feel forced or obligated to suck him, doing this felt like an honour and she was going to show him that nobody was as good as her. "mhhmmm....." she took his cock out of her mouth with a soft 'plop' sound and licked viciously bottom to top "you're so fuc..mmmm..king big Chrollo, can...have this in my mouth everyddayy??..." he almost came to her dirty talks. "This will be...uhh..the only fucking...cock in that pretty mouth of yours Elizabeth.." she nodded at his words, giving herself 100% to him.

"You're the only one that I will pleasure, no other man will feel my lips, mouth, body but you..." she said, locking her eyes with his. The eye contact was a promise for the both of them, no one will ever touch them in such a way. "Good...show me how good you are for me and make me cum Elizabeth." he said yanking her head roughly making her take him wholly once again.

"mmmmhhh!" the soft noises she was making and the view of her body on her knees with her skirt riding up her thighs flashing him a generous amount of her thick and soft thighs.

Her tongue licked the tip of his head in a teasing manner before roughly sucking his cock again. His large hands had her hair in a ponytail "yes...yes fuck that cock with your mouth.." he urged her, he was almost there and it took Elizabeth to withdraw his cock from her mouth and spitting on it seductively before taking him all the way down again.

"shit! ah..... fucck! fuck Elizabeth!" he grunted and release his seed into her pretty mouth and he made sure to empty everything he got into her mouth. He still had a tight grip on her hair and she was moaning at his orgasm, it was such a godly sight for her.

"mmmmmm that's so much cum down my throat Chrollo.." her voice was soft and innocent, she could feel how sore her throat was becoming. He let go of her hair and closed his eyes, processing the euphoric feeling he just felt because of her efforts. "How many boys have you practiced on, the way your mouth worked was wonders" he complimented her. She giggled and stood up "Well I have dated a few boys in this campus and i have done things occasionally with them."

He had already adjusted himself and his pants was back on, he then remembered what the guy said to him when he was waiting for Elizabeth just now. "You've had boyfriends before you, I don't like it. Shall I kill your past lovers?" he said bluntly. Elizabeth laughed, he could be so cute yet so horrific at the same time

"All the boys in this campus combined could never be as handsome as you" she said.

"Take me to my room and lets have fun" she said innocently but already was walking out of the classroom. He laughed and trailed behind her shaking his head.

"Anything you want Elizabeth"

[refinedbuffoonery]

I + Can’t + Lose + You (2)

masterlist. Read it on AO3. 

A/N: Did I take my time on this or what? Yikes. I’ll try to get the next update out much faster. Enjoy! 

*****

Riley had to admit, she was having the time of her life on this impromptu road trip with Mama. 80s music blasted from the truck’s speakers, and she and Mama danced in their seats. But Riley knew their fun was coming to an end the moment she spied the sea of brake lights in the distance. 

It took no time at all to catch up to the traffic. Every vehicle packed on the freeway sat at a standstill. 

“How do y’all live like this?” Mama asked incredulously. “There is no reason for this many cars to be on the road.” Riley chuckled. 

After another half mile of crawling through bumper to bumper traffic, Riley was finally fed up with it too. “Okay that’s it,” she announced. “We’re taking the back way.” 

LA streets were slow, but nothing was as slow as the 10 during rush hour, and they’d left right at the beginning of it. Avoiding the freeways like the plague, Riley wound through the city streets, flooring the gas through every yellow light. 

After a particularly risky one, Mama questioned, “Who taught you to drive?” 

Riley grinned ear to ear. “Jack.” Mama rolled her eyes and double checked that her seatbelt was buckled. Before long, they were back on the freeway, zooming toward the desert. 

In Indio, they stopped to get gas and use the restroom. From here to Phoenix, there was just a whole lot of nothing. Maybe some cactus, tumbleweeds, and the occasional Joshua tree if they were lucky. 

Although, Riley doubted her luck, considering she was driving to Phoenix in a truck with crappy air conditioning in the last week of July. She regretted not changing out of her favorite black Van Halen tank top into one that was a lighter color. 

By the time Riley exited the gas station’s convenience store armed to the teeth with snacks, Mama had finished filling up the gas tank and was now leaning against the tailgate, waiting. “You’re still driving,” the older woman said. Riley sighed. Of course she was. 

