#or he’s there to make a hand blown glass water pipe

[tsunflowers]

in the story where rinne invites shu up to his room so he can lie in bed and let shu’s sexy voice lull him to sleep (paraphrasing) he also claims that he’s only in the craft monster circle bc they have free food. so I see two possibilities here. one is that they couldn’t think of another circle that would be more fitting for him and just put him in that one and this is the excuse. the other is that he’s fucking lying out his ass as usual and he actually loves arts and crafts

[s-creations]

Growing Pains

Takes place after 'The Younger Brother'. A few weeks afterwards.

Mario wasn't feeling like himself. He's getting snippy, getting angry faster, only seeming to calm down when he's focused on his brother.

Luigi wasn't feeling like himself. He feels like his nerves are on end. On edge more than usual, his body unable to stop shaking.

Wario and Waluigi are in over their head on their first job together acting as mentors.

They're all stumbling until something breaks.

Fandom: Super Mario & Related Fandoms Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Relationships: Luigi & Mario (Nintendo), Waluigi & Wario (Nintendo) Warnings/Additional Tags: Violence, there is cursing!, sequel, we’re growing as people!, Peach and Wario have a history!, Mario/Peach relation if you squint, it'll grow promise!, new abilities, make sure you read all the way through!

The kitchen was alight with noises of bubbling water and sauces, air heavy with wonderful aromas of spices. Mario hummed softly as he turned the stove tops off. Give the final touches to the two large plates laden with food before deeming them perfect to serve. Transferring them, along with two glasses of water, to a large tray and, double checking that everything was turned off, made his way to the staircase. 

The two storied home was the thing Mario had dreamed about back on Earth. Perfectly sized for the two brothers, warm and inviting, filled with the necessities of living and more. Each brother even got their own room! It had been built just past the outskirts of the castle’s town. A warp pipe conveniently placed nearby for easy transport right to the castle front door. 

It had been Peach’s first gift to the brothers after they’d rescued her the first time. Both absolutely blown away when they first saw it. 

“Really, it’s the least  I can do.” Peach had answered their looks of amazement with a small giggle.

How strange to think Mario could gain more from a job he felt super under qualified for in comparison to when he was a full time plumber. 

Taking the steps carefully, the hero made it to the second landing and headed towards the last door on the right. Shifting the tray to be held in one hand to allow the other to knock on said door. 

“Hey Weegie? Care to open up, I got lunch here.” Mario called out.

There was a quick reply of ‘Okay!’, followed by a heavy thud. Mario wincing slightly, smiling when Luigi gave a call out of ‘I’m okay!’, and the door finally opened. The younger brother offered a wide smile of his own. His left cheek looked a little red and roughed up. 

“H-Hey Mairo.”

“You okay? That spill sounded pretty bad.” 

“I’ve had worse, you know that.” Luigi shrugged. He opened the door further to allow his brother in. 

Mario let out a low whistle upon seeing Luigi’s desk. The sturdy wooden structure was covered with numerous paper, pens, and stacks of some rather heavy looking books. Said books seem to have been pulled from the familiar library that belonged to Peach. A place that Luigi had been seen lurking around a lot recently. 

“Wow… So, what’s all of this about?” Mario asked as Luigi frantically cleared off a spot to have the tray placed down. 

“Um, r-research.” 

“About what? Trying to write your own novel about the Mushroom Kingdom?”

“Um, no…but kind of? But not really.”

“How about we get some food in you and then you can explain what you’re doing. That might help you focus better.”

Luigi’s stomach gave the reply. Rumbling loudly as Mario placed the plates down. The younger brother smiling sheepishly as Mario’s deep frown. 

“Did you have breakfast today?”

“...Y-Yes?”

Mario let out a sigh at that, shaking his head. “We’ll have a talk about that later. Let’s just eat now, okay?”

Luigi didn’t argue back, sitting back down meekly and pulling his own plate forward. Letting out a small hum of contentment upon taking his first bite. On his part, Mario looked over a few of the closer pieces of paper. Brow rising upon finding a familiar name written on it multiple times.

“Are…you researching about Boos?”

Luigi paused at that. Looking as if he’s been caught doing something wrong, again. “Um…yes?”

“Why?”

Shifting nervously, Luigi took another decent bite of his lunch before answering. “So, in learning that Boos exist, I had…a lot of questions. Like, if Boos are real, so are ghosts, right? Which led me to learning that ghosts do exist here as well! And that led me to ‘how in the world does that work?’ So I got everything I could get about Boos and ghosts!”

Mario nodded along as Luigi talked. Not missing the note of excitement in the younger brother’s voice. “Alright. What have you learned so far?”

“Wario was not wrong about Boos being an anomaly in this world! There’s written documentation about Boos from years ago. Except they weren’t called that, they technically didn’t have a name. Anyone who came across them and were able to survive just called them ‘scary lights’. But there was a rumor that if you actually see their eyes, they’ll suck your soul out… Or something. It was a stupid reason to figure out why their eyes are covered when you look at them.”

“Oh, that’s terrifying to think about.” 

“But ghosts are a completely different entity. Those are either the souls of the dead becoming reanimated for unknown reasons. Or, and more commonly seen, are collections of ectoplasm that gain sentience given enough time. People assume it’s a collective hive mind working towards the same goal. Kind of like the leftover energy gathered from those who have passed are used to create these creatures.”

“That…sounds like a huge stretch.” Mario frowned, flipping through a few more pages.

“It’s not! They can actually run experiments here to prove theories like this, it’s amazing!” Luigi argued back, “Here, look, this guy is the leading mind in this field.”

Mario took the offered book. Holding back a snort reading the name printed on the thick volume. “Professor Elvin Gadd? E. Gadd? Seriously?” 

“I know it sounds weird, but he’s amazing. It’s like his mind is snapping off thousands of ideas at once and he just keeps pushing forward.” 

“So, are you going to become a ghost hunter?”

Luigi shivered, frantically shaking his head. “Absolutely not. It’d better be a life or death situation before I would even consider it.”

“Then what’s all this for?”

“...Promise not to laugh?”

Mario smiled softly. “Why would I do a thing like that?”

Offering a weak shrug, Luigi continued, “Since I’m not that great of a fighter-”

“Luigi.”

“Okay, fine, because I don’t like to fight, I figured I could actually be useful-”

“Luigi.”

“Could be helpful in another way. With knowledge! If I can learn as much as possible about this world and what it has to offer, it could be applied during a fight. And we can avoid what happened with the Boos. What do you think?”

Mario didn’t miss the hint of timid hopefulness in Luigi’s voice. A silent want to know he’d done something right. A habit that the hero had been trying to break his brother out of for years. But that was also combating years of internal worrying and external harassment that was hard to erase. Even if they were in a new place to start again.

“Hey, it doesn’t matter if you’re by my side fighting or giving me needed information. Whatever you decide to do, I’ll happily take the help.”

Luigi’s smile became stronger from that. “Thanks, Mario.”

“Anytime…” Mario turned to his own plate, stomach suddenly in knots. He’d come up here for another reason. Not just to make sure Luigi was actually eating something substantial that day. He just wasn’t ready for the other to announce his stance in their team.

Now wasn’t the time to just beat around the bush. 

“Speaking of helping…” Mario started off casually. Or what he hoped sounded casual. Which wasn’t achieved given the raised brow from Luigi. 

“I got a call from the princess. There’s a weird growth, possibly turning into a small infestation of some kind. Some kind of plant. No enemies. No Koopas. No…No Boos. So I figured you could join me on this one?”

Luigi swallowed weakly. “I…I don’t know…”

“It’s a really simple mission. Just going to see what the problem is and where it’s coming from. No fighting.”

“So, just going to see what the issue is?”

“Right, that’s all! Nothing major to worry about.”

“Like you with the Boos.”

“There’s a visual with this and no one’s even been hurt… At least not enough to be reported, I suppose.”

“That is not helping.”

“Luigi, I promise, it’s going to be fine,” Mario reassured quickly, “A nice easy way for us to start working together again. A team with a new job.”

Biting his bottom lip, Luigi tapped his arm nervously in thought. “...No fighting?”

“None. If there’s even a hint of trouble, you run.”

“You run too, right?”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

The younger brother let out a slow sigh before nodding. “Okay… Y-Yeah, let’s do it!”

“Hey, there's the brave brother I know!”

Luigi snorted as Mario ruffled his hair with both hands. Squirming weakly as he attempted to pull away. “Gah, Mario, quit it!”

“What? What are you talking about? I’m just sharing my excitement.”

“Your excitement is going to make me go bald!”

“Nah, you’re too young.”

“Mario, I’m serious, would you-”

As Luigi reached up to grab at Mario’s wrist and pull him away, there was a sharp shock that hit the hero. Not enough to hurt that severely. But enough to cause Mario to jump back. 

“Woah! Wow, ow, that was a shock.” Mario attempted to sound casual, rubbing his wrists.

Luigi, on his part, worriedly peered down at his hands. “T-That was weird…”

“Don’t worry, it was just static build up. Guess you’re just really charged up.”

“That was so bad.”

The hero merely rolled his eyes with a smirk. “You love my jokes.”

Luigi snorted. “That was a joke?”

“So mean! See if I ever bring you lunch again.” 

“Just specifically lunch?”

“Don’t push your luck bro.” Mario’s ‘serious’ face fell away as Luigi openly giggled. His own smile warming, happy to see his brother relaxed again. “Alright, alright, you done? I need to get this all cleaned up.”

“What some help? I could use a bit of a break.”

“Lunch wasn’t enough?”

“I’ve been sitting here since 7 this morning. I should probably move before I’m permanently attached to the chair.”

“That would be interesting to see.”

Luigi gave another light laugh as he stood. Closing a few books and gathering his own plate before placing it on the tray. “Just promise me you won’t put me up as some sideshow attraction.”

“Nah, I’ll just hang you up on the wall. Like some moving, 3D painting.”

“Ah jeez, could you imagine? Being trapped like a painting and stuck hanging on the wall for the rest of your life?”

“Don’t say it too loudly,” Mario teased as they headed down, “Bowser could be listening and I don’t want to give him ideas.”

_____________________________

The next morning started with Luigi somehow shocking himself. Wincing as a clear small spark arched from his fingertips to the doorknob. Surprised to find his hair standing on end for some reason.

“Do you think the Mushroom Kingdom has humidifiers?” Luigi asked as a morning greeting to his brother. 

“It can’t hurt to ask, why?”

“I’m really staticky for some reason. I can only guess that my room is dry. Could the books have caused this?”

“The price of knowledge. We can just ask when we get to town today.”

Luigi blinked, confused for a moment before recalling their conversation from the day before. “Oh, right…”

“Not getting cold feet, are you?” Mario asked. Hiding his concern with a raised brow and smirk. 

“...Maybe slightly?”

“You’ll be okay. We’re just looking over the damage to figure out what’s wrong and I’ll be there the entire time.”

Even with his brother’s reassurance, Luigi still felt off. After a stomach churning travel through the Warp Pipe (curse you motion sickness), the brothers arrived at the castle. And were met with a very green sight. 

Now the castle and surrounding town had rolling hills of green grass. But it was mainly known for its wide range of used colors.. So suddenly having thick, vivid acid green vines sprouting up, tangled and draped over everything made for a rather interesting scene. Nothing was damaged, which was good, but still strange to see. 

There wasn’t much time to fully take in the situation before their names were called out.

“Hey, it’s Mini-me and Luigi! Guess the princess would call the heroes to help with this.” 

Boisterous as always with a wide grin on his face, Wario waved the brothers over from the castle steps. Shoulder bag no doubt filled to the brim with tools swinging from the movement. Waluigi sitting rather precariously on the railing nearby. Giving a narrowed glare to Luigi. 

“What are you two doing here?” Mario tried to keep his voice even. But his confusion and frustration still seeped into his tone. 

Something Wario picked up on easily. 

“Ah, don’t be like that,” Wario chortled, “I thought we were finally bonding! Besides, I think Peach needs as much help as she can get to clear this problem away.”

Luigi asked, “D-Do we know w-what the problem is?”

“My guess is a Piranha Plant infestation,” Waluigi was casual as he stood up. Still casting a steely glare to the twins. 

“How do you know that?” Mario frowned. 

“Vines are the same colors and densely barbed as my own. Plus, this is pretty typical around this time of the year. Although it’s never been this bad.” 

Luigi seemed to perk up in interest upon hearing about the other’s garden. “H-How are they?”

Waluigi’s glare seemed to turn to ice. Causing the younger brother to immediately step behind Mario. “They keep asking about you.”

“Of course they do,” Mario cheekily challenged, “My bro can endear himself to anyone.”

“The puppy dog act doesn’t work on me. It’s actually quite annoying.”

“Well, maybe it’s because you’re an absolute-”

“Okay!” Wario quickly interrupted, getting between an annoyed Waluigi and heated Mario. “How about we all go inside and see what Peach needs from us, yeah?”

Waluigi didn’t verbally respond. Giving a sneer and snort before sharply turning, striding towards the grand double doors. Wario was close behind. But not before giving Mario a look of concern. 

“A-Are you okay?” Luigi asked softly.

The timid voice breaking Mario from his tense stance. Older brother's instinct kicked in as he faced Luigi. “Yeah, I’m okay! Feeling great. Just…not looking forward to working with them.”

“You sure?”

“...Yeah. Come on, let’s go see the princess.”

Peach greeted them all with a warm smile and open arms. “Thank you all for agreeing to help with this issue.”

“You know we’re happy to help.” said Wario, Luigi nodding in agreement. Mario and Waluigi looking elsewhere in stony silence. 

“I do appreciate it, truly. We really just need to know where the source of the roots are coming from and what caused them to be so large. Possibly remove the problem if it’s not too big of an issue. You’ll be heading to the underground tunnel shortly.”

“U-Underground?” Luigi voiced weakly. His nervousness called Mario’s attention again. 

“Just a system of working tunnels, nothing to worry about! They’re perfectly safe.”

“O-Oh, okay.”

“Um, why are we using them?” Mario asked quickly. 

“We’re unable to find the issue above ground. So I’m hoping the issue could be located underground. Really, it’s just an assumption, but all we really have to go on,” Peach smiled softly, “Toadsworth will direct you to the entrance to the tunnels and give you some needed tools.” 

The princess gestured to the aged Toad. Who greeted all with a short nod. As she watched the small group head off, Peach was distracted by a small cough. Finding a nervous Mario beside her. 

“Hey princess, can I…can I talk to you real quick?”

“Of course, is something wrong?”

Mario shifted from foot to foot, clearly thinking her words through. Removing his cap and pressing it to his chest. Something Peach had picked up on as his own nervous action. “When you said there was a little issue, I thought… I didn’t think it would be this… This is kind of a huge problem.” 

Peach frowned softly, “It’s just a minor growth, it happens. This still doesn’t involve fighting, just research. This is a normal, calm situation.”

“This is normal for you- I mean, it’s just… You said this is a Piranha Plant infestation. That seems kind of like a big deal. Because, well…they’re Piranha Plants!”

“You’ve faced more dangerous situations before.” 

“Okay, yeah, but… It might be too much for Luigi? I thought this was just supposed to be looking into…something going missing. That we would just talk to a few Toads. This is not something small.”

“Mario, you said you wanted Luigi to be more involved with what’s happening in the kingdom. I promise you that this is a minor task. Are the vines larger than normal, yes. But all I really want is for you and everyone else to find where this growth is starting. Luigi has handled Piranha Plants before and Waluigi is an expert on them. Plus, you’re there.”

“Okay, well, that’s another thing I wanted to ask about. Why would you ask for Wario’s help? I’m stressed enough without having to worry about some…some…”

“Mario…you know I wouldn’t intentionally put you or Luigi in danger. I asked for everyone’s help because I trust you all. Plus, the more help you have, the more you have a chance of keeping Luigi safe.”

The hero’s stern face softens at that. Eyes wide with worry. “I- Sorry. I’m not…I didn’t mean anything by it. I guess I’m still not used to what’s considered to be an ‘easy job’ in this world.”

“I understand. You just need to know that everything’s going to be fine. This is just something to help Luigi feel more at ease with everything. Right?”

“Right…I’m sorry again, princess.”

Peach offered a gentle giggle. Taking Mario’s hands in her own in a comforting way. “You’re fine! I wouldn’t have suggested Luigi to come along if I thought it would be in any way dangerous.”

“Right, you’re right. I’m sorry, I’ll make this up to you after-”

“Are you feeling alright?” Peach’s smile broke to a worried frown. Mario unable to provide a reply before she placed the back of her hand on his forehead. 

“I-I’m feeling fine. I mean, a little anxious, I won’t lie about that. But otherwise, feeling great. Why?”

“You’re warm. Really warm, I was worried you were running a fever.”

“Really? I mean, I’ve always run a little warmer than normal,” Mario reached up to feel his forehead, “Huh, no, I feel fine. Feel pretty normal actually.”

“Alright…if you’re sure. Perhaps I’ve just never noticed. If you’re feeling better, I won’t hold you up further.”

Putting his cap back in place, Mario tipped it with a smile before taking off. 

Luigi greeted his older brother with a worried look. Clutching the flashlight he’d been given close to his chest. “A-Are you o-okay? I-Is something wrong?”

“Everything’s fine Weegie,” Mario patted his brother’s shoulder, “Just needed to talk to Peach about something.”

“O-Okay.”

“If you two are quite done. I would like to get this issue resolved today.” Waluigi called out, his own flashlight hanging from a belt loop.

Luigi gave an apologetic smile while Mario rolled his eyes. 

The group was relatively quiet as they were directed by Toadsworth. The aged Toad informs them about the workings of the tunnel system. How directions to every exit of the tunnel were clearly marked. Asking that all they do was find the source of this issue, get rid of it if possible, and if anything else to return back with a report.

“Bottom line, we just need to make sure everyone's safe. Don’t feel the need to engage.” Toadsworth cautiously offered. All eyes went to Luigi, who was too busy looking through his notes to notice.

“Don’t worry, you old Toad, we’ll be fine.” Wario said with his signature smirk.

Toadsworth merely shook his head before opening the pair of double doors. The large sign of ‘Warning: Authorized Personnel Only Past this Point’ was split into two. All wincing from the sudden blast of cold air that rushed out. While the tunnels were constructed with sturdy walls, it was clear lighting this place wasn’t a huge priority. Strings of low illuminated light bulbs were strung from the walls. Providing very little to properly show the walkway. 

“Wonderful budget you have on this place.” Waluigi dryly commented as he strolled in. Wario and Mario close behind giving a tip of the cap. 

“T-Thanks Toadsworth.” said Luigi, giving a smile.

“Just take it slow lad.” Toadsworth offered as a reply, patting his shoulder. “Don’t feel pressured to do anything if you’re not comfortable with it.”

“I-I’ll be fine.” While the smile wasn’t as strong as before, Luigi tried to keep his confidence up. Jogging a little to catch up with Mario. 

Toadsworth merely sighed before stepping away and closing the doors. 

The group remained quiet as before, traveling the darkened halls slowly. Following the growth of the vines further in. Checking the branching paths to see if those suddenly changed the direction they needed to take. But the growth stayed consistent. The path eventually started to sloop down.

“H-Hey, Waluigi? Y-You said these were P-Piranha Plant vines, r-right? H-How do you think t-this could happen?” Luigi broke the silence first. His voice seemed to echo even for how quiet he was. 

“Not quite sure. Piranha Plants are territorial and like to expand quickly, but I’ve never seen them get this big before.”

Mario frowned, thinking. “Could it be another version of Piranha Plants? Are there other versions?”

“Not sure. But I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”

“Hold up,” Wario suddenly announced. All halting as he raised the beam of his light further. 

From prior moments of seeing the vines, there would just be a few areas of cracked tunnel allowing vines to poke out. Enough to keep track of where the group needed to go. Now, however, they were pouring out from self-created holes in the tunnel structures. The vines now being the base of the foundation that was clearly keeping this part together. Even with how suffocating it all was, there was no sign of where the start for this growth was. 

Wario huffed. “We’re gonna have to go deeper. This is the only way down.”

“I-Is it safe?” Luigi asked. 

“Leave the vines alone and we should be fine.” Waluigi took the lead again. His long legs making easy work of avoiding the heavy vines.

“It might be better to head back actually.” Wario commented.

“And waste this already large amount of time? This is simple, quit whining.”

“Simple, he says. As if avoiding everything is simple with this.”

“M-Mario?” Luigi tapped on his brother’s shoulder to get his attention, “M-Maybe I should t-turn back.”

“Are you sure?”

“You won’t learn anything if you stick to the sidelines, Greenie!” Waluigi argued back. Arms crossed with his eyes pointed on Luigi, standing in one of the few cleared areas. 

Mario immediately went on defense. “Don’t force someone to do something if they don’t feel comfortable with it.”

“I don’t think ‘supposed heroes’ are allowed to be picky little cowards.” Waluigi winces as his own brother hits his side. 

“I thought we talked about being mindful of your words.” Wario hissed.

“I was! Could have said a lot more and a lot worse.”

“What is with you being an absolute ass!” Mario shouted back. Luigi immediately grabbed his arm to keep him in place.

Waluigi merely rolled his eyes before stomping his way back over. Or as best he could stomp while avoiding the vines. “I’m curious as to where the human who had the nerve to yell at me before has gone. Because it’s certainly not the person standing before me now.”

“Back off, Waluigi. If Luigi doesn’t feel okay with this-”

“Would you stop pandering to his weak little wants! You can’t expect him to grow if he doesn’t push himself.” 

“I’m not going to push him into a situation he doesn’t want to be in.”

“You can’t watch over him every second of the day.”

“I’m not taking advice from someone who felt okay about abandoning his own brother!”

“Okay! Okay,” Wario stepped between the two once more, “We’re getting a little too heated right now. How about we just-”

“Since when do you want to talk things out?” Waluigi huffed.

“He apparently learned about manners after you left.” Mario snapped. 

“Oh please, he’s just becoming soft.”

“This isn’t helping.”

“Glad that’s something we can agree on.”

“Why did the princess ask for you two to be here!”

“Aw, is someone upset they don’t get to have all the attention from the princess for themselves? Don’t get to show off again?”

“S-Shut up!”

“Ha! You’re as red as your cap!”

“I’m going to throttle you!”

“That’s not very hero like.”

“Okay, we all need to just take a step back and just relax.”

“This would be going much better if you two weren’t here!” 

Luigi swallowed weakly as his eyes darted between the arguing trio. Heart hammering, the pounding soon beating in his ears. Feeling weird tingles travel along his spine and prickle at his fingertips. His hair started to feel as if it was on fire. Pain turning to frustration, grinding his teeth before shouting in frustration: 

“Why do you care!”

Caught by surprise, Waluigi choked on his retort he was going to throw at Mario. Taking a few steps back from a clearly distraught Luigi. Who was now gripping his head, his entire form shaking. 

Mario’s worries over his brother only growing from this. “Luigi? Hey, bro, you’re okay, what’s wr-”

A harsh crack sounded. The entire tunnel seemed to start moving. The numerous vines springing to life. Waluigi realized far too late that his foot had collided into one of the exposed portions of said vines. 

“Shit- We need to get out!” 

The warning amounted to nothing. 

The foundation below them became severely cracked, slowly breaking away and revealing a dark cavern below them. Mario immediately reached out to try and pull Luigi closer to him. Only to be thwarted when a large chunk of the ceiling landed between them. The hero stumbles back, eyes widening as Luigi desperately avoids further falling debris. Waluigi eventually grabbed onto the younger brother’s shoulder, covering him slightly. 

“Luigi!”

“Stop!” Wario called out, tugging Mario back towards him.

All actions amounted to nothing as the floor completely fell away. All brothers getting one last look at the other before they were engulfed into darkness.

_____________________________

Wario let out a low moan as he gained consciousness slowly. Everything hurts. It felt like his lungs were caked in a heavy layer of mud. Feeling over his head slowly, it was the first moment of positive news to not feel anything wrong. No lumps, no bumps, no blood. But his right leg, namely his ankle, was not as well off. It wasn’t broken. But it was going to be slow moving.

The first hurdle was pulling himself out of the heavy rubble he was partially buried in. Collapsing to the dirt ground. Wario allows a few seconds to collect himself before slowly going to stand. 

Thankfully the given flashlight was still working. Allowing him to illuminate his surroundings better. Definitely buried in a large cavern. The way he had gotten in was not going to be the way he got out. The blockade of boulders was making sure of that. 

“Well…this was a bad turn.” Wario grumbled. He moved the light down to his level. Thankfully finding a clear, if not rather small path forward. But no one else could be seen nearby. “Okay…first thing to worry about… Find a way out. If you come across someone, great.”

It was slow moving. Wario leaning against everything within reach. Attempting to ignore the dull pulse coming from his ankle.

As he turned the corner, or as much of a corner the falling rocks to create, his shaky flashlight landed on something red. The vivid color standing out against the deep brown.

“Mario! Shit-” Wario stumbled further as he rushed over. Kneeling over the unmoving form. 

Mario was clearly out. His familiar cap resting nearby. A deep gash on the human’s forehead, brown hair slowly being stained red.

Wario cursed under his breath as placed the flashlight to the side. Moving the hero slowly to lay him fully on the ground. Letting out a sigh of relief feeling a pulse, reaching up to gently pat his cheek. 

“Mario? Hey, Mario, I need you to wake up bud. Come on, we need to get going.”

The hero let out a small groan, dull eyes opening. Confusion clearly written on his face. “...Wario? Who…What’s happening? W-Where are we?”

“Uh…that’s kind of a good question. I’m going to make a guess under the Mushroom Kingdom. I got that much, maybe.” Wario offered, trying to keep his tone even. Panicking when Mario slowly started to sit up. “Whoa, whoa! Don’t move yet. You have a pretty nasty injury on your head.”

“W-Where’s Luigi?” Mario either ignored or didn’t hear the other’s request. Unfocused eyes trying to see through the darkness.

“Worry about that in a bit. I need you to stay still.”

“Luigi! Can you hear me? Luigi, please, I need you to say something!” 

“Mario, stop, you need to-”

The hero avoided Wario’s outreached hands and quickly stood up. Stumbling over to the nearby boulder, Mario clinging to it as he desperately looked around. Still unable to see properly, between his blurred vision and the darkness.

“Luigi! Please, I need you to say something! Are you here? Luigi-” Mario suddenly doubled over, harshly coughing. Wobbling from becoming light headed. Wario was by his side in a second, or a few due to the ankle. Helping the hero sit back down on the ground, leaning against the same boulder. 

“Look, I don’t know how much air we have down here. Plus, I think you have a concussion. We need to take this slow. Do you think you can stand again?”

Mario slowly shook his head, eyes shut tight.

“I need you to talk to me. What hurts?”

“I shouldn’t have brought him.” Mario whispered out. Clearly still not focused on what Wario had said. 

So, Wario decided to play along. “What do you mean?”

“This was supposed to be a small mission, an easy mission,” the hero continues, “Peach said it was something routine. Something calm…”

“Nothing is really ‘calm’ about this place.” 

“Don’t patronize me!” Mario shouted out, glaring at Wario. Pushing away as he tries to stand back up. Only getting to his hands and knees before he had to pause again. 

“I’m not-”

“I get it, you’re better than me! You know more than me! You have a better relationship with Peach than I ever will!” Legs trembling, Mario was forced to sit back down, panting harshly. “I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m just trying my best… But it’s not enough. It’s never been enough…”

Wario shifted cautiously to sit next to Mario once more. Still allowing enough room between them. Mario shifted to properly sit back down, looking defeated. 

“I went to school for plumbing… Not for taking down fire-breathing turtles. I do it twice and suddenly I’m handed everything… I can pretend. I’m…” Mario swallowed weakly, eyes lowering further to the ground.

“You can’t lie your way through this.” Wario cautiously offers. 

Mario snorted weakly. “Been doing pretty well so far… If it means keeping Luigi safe, I’ll do anything…”

“ But he’s put into the same light as you, right? I don’t think you get control over that.”

“I begged him to stay home the second time Bowser attacked,” Mario whispered, “I never wanted him to be put in danger… Peach convinced me that this was a good thing to do. She wanted to keep him safe, but she doesn’t know his limits like I do. It’s a bad back and forth. I want him safe but Peach is convinced Luigi has to start fighting. This was just as small just to get us to work together again… And look where that got me. Trapped underground with someone who hates me.”

“I don’t hate-”

“Don’t lie to me, I get it!” The hero’s voice raised once more, “I told you, I get it! Why do you keep showing up wherever I go? Do you really want my life that badly? Why can’t you just leave me alone!”

Wario flinched back as Mario suddenly took a swing at him. Not overly surprised by this.

What was surprising was when Mario’s hand erupted into flames. Completely engulfed and causing Wario to wince at the sudden bright light. 

Rightfully so, Mario began to panic. Letting out screams of fear as he waved his hand around. No doubt trying to put it out. 

“What are you doing!?” Wario called out.

“What does it look like!?” Mario shouted back. Now standing fully, clearly running on adrenaline with wide eyes of fear, still trained on the hand. 

“You’re just using a Fire Flower! Just wait for it to power down!”

“I didn’t use a Fire Flower, I don’t know what this is!”

“Okay, stop! Stop, just stop waving it around! Just…Just calm down…”

Both stilled, attention on Mario’s hand.

“Okay…” Wario started off slowly, “Okay, are you in pain?”

“N-No… But my glove is gone…”

“Okay… Do you know how you did this?”

“No, I don’t have any Power-Ups with me… I-I didn’t think to bring them.”

“And this hasn’t happened before?”

“Do you think I would be freaking out like this if it had!”

“Alright, fair. Do you think you can put it out?”

“I-I don’t know… I don’t think I can…”

Wario nodded slowly. Reaching out to turn off his flashlight as the fire provided enough to see. “Well…then let's work with this. As long as you keep it far enough away from yourself so you don’t lose anything else.”

“Yeah, okay…”

Now able to see much better, the cavern was shown to not be as large as previously thought. Their path forward was now being created by something carving it out. Something large. Realization dawned on them at the same time that they were standing in a tunnel created by the vines they’d been following. 

“Guess we know which way we’re going.” Wario commented, “We’ll find out where all of this is starting from…”

Mario merely nodded. Blinking in realization as he watched Wario walk back over to him. Or, well, hobbled over was more accurate. “You’re hurt.”

“Meh, just a sprained ankle, I think. Nothing compared to the concussion you’re currently carrying. If you start feeling unwell, you let me know. Immediately.”

“Yeah, okay…” Mario winced slightly as his red cap was placed on his head. 

“We’ll take this slow.” 

“I’m sorry.” Mario muttered weakly. 

Wario just shook his head. “You’re not feeling the best right now and more than a little stressed. We’ll worry about it all later. But you have a lot of things to spill.”

“Yeah…” “And that means you’re getting a proper conversation later.”

Mario swallowed weakly. “Let’s…just get out of here.”

_____________________________

Waluigi was greeted by a stone ceiling. Hands moving up to gently rub his head. While in a lot of pain, nothing seemed directly broken. That, however, didn’t exclude him from major injuries. Namely his right leg being torn to shreds and bleeding freely. He grunted as he slowly sat up. Hissing in the stinging pain as he moved his leg. 

“W-Waluigi?”

A timid voice called out. Waluigi’s attention turned to find Luigi nearby. The younger brother curled into a ball with his legs pressed close to his chest. Looking a little dirty, but otherwise fine. His flashlight gives a little more light to the area. 

None of this was something Waluigi wanted to wake up to. 

“Do you know where we are?” He asked. Moving his leg once more to see how badly he was truly injured. The stinging was the worst part, but it was manageable. 

“U-Under the tunnels, I-I think? W-We did just drop s-straight down.”

“Joy. Any signs out?”

Luigi grabbed a handful of loose dirt. Slowly dropping it to allow the wind to pull it along in one direction. “I-It’s also lighter that way with a s-slope up.”

“Guess that’s our best bet. Come on, help me up.” Waluigi held out a hand. Only to pull back with a yelp when Luigi’s hand delivered a nasty shock. “Damn it!”

“I-I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean-”

“I don’t want to hear it! Just…Just give me some room.”

The younger brother nodded weakly. Taking a step back for good measure. It was a slow process, but Waluigi was eventually up. Needing Luigi to act as a moving, steady crutch. Happy to not be shocked again. 

“You’re gonna have to lead the way, and please go slow.”

“R-Right…”

Luigi held the light out in front. Giving more to the pathway to make sure there were not other obstacles. Eventually getting used to a few seconds of extra pressure being applied to his shoulder. 

“Would you please hold the light straight.” Waluigi hissed.

“I-I’m trying.”

“Grambi above, why are you even shaking? There’s nothing here to even be afraid of.”

“S-Sorry…” Luigi winces as the grip on his shoulder tightens. 

“What is your deal, Greenie.”

“W-What do you m-mean?”

“What I mean is that the person I’m currently relying on to get me out of here can’t be the same one who yelled at me before. So, I would like to be informed as to what is happening. I wouldn’t have claimed you as the prestigious role of my rival if I’d know you were so-”

“C-Cowardly? S-Sorry I can’t l-line up to your w-weird expectations. B-But I didn’t ask to be your rival. Y-You made t-that decision.”

“Okay, wait, see, right there! You snapped back at me! You clearly have enough of a backbone to draw the line and bite back at the same point. Even without your dear, overbearing brother nearby.”

“Don’t y-you-”

“But you were going to turn tail when the vines were going to be a little too cluttered for you?”

“L-Look, I’m not… T-There are certain t-things I don’t want to d-deal with…”

Waluigi rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Let’s just get out of here so this can be someone else’s problem.”

Luigi didn’t bother replying. Knowing it wouldn’t help the situation. But the heavy silence wasn’t helping in keeping his mind off the jolts of energy traveling up his spine. 

Sooner than what they were expecting, the duo were met with even ground. Luigi even let out a noise of surprise at the damned cave they now found themselves in. While large, they were still able to see the wide opening that led to their freedom. Sunlight pouring in. 

“We found our way-”

“Shush!” Waluigi quickly reached down, covering Luigi’s mouth. When he went to glare up, he found his lanky counterpart’s attention placed higher up. Following his direction to the very top.

Numerous Piranha Plants, larger than Luigi had ever seen, colored a deep blue instead of the familiar red, all curled up and fast asleep. The top of the cave cracked to accommodate them all. 

“We found the nest.” Waluigi whispered, eyes still on the plants.

“T-They’re blue.”

“I can see that.”

“B-But I thought you s-said-”

“I said I didn’t know.”

“S-So what do we d-do? W-We never came across M-Mario or W-Wario?”

“We need to get out and get help.”

“But-”

“I’m in no condition to fight and I doubt that you can. We can’t deal with this on our own. We need to leave and get help.”

While he didn’t like the idea, Luigi knew it was the best option. Giving his companion a short nod in understanding. While Luigi focused on moving them towards the exit, Waluigi kept his attention on the plants. Making sure they stayed asleep while they made their escape. 

They were about half-way there when movement to Luigi’s left caught his attention, making him freeze. Thinking it was a vine coming to life. Only to discover that it was Mario and Wario. Both looked absolutely horrible. 

Luigi’s brow raised seeing his brother’s hand on fire. 

They hadn’t brought any Fire Flowers…

Wario had begun to open his mouth, no doubt to call out his brother’s name. Only to stop when Luigi frantically shook his head and pointed up. The quick movements gained Mario’s and Waluigi’s attention. A silent and short conversation had everyone in agreement that they needed to get out. Now.

As Wario and Mario crossed directly underneath the coiled plants, the Piranha Plants finally stirred. All freezing in hopes that they would all just go back to sleep. Except they don’t. Instead, wide mouths opened to reveal serrated teeth. Drool dropping to the ground like acid rain. 

Attention being put directly onto Mario. 

“I think they’re drawn by the fire.” Waluigi frantically hissed out. 

Luigi panicked, calling out, “Mario, the fire! Put out the fire!”

“I-I can’t.” Mario weakly replied back, eyes still trained above them. 

“What do you mean you can’t? I-Isn’t it a Fire Flower?”

“No, it’s-”

The conversation came to a halt when heavy vines were suddenly slammed down. All blown backwards by the impact. 

The plant’s first focus was on Mario. Who, due to his already given head injury, couldn’t put up much of a fight. The plants seemed uncaring about the fire that was still burning. Actually appearing more excited at their new claim than the open flame. 

“Mario!” Luigi called out, getting back up onto his feet.

“G-Get to the exit, Luigi!” Mario called out, now hanging upside down.

“But-”

“Run, please!”

“Listen to him!” Wario shouted. Barely getting out of the way as another vine aimed for him. He reached towards his side bag and pulled out some small contraption. Throwing it towards Waluigi with a call of, “Heads up!”

Without missing a beat, Waluigi caught it easily. Pushing a button to release a huge hammer. He turned to Luigi and said, “You need to get going.”

“...G-Get Mario back, p-please.”

“Easy. Now go.”

With that, Waluigi turned back to face his enemy. Joining Wario with both keeping the vines at bay and trying to get Mario back down.

Luigi rushed towards the exit. Heart hammering as he avoided the numerous attacks being sent his way. The plants seeming to want to keep everyone in the cave. He was just about to make his official break for freedom when his path was blocked. Not a vine this time. But a large hammer. 

Instinctually, Luigi looked back, fear growing further. Everyone had been captured. All dangling a few good feet above the ground. Unable to move as the vines were tight with their grip.

Mario, with his head pounding, vision blurred, tried to break free. The fire, which had still not gone out, did nothing to deter the Piranha Plants. He felt like he was going to throw up from either the pain or the stress. Hoping that Luigi would be able to be back soon with help…

“L-Let them g-go!”

Luigi’s voice echoed through the cavern. Standing before the nest of plants, Waluigi’s hammer in shaky hands, knees knocking together. The Piranha Plants growled in curiosity, all of the heads lowering as if to get a better look at this troublesome hero.

“I said, l-let them go!” Luigi demanded again. Trying to brandish the hammer in some intimidating way. Which really didn’t work.

“No, Luigi, you need to run!” Mario desperately cried out.

The younger brother shook his head. “I-I can’t leave you l-like this. G-Getting help w-will take too long…”

“You can’t take them on, Greenie!” Waluigi shouted this time. Clearly in pain but holding it together. “There’s too many and they’re too large! You need to run!”

Luigi shook his head again. “I-I can’t.”

He let out a yelp, barely avoiding an attack. The Piranha Plants were getting bored and decided it was time to tease with their final toy. Luigi swung the hammer around. Which were just blind swings to keep the vines somewhat at bay. The desperate shouts from the other three to just run doing nothing more than to raise Luigi’s anxiety. 

It was as another vine slammed closer than comfort that Luigi felt something go ‘pop’. From inside him. A familiar tingling, sparking sensation spreading out from his spine, down his arms, and directly to his fingertip. His entire form shaking from the built up and broken energy. The hammer now acting as a large conduit. 

When the hammerhead connected with the plant, the creature let out shrieks of pain. A heavy current traveling through its entire form. Causing it to release all of its prisoners. The trio watched in horror and shock as both parties seemed to be electrocuted. 

The connection only ended when the hammer slipped off. Sensing their freedom, the Piranha Plants scurried away. Disappearing into the clearly charred rock and dirt.

While that problem was handled, there was a new issue to attend to.

Luigi had dropped the hammer. Eyes wide with fear as large bolts of lightning continuously firing off from both of his hands. Which were surrounded by large orbs of energy. Gloves and lower portions of his sleeves torn to shreds. New sports of charred dirt appeared with every small step that Luigi took.

“What is happening!?” Mario called out. Looking over to the other brothers, namely Wario, in hopes either of them would know what was happening.

Except they looked just as worried and confused as Mario felt.

With no help from them, Mario tried to get closer to his brother. Barley getting a footstep in before having to fall back again to avoid a strike. 

“Luigi, you need to stop!”

“I-I d-don’t k-know h-h-how!” Luigi called back. Voice trembling from fear and how his body was shaking from the built up energy.

“No… No, no, no- We have to get closer!”

“How?” Wario called back, “And what do we do once we’re close?”

“I-I don’t…I don’t know! Can we ground him in some way?”

“How should I know! I don’t even know what’s happening right now!”

Mario felt like pulling out his hair in desperation. “Then what do we-”

There was a strangled noise of pain followed by a heavy thud. The lightning finally stopped. The area falling quiet.

Luigi was out cold. Lying limp on the ground with Waluigi standing over him. A rock held in hand with a small patch of blood on it.

“...Are you kidding me!” Wario shouted.

“It worked, didn’t it!”

“Luigi!” Mario rushed over, cradling his brother’s limp body close. Panicking further, feeling blood slowly flowing from the back of his head. “Luigi? …Luigi, please… No, it…you’re fine. It’s fine, you’re going to be fine. …It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“What the actual hell is wrong with you.” Wario growled lowly to his brother. 

To which Waluigi hissed back, “It was all I could think to do.”

“I, just… We need to get back to the castle.”

“Grambi above, this is going to be a long walk.”

“Well, what do you have in mind!”

“I don’t know, I just feel like complaining right now!”

“What is wrong with you!”

“Many things!”

Mario was uncaring of the argument happening nearby. Watery eyes taking in every detail of his brother’s pale face. As if he would be able to find some solution. Only resulting in Mario feeling absolutely useless.

Wondering how he was supposed to be a hero when he couldn’t even keep his own brother safe. Mind running through all the events as if that would show an answer. How did it all go so wrong? Where did he misstep? Why couldn’t he keep Luigi safe?

“Mario?”

Why does he keep failing?

“Mario?”

What force decided they needed to be the heroes?

“Mario.”

A gloved hand was gently pressed to his cheek. Mario jolted to awareness, eyes lifting to connect with another pair of brilliant blue.

“...Princess?”

Peach gave a gentle smile. “Hey, how are you feeling? Do you think you can stand?”

“...Yes…”

“How about you let Captain Toad’s crew take a look at Luigi?”

“W-Who? What? W-When did you get here?”

“Oh dear… Seems you have a bit of concussion…”

Mario pulled his attention away from the princess to look around. There were a number of Toads now filling the area. One Toad wearing what looked like heavy hiking equipment talking to the other brothers. Who were currently being looked over. Respective injuries being wrapped up.

How long had Mario been out?

Mario flinched, feeling Luigi starting to be pulled out of his arms. Quickly bringing his brother back to press against his chest, wide eyes snapping back to Peach. Who had her hands up in a placating surrender. 

“It’s okay, it’s just me. It’s going to be okay.”

“Don’t take him.” He meekly voiced.

“Luigi needs to be looked over, as do you. You’re safe now, Mario. You’re okay. Do you trust me?”

Mario’s shoulders slowly dropped at the question. “Yes…”

“Then let me help you. Let them help you.”

“...Okay.”

Mario felt a chill wash over him as he allowed Luigi to be taken from him. Himself being pulled to his own clean cot. His cut getting cleaned and covered, examined for further damages, and a note of having a slight concussion but was allowed to sleep. An agreement of him getting a better examination when they returned to the castle.

The entire time, Mario’s attention was only on Luigi. Who was completely limp, unaware of the world around him. If it wasn’t for his damaged clothes and own wrapped head, someone would think he was just sleeping.

Small hands gently pushed and pulled at Mario until he was finally lying down. Exhaustion getting to him. Mario’s eyes closed, slowly falling asleep.

“Wait, go back. I thought you said Mario didn’t bring a Fire Flower with him.”

Wario let out an exasperated sigh. “Yes, that’s true.”

“But he still made a fireball?”

“Yes.”

“Dear boy,” Toasdworth frowned, “Lying to us about this situation will help no one.”

“I. Am not. Lying.”

“Do you have any idea what might have caused this?” Peach quickly took over. Toadsworth’s cheeks puffed up in indignation. 

“...No pun intended. But Mario was running a little hot under the collar. He really…wasn’t happy about being separated from Luigi.”

“Mario was a little warm when you all were leaving. I thought he was falling ill, but he assured me he was fine.” Peach admitted.

Waluigi leaned forward slightly, “What was your discussion about?”

“About the task. Mario was… He was worried this was a bigger task than what he was expecting. Worried that it might be too much for Luigi.”

There was a given pause after this. The small group of four carefully picked apart the words.

Peach eventually brought the conversation back. “What of Luigi? You said he experienced something strange as well?”

“He shot out lightning from his hands,” Waluigi commented dryly, “Big old bolts and his hands had like weird orbs of energy covering them.”

Wario quickly spoke up. “Peach, whatever this is, the brothers can’t control it. Neither could get their abilities to stop and they seemed to start at random.”

Peach’s heart sank hearing this. Turning to face the twins properly.

They were still on the infestation site. Granted, not in the cave in case the Piranha Plants returned. But making their way back to the castle on foot was out of the question. So, here they wait until the appropriate vehicles arrive to help transport everyone back safely. 

Peach once again thankful that Captain Toad and his team had been nearby to call the issue in.

Mario and Luigi were still out, resting on the available cots the Toads had brought along. The younger brother’s legs dangling at the end as he couldn’t fully fit on. Given how distressed Mario was before falling asleep, it was decided to place the cots directly next to each other. In case the hero woke up he could immediately know his brother was safe and close by. Hopefully dwindling Mario’s worries.

When asked about the injuries that the brothers had sustained, there were no reports of burns. The worst only being the cuts given to them. Neither showing injuries beyond that. One Toad casually commented that their bodies did show signs of dehydration. Possibly extreme fatigue given how quickly Mario had fallen asleep. Which were initially marked up to how the situation turned out.

But Peach had been unsure, given the fact the brothers had gone up against Bowser at least once. They had been exhausted after that, but not to this extreme. 

This was something she could think about back at the castle. When everyone was safely back and could rest in a proper bed. 

“Thank you two, for being here for them.” Peach offered a warm smile that didn’t fully hide her worries. 

Waluigi grumbled, “If I had known being these two carers was going to be this much trouble, I wouldn’t have agreed to any of this.”

He let out a small yelp when Wario flicked his ear. 

“Just take the money like an ass and be done with it.” Wario growled back.

“I want to go back to New Donk.”

“Like hell you do.”

“At least that was a version of misery that I could handle!”

Toadsworth slowly shook his head as the brothers continued to bicker. Looking up at his ward with an exasperated look. “Are you sure there’s no one else you trust with the care and responsibility of our heroes? 

Peach gave a small giggle. Patting her caretaker’s head as blaring horns announced their cavalry's arrival. 

“No.”

“Why must you be so stubborn.” 

She just gave another laugh. Returning to all brothers as they were placed in their transports. 

“Hey, Peach.” Wario’s voice sounded heavy as he called the princess over. “Just a small, private word of advice. You need to start thinking about what that pipsqueak means to you.”

Peach was slightly ashamed to admit how flustered she suddenly felt by that question. Knowing her cheeks were now dusted a light pink. “I- W-What do you mean? I’m the princess, he’s the hero, we work together to keep everyone safe.”

Wario slowly raised a brow. A clear indication that he wasn’t buying that reason. “Look, I’m not asking you to spill secrets or anything. I’m not the guy for the job. But I think for everyone’s sake, especially Mario’s, you think about this honestly. If anything else, talk to Daisy. You know how crazy she can be about these kinds of things.”

“Very well… If I may ask, what brought this on?”

“Like I said, Mario’s got a few things on his mind right now.”

_____________________________

His skin felt itchy and dry. Tense and taught, as if one wrong move would make it snap. The cold air he was breathing in almost felt like knives stabbing his mouth. 

Why did he feel so weird? Where was he?

Eyes opening, Mario let out a low groan of frustration seeing the familiar white ceiling. 

Medical Wing. Of course.

Moving slowly, he brought his arms up to rub the sleep from his face. Wincing when he accidentally brushed against his wrapped wound. Everything hurts. He felt irritable. He felt…not himself.

He was really getting tired of this.

Besides his head injury, there seemed to be nothing else wrong with him. Well, visibly anyway. Exhaustion trying to pull him back down. But his fried nerves wouldn’t let him relax. 

Where was Luigi?

Panic spiking, Mario frantically scanned the room. Pausing to collect himself as his vision swam for a moment. Moving that fast was apparently a bad idea. 

Collecting himself, Mario felt a small spark of relief finding his brother. Luigi in the bed directly next to his, still fast asleep. His head also wrapped, no doubt because of the injury Waluigi inflicted. 

The heat in Mario flared up. 

Sliding from the overly warm bed, Mario shivered as his feet touched the cold floor. Almost painful with how shart the difference was between the temperatures. He ignored it as he shuffled over to the bedside chair. Dropping in it as soon as possible. 

Being closer, seeing that Luigi was at least alive and resting, it caused the heat to settle down. Mario now not feeling as if his skin was going to crack at any moment. Soothing it further when he gently grabbed Luigi’s hand. Finally feeling that he could relax.

Still holding onto his brother’s hand, Mario laid his head down. Cradled between his crossed arms, he felt himself drifting back to sleep. 

He just needed a few more minutes of sleep.

He’ll feel better in a bit…

He had to…

“Mario?”

He jolted away. Still keeping a hold of Luigi’s hand as he sat up. “W-What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong,” Peach quickly assured, “I just came to check on you and was surprised to find that you had moved. How are you feeling?”

“I’ve honestly been better…” Mario replied. Sitting up a little further to appear more awake. Still holding onto Luigi’s hand. “How long… When did we get back here?”

“Yesterday evening. You and Luigi have just had a good night’s sleep.”

“Has Luigi woken up?”

“No, not that I’m aware of.”

Mario slowly nodded, “...Peach…something weird happened when we were down in the tunnels…”

“What is it?”

“I…I made fire with my hand, but I didn’t use a Power-Up. W-We didn’t bring any…and Luigi…” Swallowing his nerves weakly, Mario started to tremble. “He shot lightning from his hands… What’s happening to us?”

Peach took a deep breath, reaching over to place a comforting arm around the other. Mario practically melting into the touch. “I…I don’t know what’s happening. No one in the Kingdom has experienced something like this before. Nor do we have immediate records of something similarly happening before. We’re doing all we can to find anything about this.”

That was not what Mario needed to hear. Peach always knew what to say, had a solution of some kind. This all just piled onto an already tense situation. 

“So…So what do we do? Luigi and I are just…walking bombs that could go off at any moment? That… I can’t…” Mario frantically shook his head. Eventually pressing the back of Luigi’s hand to his forehead. 