Riley jumped at the sound of a door slamming open behind them, almost dropping her armload of snacks. A guy wearing a navy blue hoodie sprinted toward an old Bronco, clutching something to his chest. He dove into the car and sped off. Riley and Mama winced at the squeal of the tires as he skidded out of the parking lot and back onto the road. 

The sole convenience store employee had chased after the thief to no avail. Dejected slump curving his shoulders inward, he stared after the long-gone car. 

Wordlessly handing the snacks to Mama, Riley cautiously approached the employee. He was just a kid, 25 at the most. “Hey, I’m sorry that happened.” She tipped her head toward where the Bronco had been parked. “Are you okay?” 

“Am I okay?” he asked incredulously. “Of course I’m not okay! That was the third one today and my boss is going to be fuc--pissed and it’s all because I can’t see in the back anymore because the first guy smashed the security camera with a can of Pringles which he then stole.” He had the wild look in his eyes of a furious customer service employee who was about to explode but couldn’t because they were, well, a customer service employee. Riley pitied him. 

“Well, I can’t do anything about the thief, but I think I can fix your security camera issue.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah.” Riley wasn’t totally sure she could fix it, but she’d seen Mac build and fix enough cameras over the years she figured it was worth a shot. “Can you show me where it is? I’m Riley, by the way.” 

“Marco,” he replied, holding the door open for her and Mama. Marco led her to the far corner of the store. Back here, everything a customer did would be completely concealed from the cashier. Mounted from the ceiling, the security camera’s shattered lens didn’t do much good. 

“Can I take it apart?” 

Marco looked skeptical, but he said, “It’s not like you can break it any more.” 

Riley unhooked it from the wall and began taking it apart. Aside from the shattered lens, it wasn’t actually broken. She could fix it if she had a camera. 

Riley froze. She did have a camera…

God, when did she turn into Mac? 

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she muttered as she cracked her phone open. Riley didn’t bother checking to see if she had any notifications first. They were about to disappear forever anyway. Mama’s eyes widened, but Mac would’ve been proud. She held up her unusable phone and wiggled it. “In this line of work, always get the insurance.” 

“You’ve spent too long with that MacGyver,” was all Mama said, but Riley didn’t miss her impressed smirk. 

The hardest part was breaking her phone. Riley prided herself on having the lowest phone replacement rate, which she knew was only because mission success relied on her tech actually working. Mac only sacrificed hers when he had no other option. 

Riley also knew Mac picked which phone to sacrifice based on who would have the most dramatic reaction. So, she dutifully handed it over every time wearing a serious expression, refusing to give Mac the satisfaction of being annoyed. 

Connecting the phone camera to the security camera wiring was easy enough. The finished product looked janky as hell, but Riley was pretty sure it would work. “Alright, go check whether it works.” 

Marco wove his way back to the counter. A few seconds later, a shrill “It works!” echoed through the convenience store. 

Mama smiled. “Good girl. I’ll meet you in the truck.” 

A rush of pride filled Riley--the same one she got every time she MacGyver-ed her way out of a problem. Fixing the security camera hopefully would put an end to Marco’s shitty day. 

She met Marco by the exit. “Thank you!” the kid said, throwing his arms around her in an overenthusiastic hug. Riley stiffened at the contact and patted Marco’s shoulder. He let go, none the wiser to her discomfort. 

“You’re welcome,” Riley said. “Have a good rest of your day.” She exited the convenience store and walked back to the truck. 

**********

Mac was alone in the war room when Riley’s location disappeared off the map. 

Gone, in the blink of an eye. 

“No,” Mac said to himself, voice catching. Her location last showed her at a gas station in Indio, but she could be taken anywhere from there. There was a whole lot of nothing and no-man’s land for her kidnappers to make her disappear in. 

Watching the tracker cut out finally pushed him over the edge. Mac succumbed to all the worst case scenarios that were threatening to incapacitate him completely.  They know who she is, and they’re forcing her to hack something. Or maybe they don’t know who she is, what she can do, and they just grabbed her off the street because she’s pretty and...Mac couldn’t finish the thought. 