“We’re doing all we can, it’ll be fine,” Peach tried reassuring again, “We just need to know what…what triggers it all.”

“So just put a band-aid over a gash and think that’ll be enough? With a heavy if of being able to find anything to help us?”

“I-It’ll be fine-”

“You can’t promise something like that Peach! Like how you promised that this was going to be an easy mission and that clearly didn’t happen!” The uncomfortable itch had returned. Skin feeling taught, pulling and tugging uncomfortably as he suddenly stood. His chest was heavy and burning, as if a fireball had settled into there. 

In the back of his mind, Mario knew this wasn’t right. He doesn’t act like this. He’s never felt this furious before. Something should have clicked in Mario’s head, telling him to back off seeing how fearful Peach looked at him now. But it made the head of rage rise further. 

What did she have to be worried about? She wasn’t dealing with living in a strange new world that threw something at you every single day. She didn’t have to worry about keeping a brother safe with targets on everyone’s back. No worries about new roles that she felt under prepared for, or new powers, or having to deal with-

“Whoa, it’s getting a little heated in here.”

Mario swallowed back a growl, teeth grinding together. Glaring as Wario and Waluigi walked over. “What do you want.”

“Hey now, no need to get hostile. Just needed to see how Mini-Me-”

“Stop calling me that!”

At Mario’s outburst, Peach quickly stepped away. Wario holding his hands up in surrender, slowly moving to stand in front of the princess.

“Okay, I’m sorry. How are you feeling, Mario?”

Mario sat back down. Looking back to Luigi while tightening his grip. “Terrible, in more ways than one.”

“Ah, well, it’s to see you’re up and moving at least.”

“What do you want.”

“...I told you, I wanted to-”

“Right, fake caring or concern or whatever this is. Well, I’m still breathing. There's your answer. You can go now. You can all go.”

Wario and Peach exchange a look of worry. Unsure of what they’re supposed to do now.

Waluigi, however, clearly had had enough of this. “If you’re going to throw a tantrum, maybe don’t do it where people are trying to heal.”

“I am not having a tantrum.” Mario growled out. 

“Of course you’re not. Just like you’re not currently pouting. If you’re so worried about finding a solution, you should help looking for it. Instead of tending to someone who’s not even awake right now.”

“What is your problem!” Mario shouted, unaware of the smoke pouring from his mouth, “Are you so absolutely miserable with your life that you have to belittle others to make you feel better? Does it make you feel better about your existence?” 

“Of course it does, I won’t deny that,” Waluigi boredly commented, “I’m headstrong and my main source of amusement is teasing. Or taunting, you pick. But right now, it’s just a hope that I can break through that thick skull of yours. Because this pity party you’re throwing isn’t helping.”

Mario stood once more. Uncaring as the chair toppled over from the sudden harsh movement. Mouth halfway open to give his heated retort-

Luigi let out a small whimper. 

Heart stopping, Mario turned back to find Luigi’s face scrunched up in pain. The older brother realized he was squeezing the other’s hand too hard. Immediately dropping it and stepping away. Looking fearful.

“Stop being an idiot,” Waluigi said, “What you’re doing isn’t helping anyone.”

“Then what do you suggest, if you're so inclined to tell me what I’m doing wrong.” Mario’s voice still held venom, even with how quiet he was.

“I would start by leaving this room before you cause further harm.”

Shoving his cap on his head and shoes on his feet, Mario stomped over to Waluigi. Glaring up at the other, uncaring about the height difference. “Okay, now what wise guy.”

Unaffected by it all, Waluigi waved the human forward and led the way out. 

“I’m…going to follow them,” Wario voiced weakly, “Just in case-”

“Did you see his face?”

Wario turned back to Peach. Whose face was a worried shade of white. But he understood why. “Yeah…Yeah, I did…”

“A-And his eyes.”

“Peach.”

“H-He…He looked like Bows-”

Wario quickly placed his hands on the princess’ shoulder, holding steady eye contact before he lost her too. “There’s something wrong. Mario’s upset. You know he’s nothing like this. Nothing like him. We’re just reaching a boiling point. Give my brother and I time, we’ll get this worked out.”

The princess took a deep breath, nodding. “If you need anything…”

“We’ll be fine. We’re more durable than we look. Just stay here until… Just stay here, watch over Luigi.”

Peach offered another nod before Wario rushed out. She righted Mario’s seat and claimed it. Taking Luigi’s hand in her own now, rubbing her thumb along the back. Feeling frustrated and lost. Tears quietly falling.

Wario jogged, rushing himself forward to catch up with the other two. Slowing to walk next to Waluigi, who only acknowledged his brother with a short nod. Mario followed close behind, glaring at the floor. 

As they left the castle, heading towards the large lake, Wario quietly asked, “What are you planning?”

“Just watch, dear brother. No spoilers.”

“You’re worrying me.”

“Have faith.”

“Faith in you? That’s what I’m worried about.”

“Where are we even going?” Mario asked, brow raised in confusion.

“It’s just a bit of sightseeing, nothing more.” Waluigi answered easily.

“Okay, but why? How is this part of your solution?”

“You really like to talk.”

“Waluigi-” Mario was startled when the other faced him. Immediately reaching out to get a grip on the hero’s arm. 

Wario and Mario were clearly confused as the seconds ticked by. Waluigi didn’t make much of an effort to explain what he was doing. Just as Mario’s already limited patience wore out, he was pulled forward.

And kept going…

And kept going…

And suddenly the ground was gone…

And now he was splashing into the water…

Mario let out a garbled cry of surprise that was cut off by the water he sucked in. Furiously waving his arms and legs around, head breaking the surface shortly after. Coughing as he replaced the sucked in water with the much needed air.

“What the hell was that!?” Wario frantically asked. 

“He’s fine.” Waluigi calmly said. Not looking his brother in the eye as he checked his pockets for something. 

“You don’t just do something like that!”

“You worry too much. Also, you’ve done this before! Why is it wrong when I do it?”

Mario panted weakly, kneeling confusedly in the shallow water. Realizing what had happened and his anger returned in full. Steam rolling off his hair and clothes white the water started to bubble. 

“What was that!?” Mario demanded

“It looked like you needed to cool off… Guess you need to be in there for a little while longer.”

“You pull me away from my brother, shove me into a lake, and just, what, pretend to not care? Why are you like this!” Mario winced as the top of Waluigi’s hammer was pressed against his chest.

“Ah, no, you don’t get to come out until you finally let go.”

“I’m not going to sit in the water when-”

“When what? When you could be sitting at your sleeping brother’s side? The brother who you can’t help at the moment? The brother whose hand you almost crushed?”

“You need to get out of my way.” Mario growled out.

Waluigi didn’t move. “You’re not in a good headspace right now.”

“I said move.”

“Would you stop being so narrow minded! Do you not see what you’re doing right now?”

“I said-”

“You’re boiling the water, you idiot.”

That finally brought Mario’s attention to the steam and bubbles surrounding him. He didn’t feel any of the heat rolling off. 

“W-What is this?” Mario asked weakly.

Wario stepped forward at this. “We don’t know. This is new for everyone right now. But we’re going to figure this out.”

“H-How?” Mario cried out, “If even you’re confused by this, how are we supposed to find a solution?”

“Mario, you need to breathe and just calm down. I know a lot, but I don’t know everything, but we can find something.”

“I need to-” Mario was halted once more. Being pushed back hard enough to land back into the water. Fear snapped back to anger once more. Giving his best death glare to Waluigi. “Stop doing that!”

“You’re a danger in this state You’re not leaving until you calm down or let go.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do!”

“I do when you’re not thinking straight. You’re aware of the fact that you’re a walking Bob-omb right? …Like a walking human Bob-omb… The point is you're a danger to everyone right now.”

Mario didn’t reply, besides offering another glare. Instead deciding that his energy would be better spent trying to get back to shore. Only to be blocked at every turn by Waluigi’s hammer. 

“I want you to think this through,” Waluigi started slowly, “You have a new power with no way to control it. You’re a danger like this, you need to understand that.”

“Please. Move. I want to see my brother.”

“You need to calm down or let go.”

“I need to-”

“So you really don’t care about your brother’s well-being.”

“I’m not taking lecture notes from someone who berated my brother for wanting to feel safe!” Mario shouted back. Both hands now engulfed in flames. The water level starting to lower. 

Wario faltered and casted a worried glance towards his brother. “You’d better know what you’re doing.”

Waluigi didn’t reply to the comment. Solely focused on the human. “What do you want from your brother anyway? You are a giant overbearing flip flop of a person! You want to keep him safe but also want him to be the hero he’s supposed to be. Yet you don’t tell Luigi anything. Keeping him in the dark as if that’s helpful. You don’t let him fully test his boundaries in a way where you can keep an eye on him and help. Yet you would willingly be the person to hurt him the most by running back to his side like this!?”

“Stop it!” Mario covered his ears, frantically shaking his head as the fire crawled up further until his arms were covered as well.

“You’re an absolute hypocrite!” Waluigi continued, “You’re more than happy to berate my brother and myself about our lives. But you think you’re just the best sibling who ever lived! Yet you can’t really let the reins go and let Luigi be his own person!”

“Stop talking!” Mario’s feet were now on the muddy ground. The water evaporated enough to be nothing more than small puddles sprinkled everywhere. The mud slowly drying out.

“You’re so worried about your brother, about what could hurt him, that you don’t even realize you’re hurting him!” 

“Stop!” Mario cried out in desperation. Wario watches as steam rises from the corners of the hero’s eyes. Realizing he was crying.

“What’s the matter?” Waluigi continued, “Is this the first time that someone’s pointed out your flaws for you? Or am I just voicing the worries that have been haunting you?”

The dirt was starting to crack and break apart. Mario falling to his knees. The air seemed to warp and bend around him. Wario felt sweat rolling from his forehead. The grass near the edge of the lake is starting to curl and turn brown.

Waluigi kept going. “Stop feeling like you have to be in control of every single detail! You’re allowed to have flaws and to let people help you! Stop trying to think you have to make everything perfect!” 

“I can’t,” Mario finally admitted, “I just…I can’t…”

“Then you’re going to burn up everything around you until there’s nothing left if you continue on like this! Do you want that?”

“N-No… But I don’t know what to do…”

“You need to let go then!” 

Mario let out a cry of anguish, seeming to be enveloped in a white light. Waluigi quickly pulled Wario further back, both wincing at the intense heat. The light faded away soon enough. The lake completely dried up, now looking like nothing more than a large patch of desert. The hero fully collapsed onto the ground, eyes closed. 

Waluigi huffed as he straightened himself out. Nodding to Mario and saying to his brother, “Well, go get him. Do your part of this mentoring thing.”

Wario didn’t need to be told twice. Rushing forward and rolling Mario onto his back. “Hey, bud, can you hear me?”

There was a loan groan from the other. Mario let out a grumbled, “Yeah…”

“Okay, do you think you can sit up?”

“Yeah…”

“Let’s move slowly.” Wario placed a hand on Mario’s back, allowing the other to lean against him. Wario noticed how cold and clammy the human now felt.

“How are you feeling?”

“...Weird. …Tired. …Better?”

“Well, it doesn’t feel like your skin is about to melt off.” Wario looked up as Waluigi casually approached them.

The lanky brother kneeling next to Mario, who didn’t look over. 

“You really need to stop being an idiot.” He snipped out.

“Don’t get him riled up again.” Wario quietly warned. 

“He looks half dead, we’re fine.”

“You run your mouth a lot…” Mario mumbled. 

“And you’re a self-sacrificing idiot,” Waluigi frowned, “I didn’t say those things to piss you off… Kind of. The point is, seeing you that angry was kind of funny to see. But I’m serious, with all of this. You bottling everything up, it’s not good. It’s probably what led to this reaction. You need to calm down and let go.”

Mario swallowed weakly. “I…I don’t know how to…”

“First step is to stop being an idiot. You have that stupid mentality that you have to handle everything on your own. It won’t kill you to ask for help. If Luigi gets to yell at me about this, I get to yell at you.”

“We’re not here to belittle you,” Wario said quickly, “We’re here to help. You need to understand that. We’re here to help you and Luigi.”

“We don’t know why you're built like this. But we’re gonna break you from this habit.”

Mario laughed softly. “Fair, as long as you don’t make me do something like that again. That was…not fun.”

“As long as you stop being stupid.”

“I’m going to shove your face into the dirt.”

“You have to reach it first.”

“Why you-”

“WHAT HAPPENED TO THE LAKE!” Toadsworth’s cry of despair causes the trio to jump. Turning to find the aged Toad with a few soldiers closing in. 

“Um, h-hey Toadsworth,” Mario laughed weakly, “Sorry about this.”

“It was just a therapy session, calm down.” Waluigi huffed. 

“Yeah,” Wario added, “Everything’s fine, relax.”

Mario frowned, “Guys, don’t pester him.”

“Stop being a goodie two-shoes,” Waluigi smirked. More than happy to ‘fight’ with Mario. Both clearly trying to push the other down to the ground. Letting out panicked screams as Wario launched himself at them. All eventually rolling around, laughing unabashedly.

Toadsworth watched this all with an unamused look. Eventually letting out a heavy sigh and said, “Someone get the hose. This will take awhile…”

_____________________________

Mario nervously bounced his leg with his eyes trained on Luigi’s sleeping form. Dressed back in his usual outfit. Red cap clutched in his hands. 

Wario, who was sitting across from the brother with Waluigi next to him, cleared his throat. Giving the hero a ‘calm down’ gesture when Mario looked over. To which the human gave a nod, exhaling slowly to try and calm further.

Luigi let out a small noise of complaint, stretching slightly before opening his eyes. Mario was up the next second. Hat placed to the side so both hands could be used to cup the younger brother’s face.

Mario smiled softly as Luigi’s eyes slowly focused on him. “Hey Luigi.”

Luigi let out another sigh and smiled back, “H-Hey Mario… Did we win?”

“Yeah, we’re good. You did a great job, bro.”

“I-I did?” Luigi's voice sounded hopeful.

“Yeah you did!” Wario beamed, eyes turning towards him. “You really showed those plants who’s boss!” 

Luigi’s smile seemed to grow hearing that. Eventually looking over to Waluigi, a little surprised to find him there. “Y-You’re here…?”

“Yep.”

“A-Are you okay?”

“Compared to what you two pests just went though, I’m fine.” Waluigi shrugged, but offered a smirk. “Cool ability. A bit too shocking for my taste.”

Luigi groaned softly. “No, you make puns too?”

“Meh, on occasion. If I get the spark to do so.” Waluigi continued. Mario let out a snort, while the other two groaned. 

“Can we not? I’m still recovering.”

“You’re fine.”

The chattering between the four continued on calmly. Luigi eventually sits up and moves over enough to let Mario sit next to him. The older brother having his arm wrapped around Luigi, gently rubbing the younger brother’s shoulder. Watching and listening to Wario and Waluigi’s grand stories. Pretty sure they were making up a majority of everything.

Peach gave a warm smile to the scene before closing the door to the office. Giving a contented hum before turning to her Toads. “Well, please tell me some good news.”

One of them nodded. “We have a temporary solution and a possible lead.”

“Go over the solution first.” Peach watched as two pairs of white gloves were grabbed from the nearby table. Seeing a small shimmer of something golden surrounding them. 

“Power Dampening Gloves,” another Toad answered, “It will allow the brothers to still use Power-Ups. But will absorb and redistribute the energy they’re now creating properly and safely.”

“Wonderful!” Peach beamed, “And what about the lead?”

“We’ve found powers similar to what Wario and Waluigi have stated in old volumes.” The Toads pulling out a book now. Opening it to an already marked page. 

“Firehand…and Thunderhand…” Peach said aloud. Nodding slowly as she read further. “It does sound similar. Do we know where these powers originate from?”

“At the moment, no. But we’re looking into it, and we hope to find something else very soon.”

“It’s something I suppose.” Peach’s attention turned towards the wide window that showed the recovery room. Being able to get a clear view of the brothers. Waluigi currently laughing as Wario ruffled the other’s hair. The twins smiling back. 

“Perhaps we can finally get a bit of a break.”

Miles away from the Mushroom Kingdom, hidden among gnarled trees under a permanent night sky sat a large metal bunker. The perimeter defined by a humming forcefield. Numerous metal boxes littering the black dirt ground.

Inside the mysterious bunker was an even larger mess. The majority of the space given to a large computer. The screen displayed nothing more than a brilliant neon green at the time. A number of small metal contraptions littering table tops and the floor. Beakers, test tubs, and other glass containers of various sizes held different colored, luminous goo and mysterious liquids.

At the possibly only semi-cleared desk was a dismantled vacuum. The internal components seen were far more advanced than the typical cleaning tool. 

Resting his head on the wooden table, snoring softly and still holding a wrench was an elderly man. The sleeves of his white lab coat pulled up, revealing oil stains and fade scars. Swirled glasses askew as his wrinkled cheek pressed against the table top. The only hair resting on the top of his head in a tall standing tuff drooped towards the tabletop. 

His sleep was interrupted as an alarm suddenly blared from the computer. Letting out a yelp as he sits up straight. Swiveling his head around, as if trying to locate the danger, before realizing what had woken him up.

“Ugh, enough! I’m awake.”

The alarm shut off at that. He let out a wide yawn before pushing the chair towards the computer. Rolling along the only clear path that was free of all the clutter. Inputting a few commands onto the keyboard before the screen changed. A map of the expanding world now being presented. The Dark Lands outlined and flashing brightly. 

Another few buttons pushed and the map for the Dark Lands increased. A number of boxes appeared, flashing information that looked like absolute gibberish. But he knew very well what he was reading over.

“Migrating Boos? Possibly, this is a strange movement pattern. …How bizarre. They don’t seem like the type to just suddenly move like this. This is new…”

He let out a slow hum, tapping his chin in contemplation. “This needs further information to be gathered. Shame we couldn’t stay here longer. We were getting some good resources. But this is too important of an opportunity to pass up.”

A large red button to the very right of the keyboard was pushed. The bunker jolted to life as it started to clean itself up. Organizing everything and storing them properly. Large cranes grabbing the numerous boxes lying outside and pulling them inside. 

Opening the door, he stood at the entrance and let out a sharp whistle. “Here boy! Come here! We’re heading out soon! …Goodness gracious, where is that-”

A sharp bark sounded. A pale, clearly transparent ghost dog was happily sitting before the other. Panting, tongue hanging out, head tilted to the side. 

He let out a laugh. “There you are, Polterpup! Come along now, we must be heading out.”

“Professor Elvin Gadd smells something major in the paranormal world is about to happen. And we’re going to be right in the middle of the storm when it all goes down!”

[candiso-p640]

Eddsworld X Danganropa Executions

Lucas "Ruben" Goldsmith has been found guilty.

TIME FOR HIS PUNISHMENT

("Ruben" looks around him as the spotlight flashes on him while the neighbours look on in horror and disgust.)

(The chain clamps onto Ruben's neck and he is dragged to his punishment.)

Reunion of Red (Ultimate Connoisseur. Lucas "Ruben" Goldsmith's execution: Executed) Chapter 1

Within the cult's circle, Ruben is clamped down as a demon begins to appear. The demon picks up Ruben by the bow tie and throws him into an oven set to high. As Ruben starts to get dizzy from the heat and his burn injuries, he ''sees'' Mary Harding. He crawls over to her in an attempt to hug her, but she pushes him away in a gesture that say's, "You are not Ruben". Lucas breaths his final breath as his flesh turns charcoal black. The oven chimes as Ruben's burnt corpse falls out with a side of ''Mary Harding'' (actually a cleverly built pile of vegetables.)

The song playing throughout the execution is ラブカ？ (Love ka?) by HiiragiKirai and Ado

Patryck Albert has been guilty.

TIME FOR HIS PUNISHMENT

Fight or Flight (Ultimate Pilot. Patryck Albert's Execution: Executed)

Patryck Albert is in a military mission with a group of Monokuma soldiers. The objective is to survive the battle for 10 minutes. Within the ten minutes, Patryck has his left leg blown off by a landmine, a gunshot to the right eye, and a tank to the stomach. Patryck is able to survive all of that. The 10 minutes are done. As a result, a plane crashes into Patryck, thus finally killing him.

The song playing throughout the execution is 21 Guns by Green Day.

Todd Vasilyev has been found guilty.

TIME FOR HIS PUNISHMENT

Todd's Tank Lesson (Ultimate Russian Historian. Todd Vasilyev's Execution: Executed) Chapter 3

Todd in a WW1 Russian uniform is thrown into a Russian Tsar Tank.

Todd in a WW1 Russian uniform is thrown into a Russian Tsar Tank.

The tank run by puppets runs into enemy fire, where Todd tries to command the army shouting "Go left!" and, "All missiles fire!" But the tank rolls into a swamp area, where the wheels become stuck and sink into the muck below. An Monokuma throws a hand grenade into an hole in the thank where the entire tank explodes.

The song playing throughout the execution is Преображенский марш (Preobrazhensky March)

Matt Haergraves has been found guilty.

TIME FOR HIS PUNISHMENT

Mirror, Mirror (Ultimate Silverer. Matt Haergraves' Execution: Executed) Chapter 4

Matt is in a room of mirrors, he sees more beautiful versions of himself until he gets to a mirror that looks like this.

Matt walks up to the mirror and sees just his regular old self. But little does Matt know, the mirror version of him is carrying a shard of glass. The clone leaps out of the mirror and stabs Matt to death.

The song playing throughout the execution is Candle Queen by Ghost and Pals.

Thomas Bingbong has been found guilty.

TIME FOR HIS PUNISHMENT

Lights, Camera, Action! (Ultimate Set Designer. Thomas Bingbong's Execution: Executed) Chapter 5

Thomas BB is at a studio where he has to make the greatest movie of all time before the 3 minute timer runs out. The only things he has are a group of Monokuma actors, a small set of a destroyed city, a camera, and some monkeys. He can't make the movie in time so when the timer runs out, he is completely blinded by the lights, the camera explodes causing damage to his arms, and the stitched together monkey monster tears him to bloody pieces.

The song playing throughout the execution is The Blue Wraith from I Monster.

Larry and Christopher has been found guilty.

CONGRATS! TIME FOR THEIR PUNISHMENTS!

(As Larry and Christopher hug each other smiling, the stage unveils a ballroom with cogs and pipes galore)

The Finale is Here! (Ultimate Assistant and Ultimate Director. Larry Thompson's and Christopher Bingbong's Execution: EXECUTED!)

Larry and Christopher are seen in a ballroom dancing away as the room fills up with water. They drop through a hole in the center of the room as they kiss, landing onto a movie set gently. Both of their legs break as they audibly scream at a giant stitched up monkey monster slowly crawling out of the celling. Larry and Christopher brace themselves as the monster slowly tears them both limb from limb.

The music playing throughout the execution is Lights Out by Mindless Self Indulgence.

[saratogaroadwrites]

For King and Country (100/122)

For King and Country | saratogaroad rating: T total wordcount:  280,466 characters: Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane, Aranella, Batu, Tani, Lofty, Leander Aristidies, Bracken Meadows relationships: Roland Crane & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Aranella & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane & Aranella, Batu & Tani, Batu & Evan, Tani & Evan, Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum & Lofty, Rolander other tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Mother-Son Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Place Slowly Becomes Home People Slowly Become Family, Found Family, For Want of A Nail warnings: none

Pulled from his world by mysterious powers, former president Roland Crane finds himself caught in the middle of a coup meant to take the life of the young King Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum. Joining forces with Aranella, the pair of them set out to aid Evan in making his dream of a kingdom where everyone can live happily ever after a reality.

But the road to peace is a long and treacherous one and there is no promise of success in a world where darkness spreads ever thicker with each passing day. If they are to stand a chance, they must stand together, for king and for country.

(A retelling.)

=

Dell had changed.

In the first few moments of dawn’s gray light, Evan took in the city that had once been his home. The cobblestone back roads and familiar houses and shops had been buried under more than a little snow as the storm had blown through, but even that cover couldn’t take away the sensation of wrong that hung over the city like a pall. He frowned, clutching at his chest with his free hand. Still clutching at his other hand, Tani shuddered.

“Does anybody else feel that?” She asked, peering out from under the archway that separated Kingsway from back road. “Like there’s something really heavy in this air?”

“I can feel it,” Evan said softly. He took a deep breath of cloyingly sweet air, already sour stomach churning. He looked up, half expecting to see some massive dark cloud hanging over their heads, but the only clouds up there were snow clouds. An ear twitched against the inside of his hood. “I think it’s the Darkness.”

“It is.” Leander and Nella confirmed in near perfect unison. They shared a glance, and a grimace. Leander adjusted his glasses and added, “A very thick Darkness. I doubt that Doloran could be the only cause of this.”

“Pah.” Batu sniffled, “Course he ain’t. Not with that rat king hangin’ about. We oughta—”

A distant sound caught Evan’s ears. They pricked forward, trying to trace it, but Batu’s voice was too loud. He turned, opening his mouth.

“Oi!” Lofty hissed before Evan could speak, no doubt reading his intention, “Pipe down, would you? Somethin’s goin’ on.”

The group went silent. As their voices died away, Evan was able to separate their breathing from the murmur within the city. It was distant, quiet, and could have easily been mistaken for the wind except the wind had also gone still. It wasn’t water; even the river beneath the bridge had to be mostly frozen by now. It was…people?

Oh. Public execution. His stomach churned and he tightened his grip on Tani’s hand.

“It’s a crowd,” He said, lifting his head. Now was not the time to curl up into a ball and cry, no matter how he wanted to. “I..think it’s the public part of the execution.”

“It likely is,” Nella agreed, looking at him sympathetically. “I wouldn’t doubt Mausinger having the soldiers rouse everyone to make a spectacle of this. They’re most likely in the plaza by now.”

“Then we’d better hurry,” Bracken said, eying the slowly lightening sky. “Dawn’s not that far off.”

So hurry they did; Batu and Nella took the lead, darting through the back roads. Evan didn’t stop to think as they ran through snow covered streets, the Higgledies struggling in the tracks they left behind. He didn’t think about how much his old home had changed, or about how cold the place felt in his heart. He didn’t stop to think about what would happen if they couldn’t stop this in time.

He couldn’t let himself go down that road. Not yet. Not while they still had a chance.

Lofty, bouncing alongside him, poured comfort through their bond. He drew strength from that, and from Tani’s hand in his, but even those two couldn’t entirely hold back the chill of fear that was threatening to swallow him whole. Up ahead, Nella leapt back as Batu rounded the corner, grabbing a mouse soldier in both beefy arms and pulling him into the alley. Evan felt a twinge of guilt as the poor soldier didn’t even have time to shout before he was out, knocked clean into unconsciousness by a blow to his head. Batu set him gently down, leaving Nella to peer around the corner.

To Evan, her hiss was as loud as thunder.

“N-Nella?”

She shook her head, gesturing them forward. Her hand skimmed across his shoulder as she pointed into the plaza.

“Oh, Gods,” Leander choked, sounding as if he were about to be ill.

Evan couldn’t blame him. He had to swallow back his own ill feeling, blood running cold as he processed the sight in front of them. It seemed as if all the citizens of Dell had gathered in the Plaza just ahead. None of them looked happy; clumps of Mousekind and Humanfolk huddled together, bundled against the cold and warily watching the soldiers that patrolled the roads nearby. Parents held children close, hands over their ears. Friends and lovers held hands, hiding faces in shoulders. None of them cast more than passing glances towards the castle, too busy trying to keep calm. Some, he saw, had faces streaked with tears. They were scared.

They didn’t want this. These people…they had to be aware of why they had been gathered, and none of them wanted it either. He looked up to Nella.

“We have to get into the crowd,” He said, “Get to the front and get these people back before they bring Roland out. We need the room.”

“Yeah, but where can they go?” Bracken piped up, peering over Nella’s shoulder. “There’s soldiers everywhere…”

“We’ll have to take them out,” Nella said. She looked at the sky, then back at Evan. “You and Tani stay here. We’ll take care of the soldiers. Once they’re out, we can get the civilians to leave and take it from there.”

Evan didn’t really like it, but there was no time for a better plan. Swallowing back his trepidation, he nodded once. It was all the answer they needed. With one last pat to Evan’s shoulder, Nella headed out first, turning a corner between two emptied shops. The other three adults followed in her lead, Batu’s normally thundering footsteps oddly quiet amidst all the snow. Soon, even those faded out of Evan’s hearing. He sighed a cloud of steam, watching the crowd.

“The flip’s ol’ ratface waitin’ for?” Lofty muttered, pacing back and forth between the two of them, “Got a crowd an’ the sun’s already halfway up!”

“Don’t jinx us, you,” Tani shot at him. “Maybe he changed his mind or something!”

“I don’t think so,” Evan shook his head slowly. “Mausinger was always very stubborn. Once he had decided on something, he would always see it through. He won’t change his mind unless he’s forced to.”

It was going to come down to a fight, wasn’t it? He had wanted so badly to avoid this, to not have to fight someone he had once seen as family, but…there was no choice anymore. He had waited too long, made the wrong calls, and now…

This was his fault. He had to fix it.

“Told you we shoulda just clobbered ‘im,” Lofty muttered, but his words were without heat. Evan opened his mouth, stopping as a sound caught his attention. It wasn’t the soft yelp of a guard being pulled away, or a voice, it was something creakier, metallic. Metal cringing in the cold.

He knew that sound. Door hinges. Large ones.

“The castle door just opened,” He said, taking a sharp breath. Someone was coming out. He peered around the corner; there were fewer soldiers now, but he could still see some patrolling the streets. There was no sign of Nella or the others yet. He turned to Tani. “I need to get into the crowd. I have to try and stop this!”

Tani searched his face for a long second, then shook her head.

“Not on your own, you won’t. Come on.” She peered around the corner. “Keep your hood up and—now!”

Honed by weeks of fighting side by side, he knew what she meant for him to do without explanation. Lofty bounced onto his shoulder before the pair of them bounded across the road, slipping between the skirts of a Mouse-matron and the coattails of a humanfolk at the edge of the crowd. Bodies shifted out of the way as they kept their heads down. Evan’s ears twitched wildly as a murmur began in the crowd.

“My dearly beloved citizens!” Mausinger’s voice brought them both up short, hidden behind yet more skirts. He didn’t dare look up; they weren’t at the front of the crowd yet. Neither could risk being spotted. “For days, a threat has walked among us all. A specter in the night, holding a blade to the throats of us all.”

Evan grit his teeth, slipping after Tani. A human man stepped out of the way with a grumble.

“This threat was sent to our doorstep by the tyrant, Tildrum! He has made attempts on the lives of many of your fellow mousekind, and on the crown itself!”

A gasp rang through the crowd. Tani had to skitter back, crashing into Evan’s chest as one of the noble-mice at the front stepped back with a near shriek. Evan looked around wildly. There had to be a way to get to the front!

“There is no need to fear,” Mausinger went on, “For he has been brought to heel, and now, he faces the justice he and his ilk so richly deserve.”

Over the mutter and murmur of the crowd, Evan could just hear a grunt and the sound of flesh impacting stone. His heart raced even harder, thumping against his ribs as his imagination sent horrible images skittering across his mind’s eye. He knew that voice. He looked up, seeing the backs of another dozen mice. They were almost there!

“This criminal has been found guilty of espionage! Guilty of assault against soldiers of the crown! Guilty of treason against the crown itself!” Mausinger paused to draw breath and then, “The sentence is death!”

The sound of metal sliding against a scabbard sent the crowd back another step, fearful for the own lives. In that same instant, Evan saw an opening between two portly mice nobles, and through that opening, to half of the plaza nearest the castle bridge. Three more guards stood watch, wickedly sharp halberds in hand, over a man on his knees.

Roland, ashen and exhausted, his hands clapped in irons in front of him, was kneeling in the snow with his head held high, his only half focused eyes full of a steely resolve. He had to have been terrified, but it didn’t show on his face.

Evan’s heart stopped its racing beat. The world itself seemed to stop for just a few moments, everything hanging suspended in that one, crystalline second. Mausinger, a pace or two away from Roland, had drawn his blade. Judge and jury and executioner, he lifted the blade at such an angle that one strong swing would cleave Roland’s head from his neck. Roland had no way to defend himself from such an attack; if he moved, the guards would be on him. He had no weapon, no shield, no chance of getting away.

Evan’s heart thumped back to life, racing once more. The world spun back up. The crowd started to scream, people begging Mausinger not to do it, to show mercy, to be better than Tildrum would have been. At his side, Tani elbowed her way wildly through a knot of Nobles who were stumbling back; her hand slipped from Evan’s and he threw himself forward. Lofty, unprepared, fell back into the crowd with a cry, lost to the rush. Two shrieking nobles stumbled backwards, dragging Evan back with them even as he managed to get between them. They were in his way and he couldn’t get through them fast enough!

He looked up in time to see Roland lift his head to greet the rising sun, his face peaceful. If he was going to die, that expression said, it would be with dignity. One last look at the sunrise was the best he could do.

He saw Evan instead.

Evan saw the panic flare to life on that familiar face. His eyes went wide, his skin somehow going even paler. He shook his head once, mouth soundlessly forming a no as he tried to get to his feet, tried to get off his shaking knees, but the guard that was standing nearest to him reached out and shoved him back down, holding him down despite his struggles. Roland tried to jerk free, but it was no use. Mausinger, either ignoring or heedless of the sudden shift in the air, closed the gap between them. His blade gleamed as he lifted it for the final swing.

In that instant, Evan was sure he had no way to get close enough in time. The mice were too thick, too terrified, too close together. He strained, pushing and shoving, but he couldn’t get through. He had no way to make it in time. No one, not even the Higgledies, was close enough to help.

He wasn’t going to make it. He was going to watch Roland die.

Roland knew it, too. He locked eyes with Evan, apologetic and panicked and so, so very scared. He tried to smile, mouthing something that Evan couldn’t see due to the tears flooding his eyes.

He was going to watch his father die. The thought struck with such clarity that his knees nearly gave out beneath him. He would have fallen if it hadn’t been for his grip on the skirts of the mice closest to him.

This couldn’t happen. Not again!

No. No! No, he wouldn’t let this happen!

“STOP!”

His yowl, the loudest noise he’d ever heard himself make, bounced off shops and houses. Everything stopped for just a second, and then motion. The mice and humans startled back, staring at him. He almost dropped as the two nobles blocking his view backed away in a great big rush, leaving him exposed and vulnerable. There was a kerfuffle behind him, and then Tani was at his back, spear gleaming in the watery sunlight as she brandished it to keep everyone back. Lofty, grumbling angrily, jumped up to his shoulder.

Evan didn’t dare take his eyes off of Mausinger, who had his sword so close to Roland’s neck that a single drop of blood welled up, rolling to drip down the tip of the blade. The mouse-king was staring at him with wide eyes that quickly flooded with rage, and hatred. Evan clenched his fists, holding his ground.

“Let him go, King Mausinger!” He called past the stunned guards. “Your quarrel is with me, not my father!”

A gasp went up through the crowd, but it didn’t matter. None of them mattered now.

“Father?” Mausinger scoffed. His sword rattled in his hand. “So, you would turn even on your own flesh and blood, replace even Leonhard himself?” He pulled the sword from Roland’s neck, taking one, stalking step towards Evan. Evan shifted his weight. “How very like you, Tildrum. You are a betrayer, just like every other member of your accursed line!”

“Mausinger!” Roland shouted, “Touch him and I swear I’ll—”

Whatever Roland’s threat would have been, no one heard it. One of the guards hit him in the side of the head with a gauntleted fist, sending him crashing to the ground. Tani shouted in alarm. Evan’s heart lurched.

“Roland!” He cried out, then jerked around and stared Mausinger down. The mad king was closer now; Evan reached for Lofty’s offered power and his arms band at the same time. “Mausinger, stop this! I didn’t come here to fight you—I don’t want to fight you! Just let him go—this doesn’t have to end in bloodshed!”

“Pah!” Mausinger scoffed, eyes wild. Flames licked down the flat of his blade, startling the crowd into scattering. Someone, multiple someones, called his name from within the stampeding chaos. Evan didn’t dare turn back to search for them. “You would dare speak to me of bloodshed? Have you any idea how much blood your people have caused mine to shed? How many of mine have died because of your accursed line?!” He was shrieking now. Evan grit his teeth and held his ground. “What is the life of one man worth after all of that?!”

“Every life has worth!” Evan retorted firmly. “It doesn’t matter who or what they are—each life is precious!” Baring his teeth he shouted back, “And I’m not going to let you take his!”

“I could not agree more.”

Without warning, Darkness exploded across the plaza. Any citizens reckless enough to have stayed during the yelling finally turned tail and fled, running for whatever cover they could find as the shadows seemed to come alive. Goos and Skeleplasms melted out of the ground, heading for any soldier unlucky enough to be nearby, and there, between Roland and Mausinger—

Doloran.

Evan knew what he was here for, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Seizing his chance he turned on his heel and bolted for Roland. Across the plaza, Leander and Batu popped out of the crowd and were rushing towards him as well. By virtue of their longer legs, they got there first.

“On yer feet, lad!” Batu reached down, hauling Roland to his stockinged feet, “Can ye run?!”

“We can’t—” Roland shook his head; there was a red mark on his temple from where he had been struck, and he swayed forward. He would have fallen if not for Leander catching him first; Evan’s stomach flipped. This wasn’t good. “Doloran’s going to—”

“Leave ‘im, Rolly-boy!” Lofty yelled from Evan’s shoulder, “We gotta go!”

“Go where?!” Tani practically appeared at Evan’s side, spear dripping the remnants of Goo onto the stone. She gestured back the way they had come. “The crowd’s all tangled up that way! We’re stuck!”

“Not yet—” Evan leaned back on his heels, searching the crowd. This city had been his home for years. He knew where to go. “We’ll go to the Well and find another way out—come on!”

Snatching Tani’s free hand, he took off at a run. Behind him Roland let out a startled protest. Evan looked over his shoulder to see that Batu had slung him across his back like a sack of potatoes, quickly leaving Mausinger and Doloran in their wake. Soldiers lay scattered across the plaza, having no doubt been sent flying by Doloran’s magic, and it was obvious that Mausinger was on the losing end of the battle.

Still, he was trying. His swings were wild, his eyes wide and desperate. Whether out of fear for his own life or anger, he was fighting back with all he had.

It wasn’t enough. Doloran was easily fending off every one of his swings, and it was obvious that he was just toying with Mausinger, just waiting for him to summon Oakenhart.

Evan slowed down. He knew how this would end. Mausinger would summon Oakenhart and Doloran would snatch at the Kingsbond. Oakenhart, enraged and in agony, would attack the city. The people would suffer needlessly for the fault of their King.

Losing his Kingsbond is what Mausinger deserves, Evan thought viciously, and yet.

Was it what the Dellians deserved?

No. It wasn’t.

Gritting his teeth he slid to a halt, his hand slipping from Tani’s as she ran a few more paces before she realized he had pulled free. She turned on her heel, eyes wide.

“Evan!”

“Keep going!” He called back to her, calling his wand from his arms band. Already knowing what he was up to, Lofty poured his magic across the Bond. Evan’s cape and hair began to lift at the sheer power swirling around them. He just needed to distract Doloran. That was all. Maybe it would be for nothing, but he had to try.

With a shout, he let loose a tremendous fireball. It seared across the plaza, taking out an unlucky pair of Goos as it went. Evan watched as Mausinger caught sight of it, his eyes going even wider. With a shriek the mouse-king threw himself aside. Doloran whirled around, disappearing in a wash of shadow.

The fireball exploded against stone, showering anyone unlucky enough to be close in embers and shattered brick. He waited long enough to be sure that Mausinger was alive, watching for only a second to be sure he could get up, then turned on his heel and ran for the Well. Nella, waiting at the stairs, grabbed his hand.

“Quickly,” she said, “down here!”

Together once more, the group slipped into the shadows of Ding Dong Well.

[bonny-kookoo]

𝓠𝓾𝓲𝓮𝓽 𝓚𝓲𝓭 🔞 (1.8k)

✎ Panty enthusiast!Kook ✎ Smut ✎ Oral ✎ Fluff ✎ University!AU ✎ Quiet!Kook ✎

He doesn't listen to the girl currently ranting about whatever party she wants to suddenly invite him to, as he spots you walking into the cafeteria. Getting up from his seat, he takes his food and walks towards you- the only one who's been at his side even when he was just the quiet kid everyone picked on.

Jungkook had always been known as the quiet kid.

And that's not the bad thing about it. Just because he was always alone didn't mean that he was always lonely. In fact, he preferred to be by himself most of the time- he was rather awkward around others, and had a talent for making things weird easily. He was clumsy with his words, and didn't know how to socialize very well. It leads to the real problem at hand; becoming the butt of everybody's joke.

Now, it never turned into full-blown bullying, to be fair. He was never actually beaten or threatened, but he was still a common victim at the end of the day. Girls thought he was odd, boys thought he was too soft. And then, there was you.

At first, you both didn't talk much. You simply asked him once if you could sit at the same table in the library, and at some point you both realized that you were reading the same book about emotionally driven behavior in household pets. You've begun talking after that, meeting up in the library, and eventually exchanging numbers to notify the other of interesting things that you'd encounter during your day. When you had both realized you'd enroll in the same university together, even getting accepted together, something had changed between the two of you.

Jungkook became more daring in his actions; officially voicing out his romantic interest in you during lunch at the cafeteria during the second semester. It had come as a surprise to you, but not an unpleasant one- you'd started to develop a soft spot for him for a few weeks already, and this gave you a reason to fully let your feelings blossom. The more you started to get to know him over the course of time, the more interested you became. Because underneath all those oversized sweaters and round glasses was a young man who actually enjoyed working out and boxing in his free time, just as much as watching a musical-remakes with you while laughing about the poor acting, or bad depiction of music. He liked how you got so passionate about certain topics, able to rant with no end it seemed in his presence, comfortable enough to never fear his judgement.

And when you had started dating, things began to slowly change for the both of you.

It's weird, how he's suddenly constantly the point of attention nowadays; with people talking about him more than usual. That doesn't mean that he's suddenly become different; he's still the same quiet guy as always, but now it seems as if girls wanted to get his attention more than usual. And granted, it pissed him off a little.

He doesn't listen to the girl currently ranting about whatever party she wants to suddenly invite him to, as he spots you walking into the cafeteria. Getting up from his seat, he takes his food and walks towards you- the only one who's been at his side, even when he was just the quiet kid everyone picked on. Though quiet yourself, you never backed away from him, no matter what kind of weird rumor surrounded him.

You've always been there, and so he's sworn himself to always be there for you as well.

He remembers the first time he'd discovered his romantic- and sexual- interest in you, after you'd stayed at his apartment for a few days when a water pipe broke in yours, forcing you out until the renovations were completed. He had offered to wash your clothes at his place, that he would drop them off at yours as soon as they were done, since it wasn't that far away anyway, and you had agreed, smiling so brightly at him before you left.

Not only that, but he remembers accidentally stumbling over the dragging leg of his own jeans in the laundry pile he was carrying, leading to him dropping the entire pile on his floor, your clothes as well as his displayed on the ground. The black, lace rimmed undergarment of yours laying on the floor as if inviting him to sin, his eyes unable to look away from the simple yet scandalous piece of clothing of yours. He'd picked up the clothes, your panties between his teeth as he carries everything into his bathroom where his washing machine stood- ready to be loaded up with a new round of clothes to be cleaned.

And he definitely remembers the way the black fabric felt around his length as he stroked himself to the imagination of you wearing nothing but that, spread out on his bed, ready for him with a gaze full of desire and need.

By now, you've done much more than just the things he'd started to imagine since that day- from the first time together on his couch in the living room, to a quickie before class started in his kitchen before you had rushed to catch the train to university together. Maybe that was what people around you started to sense; the confidence in each other, possibly catching other's attention nowadays.

He watches you eat sleepily, barely finishing your meal before you rest your head on the table, eyes closed. Its almost automatic by now, the way his hand reaches out to run over your head, fingers gently running through your hair. "Only two more lectures." He hums towards you, as you whine, pouting. "I told you not to stay up late. You never listen." He chuckles, finishing his meal before he leans back in his seat, watching you sit up as well, before you stretch.

"I really am this-" You pinch your fingers together to show him visually how much you meant. "-close to simply skipping." You say. He shrugs.

"You know I'm not your dad. I won't force you." He says, as you sigh.

"You're supposed to be my voice of reason!" You argue, and he smiles fondly, adjusting his glasses before he looks at the clock.

"No." He says, getting up before he leans over to you. "I'm the one who gets to love you-" He says, pressing a kiss to your lips. "-and see you naked." he adds cheekily, before he leaves the table, chuckling at the way you turn a little red. Its cute to tease you like this; he loves to have you all flustered and shy.

You're just too cute.

----

"I like those a lot." He says as his fingers tease above the lace fabric of your pastel pink panties, barely any barrier between his touch and your most sensitive area. He likes that a lot- not only that, but they're also visually one of the best, he's decided by now. The pattern, the way they fit, the entire aesthetic of them- top tier, in his eyes.

"You ah-" You gasp, when he kisses along your navel, before his lips reach the hem of your underwear. "-you say that about every pair." You chuckle, and he mimics that- smiling up at you devilishly.

"Hm, not really." He says. "Those dark gray one's, for example. Those are boring." He mumbles against your skin, before his fingers finally find their way beneath the flimsy fabric. "Though you said they're comfortable, so I guess I can tolerate them." He shrugs, as he leans up again, carefully pulling the garment down your legs in an almost sensual manner.

"I'll never understand your obsession with my panties." You giggle, and he looks at you.

"It's not just them as an object, baby." He explains. "It's the fact I'm allowed to see them." He tells you. "Allowed to remove them." He hums as he discards them finally, hands running along your skin before he moves them over his shoulders, face situated in front of your entrance. "I like that. And the way you look in them." He tells you. "Those black one's make your butt look nice." He chuckles, before he places his mouth onto your core, tongue drawing circles around your clit as if to avoid it, before he flattens it out, letting his warm muscle run slowly over the bundle of nerves as you shudder from the feeling.

While Jungkook isn't one to run his mouth, he certainly knows how to use it on you. From the simple kisses he gives, to the numerous make out sessions, down to situations like these. He knows how to make you melt, how to get you going and wreck you at the same time. The noises are obscene, but he clearly doesn't seem to care as he holds your legs apart, thumbs drawing circles over your skin where they're placed, his eyes watching how you arch your back off the bed, completely at his mercy At this moment. He also doesn't seem to care about your heels digging into his back once you cum, only stopping with a chuckle once you whine and complain.

"Who knew you had a filthy mouth like that-" You tease with a grin as he instantly shakes his hair out of his eyes, leaning up and over your face to give you an open-mouthed kiss, unashamed of your taste still on his tongue.

"Only for you." He sings almost, just as jokingly as you while he reaches out to grab a condom, looking at you when you reach out to run a hand through his bangs.

"You should grow your hair out." You say. "That'd look hot." You mumble while he rips open the foil package, shrugging.

"Then I probably shouldn't." He says. "They're already bugging me about my looks, I want to go back to the time when I was invisible to everyone." He grumbles, pouting a little before he wraps the contraceptive over his length.

"Come on, you enjoy the attention." You claim, arms around his neck as he aligns himself.

"I absolutely don't." He argues, leading the head of his cock into your core. "The Only attention I need is yours, case closed." He mumbles, before he leans over to kiss you again, pushing inside you all the way, making you pull him even closer.

"Well, you-" You gasp as he starts to move, his lips ghosting over your jawline. "-you certainly have it no-ow.." You huff, and he chuckles, teasingly biting just underneath your earlobe as he suddenly pushes harder.

"Don't think so." He remarks, picking up his pace. "cause you're still able to talk."

Well-

you certainly lost that ability just a few moments later that night, that's for sure.

[wri0thesley]

A Well Rounded Education (4): Equality Statement (Fem!Reader x Naoya Zenin, 7.5k)

series synopsis: you are a teacher’s aid to teacher Gojo Satoru, training to be able to take over your own class next year by shadowing and helping him out. gojo, unfortunately, does not make things easy for anybody.

chapter synopsis: you make the mistake of crossing naoya zenin at a sports festival and are forced to apologise. but as you well know by now, nothing ever seems to go to plan where any of your student’s fathers are concerned. 

NSFW. MINORS DNI. AFAB reader, fem pronouns. misogyny, weird power dynamics, hate-sex, piv sex, blowjobs. naoya.  

(a well rounded education m.list and navigation)   ♡  (jujutsu kaisen masterlist)

1.

The Saturday morning that your first ever undokai is scheduled for dawns bright and early, and you can’t help the little thrill that goes through you at the golden fingers of dawn lighting up your room. There’d been talk of the weekend bringing rain, and things needing to be rescheduled – but it’s perfect weather, as you put on a comfortable tank top and shorts instead of your neat pencil skirt and suit jacket combination.

This will be your first event of the kind, and you’re excited about it. The kids in the class have been practising all of their cheers and routines and the like constantly, whilst the ones involved in the competitive sports have been cheering one another on and snatching time when they can to race against one another in preparation. It’s been nice to see all of the camaraderie between them – even some of the quieter ones have seemed to come a little bit out of their shell, with so much team spirit in the air.

Well. Most of them have. You’ve noticed Junpei still hanging back, face sad, uncomfortable when other boys crowd him and tug him off to who knows where – probably to get him involved in their own practises or rehearsals.

It’s been long and hard preparing for it, but even Gojo has been focused on something for once.

“There’s just something about events like this!” Gojo chirped to you, once, as he’d held up a megaphone he did not really need and called his class back into formation in front of him. “You know! The joy of youth! I want them to have the best time possible! They deserve it.”

Seeing Gojo’s mischievous eyes sparkle with determination instead of humour had made you smile at him, and you’d felt a strange pull in your chest when he’d smiled back, needing to pull your gaze away to ask Yuuji to stop poking Megumi in the back to get him to look at a weird caterpillar he’d found on the ground.

As a junior high undokai, things are a little more competitive than they might be if this were an elementary school or even a middle school event, but there’s still a big emphasis on the teamwork and the cheering on portion of the day. You’ve watched and applauded what feels like a hundred practises for the cheering section, confiscating whistles when they’re sneakily blown whilst you’re trying to teach a mathematics lesson.