Without anyone there to stop him, Mac let himself get absorbed in his own head. I’ve lost her, for good this time. She’s gone. Riley’s gone.

Why the hell hadn’t she sent him a clue? Every time she got kidnapped, she always managed to give him a clue about her whereabouts. Riley was one of the smartest people he knew. How did this happen? Who the hell took her? 

I never told her I’m in love with her. 

God, what if he never got that chance? Or what if something really bad happens to her and he’s too late to stop it and she loses her faith in him? 

He had to find her. And when she was safe and healed and at home he’d tell her. Mac stormed out of the war room, nearly running Matty over on his way out. 

“Where are you going, Blondie?” she asked. 

“To get Riley back.” 

He didn’t stop walking until Matty said, in the gentlest possible voice, “Mac.” 

Her tone was the only reason he turned around. If she’d spoken in her Matty The Hun voice, it would’ve fueled him to keep walking, but something about the knowing gentleness made him pause. He turned to look at her, every emotion he felt about the situation and about Riley plain on his face.

 “Okay,” she said, giving him a small nod. If she didn’t know about his feelings for Riley before, she definitely did now. 

Mac ran to his truck and sped off. 

**********

Matty added Mac’s location tracker to the screen in the war room. Like a true Californian, he skipped getting on the 10 completely and stuck to the secret back ways he’d learned over the years. Like Riley, he sped through every yellow, but eventually he got stuck in a long chain of red lights. 

Despite the fact that one of her two best agents was MIA and the other was out of his mind with grief and fear, Matty smiled to herself. Mac would find Riley; they always managed to find each other, against all odds. And when they finally reunited...maybe some things would finally be put on the table. 

Good things, Matty decided. She’d always suspected their relationship might go down this road. For years, Mac and Riley unconsciously gravitated toward one another. They stood unnecessarily close together, they constantly flicked their gaze to the other, they kept tabs on the other’s emotions. 

Because of that, she’d rarely put them undercover together as a couple because of the romantic potential. If they were ever going to move past their obliviousness and develop feelings, Mac and Riley deserved for that to happen on its own, without a bunch of charades in the way. Although, given the details they’d both left out from their reports on the op in Monte Carlo, it might’ve been just the thing to finally push them together after all this time. 

All of the chaos of the last year must’ve brought new, deeper feelings to the surface, because after defecting to Codex, Mac and Riley grew closer, though they remained guarded with the rest of the team. Even if they didn’t recognize it, their relationship was changing, hopefully for the better. With the hands they’d been dealt in life, Mac and Riley deserved that kind of lasting happiness more than anyone else she knew. 

Eyes still trained on the screen, Matty whispered, “Go get her, Mac.”

[harryhooksgazebos267]

Broken Trust~Part 8

Paring: Bang Chan x reader; Mark Tuan x reader(arranged marriage)

Genre: Mafia au, angst, little bit of everything honestly

Warnings: Cursing, mafia life and shizzle

MASTERLIST

After Chan left, Jisung entered your room and the two of you basically caught up with each other and told dumb stories.

“So then Felix chased us around the house screaming put some more, put some more while spraying us with whipped cream. Let’s just say Chan wasn’t too happy when he came home,” Jisung explained while the two of you died of laughter. All of a sudden, you heard a really loud bang downstairs, causing the two of you to jump.

“What the fuc-”

“BLACKPINK IN YOUR AREA,” Four voices yell at the top of their lungs.

“Oh my god!!” You squealed while you rushed to the door.

“Hey slow down! You don’t even know where you’re going.”

“ Touché, hurry up old man, we don’t got all day now.”

“What’s that sunny?” Jisung asked in a fake old man voice.

“Shut up,” You laughed out as you grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room. He lead you down into the living room where you saw all the boys and, the most important part, Blackpink! Jennie was the first to notice your presence.

“Oh my god Y/n!” She exclaimed with a large smile rushing over to hug you.

“It’s been too long!”

“You’re telling me,” She joked as the two of you pulled away. You then turned to hug Jisoo, Rosé, and Lisa.

“How have you been?” Rosé asked.