Still, you’re not surprised to see that Gojo’s class have been corralled into his classroom whilst your vivacious teacher and mentor gives them a rallying encouragement that seems to contain a lot of bigging up the fact that they are, in fact, his class.

“I thought the pep talk was for them,” you say, as heads turn to you when you walk into the room. It’s strange to see all of the faces dressed in their gym uniforms instead of their school uniforms – and it’s even stranger to be wearing an approximation of it yourself.

“You look nice!” Yuji pipes up, and you smile at him.

“It is for them,” Gojo brings a hand to his sunglasses to push them down a little, giving you a charming smile and the full force of the galaxies swirling in his eyes. “I’m just reminding them that as Satoru Gojo’s class, of course they’re going to do well! We’re going to be the strongest, and win!” He looks at all of them – bright shining faces turned to him, all lit up with the excitement of competition. There’s something in him that you rarely see right now – something encouraging and bright and compassionate. He genuinely seems to want them to do well. “I believe in all of you!”

The warmth spreading through your chest at Gojo’s words is a new experience. You’re far more used to exasperation and frustration where he’s concerned.

But now, you can’t help the infectious smiles of the children and the determination in their face to do well enough for everyone to be proud of. Maybe Gojo isn’t so bad after all, you think, as he bids the children in the class farewell and tells them to go and join everyone else outside in preparation for the day’s events.

“What d’you think?” He asks you, as Junpei leaves the room, still dragging his feet a little. You can’t blame him. He’s involved in the cheering section, as so many of the less athletic kids are, but the undokai is not optional and you think that Junpei is the kind of boy who hates being looked at. “Are we gonna win?”

“I don’t think that’s quite the point of the exercise,” you say, eventually. “We’re supposed to be fostering team spirit and co-operation--”

“Yeah,” Gojo wrinkles his nose and grins. “But we’re still gonna win, right?”

You sigh.

“With Yuji and Maki? Probably. But that’s not the point!”

Gojo stands up and stretches his arms out above him. He’s in a shirt that clings tight to a surprisingly muscled abdomen,  and dark grey sweatpants. He’s never been the ‘formal wear’ kind of teacher, but it’s still jarring to see him dressed so casually – and even more jarring to realise that he’s handsome, despite the fact you’ve spent most of the last few months rolling your eyes and sighing and cursing the world that you’ve ended up having to endure Satoru Gojo so much.

“I know, I know – but it’s nice to think about, right?” His grin is infectious. “Did you have time to have breakfast this morning? I know it’s an earlier start than usual, I’ve got a spare blueberry muffin in my bag – hope it didn’t get crushed too badly by my stretches--”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, already dreading the idea of him pressing a crumbled muffin into your hand. “I had a healthy, nutritious breakfast.”

“So did I!” He says, hotly. “The blueberry muffin had fruit in it, croissants are glazed with egg so that’s protein, and I had a slice of honey on toast too just because I felt like I’d have to keep my energy up today--”

You are constantly impressed by how he manages to consume all of this sugar without going into overdrive – then again, maybe that does explain a lot about him.

“I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be doing today,” you admit to him. “I mean, I know I’m here to cheer on the kids and stuff, but I don’t know what my role’s supposed to be--”

“Oh!” He comes around and begins to walk out of the classroom, beckoning you to follow him. “Didn’t I tell you? They told me ages ago--” He did not tell you. You don’t know why you find this a surprise. “You’re gonna be in charge of the refreshments table for the first half of the morning – Yuta, you know, the other teacher’s aid, he’ll relieve you for the second half so you can cheer us on and help me a bit. Not that I’ll need it! It’s not a hard job, just be polite to anyone who needs to use it, most of ‘em bring their own lunches and snacks but we find that it’s always good to have a table with some extras – especially when it’s so hot outside!”

“You didn’t,” you say, but you follow him anyway. You have learnt by now that the most you’ll get from Gojo is a shrug and an airy ‘sorry’. And you suppose, in the grand scheme of things, this isn’t so bad. It’s not like you needed to have time to stop and prepare yourself to give people a polite smile and ask them if they’d like you to pour them a glass of water.

The two of you spill out into the grounds of the school, which is already full of excited students and proud parents. You recognise a few of them – your face heats up as you see Nanami forcibly pressing a bottle of sunscreen into Yuji’s hands, and as the two of you walk past Geto who is tying back Mimiko and Nanako’s hair, ensuring the team hats that the students are all wearing sit neatly on their heads.

There’s a man stood with Maki and Mai who you assume is their father; a blond with a sneering face and a presence that makes you feel like you shouldn’t even be looking at him. Maki has her arms crossed, her chin jutting forward – the two of them are clearly involved in some kind of argument. Even as you watch, some other men are walking towards him with their heads bowed, like he’s something special.

You vaguely recall that you’ve heard some tell about the Zenins being a very rich, very old, very respected family. Judging from the way he carries himself and the way people keep looking at him, you think that must be it.

“Is that Maki and Mai’s dad?” You ask, curiously, as you’re pushed past him towards a collection of tables beneath a bright yellow awning. Gojo makes a noise that sounds like a sigh.

“Yep,” he says, sounding short. There’s some kind of history there, you think. “That’s Naoya Zenin. Better for you to avoid him, if you can – he’s not the kind of guy you want to cross, y’know?”

“But Maki’s--”

“Absolutely nothing like him,” Gojo deposits you in front of a table heaped with water jugs, ice cubes and plastic cups. “Really.”

You wrinkle your nose as you look around. At least everyone else seems happy – excited, buzzing with energy and the promise of an exciting day ahead. You can’t help but worry about Maki’s expression, though. She had looked like her and her father were having an argument that had been going on for months--

Gojo waves at you as he jogs across the field, moving surprisingly quickly for a man who ate nothing but sugar for his breakfast. You watch him go, unable to stop a smile forming on your face as he pauses by Maki and Mai. He slaps a hand onto Maki’s shoulder and says something with a bright grin that she seems to respond to with a smile, turning to follow him. Her father’s eyes narrow, as he spits something that even you can work out is venomous at the retreating backs of one of his daughters. He sighs as he says something else to Mai, a smile almost tugging at the corners of his mouth as his attention shifts back to her.

It’s clear who the golden child is there, then.

You try and shake your thoughts away from Naoya Zenin and his two girls and concentrate on the place that you’ve been given, reminding yourself that even if it doesn’t seem like a big role, you all have to work hard to make sure that today is a success. Your students have been practising and getting excited for this event for weeks, and you want all of the parents to be as proud of their students as you are.

You have a good view from the refreshments table of everything that’s going on. You watch a few of the races, a few cheering displays from the other classes to the beat of the drums – and when kids run up to you, sweaty and panting, you hand them a plastic cup full of cool water and they thank you as if you harvested it from a spring yourself instead of merely pouring it out.

Some parents ask you politely who you are, and you tell them with a smile and a bright look, hoping that you being friendly and polite will get back to other people. A few of them exchange looks when they hear that you’re attached to Gojo’s class; the man has a reputation that follows him everywhere. You give out oranges and other pieces of fruit to some of the students who need an extra sugar boost, or the ones who have a bandage wrapped around their knee or grazes from falls that have recently been cleaned. Shoko is busy today, and you often see her direct these injured children to you as a rest stop, and so their parents can find them easily.

You pause for a moment as the names are called for a relay race, and you hear Maki and Mai being summoned. This is the first race that they’re taking part in – if their team wins this one, they’ll qualify for the final this afternoon. You can see Gojo lifting his arms and hollering and hear his loud, excited voice even with all of the other people crowding into the school grounds to watch, and despite yourself you feel a smile spread over your face.

You’re still smiling when you hear a scoff.

You turn around to see what the fuss is – only to see Naoya Zenin, holding a plastic cup of water as if it’s offended him mortally. Seeing you looking at him, his lip curls.

“Is this tap water?” He asks you. He has a curious accent; slow, drawling, and clearly much superior to your own. It’s not an accent that Maki and Mai have inherited – and as he raises one eyebrow, the sun catching the rings in his ears, you find yourself glad of it. “Well?”

“I think so,” you say. You are on edge. He peers into it, and sighs.

“Don’t you have anything better? Cell-gen or Tennensui or even I LOHAS, at least?” He speaks to you slowly, like you’re a child, or as if he’s not sure whether a peasant like you would even know the names of any bottled water brands. You can’t stand being talked down to, and you curl your hand into a fist as you say, trying to keep yourself polite;

“I’m sorry, Sir. There’s just this.”

“You’d think with the money pumped in-- fine.” He sighs, taking a sip of the water, his face scrunching in displeasure at – you don’t know. The disgusting taste of tap water, you suppose. You try not to look at the bob of his throat as he swallows. Everything about this man seems to be unpleasant except the way he looks.

You take your own cup of water, just to quell some of the dryness that has made itself known in your throat at interacting with him.

The cheering gets a little quieter, and you turn to see what’s happened. As it turns out, all that’s actually happened is Gojo has stopped putting forth his own shouts to the fray, his eyes focussed on you and Naoya, a look that you think is almost sympathy spread across his face. You see that the race is about to begin, and you don’t look at Naoya as you say;

“You’re Maki and Mai’s father, aren’t you? Their first race is about to start. Maki’s been training really hard, I think she’ll pip it for us—”

A dark presence at your shoulder, and a sneering, uppity drawl.

“I gather you’re the teaching aid I’ve been hearing so much about from everyone.” he says. It does not sound like a compliment. “Maki has really found you . . . encouraging.” He says it like it’s a dirty word.

You force yourself to remain cheerful, and not ask him what the fuck his problem is.

“Maki’s really talented,” you say. “Mai’s fast, too – they’re both really good representatives for the class--”

Naoya snorts.

“They should be on the sidelines,” he says, coolly. “Supporting the men. Not running. Not getting all sweaty and hot and messing up their hair and their pretty faces.” He shakes his head. “It’s unwomanly, and if Maki listened to a word I’d said, she wouldn’t be doing it.”

“Mai is doing it too,” you point out, hating yourself for getting involved in this. But you just can’t let him stand there and be such an asshole, spewing his narrow-minded ideas when there are impressionable girls around.

“Mai’s already agreed that if they win this race, she’ll ask one of the boys to switch in for her. I’ve sorted it with the principal. It’s not ladylike for her to do any more than she has to. She’s not going to get a husband in good standing based on her athletic prowess--”

Oh, this is too far. You’re seething, though you’re trying to keep your respectable face on. You’re at work, you’re at work, you’re at work--

“Perhaps there are some other things they consider more important than finding a husband, at the age of twelve?”

Naoya’s laugh is nasty, mocking – and you hate that there’s something in it that sends a curl of heat right through you, blooming between your thighs.

“The younger a girl learns her place,” he says, his voice very slow. “The better it is and easier it is for a man to be assured she’ll do her duties. I don’t see a ring on your finger, Miss – I’d hate for them to end up working some dead-end little job just because they don’t have anyone to cook and clean for--”

Nope.

You can’t take it any longer.

You turn and you throw the cup of ‘shitty tap water’ in your hand right over Naoya Zenin’s stupid, smug, asshole face.

2.

Gojo, for what you think must be one of the first time in his life, looks uncomfortable.

“I didn’t know you were going to throw water on him,” he tries to say, weakly. “Look, we all hate him, but . . . ugh. This is so frustrating! I hate all of this bureaucracy bullshit--”

It turns out that Naoya Zenin’s family – and Naoya Zenin himself – donate rather a lot of money to the school for such functions as the one you’re all currently attending. It turns out that nobody wants to piss off the bank-roll that’s keeping their gym maintained, their events fancy and expensive, the library well-stocked – and you get that! You really do! You know that school budgets are overstretched already, and that donors like the Zenin family are something to be gently courted and kept around for as long as humanly possible.

You just wish that the big donor for this school was anybody else.

“I didn’t know all of this,” you say, reasonably. “I know I shouldn’t have thrown a drink over him, but Mr. Gojo--”

“How many times? You can call me Satoru.”

“If you’d heard the way he was talking--”

“Oh, believe me,” Gojo’s full lips press into a thin line. “I know exactly what Naoya Zenin’s modus operandi is. Let me guess: he was all on at you about how Maki’s not a proper young lady, how the boys should be doing the hard work, how he’s trying to make sure his daughters get a proper start and a rich husband – ugh.” Gojo tugs at his shirt, clearly frustrated. “I’ve had it way too much.”

“Yeah,” you say. You find yourself sighing too.

“The Vice Principal’s in his back pocket,” Gojo says, taking a seat on top of the desk that you’re currently sat behind, cooling off some of your anger – Principal Masamichi had sent you inside to calm you down, and Naoya himself had been escorted into the building by Vice Principal Gakuganji to dry off, all the while saying placating things to calm down the school’s meal ticket. “They want you to apologise to him.”

“I suppose I should,” you say miserably. “But it’s gonna feel like swallowing gravel.”

“I certainly don’t blame you,” Gojo says, with a smile, trying to cheer you up. “Hell, I know some of the other staff members have been dying to do it--”

“Ugh,” you bury your face in your hands. “This is a horrible impression in front of the whole school.”

He pats you gently on the shoulder.

“Hey,” he says, “when this is all over, I’ll take you out for ice cream. I know the best places in the city, and they all know me too!”

You summon a smile for him. He’s not so bad, really – sure, he’s chaotic and thinks too highly of himself for his own good, but . . . at least he’s nothing like Naoya. You stand up and pull down your shorts, wriggling your tank top down to cover you as much as you possibly can. You feel a bit exposed, not in heels and stockings and a blouse.

“I should get this over with, then.”

Gojo has too much to do back on the field to escort you to Naoya himself, so he tells you that Naoya’s in the Vice Principal’s office and gives you another friendly squeeze on the shoulder.

“Good luck,” he tells you. “Remember: ice cream at the end of this!”

“Ice cream at the end of this,” you repeat, as you watch him jog out of the corridor. You’re almost tempted to tell him off for running in the halls – Gojo moves so fast that sometimes you lose track of him entirely – but you push back the urge. Gojo is being decent today. You’re thankful to him for sitting with you and helping you calm – and also, evidently, for being one of the things that keeps Maki’s fighting spirit inflamed.

You stand there for a moment, in front of the door to the office, balling up your courage tight and hot in your stomach. You do not want to have to apologise to Naoya, but you know it’s for the best. The sooner you can put this sorry incident behind you and try and avoid Naoya at every single function from herein, the better – so you tap hard on the door and wait until you hear his slow, drawling voice.

“You can come in.”

At first, you’re surprised to see that he’s alone in there – sitting in front of the desk in a comfortable chair, clearly at ease with everything. His arms are sprawled over the back of it, his legs wide apart. You chastise yourself for thinking it immediately – of course the vice principal is busy right now, of course he trusts someone as well-known to the school as Naoya to be alone in his office.

It’s hard not to think about every other time you’ve found yourself alone with the parents of your students, though. A heat crawls onto your face at the very thought of it. You find Naoya repellent, disgusting – but then again, he’s also (and you’re not being glib about it) handsome. You’d be lying if you’d said you sometimes hadn’t ignored a man’s personality for a night in favour of a face and a body that had drawn you in.

Not now.

You close the door behind you, clasping your hands together so you don’t clench your fists, and bow your head so that Naoya can’t tell that you’re grinding your teeth.

“I’m sorry for letting my emotions get the better of me, Sir,” you say, though it really does feel like you are gnashing ice to get the words out. “I should have been more polite. I can assure you it won’t happen again.”

“Mmm,” Naoya says, and you peek up at him through your lashes to see that he’s clearly enjoying having you at his mercy, his lips tilted into a smirk. His hair is still a little wet at the ends, but all that you throwing the water over him seems to have actually done is made his shirt cling tight to a surprisingly chiselled chest and stomach. Asshole. Fuck him. “Yes. I should hope not.”

You straighten yourself up, still a little stiff.

“I hope you can forgive me,” you say. “I . . . I am still learning my place in the establishment.”

He laughs, low and soft.

“Your place?” He asks, the words dangerously sweet on his tongue. “Yes. I can see you still need some help on that one.”

His eyes crawl over you slowly, dragging up and down the length of you, lingering over where your shorts cling to your hips and the tank top hugs your chest. You resist the urge to shift – you don’t want to let him know that he’s making you uncomfortable. You know, though, that he can sense that you have gone hot and prickly all over. He has that smug air; the one men who know what they do to people always seem to have cultivated. The knowledge that they are good-looking.

You suppose for Naoya, it’s the heady combination of knowing he is good-looking and powerful and rich, and you breathe through the force of all of his attention concentrated on you.

“Seeing as you’re still . . . new to all of this,” he says, bringing an arm forward to tap his long fingers on the desk. “And you did apologise prettily, I suppose I can forgive this transgression – just this once, darling.”

The pet name crawls up your spine like ice. He’s still staring at you, enjoying the view like you’re a piece of meat on a market stall he’s considering purchasing.

“Th-thank you, Sir,” you say, hating yourself a little bit but hating him all the more.

“You know,” he says. “You’re not exactly bad-looking.” He stands, rising to his full height, stretching out, frustratingly comfortable in this environment when you feel like a deer who’s about to turn tail and flee at any moment. “You’d be much better off at home raising children than here.” He wrinkles his nose. “Working for a living.” The way that he says the words makes it clear that he considers this a task far beneath the likes of him.

He’s moving towards you now, and your breath seems to get stuck in your throat as he’s suddenly in front of you, stalking elegantly. You want to snap back something about how you’d rather work for a living than have to rely on the whims of a man, much less a man like him – but as he grabs your chin to tilt it up to the light, you find that the words seem to die in your throat.

“Hmm,” he says. “Not bad at all.” He makes an approving noise that sends a flutter right through you, making you dully aware of a pounding ache between your thighs. He leans a little further in, until he’s so close that you can see the pale colours dancing in his eyes, the way the light hits his high cheekbones. “You’re trembling with rage, you know. It’s adorable.”

“You’re very easy to be angry at,” you half-breathe, half-hiss, and Naoya’s smirk is going to be burnt into your memory forever and ever.

“If you’re so angry,” he murmurs, “I can certainly think of a way I wouldn’t mind helping you work out your aggression.”

You shouldn’t do it. But your heart is beating a frantic rhythm against your ribcage and your breath is short, and part of you wants to wrestle him to the ground and dominate him so that he can have a taste of his own medicine. You grab a handful of his hair and drag him down into a bruising kiss.

3.

Oh, and he kisses back. His mouth is soft against yours, but the kiss itself is rough – both of your tongues fighting for dominance, both of you trying to nip at one another’s bottom lip and seize the victory. You’re practically shoved backwards so that your ass catches the edge of the Vice Principal’s desk, even as you tug hard on Naoya’s hair to tell him that you’re not going to be overpowered by him so easily. You feel the feral curve of his grin as he pulls back just enough to whisper;

“Oh? You really think you’re going to get the better of me? You’re cute--” and then you push his shoulders hard, and he stumbles and falls back onto the chair he started this whole escapade sat in. You reach down to tug off your shirt, dropping it onto the floor beside you – Naoya looks for a moment like he’s going to stand back up and resume trying to wrest back the situation into his favour, but as he sees the slight bounce of your breasts in your bra he seems to decide it would be more interesting and beneficial for him to stay exactly where he is and watch you disrobe.

So you do, wriggling your shorts down past your hips – he lets out a low groan at that, as you stand before him in nothing but your underwear with your fists clenched on your hips.

You feel surprisingly powerful like this. It definitely makes a difference from all of the other ways you’ve felt when you’ve been alone with somebody’s father--

“Take off your shirt,” you tell him, and you’re almost surprised at the imperious tone in your own voice. “It’s your turn--”

He raises an eyebrow at you, but he does as you ask. Long fingers curling around the hem of his shirt, taking his sweet time pulling it off his body – and yes, it’s a nice one. Nice, too, are his thighs as he undoes his trousers that probably cost more than you make in a year and pushes them down, sitting before you in nothing but his equally as expensive-looking underwear – an impressive looking bulge outline pressed against the fabric. Even as he looks at you, he takes hold of himself through it and squeezes it, his grin crooked.

Your body does a throb of need.

“Oh,” you say, feigning surprise. “I didn’t realise you were so needy already--”

“Like you’re not dripping,” he says sharply, his eyes zeroing in on the space between your thighs. “Don’t flatter yourself. I can see the damp patch from here.”

“Who’s to say that’s for you?” You walk towards him. You can’t help but feel powerful and in control at how his eyes follow you with rapt attention, how his tongue darts out to swipe across his bottom lip as he drinks in your form in front of him.

“Please,” he says. “As if there’s anyone here more deserving.”

He reaches forward and his hands settle on your hips, dragging you closer to him – hot fingertips brushing your waist, the bare skin beneath your bra before he’s unclipping that too and your breasts are bare. He breathes in deeply.

“Pity,” he says, though his voice is thick with his own arousal. “You’re such a cute little thing, if only you didn’t open your mouth--”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind me opening my mouth to do something else,” you breathe, and you reach down to ghost your fingers over his cock through the tent in his underwear. He hisses through his teeth, his eyes half-lidded.

“Don’t just say it, princess,” he says. “If you’re going to run your mouth, the least you could do is make it do something useful--”

“I’d rather die than get on my knees for you.” Your mouth is very close to his neck – to punctuate the statement, you give his earlobe a tug with your teeth, and he practically groans. You’re almost straddling him on the chair, and you do not miss, either, the twitch that his cock seems to give at the tug.

It seems like for somebody who really wants to be in control, and wants women to know their place so badly, Naoya actually is rather enjoying somebody giving him a taste of his own medicine.

He grabs your underwear and pulls it down, clicking his tongue as it bunches about your knees.

“Just give into what your body wants,” he says, all saccharine sweetness in that slow, deep voice. “You’ve made a mess.”

You know you have. You can feel slick when your thighs press too close together, hot and wet between your legs. You really are practically dripping. But it’s not just from Naoya, you don’t think – it’s from the sudden power you’re feeling, the rush of being an equal participant in everything, in feeling like you have the upper hand. And not a small part, you think, is because of the adrenaline that’s coursing through your veins at the thought of putting Naoya Zenin in his place. You tip your head to the side innocently.

“What about you?” You ask, with a mean shade to the pitch of your voice. “You’re so hard it’s a wonder you’re not in pain--”

He grabs a hank of your hair with one hand whilst spreading your legs further with the other, so strong that the breath’s knocked out of you. The tip of his finger skims the outer lips of your sex, gathering your slick arousal on the pad as he growls;

“I’m still a man, darling. I see a pretty cunt to fuck and a pair of nice tits and I want to bury myself into it until the bitch remembers her place--”

“Good luck,” you breathe. “I think you’ll be the one remembering his place, here.”

He laughs breathlessly.

“Oh,” he purrs. “You’re going to be singing a different song when you’re begging me to fuck you harder.”

You give him a smile with your teeth bared; the challenge is obvious. It’s a smile that says ‘we’ll see’, even as you both tug at his underwear to pull it down and reveal what he’s been hiding beneath it.

You don’t want to admit that he’s got a pretty cock, but he has. He’s not the biggest you’ve seen, but it’s still impressive; a slight curve giving it an elegant angle that you realise with a clench will hit you exactly in the right spot when you take it inside of you.

He’s slick with his own pre-come, bubbling from the reddened slit – and as you shift forward and trap it between your thighs, he groans aloud again.

“That’s right,” he grunts, as the tip catches on your entrance and you begin to sink down upon it. “This is what you were made for, princess--”

“What?” You pant. “That would be disappointing. You barely fill me up--”

He grabs you and pulls you into another kiss as you finish off sheathing his cock inside of you – perhaps to save his pride, perhaps to muffle the noise that comes out of him, transferred into your mouth instead of his own. Whichever it is, you hate that you were right about the angle of his cock – you can feel it pressing snugly against the spongy G-spot even now, threatening you with a better time than you’d like to have.

You break the kiss to pull yourself off of him and sink back down, forcibly taking the lead and setting your own pace. You know it’s fast, you know it’s greedy – but fuck, if you aren’t boiling over with need.

You splay your hands across his shoulders, nails digging into his skin with little care to how you might mark him. You need him for leverage, as you continue to bounce up and down on his cock. Naoya tips his head back and groans, enjoying the feeling, before he remembers that you two are engaged in a battle of wits and attempts to get the better of you once more.

“I-is that,” he groans, coming to cling onto your waist and force you down on him with even more strength, helping you along in the too-fast rhythm of your thrusts and bounces. “The best you’ve got?”

“Come on,” you say breathlessly, as his cock continues to stroke that spot. You can hear the sounds of him sliding in and out of you, shamefully loud – too, you can hear the sounds of your skin slapping against one another, echoing and mixing with the breathless pants and the attempts to trade barbed insults. “Y-you’re making me do all the work?”

“Fucking pity you’ve got such a nice cunt,” Naoya snarls, his hips flexing, somehow managing to hit you deeper even as you’re bouncing on the balls of your feet and straddling him on the chair. His words are starting to sound very far away. “You should be in my fucking bed, keeping it warm, better off than wasting away here--”

Both of you are running your mouths, overwhelmed by how close one another’s bodies are and the intense heat radiating from you. There’s a frisson of electricity in the air, showering sparks, as the two of you continue to snatch words in between moans and groans and pants and whimpers--

“You’re pathetic--”

“You’re so fucking tight, I shouldn’t be surprised when you’re such a bitch--”

“F-fuck, harder, c-can’t you even keep the momentum going? You’re weak--”

“Baby girl, you’re fucking shaking – you gonna come first? Women are so predictable--”

You can feel your release hovering on the edge of your vision, blurring it as your eyes squeeze shut and you feel tears threatening to roll down your cheeks. There’s a heat inside of you that’s close to overspilling – and as you come down on him particularly hard, the head of his cock rolls over your g-spot just right, and you feel a dam inside of you break as your nails dig hard enough into his shoulders to draw blood. You bury your face into his neck so he doesn’t get the satisfaction of hearing you cry out his name, teeth worrying into his neck to leave a love-bite reminder of exactly what transpired between you two in the Vice Principal’s office.

You feel yourself twitch and tighten around him as your orgasm rocks your body, heat running through you like veins of marble. You can’t breathe – all you can do is bite, your hips chasing the final aftershocks.

Naoya is still hard inside of you as you lift yourself off him, letting his cock slip out of you as easily as butter. His own hands clench around your hips.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He asks, his voice rough and hungry. Despite that, though, you can hear the thread of some other emotion sewn in to them – and with a shiver of delight, you realise it’s neediness. He’s been left wanting, and you’ve been handed all of the cards. “I haven’t finished.”

“And you won’t finish inside me,” you snap at him, enjoying the longing in his voice. “Ask me very nicely and I’ll finish you off with my hand.”

“Mouth,” he demands – and he grabs your cheeks, squishing them, pulling you down and reminding you of all of the power that he has even though it’s your body that’s got the advantage of the high ground. “You don’t really think I’m going to be satisfied with your hand, princess--”

“You don’t deserve it,” you spit at him, but you sink to your knees anyway.

You’re not entirely lacking in manners. You suppose you did get to come. It would be rude to just leave him like this. Especially when the whole reason you’d ended up in this office in the first place was to apologise to him politely.

“This is the perfect position for you,” he sneers, as you open your mouth and envelope the head of his cock within it. You can taste yourself on his shaft. “Fuck, that’s right – put your mouth to good use for once--”

You give him a mean, slow lick along the slit of his cock head that makes him groan in the back of his throat. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck, fingers digging into the nape so he can control you at least a little bit, pushing you a touch too far so you almost choke. You pull off it, drooling.

“Choke me again and I’ll bite,” you snarl, and he pats your cheek like you’re an obedient dog.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he says – and you narrow your eyes at him in a way that says ‘try me’ before you return to sucking at him, hollowing your cheeks. You want to do a good job. A part of you wants to make him come so hard that he regrets being an asshole to you, even though you know that’s ridiculous and not going to happen.

Still. You’re not going to back down from a challenge, so you use your tongue to play along as much of his cock as you can.

“Fuck,” Naoya breathes. “Good . . . good fuckin’ girl—”

You’ve been hearing that low, polite drawl swear and curse for what seems like hours, but that one sends another pulse of heat through you – at your heart, you can’t argue that you love being praised. You whimper against his cock, glad that the fast pace you’ve managed to establish and the wet noises of your mouth around him muffle the noise so Naoya can’t dangle it over your head.

The hand on the nape of your neck jerks, so that you’re forced to look up at him and meet his eyes proper. His hips are slamming to meet your bobs now, the noise of him fucking your mouth filling the room. His teeth dig into his bottom lip and you feel him twitch, his voice pitching--

Salt coats your tongue as he fills your mouth.

But he doesn’t let himself finish there.

He pulls out, and he pumps his cock himself two, three times – coaxing out the other ropes of come, that hit your neck and chest and breasts hot and white and glistening. You’re too surprised by it to do anything – you’d expected him to keep your mouth on him, make you swallow down everything he gave you. He seems the kind of guy who gets off on that sort of thing--

But instead, he’s sighing, relaxing back into the chair as he looks at you with lazy eyes.

“You look cute like that,” he says, his voice low and sated. “I should take a picture.”

“Fuck you,” you breathe, getting off your knees. You are so fucking thankful for the box of tissues on the Vice Principal’s desk, as you reach across and grab some to dab at yourself so you’re not sticky and disgusting for any longer than necessary.

If you leave them in his pedal waste-bin, you hope that the cleaning crew will dispose of them before the Vice Principal is even aware that they’re there. Your lip curls as you wipe your mouth. You wish you had a mint – or at least a glass of water. Even tap water would do.

For what it’s worth, Naoya seems a little agitated as he puts himself to rights too. Evidently he was not expecting you to fight back so much – he places a finger on his shoulders and scowls when he sees that you made him bleed.

“I should sue you for assault,” he says. You tap your own body, at the curve of your hips and waist.

“I’m going to bruise,” you tell him. “So I guess it would be self-defence.”

“You’re too smart for your own good,” he tells you, with narrowed eyes – and you give him another smile, one that is clearly fake, as you pull your tank top and shorts back on and re-tie your shoes.

You’re surprised as you go to leave the room and he sets a hand on the small of your back in a mocking echo of polite manners. As the two of you walk down the corridor towards the exit, he does not remove it. To the assembled crowds, you hope it will look entirely innocent – like the two of you have merely had a little chat and come to an agreement instead of heatedly fucking one another’s brains out.

You blink as you emerge out into the light, your eyes taking a moment to adjust. You see Principal Masamichi give you a sympathetic smile – and there’s Gojo, immediately charging towards you like an overprotective bear. He slows down as he sees the way that Naoya is still touching you.

“I hope everything’s alright,” he says, sounding stiffer and more formal than you usually hear. Naoya’s smile towards him is cold.

“Everything’s fine,” he says, “Perfect. You apologised beautifully, didn’t you, Miss?” Naoya looks down his nose at you, a conceited smile on his mouth. “I’ve decided to overlook this little transgression.” He leaves a pause, and you swallow as you realise what he’s waiting for.

“Thank you so much, Mr Zenin, Sir,” you say. Again, it feels like you have to force the words out through a mouthful of marbles – but they make it out of your mouth.

“Oh, don’t be so formal, Miss,” he smirks. “You can call me Naoya. I look forward to seeing you again – soon, I hope.”

“You’re just in time,” Gojo says coldly. “Maki just won the final race of the day for our team.”

Naoya’s gaze is sharp as he looks at him. His lip curls. You can tell that both of them want to do something – maybe have an out-and-out fist fight on the field. But Naoya manages to get a grip (you’re glad about it; you’re not entirely sure whether Gojo would have been able to hold back) and turns on his heel to stalk away.

He does give your ass one last squeeze, though, that you desperately hope that Gojo doesn’t notice.

Gojo’s shoulders stay set, his chin thrust proudly forward, until Naoya has been swallowed up by the crowd at large – and then, he turns to you. For the first time, you see his normally humorous eyebrows draw in with worry.

“You look upset,” he says. “Sweaty. You smell terrible. Do you need a minute?”

Your shoulders fall. Gojo gives you a sympathetic pat on the back.

“It’s a rite of passage to deal with someone from the Zenin family,” he says. “You’re just unlucky it happened to actually be Naoya today. He usually sends an underling or an uncle or someone to pretend to care about the girls.”

Wow. You sure hope the rite of passage has gone differently for everyone else.

“Why d’you think he came here today, then?” You ask Gojo. He looks at you strangely, a spark of something you can’t quite read in his eyes.

“Well,” he says, “he’s related to the Fushiguros, you know. I heard he and Megumi’s father have met up recently for drinks – it ended in a fight, of course, it always does. But maybe he expected Megumi’s dad to be here too?” He shrugs. “He can never resist an opportunity to relish over someone in his family winning, even if he doesn’t want Maki doing anything unladylike. Megumi’s dad isn’t here, though, so looks like that backfired on him--”

Your face feels like it’s on fire as you think about Megumi’s father fucking you on Gojo’s desk – and the lingering way that Naoya had said that he’d heard so much about you from everyone.

[spacestationdaedalus]

when my demons won’t let me be

or: not in his right state of mind, Jon accidentally compels Martin. It’s not okay, but it’s okay.

or or: i spend so much time reading sick fic and i finally wrote one of my own angst and plenty of hurt/comfort, warnings for canon-typical compulsion and descriptions of panic and disassociation

Martin wakes to a shifting of weight and a cut off breath. It's a hazy half-awareness, coming to him under a snowdrift, on a radio station drowning in dull static.

In a well-practiced motion, Martin extends an arm over the covers to rest on Jon's chest. He doesn't let the full weight fall, not yet. Enough for Jon to know he's there, a touch light enough that Jon can readily push away or lean into. It depends on the particular brand of nightmare, the terror that's chosen to follow him to sleep. Sometimes he sets Martin's arm aside with a gentle squeeze, sitting up against the headboard and taking comfort in the cool bedroom air and the sound of Martin's breathing. At least, in Jon's own words. Other times, he holds Martin's arm to his chest, taking comfort in the weight and warmth of it.

Neither of those things happen, though.

Jon rolls sharply, seemingly ignoring Martin's arm in favor of the other side of the bed. He curls around himself with a low whine, harshly cut off in the back of his throat.

"J'n?" Martin props himself up on one arm. Voice rough with sleep, but no less concerned.

Jon shifts, a back and forth movement that looks like it could be the shaking of his head. His shoulders are taut and trembling. He makes another sound that could be the beginning of a shout, and it brings Martin to full awareness. He moves his hands to Jon's shoulder before he has time to think, desperate to help, to comfort, to something.

"Jon, it's alright-"

“Don’t touch me!” Jon bursts out, dripping and full of static and oh oh oh. It cascades over Martin’s mind, oily and slick. His hands pull away like they've been burned, but numb and far off. As though belonging to a stranger.

He shifts away from Jon and off of the bed, limbs moving robotically to pull back the covers, to move him away until his back meets the bedroom wall. Martin's hands are raised halfway, frozen in a caricature of comfort. A puppet on strings. He wants to move, shout, anything. But the gaze of eyes he can’t see bears down on him, an insurmountable weight holding him in place. Like a butterfly pinned inside a glass display case.

Jon is sitting up, now. Eyes (eyes, eyes, he's all eyes) blown wide, bright and glassy even in the low light of the room. His breathing is ragged and uneven in obvious panic. Even with his hands clenched tight in the front of his nightshirt, Martin can see they’re trembling. Martin’s heart aches and he wants to help but he can’t move and Jon’s eyes are still on him and he can’t breathe and it hurts. And he's afraid. He can hear his pulse pounding in his ears, the eyes are still watching him and it feels so much like burning paper and righteous anger and Elias's face and everything Martin had been trying to forget.

Jon brings up a hand to cover his mouth. Horror and panic clear in his eyes, which Martin knows are reflected in his own. Then Jon backs away, clearly unsteady on shaking legs. Martin's vision starts to blur (when was the last time he blinked?) but he hears Jon's steps fade into the hall. And Martin can do nothing.

The back of Martin's mind still using logic was hoping the feeling would fade once Jon wasn't looking at him. Unfortunately, Martin is used to being proven wrong. Face blank, body rigid, mind screaming.

Autonomy comes back to him slowly, a tingling in his fingertips that trickles down his arms and leaves an awful shakiness in its wake. Nerves making up for lost time, maybe. Trying to catch up with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. A grip Martin wasn't aware of begins to loosen from around his ribcage, and his first real breath in ages is a shuddering gasp. The force of it combined with the jelly replacing his knees sends him sliding to the floor, using the wall for support.

Martin breathes. In. Out. The first breath is molten in his lungs. His eyes water against it, and the second one is even worse. The third leaves as a sob that echoes back at him. In one last betrayal of his body against him, the tears spill over to drip down his cheeks. Martin rests his forehead against his knees and wills himself not to fall apart.

The Lonely was easy, in that regard. For months, Martin didn't have to worry about this kind of thing - the fear and anger and gaping misery that had been following them for so long. But evidently suppressing your trauma with more trauma wasn't a healthy coping mechanism. Go figure.

Leaving the Lonely was hard. Martin had spent most of the first 48 hours oscillating wildly between numb detachment and emotion so overwhelming he thought he would drown in it. Jon helped. He was patient, gentle, all the things Martin thought were too good to be true.

Martin forces himself up as soon as he's able. Maybe sooner, given the way the room sways when he stands. But it passes after a moment, and Martin goes to find Jon.

The house is dark. The occasional creak from the pipes and floors could be off-putting, but compared to everything else, it's benign. He uses fingers brushed against the wall to guide him down the short hallway.

"Jon?" He calls. The floor creaks in response.

Martin reaches the threshold between the hall and the kitchen. The haze of the moon behind thin clouds bleeds through the window above the sink, providing just enough light to see. Martin catches a shadow out of the corner of his eye, but it isn't actually a shadow, and Martin lets himself feel a hint of temporary relief.

Jon is tucked in the corner between two cabinets. Head buried against his bent knees, hands gripping into his hair in a position that mirrors Martin's from mere moments ago. Martin's heart leaps into his throat.

"Oh, Jon." Martin kneels in front of him, slow as to not startle him. If Jon notices, he makes no sign of it.

"Jon?" Martin reaches, but stops halfway. He doesn't want a repeat of before. His palm itches, but he keeps it airborne. Until he knows it's okay.

Jon makes a sound in the back of his throat, one that Martin hasn't heard before. His next inhale is strained and wet and - oh. 

Martin had never seen Jon cry before. Angry, upset, shaken, sure. But not this. It twists something awful and thorny in his chest. Martin wants to hug him, but he keeps the few inches between them.

"Don't-" Jon starts suddenly, and for an awful moment the hairs on the back of Martin's neck stand up on end. But Jon cuts himself off with a keening noise, and curls further into himself. His shoulders are trembling, either from holding back sobs or the biting chill of the poorly-insulated kitchen floor, Martin can't be sure. Probably both.

"I-I'm sorry-" Jon stutters, sounding like each word is a fight to get out. "I-I-I don't - I don't know…"

"Just breathe, Jon. It's alright."

Jon shakes his head against his legs. "N-no, you need to-" A sob cuts him off.

"Need to what, love?" The term of endearment slips out naturally on Martin's tongue. If Jon notices, he doesn't say so.

"Leave." The last word crackles slightly in the air, like static electricity threatening a shock. Martin freezes. The compulsion threatens to overtake him, but it's weaker than before. It rings in his skull, and Martin fights it back until it fades to background noise.

Jon whispers, barely audible. "I can't - I can't control it."

Oh.

"Alright, alright…" Martin bites his lip for a moment. Nods to himself.

"Okay, let's just - I'll ask you yes or no questions for now. You can, ah - just nod for yes and shake your head for no. Is that alright?"

Jon's face is still hidden, but that's alright. After a moment, he nods enough for Martin to discern the movement.

"G-good, okay-" Martin pauses, not immediately sure what question to go with first.

"Did you have a nightmare, earlier? Is that what scared you?" Martin silently chides himself for asking two questions, but hopefully it won't matter.

Jon nods.

"Has this happened before? The, uh-" Martin makes a hand motion, but Jon can't see it. "Th-the 'not being able to control the compulsion,' thing?"

There's a pause, then Jon shakes his head. Martin frowns.

"Alright, that's alright. Do you think you can look at me?"

Another pause, longer. Martin doesn't press as the seconds pass. Then Jon slowly raises his head.

Jon's eyes are wide, rimmed with red and dark circles more pronounced than they had been in the last few days. Tears are steadily dripping down his cheeks, flushed dark against his complexion. His lips are pressed tightly together, and Martin can see the barely contained panic mingled with exhaustion in every line of his face.

"Hey." Martin greets, feeling like a small victory. Jon quickly casts his gaze down and to the side, not meeting Martin's eyes. He also moves his hands to wrap around his torso, shivering harshly against the cabinets. Martin frowns again. He racks his brain for the seemingly mundane moments from the previous day. Jon talking less as the day had gone on, his less-than-already-finnicky appetite, going to bed early because he said he was a bit tired. Nothing individually out of the ordinary, not after the hell they'd dragged themselves through just to get here. But-

"Jon, is it alright if I touch you?"

Jon nods almost immediately, but still avoids Martin's eyes. Encouraged, Martin moves carefully to press the back of his hand against Jon's cheek. It's warm - hot, even - to the touch. Martin checks his forehead for good measure, feeling the heat before their skin actually makes contact. Martin's winces in sympathy, moving his hand back to Jon's cheek. He uses both hands, for good measure, to cup Jon's face, and wipe the stray tears still dripping from his lashes.

"Oh, love. You're burning up." Martin says, gently. "That must have something to do with it."

Jon's brow furrows. He brings his own hand up to his face, seemingly to try and feel his own temperature. Martin can't help the quiet laugh.

"First let's get off the floor. 's not exactly comfortable, yeah?" Martin offers. 

Jon doesn't react, eyes locked in a middle distance between the two of them. But then all at once his expression breaks, and he buries his face in his hands.

Jon doesn't react, eyes locked in a middle distance between the two of them. But then all at once his expression breaks, and he buries his face in his hands.

Martin's heart leaps into his throat. "Oh, hey, hey-"

Jon's words are muffled by his hands, and broken up by harsh, jagged sobs.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I-I didn't-"

Martin moves forward slightly so he can wrap his arms around Jon. He can feel the shivers wracking Jon's frame, and the heat radiating off of him in waves. Martin tucks Jon's head under his chin, and holds him.

"Hey, it's okay." And it's not a lie. Martin was scared - terrified, to put it lightly. He knows he can't just brush that fear away. But he's not scared of Jon, never has been, never will be. And Martin know Jon, knows him and loves him and knows that he loves him back. Martin thinks that this might be more complicated than that, but right now, with Jon coming apart on the kitchen floor, it feels that simple.

"I know you didn't mean to, Jon. It's alright."

Jon shakes his head weakly in protest. Martin can't make out his exact words, jumbled as they are. But he feels the intent behind them, with the way they reverberate in his chest.

"We can talk about it later, when you're feeling better. But I'm not mad, I promise." Martin runs a hand through Jon's hair. It might have been a braid when Jon first went to bed, but it's mostly undone now. "Right now, I'm just worried about you. That's a nasty fever you're running."

They stay like that for a few minutes more. Jon's form is still a trembling leaf in Martin's arms, shallow and uneven breaths punctured by the occasional apology and stifled cry. Jon's forehead is pressed into his neck, burning like a furnace against Martin's skin.

Martin almost asks Jon if he can walk, but instead-

"Jon, is it alright if I pick you up?"

Jon tenses, and Martin immediately regrets asking. But then Jon nods affirmative, relaxing slightly into Martin's hold. Oh thank god.

Jon fits easily into the bends of Martin's arms, one at his back and one under his knees. Jon's hands clench the front of Martin's shirt, tightening and loosening in an uneven rhythm as Martin stands. It's easy for Martin to carry him the short distance to the bedroom, mindful of the narrow door frames.

The quilt and sheets are pulled back from before, which is helpful now. Martin eases Jon onto the bed. He brushes Jon's hair away from his face in what Martin hopes is a comforting gesture. But Jon still has that faraway, panicky look in his eyes, and Martin has an idea.

"Don't move, alright? I'll be right back, I promise." Martin presses a kiss to Jon's forehead, hoping he heard and understood enough of that to not mind when he leaves the room.

Martin comes back with a damp cloth and a glass of water. And a bottle of pain reliever - one that Martin had originally picked up from the store as an afterthought, but is grateful for now. He sets the glass and bottle on the nightstand and sits gingerly on the edge of the bed. Next to Jon, who hasn't so much as shifted in Martin's admittedly brief absence. Martin lays a hand on Jon's shoulder, but after a moment, moves to Jon's cheek. An olive branch to Jon's clouded awareness.

"Alright, love. I'm gonna lay this on the back of your neck, okay? Can you lean forward a touch for me?" 

Jon doesn't move or otherwise react for a moment, and Martin is almost sure he didn't hear it. But then he pitches forward slightly, and Martin shifts so he can support Jon's weight against his shoulder. He brushes Jon's loose curls to the side, letting his fingers linger there for good measure.

"It's gonna feel really cold, but it'll help. Easy," Martin murmurs, placing the folded cloth on the back of Jon's neck. Jon flinches at the touch, hissing between a groan and a whimper. 

"I know, I know." Martin soothes easily, adding other words of comfort here and there, lost to his memory as soon as they cross his lips. He holds Jon close, taking the chance to comb his fingers again through Jon's bed-moussed hair. He knows Jon likes having his hair played with, so Martin ever so gently works his way through some of the tangles, careful never to pull too hard or too fast. Jon's breaths slow and deepen - still marred by the occasional hitch, but a vast improvement from before. He gradually sinks more of his weight onto Martin's shoulder, until Martin is sure he's the only reason Jon is still upright. But Martin doesn't mind.

"Better?" Martin asks, when Jon's trembling passes and his breaths sound less like someone on the verge of drowning. Jon clears his throat.

"I- yes." He rasps, hardly a whisper. The word pulls a cough out of him, but he keeps going. "Th- thank you."

"Of course." Martin says. He all but beams at the sound of Jon's voice, wretched as it sounds. He considers making tea, but something about the bonelessness of Jon's posture tells him Jon won't be awake long enough to see a cup finished. But he does grab the glass of water from the nightstand, and shifts so Jon can take it in both hands.

"Drink some of that for me." Martin presses, and Jon doesn't argue. Martin reaches for the pain reliever next, shaking two pills out and handing them to Jon. He seems surprised at first, but quietly offers a thank you as he takes them from Martin's hand.

"How are you feeling?" Martin asks. It feels like a stupid question, but one of those stupid questions that you just have to ask in lieu of anything else.

"I'm-" Martin knows Jon is about to say I'm alright and something in his face must stop Jon from finishing, because he cuts himself off with a sigh. He presses the heel of his palm into his eye, suppressing a wince. "To - to be honest, uh, quite terrible."

The frankness of it could almost be funny, but Martin's heart aches instead. "I'm sorry. The medicine should help, at least."

Even without his glasses, Martin can make out the two in the hour place of the digital clock on the nightstand, and yeah, it's time for bed.

"And some proper sleep."

Jon nods, eyelids heavy. Martin takes the half-empty glass from his hand, and encourages Jon to lie back with a gentle push. Martin joins him on the other side of the bed, pulling the covers back over the two of them. He leans, partially sitting up against the headboard, inviting Jon into the place at his side if he wants it.

Jon fills the space immediately, burrowing his face into Martin's shoulder. Arms curled in front of him, pressed into Martin's side. He sighs softly. Martin watches the last of the tension bleed out of Jon's face, eyes closed. Jon's fever leaves Martin's side overly warm in minutes, but Martin can't bring himself to mind.

He's sure Jon is already asleep, but-

"M-rtin?"

"What is it, Jon? Do you need something?"

Jon makes a negative sound into Martin's shoulder, shaking his head. It's quiet for a moment, save for their breathing.

"I love you."

Martin freezes, and the response comes as naturally as an inhale after an exhale.

"I love you too."

[delaber]

Three-Point Perspective (Part 2)

Rafael Casal x Reader x Daveed Diggs

Note: Guys! When I wrote Three-Point Perspective, I wasn’t planning on adding a second part to it but the amount of support was so overwhelming that I just had to do a sequel ...And let me tell you; I am so glad you guys wanted it because this was so much fun! I have never been more challenged with a story-line, portraying emotions, changing perspectives, and just the plot in general. I have never never never changed a story-line as much as I did for this one, haha! Crazy amounts of shout-outs and thanks to my amazing mate @einfachniemand​ for listening to countless of ideas, for feedback on several snippets, for being supportive af, and for telling me “yeah, no, that doesn’t work. Back to the drawing board.” Thank you boo! You are amazing! A huge thanks to @theatrenerd86​ for starting off this sequel by providing the settings - and for just being the most supportive human being ever! Mwah! Also a huge thanks to the rest of you for your endless support! I love this community! (Oh, and anon; thanks for the (quite old, sorry) prompt but I didn’t do it for Rafa (sorry once again)). Let me know what you guys think!

Words: 13.8K

Warnings: Oh my goodness, I don’t even wanna get started... Blood, heartbreak, angst (my three tropes)

Rafael

Rafa almost tripped over his own two feet as he stumbled over to the bar and desperately ordered a large whiskey shooter. He was having a hard time keeping calm; his heart was beating fast in his chest, his throat closing in on itself, his hairline soaked in panic-sweat. He needed to put what had just happened in the very seat he was standing in front of at a distance. His hands were still itching to punch something! He needed the fucking drink!

The bartender had barely stopped pouring Maker's Mark into a small glass before Rafa quickly grabbed it and chugged its contents down his throat, desperately trying to block out what he had just witnessed.

Your tongue in his best friend's ear.

Diggs' hand sliding up your thigh.

The sensual smile you'd worn as Diggs had whispered promising words in your ear.

"Oh god," Rafa groaned as he recalled your excited smile as his best friend had escorted you out of the bar, his hand dipping uncomfortably low on your hips.

Desperately clutching the now empty whiskey glass, Rafa tried relentlessly to push away the image of what you and Diggs probably were in the midst of doing right now. Oh shit, oh no... His chest was stinging, his stomach aching horribly at the thought of you and Diggs fucking. Oh god. He tried to shift his focus to the burning sensation down his esophagus instead and quickly ordered another shooter.