“I’ve been alright, got kidnapped but other than that I’m doing just fine.”

The four of them gave you a puzzled look.

“Who kidnapped you?” Lisa asked.

“They did?” You questioned, equally confused as to why they thought you were here willingly.

“Okay kidnapped is a strong word,” Seungmin defended.

“Yeah, it has a bad connotation,” Jeongin agreed.

“Well what else would you call it?” You questioned.

“A friendly get together?” Jeongin suggested.

“There is nothing friendly about Hyunjin’s attitude,” You remarked causing him to roll his eyes.

“I can’t believe you kidnapped her,” Jennie scolded while staring at Chan causing him just to shrug in response.

“Again, really strong word to use.” 

“Seungmin, we kidnapped her,” Chan deadpanned.

“Dumbasses,” Jennie whispered causing you to snort.

“What about you guys? How have you been?”

“We’ve been good! Kicking ass and looking good while doing it, you know, the usual,” Jennie said while flipping her hair.

“How’s Mark?” Lisa innocently asked not realizing how touchy the subject is.

“Fine.”

“That’s good. How about your relationship? I know last time we talked you guys still hadn’t warmed up to each other,” Lisa questioned while taking a seat on one of the couches. You and the other girls following after her.

“Our relationship? Umm, I guess it’s also fine. It’s still kind of weird between us so,” You trailed off, really not wanting to talk about it.

“It’s weird between you to?” Chan sarcastically asked.

“Oh will you get over the damn phone call already!”

“What phone call?” Jisoo asked.

“It doesn’t really matter...”

“Clearly it does if it’s got Chan all up in his feels,” Lisa pointed out.

“First off, I’m not in my feels, second off, he told her he loved her.”

This caused everyone to gasp and the girls to squeal.

“Oh my gosh that’s so cute,” Rosé gushed while squishing your cheeks.

“Stop,” You whined while swatting her hands away.

“Did you say it back?” Jisoo eagerly asked, wanting to get all the tea.

“No?”

“Y/n! Why didn’t you say it back?” She scolded.

“Well I mean, he didn’t really give me a chance to. He hung up the phone as soon as he said it, not that I would have said it back,” You explained.

“You’re gonna break that poor mans heart,” Lisa commented.

“Oh please, Mark doesn’t have a heart,” Minho scoffed.

“Oh shut up, what would you know?” Jisoo scowled.

“More than you would! Since when are you best friends with him? Since when were any of you best friends with him?”

“Get over yourself Minho,” Jisoo said while rolling her eyes.

“Y/n, have you even been making an effort to get closer to Mark?” Jennie asked.

“Do you really have to talk about this here?” Jeongin whined. 

“No please, let them continue. I would love to hear all about this,” Chan stated with a fake grin on his face.

The room fell silent as the air grew tense. Probably not the best conversation to be having right now.

“Oh, don’t get all quiet now.” 

“Don’t be such a dick,” You mumbled out.

“Don’t let them ruin girl talk y/n, spill all the tea,” Lisa said while giving all the boys dirty looks.

“Yeah, spill the tea,” Jisung added.

“Really?” Changbin asked in disgust, causing Jisung to flick him off.

“Anyway, to answer your question Jennie, I wouldn’t really say I’m making an effort. I don’t really see the point,” You shrugged out.

“Period, Mark is a dirty nobody,” Minho agreed.

“I never said that but pop off I guess.”

“Okay I get Chan and Y/n used to be a thing or whatever but why are you all so against Mark? He isn’t a bad guy,” Rosé questioned.

“He isn’t a bad guy? You deal realize he would kill her without a second thought,” Hyunjin, to your surprise, hissed out. Guess he didn’t hate you anymore? 

“Oh please no he wouldn’t,” Lisa denied, “and why do you care? Thought you were giving y/n a sour attitude.”

“That was past me, I’ve grown since then. And just because I was giving her a “sour attitude” doesn’t mean I didn’t, well don’t, care about her.”

“Past you? That was like two hours ago annnnd you said you should just kill me,” You deadpanned.

“That is a very good point,” Jisung agreed causing Hyunjin to glare at him.

“I didn’t actually mean it.”

“Whatever, but seriously, you guys haven’t seen how he acts around her,” Jisoo stated.

“Neither have you,” You pointed out.

“Well yeah but....it’s different,” She defended.

“How the hell is that different?” Hyunjin questioned.

“Because it just is! I’m older than you which means I’m wiser so I can judge Mark better,” Jisoo sassed.

“Clearly you can’t,” Hyunjin shot back.

“Will the two of you just stop already?” You snapped, tired of hearing them fight like little kids.

“Honestly, I think you both are right to some degree. I think at first Mark wouldn’t have hesitated to kill me if his father told him to but now, I guess things have changed,” You remarked.

“Are you serious?” Rosé asked.

“Well from what Felix told me yesterday, yeah. That would explain why Mark was so cold at first.”

“How do you know he still wouldn’t kill you in a heartbeat? Maybe he’s just saying I love you and all that just to get you to warm up to him so you fully trust him. That would make it easier for him to kill you, ” Minho suggested.

“Or he could be doing that just so you give up SM easier,” Changbin adds.

“I don’t know, that could be true but I really don’t feel like that’s the case,” You reply honestly.

“Well if he actually has feelings for you, we could use that to our advantage,”Felix says.

“How so?” You question.

“Wait, hold up. What the hell is going on?” Jennie asks, confusion written all over her face.

Chan quickly explains plan awaken to them, finishing with “and that’s why I called you over here. We were hoping you would help us take down JYP.” 

“Of course we’ll help,” Rosé answers, the other three nodding in agreement.

“Now Felix, what were you thinking?” Chan asks.

“Well if he really has feelings for Y/n, maybe he would be more willing to give up information, like the original plan, but maybe he’ll also change sides? I mean, maybe he’ll help us take down JYP. It’s always good to have an inside man,” Felix suggests.

“Felix that was fucking dumb, why would he want to take down his own empire? Or help us kill his dad? Plus we have Itzy, we don’t need anymore inside men,” Hyunjin rants.

“Itzy? They’re in on this?” you question surprised by this new information.

“Of course! What kind of operation do you think we’re running here,” Jeongin said.

“Fair point,” you responded, “but I’m with Hyunjin on this, I don’t really think Mark would just turn on Jinyoung.”

“So what do we do about Mark? I’m sure once you guys get your revenge, he’ll just retaliate,” Lisa points out.

“True,” Chan agrees.

“But if I’m on your side, maybe he wont?” 

“Y/n, I don’t know. It might be safer if you don’t pick a side,” Jisung says.

“I agree, if Mark goes after us then he’ll probably go after you too,” Chan says deep in thought.

“Not if he loves her,” Felix, once again pointed out.

“Love has nothing to do with the mafia Felix, it won’t matter how he feels. If she’s with us then she’s against him, he’ll go after her,” Chan said.

“Why does it matter if he goes after me? I thought I wasn’t here to be your friend?”

“Well...while you and Jisung were talk, the rest of had a group meeting-”

“You had a meeting without me?” Jisung whined like a five year old.

“Stop crying, we already knew your feelings on the matters. Now, as I was saying, we all had a discussion and we’ve reached the conclusion that you most likely didn’t know about JYP’s plan. With that being said, we also reached the conclusion that we should protect you and, if you want, you can actually join us. Not as our prisoner but as an actual ally, I guess. But if you don’t want to, that’s okay. Basically, we want to give you the option, seeing as though there is no point in dragging you into this if you don’t want to be apart of it.”

“I don’t really have a choice, either way I’m going to have to pick a side one way or another,” you state.

“Yeah but the longer you have to put off that choice, the less sticky the situation will be for you,” Chan explains.

“Well, seeing as though my mafia is directly involved and in danger, I’m on your side. I’ll help in anyway I can. My only worry is this entire plot of revenge, wont it harm more than do good? What do you expect to happen after Jinyoungs death, assuming that things go as planned. GOT7 will just retaliate and so will DAY6. You have Itzy so there is one group we don’t have to worry about, but what about Twice? And not to mention JYP’s allies. We have to worry about BTS, TXT. I’m assuming we don’t have to worry about IKON since we have Blackpink.” You ramble on.