It didn't take long before the bartender had placed another glass of golden-brown liquid in front of him that he quickly downed in one go, thinking about how stupid he was for not having acted on his feelings for you earlier. He had had eight fucking years to do so after all?! Why the fuck hadn't he just pulled himself together and called you up?! He wanted to punch something! He wanted to get fucked up! He wanted to call someone and get them to deliver a big fucking bag of blow - but he settled on a third shooter.

He gulped down the whiskey as the aggression subsided and was replaced by the same type of jealousy-induced heartburn that he had felt earlier that night. Fucking Daveed Diggs and the way he always seemed to be able to wrap women around his little finger! In eight minutes, he had managed to do to you what Rafa hadn't managed to do for eight years. Fuck him!

A fourth whiskey went down Rafa's throat as the jealousy was replaced by hurtful pangs in his chest; shit it hurt to think about you and Diggs together. Rafa knew that you had had a few men in your life since the summer in the taco truck, and even though it had stung to see pictures of your romances on Instagram, it didn't hurt half as much as seeing his best friend escort you out of the bar.

He ordered another whiskey. And another one after that. And then an entire bottle of Jameson just to recall the taste of your lips that night on top of the skate ramps all those years ago. Quickly, Rafa gulped down most of the bottle, his eyes watering from the sharp taste of alcohol on his tongue, but no matter how much he drank, he still wasn't able to get image of you and Diggs out of his head. It had etched itself on the back of his eyelids, somehow becoming clearer and clearer with every gulp of fiery liquid.

It didn't take long before he had reached the half-way mark on the bottle of Jameson, completely lost in constantly checking his phone to see if you had tried to contact him to tell him that Diggs by some miracle had blown his shot. You hadn't. And even though Rafa doubted that you would, he still couldn't put the phone away.

He was fumbling about on the screen as he accidentally found Diggs' name on the list of contacts. Completely lost in contemplating whether or not he should call him up and tell him to stay the fuck away from you, he jumped a little when he suddenly felt a soft hand on his shoulder. For about a mili-second, Rafa believed that the soft touch belonged to you, but as soon as he had whipped around in his seat, he felt the disappointment cloud his mind as he was met by his make-up artist Janelle instead. "Oh, hey," he spoke in an uninterested tone of voice, his words a little slurred from the amount of whiskey he'd been drinking.

"Rafa, honey, are you okay?" She looked at him with kind eyes, "you seem a little out of it."

"I'm great," he slurred into his whiskey glass before emptying it for what felt like the 100th time that night, "I'm fucking perfect! This night's just absolutely fucking perfect."

Janelle furrowed her brows and pushed the bottle of Jameson out of Rafa's reach, "is it because of Daveed and -"

"- DON'T say her name," Rafa warned, his voice turning to a low drunk growl afterwards, "I don't want to think about it."

Janelle sat down on the empty barstool next to him and sent him a slow nod, "yeah, I was afraid this might happen..." she sighed and sent him a pitiful look.

"That what might happen?" Rafa drunkenly mumbled, trying to avoid her gaze.

"Honey... I've seen the way you look at her," Janelle whispered and reassuringly put her hand on Rafa's arm as she searched his face for any kind of affirmation. Rafa groaned and met her eyes shortly before she softly added, "- and I've seen the way Daveed looks at her too."

Rafa gulped to keep the slowly forming lump in this throat at bay, "...so you don't think it's just a one-night thing?" He croaked in a small whisper, the pain in his chest suddenly twice as hurtful as before.

Janelle shook her head slowly, shooting Rafa a careful look.

"And - uhm," Rafa cleared his throat "- do you think that - uh - she's into him as well?" He added in a whisper, his face involuntarily screwed up as he was afraid to hear the answer.

"I don't know, honey," Janelle said diplomatically and pulled him in for a tight hug, inaudibly giving away that she definitely thought so. Rafa appreciated Janelle's attempt to salvage the situation and let her comfort him for a couple of seconds before she slowly let go of him again, sending him a heartfelt look in the process. "Do you want to talk about it?" She asked.

"No..." Rafa mumbled and reached for the bottle that Janelle had pushed away moments before.

She grabbed his arm and forced it down in his lap instead, "why don't you leave the bottle and instead call it a night, boo? You've been drinking quite a lot already."

Rafa gulped a little and realised that she was right. Nothing good would come from sitting at the bar, drowning his sorrows in cheap whiskey. "Yeah," he groaned as he ran a hand through his damp hair, "yeah... You're right. Might be a good idea..."

"Go grab your jacket. I'll call you a cab, okay?"

"Thanks," Rafa mumbled before scrambling to his feet, swaying a little from side to side. He managed to balance himself and stagger over to the coat check where he retrieved his leather jacket and slowly pulled it on with great difficulty.

"I got you," Janelle was suddenly behind him, helping him pull the jacket up his arms.

"Thanks," Rafa mumbled as he pulled on the collar to rearrange the leather over his shoulders.

"You wanna say bye to the rest of the crew?" Janelle piped from behind him.

He shot a quick glance across the room and towards the table that his friends were occupying. "I better set an example," he mumbled even though he'd rather be sitting in a cab on his way home right now.

With his arm around Janelle, and her hand on his chest to steady him, Rafa walked over to his co-stars, putting up his best attempt at a cheerful smile, "I'm off guys. Have a lovely evening," he slurred drunkenly.

He thought to himself that he was doing a tremendous job of hiding away his hurt feelings until he noticed their stiff smiles. Suddenly, he realised by the sympathetic looks they were all shooting him from their seats, that they were well-aware of what was going on. Rafa quickly scanned their silent, pained faces one by one until Alessandro - one of the leads - finally spoke up, "see you Monday boss!"

Annoyed with their pitiful eyes, Rafa mumbled a, "see you Monday, bruh," and turned around, facing Janelle again as the others awkwardly looked away. It made him feel stupid.

"Cab's outside," Janelle tried to smile and pulled him in for a hug, "are you going to be okay, boo?"

"I don't know," Rafa croaked truthfully against her neck and let her pull him just a little closer.

"Call me tomorrow, okay?" She let go of him, "We'll do something fun."

"Okay," Rafa slurred, his eyes stinging as he turned away from her and towards the exit.

Slowly, he stumbled out of the bar and hopped into the yellow cab outside, closing his eyes desperately in the backseat, trying to block out any thought of you and Diggs but failing horribly. The ride home was the longest drive of Rafa's life, his thoughts sporadic and unorganised but all centred around the same thing: what would he come home to? Had you and Diggs gone to your place? Or to Diggs' place that he just happened to share with Rafa? Fuck, he almost couldn't bear the thought of coming home to meet Diggs balls deep in you on the couch. Rafa would never purposely punch Diggs, but if he came home to face that, he wasn't sure he'd be able to hold back his itching fist.

"He's your best friend," Rafa mumbled to himself as a reminder, hoping to calm himself down, "he's your best friend. He didn't know. He's innocent... - well apart from fucking your girl..."

Everything inside him was on fire.

"You alright back there, mate?" The cab driver shot Rafa a look in the rear-view mirror, apparently concerned about the whispered words, he'd heard coming from the backseat.

"Yeah," Rafa replied unenthusiastically, a little annoyed that everybody seemed to be so concerned with him - but he eventually stopped thinking out loud.

For the remainder of the trip, the driver kept his mouth shut too but annoyingly enough constantly checked in on Rafa in the rear-view mirror.

Rafa was relieved when the driver finally pulled over outside his home and paid him quickly, slamming the car door shut with much force, hoping to alleviate some of the all-consuming itch that he felt deep in his bones. Little did it help. He still wanted to punch something.

Rafa turned his attention towards the house and gave out a short sigh before he started swaying up the paved pathway in the small yard, briefly stopping before he reached the front door. He prayed that you had taken Diggs to your place and not the other way around. He couldn't handle being faced with his worst nightmare - and especially not after having had so much to drink. Right now, he couldn't account for how he'd react.

He stood with his key in hand for a while, scared of what might come, but eventually realised that he would have to go inside at some point. With a deep sigh, he slowly slid his key in the lock and turned it around, his palms sweating terribly. He felt his heart sinking down to the bottom of his stomach when the key didn't meet any kind of resistance, and he realised that the door was already unlocked.

Fuck... Diggs had taken you here.

With a burning sensation in his chest, Rafa quietly pushed open the front door and stepped inside the small hallway, closing the door behind him with a small thump. He closed his eyes and threw his head up against the wooden door, forcing himself to relax by taking three deep breaths - a technique he had learned from his mother when he had been nervous about doing spoken words for the first time at fifteen.

He focused on his breathing for a few seconds and after having exhaled a third time - already more relaxed than before - he opened his eyes and took in the room. He immediately saw that the floor of the narrow hallway was decorated with several pieces of discarded garments strewn randomly about on the stone floor.

Diggs' pants. Your dress. Your bra.

"No..." Rafa groaned quietly as he took in the pieces of clothes with a hard gulp, the tears stinging in his eyes when he realised what he was being confronted with. "No, no, no!" he buried his face in his hands and took a deep breath to get himself under control again. His entire chest was on fire, the taste of stomach acid thick on his tongue. Everything around him went quiet as he heaved in a big gulp of air, wishing that he had stayed sober tonight. This was all getting too much; he couldn't control it. He was too drunk.

He took another big gulp of air, and was just about to slowly exhale when a soft sound hit his ear canal... It was coming from the other room.

A moan.

A sweet, heartfelt, sensual moan.

From a woman - from you...

It was the result of a sincere reaction to something that had brought you immense pleasure. A moan that someone else had brought to your lips. A moan that Rafa's best friend had brought to your lips.

Fuck! The itch in his hands that he had felt for quite some time now suddenly became too much and he punched the wall hard, causing an old, framed picture of him and Diggs to fall down, the frame shattering in several pieces on the cold stone floor. He stared at the broken shards of glass for a few seconds, torturing himself by carefully listening for more of your sweet moans echoing throughout the house.

They didn't come, however. The entire house was suddenly completely silent. Thank god.

Slowly, Rafa squatted down to brush the glass-dust off your dress, the silky fabric soft between his fingertips as he pulled the dress to his chest, thinking about what it would feel like to be the one to pull it off you.

Without warning, however, the silence in the hallway was broken by another loud moan coming from Diggs' personal space and Rafa was quickly brought out of his trance. He had to get out of there! He would go to a hotel or something! Anything to get away from the sounds you were making for another man!

Slightly panicked, Rafa shuffled to get to his feet, but overbalanced and fell forwards, his left hand immediately softening the blow as a reflex. From the moment his palm hit the floor, Rafa felt a sharp pain in his hand, but didn't realise that he had cut himself before he rotated his elbow and saw the huge piece of broken glass that was prodding out of his palm. "You're kidding me," he groaned as he tried to focus on the glass shard before he grabbed it tightly and forcefully pulled it out of his skin, the warm blood immediately running down his hand as a terribly sharp pain started pulling at his fingers. "OH FUCK!" he exclaimed a little louder than he had intended to, unable to hold back in his inebriated state.

Pressing in on the wound to try and get it to stop bleeding, he hurried to the bathroom and quickly located an old towel that he wrapped tightly around his bloody hand. "Shit! Oh fuck that hurts!" He groaned loudly and slid down the wall, his ass hitting the cold floor with a small thump. He could hear hushed voices coming from Diggs' personal space next door, and he realised that he had no idea what hurt the most; the thought of you lying in there wearing nothing but your panties, or his throbbing hand that had already bled through the old towel.

"Shit," he mumbled to himself as he replaced the old piece of cloth with a clean one, "ah fuck it hurts!" He hissed and tried to push the wound shut to get it to stop bleeding. It helped for a few seconds before the gash opened back up, fresh blood spilling out again. Just looking at it made him dizzy, and he realised that he couldn't handle this on his own. He was too drunk. He needed help. Embarrassed by himself and the situation he had put himself in, he took a deep breath before calling out the name of the last person on earth he wanted to see right now, "DIGGS!"

The hushed voices from the other side of the wall died down completely. They'd heard him. Still, there was no response to his cry for help. Meanwhile, the second towel around his hand was soaked through as well. What if he was about to bleed out? What if he was spending his last moments, pathetically heartbroken on his own bathroom floor?

"DIGGS!" he tried again, this time a little more panic to his voice.

The entire house was quiet still, and Rafa listened intently for few seconds before he finally heard an angry voice calling from the other side of the wall. "WHAT?"

"Diggs, I need your help!" Rafa called back, embarrassment flooding his voice.

"I'm kind of busy in here, Rafa!" Diggs bellowed back. Rafa had never heard him sound so annoyed before.

"Come on, man... I'm serious," Rafa let out a loud groan as he took in the bloody rag that was wrapped around his hand.

He heard cursing and shuffling on the other side of the wall and a few seconds later, the door to the bathroom finally swung open, revealing a very annoyed Daveed Diggs who was trying to hide away his boxer-clad erection with the palm of his hand.

Upon seeing how Diggs was already hard and ready to fuck Rafa's girl, there was no doubt: The pain in Rafa's chest definitely exceeded the pain in his hand.

Daveed

Daveed could not believe how lucky he was! He had barely closed the front door behind him before you had pulled him in for a string of sensual kisses in the dark. His lips were moving fiercely against your warm skin, your head lolling backwards as you panted and let him press you up against the wall in the hallway. He loved the sensation of your fingers tangled in his long hair as he attacked your neck and jawline with rough, affectionate kisses. You let out a small impatient pant as he untied the bow at the side of your dress, giving himself easier access to your beautiful build underneath as the dress opened up completely.

"Fuck, you look absolutely amazing," he cupped your ass and pressed his pelvis closer to you with a groan.

Your small fingers desperately undid the buttons of his shirt and Daveed quickly shrugged it off, finally standing in front of you in nothing but his dark blue slacks. His lips quickly resumed their positions on your neck where he immediately started sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin while running his hands all over your torso.

Your fingers desperately found the button of his slacks and Daveed felt the tight sensation of his pants against his crotch disappearing slightly as you brought down the zipper and slid the slacks over his hips. Your small hand was palming him through the cotton of his boxers, and he couldn't stop the groan that fought its way all the way from his stomach and up his throat. He heard you chuckling incredulously above him as you let your dress fall to the ground before you dropped down to your knees in front of him, determinedly pulling his boxers down over his thighs.

Daveed's mind went completely blank when he felt your hand cup his balls while your wet mouth found the tip of his straining erection. Your warm breath against him had him let out an involuntary groan, and when your plump lips kissed his engorged head, the sensation sent a shiver all the way up his spine. He pulled your hair away from your face and held it in a loose ponytail on the back of your head, your eyes interlocking with his in the process. Even though you had him between your teeth, the submissive look you sent him had him feeling incredibly in control! Without giving up eye contact, you kissed his head twice before placing a long, wet lick at the tip of his erection, immediately sending hard vibrations throughout his entire body. "Fuck," he groaned and caressed the side of your face when you wrapped your lips tightly around his head, sucking a bit at the tip.

"Mmmh, pull my hair!" you panted around him and he immediately tugged on the ponytail, buckling his hips closer to your face, desperate to feel the ecstasy of warm, wet, tightness around him again. To Daveed's relief you immediately obliged and slid your lips almost all the way down to his base and back up again, releasing him with a small pop.

"Oh fuck!" He let out a groan as he looked down into your huge, submissive eyes, slowly stroking your cheek. You repeated your motions, your tongue wet and soft against him as you bopped your mouth along his length, his hips meeting you half-way, "yeah, that's it, baby, just like that," he panted softly as you kept gazing up at him, upping the tempo and bringing him all the way down your throat with a slight gag, reminding him of how big he was.

Daveed had received many blowjobs over the years but never in his life had he felt more worshipped and desired! You were massaging his balls lovingly as you brought his length down your throat, hollowing your cheeks and making him feel completely taken care of as you focused solely on his pleasure and enjoyment.

He was just about to let go and cum down your tight throat before he reminded himself that he'd have to take it easy if he wanted to last long enough to fuck you. And holy shit, how he wanted to fuck you! He knew he was very good with his hips and hands and he wanted to bring you pleasures that you'd never even dared dreaming of before.

It was hard to do, but eventually he managed to pull himself out of your wet mouth and you to your feet with a gruff, "come here!". He unclasped your bra and tossed it aside before he pushed you up against the wall, took your nipple in his mouth, and ran his fingers along your lace-covered folds. You let out a soft gasp and he repeated the motions of his fingers while attacking your neck and throat with toothy kisses. You were panting and moaning underneath him, your hand still stroking his erection lovingly.

"Okay, okay, okay, you gotta stop," he licked the shell of your ear with a low chuckle, "I still have so many things I want to do to you," he smacked your ass and you let out a small whimper when his palm came in to contact with your skin.

Slowly, you let go of him and carefully caressed his abs instead as he re-claimed your lips. The kiss was deep and soft, and it made the straining sensation in Daveed's erection even more unbearable, but he was patient enough to not touch himself.

After a few minutes of intense, passionate kissing, you pulled your face away from his and looked up at him with a dark look in your eyes, "well, are you going to do something about it? Or are you going to just leave it at talking?" You chuckled against his skin.

"Don't get cocky with me," Daveed smiled and hoisted you up in his arms. You let out a small yelp, but still threw your legs around his waist and let him carry you to his bedroom while licking his ear. He carefully positioned you with your back against the mattress of his bed and hovered above you as he put his lips to your collarbone, slowly kissing his way down between your breasts, over your stomach, and stopping when he reached the top of your panties. He sat himself down on his knees in front of you, sending you a hungry look as he ran his fingers over your body. You looked him square in the eye and raked a hand through his curls, pulling his head back slightly. The anticipating look you were sending him made his erection twitch between his legs, but he still didn't touch it. Instead, he licked his lips and kissed the laces between your legs. "I love this colour on you," he growled against the thin fabric. He could feel you shiver underneath him as he pulled the red laces down your well-shaped legs, caressing your inner thighs lovingly. "Mmh," he hummed as you spread your legs for him, your fingers still tangled in his hair. Your chest was heaving up and down in a slow, steady rhythm as he placed small kisses on your skin, his tongue just barely grazing you. He enjoyed the way you closed your eyes and dipped your head low as he repeated this motion a few times.

Slowly, he slipped his tongue inside your folds, your lips gently spreading for him as he tasted you. You gasped slightly when he reached your clit and gave it a small flick before he slowly ran his tongue over you again. You were panting above him, your fingers caressing his scalp as your face was screwed up in pleasure. Daveed couldn't look away even if he wanted to!

He caressed the back of your legs with his hands before he had his fingers join his tongue at your core. Slowly, he inserted a finger into your wet heat and was rewarded with a deep moan escaping your lips. Desperate to hear you again, he inserted yet another finger, letting his digits and tongue work in unison until you finally let out another deep moan.

He could tell you were close to letting go completely, and it was all working out so nicely, your chest heaving up and down faster and faster as you moaned loudly for him, your nails finding their way to his scalp, pulling his face closer to you - when clash!

Out of nowhere, a loud shatter was heard from somewhere in the house. It sounded like glass breaking, but Daveed was used to Rafa's clumsy ass, so he ignored what he assumed was his best friend returning home after his night out.

Daveed did, however, feel you freeze slightly underneath him, and you pulled back the moan that had been just about to escape your lips and replaced it with a, "what was that?!" a slight panic to your voice.

"Relax, it's probably just Rafa," Daveed whispered and resumed his movements.

"What's he doing here?" You panted slightly but not as sensually as before.

"He lives here," Daveed growled against your skin, annoyed by the fact that your attention was suddenly directed at his best friend instead of the very pleasurable things he knew he was doing. To make sure that you forgot about Rafa, Daveed brought out the big guns and put his lips around your clit, vibrating them while his fingers worked their way in and out of you. It worked expertly, and it didn't take him long before he'd earned himself another loud moan coming from you. You looked as if you were completely lost in the sensations, he was causing you - but not for long, because suddenly a loud "OH FUCK!" from Rafa rang throughout the house. It was followed by hurried footsteps as Rafa ran to the bathroom that was located next to Daveed's personal space.

Daveed felt you shuffle underneath him as you put your weight on your elbows and closed your legs slightly, craning your neck as you looked towards the wall that Daveed's personal space shared with the bathroom. You had a concerned look in your eyes that Daveed chose to ignore. Instead, he kept going with his fingers and tongue, but you weren't moaning anymore.

"Shit! Oh fuck that hurts!" Rafa exclaimed loudly from the other side of the wall.

"Don't you think you should go check on him?" You asked quietly, your eyes still glued to the wall.

"No," Daveed said curtly, and tried to get you to lie back down again so he could continue. You didn't budge, however. You were more interested in the loud groan that was escaping Rafa. You let out a nervous laugh as you once again heard him cuss and groan from the next room.

"Ignore him," Daveed panted as he spread your legs apart again, his tongue immediately finding your core, and he was rewarded with a gasp from you. He had just started moving his fingers inside you again when he heard Rafa call his name loudly from the other side of the wall.

"DIGGS!"

Daveed froze for about a mili-second before deciding to ignore Rafa and continue moving his fingers inside you instead.

"Go talk to him," you chuckled and raked a hand through his hair, suddenly totally unaffected by his movements,

"He can wait. I'm far too busy," Daveed let his tongue run over you again, once more losing himself in your wonderful wetness.

Rafa however, pulled him back to reality by yelling out his name a second time, "DIGGS!!" causing you to slightly close your legs one more time.

"You're kidding me..." Daveed muttered under his breath as his face was forced away from your wet centre. "WHAT?" he ended up bellowing back to his best friend on the other side of the wall.

"Diggs, I need your help!" Rafa kept calling.

"I'm kind of busy in here, Rafa!" Daveed bellowed while looking into your amused eyes.

You were chuckling slightly, "he needs you. Don't you think you better...?" You sent Daveed a charming grin while nodding towards the door, "he sounds quite drunk..."

Daveed shot you a pained look.

"Go," you chuckled, "I'll still be ready for you in here when you come back. Don't worry."

"Come on man... I'm serious," Rafa bellowed through the wall.

"I'm going to murder him for this!" Daveed groaned in an annoyed tone of voice and got up on his feet with a loud groan. He quickly located a pair of boxers and packed away his erection before storming out of the room, closing the door to his personal space shut behind him.

He found Rafa sitting up against the wall in the bathroom, his eyes swimming with alcohol. "What, bruh?!" Daveed demanded as he locked eyes with him, "what's so important that it couldn't wait until morning?"

"...Were you sleeping?" Rafa slurred while looking like a total fucking idiot as his drunk eyes scanned Daveed from head to toe.

"Of course I wasn't sleeping! I was in the middle of eating pussy when you ruined it!"

Rafa looked as if he was about to throw up, "...you're about to fuck her?" He slurred.

"Yes?! So make whatever you want to say quick, 'cause I got a soaking wet woman waiting for me on my bed!"

Rafa looked up at Daveed with a pained expression but kept his silence.

"I swear to god, if you don't speak up now and tell me what the hell made you call me out here, I'll kick your ass!"

Rafa sighed heavily, looking as if he was about to tell Daveed someone else's secret but eventually croaked, "I hurt myself," while holding up his left hand that was wrapped sloppily in a blood-soaked towel.

First then, did Daveed notice that there were several splodges of blood on the bathroom floor. It made him drop the attitude slightly, "Jesus fuck Rafa, what the hell did you do?" He groaned and crouched down next to him on the floor.

"I knocked down the frame in the hallway," Rafa slurred and let Daveed examine the deep cut in the palm of his hand, "cut myself on the glass."

"You did a thorough job," Daveed mumbled with a sigh as he lifted the towel to check out the gash that was still bleeding heavily, "come here, run some water on it. I'll find some bandages." Daveed turned on the faucet and helped Rafa find his balance as he quickly pulled him to his feet. He could tell that Rafa was struggling to stand still as he swayed back and forth while leaning in over the sink, playing a bit with the jet of water. Daveed sent him an annoyed glance; he did not have time for this! "How much did you have to drink after I left?" he asked, the irritation practically oozing out of him as he looked for the first-aid kit in one of the cabinets.

"I dunno," Rafa mumbled sleepily as he watched the water clean the blood away from his hand, "a lot?"

"Yeah, so I'd guessed," Daveed mumbled to himself as he located the first aid kit and quickly pulled out a couple of rolls of gauze. "Come over here," he urged Rafa to sit down on the edge of the tub next to him.

Rafa gave out a small grunt and turned off the water, before turning towards Daveed with lazy movements. Daveed had to bite his tongue to avoid telling Rafa to hurry the fuck up!

Rafa's ass had barely touched the white ceramic of the tub's edge before he lost his balance and vigorously swayed back and forth a few times, finally catching himself by throwing his hand up against the sink, leaving bloody handprints all over the bathroom in the process.

"Jesus Christ, Rafa!" Daveed groaned, he did not want to deal with Rafa's drunk ass right now, "look, I'll help you with your hand but I'm not cleaning up out here!" He said harshly.

"Then don't!" Rafa muttered as he slowly slid down to the floor with a loud groan, sending Daveed and irritated look in the process.

"Come on; give me your hand," Daveed demanded, determined to be done as fast as possible so he could get back to you.