“Well, not exactly,” Lisa trails off.

“What do you mean?” You question.

“Well, the thing is, we were doing business with Stray Kids before we knew who they were. Once we got wind of their identities, our boss wanted us to cut ties with them. Apparently Jinyoung gave him a phone call and since we’re allies, JYP’s enemy is our enemy,” Jisoo explains.    

“Then why are you here?” Changbin asks.

“Well, we kind of thought you would tell us what happened. At the end of the day, we used to be friends and we wanted to know why you all disappeared. And now knowing everything, we want to be on the right side. If Jinyoung is power hungry, who says he wont go after YG next? Plus, if y/n’s life is in danger, we want to help,” Jisoo states causing everyone to nod there heads.

“Maybe you can convince YG to change sides. Then we would have Winner, Ikon, and Treasure on our side,” Seungmin suggest.

“We’ll try but I’m not sure if he’ll listen. Either way, we’re on your side,” Jennie says.

“Very well. Now, on the topic of GOT7, DAY6, BTS, and TXT, we’ll deal with them when that problem arises. I’m not worried about Twice. Y/n, you’re friends with them so maybe if you explain everything to them, they’ll understand. I would talk to Jihyo. We also have to remember that if you tell your father, we’ll also have SM. So, we’ll have SNSD, TVXQ, SHINee, SUJU, EXO, F(x), Red Velvet, and NCT. We also have SM allies. So we would have Loona, Ateez, Block B. You know what, can someone get a piece of paper and write all this down?” Chan suddenly questions.

“On it!” Jeongin says while quickly leaving the room and coming back with a pencil and a piece of paper. After about debating for ten minuets, this is the list you all came up with.

“Well, it seems like if, well when, a war breaks out, the sides will be pretty equal,” You point out.

“Yeah,” Jisung agrees.

“So what do I do now? Are we still going to go with the “I told them I would join them to get information” plan or are things different now that I’m actually on your side?”

“No, no we need you to talk to your father and Twice. We need to make sure we have them on our side. You’ll probably be able to get more information in person with Mark and Jinyoung anyway,” Chan states.

You nod your head in agreement.

“Are you just gonna like drop me off or how is this gonna work?” You question.

“I have an idea!” Rosé exclaimed.

“Go on,” Chan urges.

“What if we bring her back? We could say that you called us over since we had been allies before we knew who you were. You wanted us on your side and we’ll say we just played along or whatever. We could say that while we were here, y/n pulled one of us aside and told us that she had a plan but it was going wrong and she needed help breaking out. So, we helped her escape blah blah. That way, it looks less sketchy as to why Y/n left and it looks like we’re on JYP’s side.”

“Damn that’s embarrassing, I’m here for one day and my plan already gets fucked up,” you joke, “all jokes aside, I like that plan. Mark was hesitant to even let me stay here so I don’t think it would surprise him if my “plan” got messed up.”

The room was filled with words of agreement and head nods.

“Perfect. Y/n, you need to be careful when discussing this with Soo man and Jihyo. If any of JYP’s goons hear you, your life will be in danger. If at any point you think the plan was compromised, call one of us or text us. We’ll come and get you. Do you understand me?” Chan stated dead serious.

“I understand...but I don’t have any of your numbers so...”

“I know, give us your phone.”

You handed Chan your phone and he put his number in your phone. After passing it to all the boys, they handed your phone back to you.

“If you think it’s safer, you can also call or text us and we’ll be there,” Jennie adds in.

“Thanks.”

“Of course. Should we take her back home now or is there anything else we need to discuss?” Jennie questions.

“No I think that’s it. If there is anything else, we’ll text you. You’ll probably want to change our names in your phone by the way.”

“Yeah that would be a good idea,” you chuckle out. You and the four other girls stand up to leave after saying your goodbyes. The five of you began to leave but you were stopped by Chan.

“Y/n?” He called out.

“Yeah?” 

“Be careful.”

You give him a little smile and quickly leave with the rest of the girls.

“This should be fun,” you thought to yourself as you get into there KIA and drive away.

A/N: Okay the fact that they’re driving away in a KIA sends me.

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Part nine

MASTERLIST