Rafa held out his arm and Daveed rotated it to look for more injuries and noticed that Rafa had bruised his knuckles quite badly too, "...have you been in a fight?" He furrowed his brows.

"Just fix my hand, okay?!" Rafa shot Daveed an annoyed look, "Make it stop bleeding!" He slurred and gestured to the blood that was already dripping from his fingertips again.

Daveed gave out an irritated grunt as he started wrapping Rafa's bloody hand in gauze, "sit still!!"

"Oh fuck," Rafa groaned as Daveed slowly draped the gauze over the sensitive wound, "fuck it hurts."

"Quit your whining!"

There was a knock on the bathroom door and Daveed slowly looked up from Rafa's bloody hand and towards the door instead. You were poking in your head, looking curiously at what the two men were doing, your hair a big mess. "Is everything alright in here?" You asked carefully as you stepped inside, tugging on the oversized shirt you'd put on to cover up your naked body.

"Rafa cut himself - and apparently he's too drunk to handle it alone," Daveed rolled his eyes so Rafa couldn't see. He registered your amused smile just before he turned back to the hand in his lap, immediately noticing the small change in Rafa's flexibility as opposed to before you had stepped in. His fingers had somehow gone weirdly stiff, and by further inspection, Daveed realised that Rafa's entire body was suddenly tense, the muscles in his jaw continuously flexing and relaxing, flexing and relaxing. Still, Rafa didn't bat an eyelid, he didn't even emit a single sound. He was just silently staring at you, his eyes going up and down your front, his breathing hard and heavy. Daveed shot him a weird look out the corner of his eye. What the fuck was going on with him? He had definitely had too much to drink...

"'s that my shirt?" Rafa slurred to you as he took in your attire.

Daveed briefly looked up at you and realised that the oversized t-shirt you were wearing were indeed Rafa's favourite Raiders shirt that Daveed had borrowed the other day. Rafa had a weird look on his face, and it looked as if he was about the say something crude to you, so to diffuse the situation, Daveed spoke: "let it go, bruh," he said in an uninterested tone of voice before he quietly turned back to wrapping the bleeding hand. Why the fuck would Rafa care if you were wearing his t-shirt or not?? He didn't mind Daveed wearing it.

"Oh..." he heard you say softly from the doorframe, "Raiders... I'm sorry. I didn't realise."

"Yeah, no. Don't be," Rafa said softly and Daveed was just about to give his best friend a mental pad on the back for having enough sense to bring his attitude around so quickly, but then he added an "- it looks good on you!" in a flirty voice that vexed Daveed so much that he felt a slow anger bubble in his chest. He let go of the bleeding hand and straightened his back as he looked over at Rafa with a hard look. He could not believe that Rafa had the nerve - the audacity! - to act so disrespectfully! What the fuck had gotten into him?! He had been a huge cock-block to you and Daveed and now he found it suitable to be flirting with you???

Daveed had to take a deep breath to calm himself down, in the meantime reminding himself that Rafa was drunk as fuck and probably not even aware that his words could be misinterpreted as more than just friendly... Therefore, he purposely ignored his best friend's impudent behaviour and instead made sure to keep his eyes down low so he could concentrate fully on wrapping up the bleeding hand, determined get the fuck out of there as fast as possible so he could get back to slipping you his famous techniques.

The wound in the palm of Rafa's hand was still bleeding quite heavily, and it didn't take Daveed long to realise that he needed more gauze to make the blood stop dripping onto the floor. "Shit," he muttered under his breath and looked over at you, "baby, can you get me more gauze out of the cabinet?"

You whipped your gaze away from Rafa's face, your eyes immediately finding Daveed's. The look in your eyes instantly shifted from something that Daveed couldn't quite place to soft and cute, a small goofy smile slowly erupting on your lips as you scanned his face. You didn't say anything, just sent him a curt nod before you quietly turned to the cabinet, looking for the first-aid kit on the bottom shelf. As you bent over in front of him, your t-shirt rode up high and Daveed got a beautiful glimpse of the red laces under the hem of the t-shirt you were wearing. Your panties were hugging your ass nicely, and for a moment, he forgot about the bleeding limb in his hand - all he could think about was touching you again! He wanted to snap the useless piece of fabric between your legs in two and delve his tongue into your wet heat, bringing you untold pleasu- ...he suddenly felt Rafa's fingers do a small involuntary twitch in his lap and he realised that his best friend was checking you out too, his mouth hanging slightly open, his eyes glued to your ass.

What the fuck was the matter with him? Had the roles been reversed, Daveed would never have checked out Rafa's girl!

Angry with his best friend, Daveed gave Rafa's arm a small smack while sending him a threatening look, daring him to keep staring at your ass. When his and Rafa's eyes interlocked, Rafa's face curled up in a sour expression but he quickly fixated his gaze on the floor in front of him instead, probably realising that Daveed could knock him out easily.

Meanwhile, completely innocent and oblivious to what had just happened behind your back, you stood up straight and handed Daveed two extra rolls of gauze before resuming your position in the doorway.

Apparently, Rafa had learnt absolutely nothing from Daveed's silent threats and immediately went back to staring at you again. Daveed contemplated shooting Rafa a verbal threat as well but decided against it when he realised how absolutely pathetic his best friend looked. He was drunk as fuck, his eyes all foggy and glossy. Daveed would confront him about his disrespectful behaviour tomorrow.

Still, the fact that Rafa was staring intensely at you while you were only wearing the slightly oversized t-shirt and your beautiful, beautiful panties underneath, made Daveed uncomfortable as fuck, so he worked double speed on Rafa's hand to get you away from the bathroom faster.  Luckily, with the fresh supply of gauze from you, it only took him a few more minutes before he was done with the wrapping, a sigh of relief travelling through his body as he finally let go of Rafa's injured hand.

The tension in the bathroom could be cut with a knife and Daveed took a deep breath to calm himself down before breaking the silence by saying, "Look, I can bandage this to keep it from bleeding all over, but you need to go to the hospital for stitches or something."

"Mmh," Rafa grunted beside him, clearly not pleased with the situation. His eyes were glued to you, and he was wearing a certain hungry look on his face as he drank you in - and Daveed realised that Rafa definitely was aware of what signals he was sending.

What the hell was going on inside his pea-sized, idiot brain? Did he want Daveed to punch him? Daveed was just about to grab him by the collar when he heard you piping from the doorframe, "...I can take you."

...what? Daveed immediately turned his attention to you and saw the soft look you were sending Rafa as you continued, "I can drive. I almost didn't drink tonight."

What?! You liked Rafas stares?!

"You'd - you'd do that?" he heard Rafa whisper from beside him, a soft smile erupting on his best friend's lips.

Daveed didn't like it. He thought to himself that it looked as if the two of you had developed a secret language in the time it had taken him to wrap Rafa's hand. What the hell had he missed out on?

"Of course," you nodded slowly, your eyes still interlocking with Rafa's, "Let me just grab some pants, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Rafa whispered, a hopeful look on his face, "thanks."

What the fuck was going on between you two?

Daveed watched you send Rafa a small smile, your face flushed. The sexual tension was thick between the two of you, and Daveed felt the jealousy burn in his chest as neither of you were looking away from the other. How the fuck dare Rafa flirt with the girl that he had brought home?! How dare he send you those hungry looks?! It was itching in Daveed's hands to do something about the long, continuous gaze between you and in his frustration, he curled his fingers and accidentally pressed on Rafa's wound, making him hiss in pain as he shot back an angry look. Daveed was far too busy looking over at you, however. You finally had your attention directed at him - and not Rafa - your eyes huge and doe-like, looking as if you'd just woken up from a trance. He shot you a look as if to say 'what the fuck is going on?' and you gulped guiltily.

Suddenly realising that he finally had the full attention of both you and Rafa, Daveed spoke up in a voice that was much more strained than he had intended, "Nope! Not gonna happen! Uh-uh, absolutely no fucking way," he shot his best friend a hard look, "Rafa you can take a cab!" he turned his attention back to you, "Baby go back to bed, I'll be there in a second!"

He noticed your eyes skating between his own face and Rafa's and he sternly let out a "he'll take the cab, okay!" He didn't like the way you were looking at each other, and he still very much intended on fucking you tonight no matter how big of a cock-block Rafa was being!

He was trying to catch your eye, but you had your gaze firmly placed on Rafa again, seemingly unable to look away. Daveed noticed how you let out a small gulp as Rafa shot you a careful nod as if giving you permission to leave.

What the hell was going on????

He also noticed the long glance the two of you shared before you gently closed the door behind you as you exited the bathroom.

What! The! Fuck!

Daveed felt his chest bubbling over. He had never felt this way towards Rafa before, but his best friend had never looked more punchable! Automatically, his fingers once more pressed in hard on Rafa's wound.

"Ah! Dude what the fuck!" Rafa yelped loudly.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Daveed spat, "you're flirting with my girl!"

"She's not your girl just because you brought her home for one night, Diggs!" Rafa hissed angrily through gritted teeth.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Daveed felt as if his eyes were bulging out of his skull, "She's crazy about me! You should've seen the way she was begging for it at the bar!"

"Yeah, I saw everything," Rafa said slowly with anger in his eyes, a low growl to his voice as he drunkenly staggered to his feet, "I saw exactly how you swooped in and thought you could erase eight years of history between me and her!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Daveed hissed before his voice turned to frustrated yelling, "Rafa, you have no history with her!" he too stood up, so they were eye to eye, "you made out with her once eight years ago and now no one else is allowed to touch her?! If you wanted a shot with her, you should have done something ages ago!"

"I did do something ages ago! I kissed her!"

"Yeah! And then you had eight years of nothing! You didn't even talk to her! How the fuck was I supposed to know that you wanted to kiss her again???"

"You could have asked me!" Rafa yelled frustratedly.

"I could have asked you?! Come on, man!! You're thirty-three years old for fucks sake! If you wanted something to happen with her, you should've engaged yourself!"

"I was planning on doing so tonight!" Rafa hissed angrily, "and she would've said yes if it hadn't been for you!"

"No she wouldn't!" Daveed was minutes away from pulling out his own hair. How could Rafa be so thick?! "Don't you think that something would've happened by now if you both wanted it so badly?"

"Did you not see how she was eye-fucking me just now?" Rafa yelled angrily, sending Daveed a hard look.

Daveed let out a low growl, "yeah, meanwhile I was minutes away from actually fucking her! If she really wanted you, don't you think she would've given you more signals than a few pitiful looks because you're drunk and hurt? She doesn't want you, man!!"

"Fuck you!!!" Rafa spat angrily and shoved Daveed in the chest causing him to stagger backwards as he was pushed out of balance.

"What the fuck's the matter with you!" Daveed spat as he took a step closer to Rafa, balling up his fists and sending him a threatening look, "you really want me to beat you up?"

"Do whatever the fuck you want with me as long as you stay away from her!" Rafa yelled and gave Daveed another hard shove in the chest. His eyes were bloodshot and Daveed had never seen him this angry before.

"What the fuck's gone into you?" He yelled louder than before, "she clearly doesn't want you! Why can't you just let her go?!"

"Because I'm in love with her!" Rafa yelled loudly, spit flying everywhere. His eyes were huge and aggressive.

Daveed took a step backwards and stared at his panting best friend as his angry words sank in. Rafa's nostrils were flared, and it looked as if he was about to punch Daveed in the face.

...Rafa was in love with you? Daveed could punch himself! Why hadn't he seen it before? Of course Rafa was in love with you... He took a deep breath to calm himself down before he quietly spoke: "Yes - well I'm crazy about her too..."

Rafa was still panting heavily, his nostrils still flared as he shot Daveed a hard look - but he didn't say anything.

They had feelings for the same girl... Daveed frustratedly pinched the bridge of his nose as the realisation sank in; a girl had come between them. How high school... "Shit," he said quietly, "what do we do now?"

Rafa shot him a dark look and answered immediately: "you back down!" he said harshly but not as aggressively as before.

"I'm not going to back down, Rafa," Daveed answered him quietly. He full-on intended on making you his no matter what Rafa's feelings were.

"I've been in love with her for eight years!" Rafa spat angrily but he had stopped yelling, "You have for eight minutes! Don't you think it's more fair that you let me have a shot?!"

Daveed was getting more and more frustrated by the second but was happy that Rafa had chosen to use those exact words: "Exactly Rafa! You had eight years! You sat on your hands for eight years and you expect her to come running to you now? You expect me to let you have a shot? You've had millions of opportunities to do something!"

Rafa's face was still wild but his tone of voice was quiet and determined: "you saw the look she just sent me!" he said darkly.

Daveed had to give it to him; the way you'd been staring at Rafa had confused him too: "Listen, I don't know what the fuck that was, but if she had any feelings for you at all, why would she go home with me?" He said quietly, "why would she take off her clothes for me and not you?"

Rafa shook his head back and forth as if refusing to believe the argument, "No..." he croaked, "please don't say it like that, man..."

"Bruh..." Daveed sighed, "I'm sorry it is this way, but I don't know what else to tell you." He felt bad for Rafa but he wasn't going to back down. No chance.

"Please don't fuck her," Rafa pleaded quietly. His heart obviously broken.

"You know I'm not going to guarantee you that..."

"Just... Let me talk to her first."

"What do you expect to gain from that?"

"She wants to talk to me too..."

"Maybe - but it won't go your way. She's lying naked in my bed right now! She made her decision, bruh."

Rafa looked pained. He was clutching his chest with his eyes screwed shut, a small tear rolling down his cheek, "fuck!" he quietly worded before he fell to his knees in front of the toilet and threw up.

You

"I'm going to murder him for this!" Daveed pulled himself away from you and on to his feet, desperately looking around the room for something to wear. He finally pulled out a pair of clean boxers from his closet, pulled them on, and hurried out of the bedroom to see what was going on with Rafa. He had sounded very drunk and even though you had been slightly amused by his constant swearing throughout the house, the sound of glass smashing combined with his drunk cries for help, had also left you a bit nervous that something serious might've happened to him. What if he had cut himself badly and Daveed couldn't handle it alone? Rafa was your friend too after all. You had to make sure everything was all right with him.

Quickly, you jumped from Daveed's bed, pulled on your panties, and looked around the room for something to wear that could cover your body as your own dress had been discarded during the make-out session in the hallway. You quickly located a black t-shirt that was casually thrown over a chair in the corner of the room and pulled it over your head, grateful that it covered you all the way down to the top of your thighs. Ready to leave Daveed's bedroom, and with your hand already on the doorknob, you took a brief look at yourself in the mirror to make sure you were decent. You tried padding down your messy sex-hair but the sound of Rafa hissing in pain from the other room had you abandon any thought of trying to fix your looks - Rafa's injuries seemed much more urgent. Forcing your eyes away from your own reflection, you opened the door to the hallway instead and listened for their voices.

"Just fix my hand, okay?! Make it stop bleeding!" you heard Rafa slur from the room next door. He was clearly very drunk.

"Sit still!!" Daveed growled.

It sounded as if they had the situation under control and you were just about to go back to Daveed's bed and wait for him there when you heard Rafa exclaim, "Oh fuck! Fuck it hurts!"

It made you do a U-turn on your heel and you decided to check in on the two men to see if they were in need of any extra help. Softly, you knocked on the door but didn't listen for an answer as you immediately poked in your head and took in the scene in the small bathroom: the two men were sitting next to each other; Daveed on the edge of the bathtub with Rafa's bloody hand in his lap while Rafa was splayed on the floor looking very drunk. Both of them were looking directly up at you with equally soft expressions on their faces. Daveed's eyes were loving as he silently apologised for having to help his best friend clean up. Rafa, on the other hand, was staring up at you with a sorrowful look on his pale face, his eyes huge and red-rimmed, his Adam's apple bouncing up and down in his throat as he gulped hard.

The tension between them was thick, the air cold. Both of them clearly equally annoyed with the other.

"Is everything alright in here?" You asked quietly as you pushed open the door and stepped inside, tugging on your t-shirt to prevent it from riding up.

"Rafa cut himself..." Daveed rolled his eyes so only you could see before he continued, "- and apparently he's too drunk to handle it alone," he shot Rafa an annoyed sideway-glance before he turned his attention to the gauze and Rafa's blood-covered hand in his lap.

You watched Rafa send Daveed an equally irritated glance, looking as if he was biting his tongue to keep himself from retorting something nasty. He had probably already realised that he needed Daveed's help to get the wound to stop bleeding and that he wouldn't get it by being crass. So instead, Rafa silently let Daveed wrap his hand as his eyes slowly found yours, his expression immediately changing from annoyed to soft.

You sent him a small reassuring smile and a goofy expression emerged on his drunk face when he happily reciprocated it. You let out a small laugh at his expression and he blinked a few times, looking as if he was saving the sound on his mental hard drive. His foggy eyes were softly gazing up at you with a soulful look, and he looked drunk but cute as he took you in, a weird undertone in his gaze that you couldn't quite place. It was a look that you recognised from somewhere, but not from him - from someone else. You scanned his face one more time, raking your brain to find out from where you knew the gaze, he was sending you, but it wasn't immediately clear. Suddenly however, you realised that it was the same look that Daveed had sent you several times over the last couple of weeks. It was a look of longing.

Softly, you cocked your head at him, and he sent you a small, sad smile in return, his green eyes kindly taking in your face before they travelled down your body, ultimately landing on your chest. You immediately folded your arms, and he looked back up into your eyes, your eyebrows now arched in an unimpressed manner, silently tell him that he'd been caught staring red-handed. His face screwed up in a painful expression and he paled a bit before he quietly slurred, "'s that my shirt?".

Unaware of what he was talking about, you looked towards the mirror above the sink on the opposite side of the bathroom wall, and when you caught your own reflection, you realised that he hadn't been staring at your chest. He'd been staring at the logo on the t-shirt. The Raiders logo - his football team. You weren't wearing Daveed's shirt. You were wearing Rafa's.

You'd seen him in it multiple times - hell, he'd even worn it the night you'd kissed on top of the skate ramps. You remembered because every so often your mind wandered back to that night. Played it on repeat. Rafa's hand on your thigh as Stevie Nicks' voice rang in the background. Your tongues intertwining. The stubble on his chin soft between your fingertips. The scent of his warm cologne. The thought of your passionate kiss that summer night eight years ago was enough to make a warm feeling appear in your stomach.

Still looking at yourself in the mirror, you let your arms drop to the side and took in your own reflection. The t-shirt was a few sizes too big for you and it covered you like a short dress, just barely reaching below the red panties you were wearing underneath. The Raiders logo took up most of the front of the shirt and the logo curved nicely along your breasts and waistline, making the oversized men's shirt actually look as if it'd been tailored to you. You liked this look. You actually looked good in Rafa's t-shirt.

From far away you heard Daveed's voice, "let it go, bruh," and it pulled you back to reality.

"Oh... Raiders..." you said quietly, unable to pry your eyes away from the way the t-shirt was hugging your curves. No wonder Rafa was staring at you. You had gone home with his roomie, yet you'd put on his shirt - and you even looked good in it. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise," you croaked.

Rafa was looking as if he was thinking about the same thing as you, and for a second you were afraid that he might get angry about the fact that Daveed's flirt was wearing his beloved Raiders t-shirt, but he just softly said, "yeah, no. Don't be. It looks good on you..."

You didn't react to his words but merely stared at yourself in the mirror as the memories of your Tacos Locos summer once more flooded your mind - and you slowly felt a dull ache in your chest when you looked back at Rafa's pained expression and realised that maybe there was a reason for his look of longing, his quiet, pained reaction to seeing you half-naked in his shirt when you'd gone home with his best friend. He probably wasn't as cool with you and Daveed as Daveed had let on. Maybe your suspicion about why Rafa had invited you to join his production was right after all...

Oh no.

The thought of kissing Rafa again had grazed your mind several times in the period of time between his phone call offering you the job, and your first day on set where you'd been introduced to his best friend for the first time. Daveed, however, had immediately pushed every sensual thought of Rafa out of your head and had instead replaced them with unholy thoughts about himself. The sexual attraction that you had felt towards Daveed for the past month was insane and you were definitely crazy about him! ...Still, you wondered if he was the type of man, you'd still fantasise about eight years after having shared a passionate kiss in the dark. The same way you so often had found yourself fantasising about Rafa.

...had you just made a huge mistake?

Rafa's cheeks paled considerably as his gaze constantly shifted between your face and the Raiders logo. He was clearly affected by the fact that you were wearing his shirt and nothing else, and it looked as if he was having a hard time sitting still. The tender yet hurtful look he sent you made you feel horrible about yourself and all the decisions that had led to this exact moment. What if things had been different back in the taco truck eight years ago? What if he had actually taken you home after one of your late nights out? And what if Daveed hadn't been so persistent in hooking up with you over the last couple of weeks? If he hadn't been so smooth and charming, would he still have been able to swoop in right before Rafa? Or would you eventually have gone home with Rafa instead?

Would it feel more right to be sleeping in Rafa's bed tonight?

Oh no...

"Shit!" Daveed's voice brought you back from your panicky train of thought. You looked over at him, his face sweet and innocent as he was helping his best friend recover, and you realised: no, it wouldn't feel more right to be sleeping in Rafa's bed tonight. But it would feel just as right as sleeping in Daveed's.

"Baby, can you get me more gauze out of the cabinet?" he continued.

Baby. It had slipped out of him. He hadn't even realised it... The caring, handsome man in front of you had called you baby and you couldn't help but send him a small smile as it had made you soft. You were baby to him.

Rafa had a reaction to the pet name too: he looked as if he was about to murder Daveed.

Desperately trying to untangle yourself from the situation you had put yourself in, you turned over to the cabinets and pulled out more gauze, promptly handing it over to Daveed before resuming your position in the doorframe.

Immediately, you and Rafa went back to staring at each other again, both unable to look away. The looks he was sending you were deep and longing, his eyes pained as he grew more and more tense with each passing second. He looked as if he wanted to touch you, to kiss you, to hold you tight. Shit.

Your eyes were flickering fast between the two men: both of them sweet and handsome. Both of them crazy about you. You couldn't decide whether or not you had made a mistake by choosing to go home with Daveed tonight.

Daveed broke the tension in the small bathroom when he in an irritated tone of voice said, "Look, I can bandage this to keep it from bleeding all over, but you need to go to the hospital for stitches or something."

Rafa let out a small grunt without looking away from you. It looked as if he wanted to tell you something but was unable to with Daveed being present. It was heart-breaking.

You liked Daveed very much but realised that you had to talk to Rafa as well. You had to hear what he had to say, "...I can take you," you piped up in a voice that was weirdly nervous, "I can drive. I almost didn't drink tonight."

"You'd - you'd do that?" Rafa said in a whisper and sent you a warm look.

"Of course," you nodded slowly, suddenly desperate to talk to him, to hear his thoughts, "Let me just grab some pants, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Thanks," Rafa said quietly, his pained expression now completely replaced by a hopeful one.

Daveed had definitely noticed that something was going on with you because the annoyance was practically seeping out of him though he was trying his best to keep calm. He did something to Rafa's hand that had Rafa hissing in pain and shooting Daveed an angry look with his lips pressed together in a thin, white line.

Your eyes whipped over to Daveed as well. He was sending you a hurt look that said 'what the fuck are you doing?' and you gulped guiltily. Had he realised that you were unsure about what to do with the two men in front of you?

"Nope!" Daveed said loudly, shaking his head vigorously, "Not gonna happen. Uh-uh, absolutely no fucking way. Rafa you can take a cab!" he shot Rafa a hard look before he turned back to you, his eyes soft, but his voice full of irritation, "Baby, go back to bed, I'll be there in a second!"

There it was again. Baby. You looked into Daveed's soft brown eyes that were looking pleadingly back at you, your knees immediately weak. Slowly, you let your gaze wander a bit to the left and met Rafa's huge green eyes too. They also made you feel incredibly soft.

Daveed noticed your gaze drifting over to Rafa and harshly interjected, "he'll take a cab, okay!"

Rafa sent you a slight nod as if to say that it was alright for you to leave, and that he could handle Daveed and his bleeding hand on his own. Meanwhile Daveed was staring at his best friend with a murderous look in his eyes. You realised that they had to resolve some stuff too, so even though it hurt in your chest, you slowly turned away from the two men, and walked back to Daveed's bedroom. Just before the door to the bathroom closed behind you, you heard the beginning of an argument between the two friends: "Ah! Dude what the fuck!" Rafa yelped loudly.

To which Daveed angrily responded with a "What the fuck was that all about? You're flirting with my girl!" It was more a statement than a question.

You sat awkwardly on Daveed's bed, unsure of what to do now. Daveed had noticed the long looks between you and Rafa. Shit. Even though you hadn't intended it, you had still managed to turn them against each other.

You could hear their angry voices from the other side of the wall, but you didn't want to listen in on their private conversation, so you put your fingers in your ears. Their shouted words were not meant for you. It was a desperate conversation between two best friends, and even though you could've easily followed their screaming match, it didn't seem right to do so. Desperately, you pressed in on your ear canal and started humming softly to tune out most of their angry words. Still, snippets of their loud conversation penetrated your ears.

"Rafa, you have no history with her!" Daveed was yelling before Rafa's voice was heard a few seconds later: "Did you not see how she was eye-fucking me just now?" followed a little while later by a loud "Fuck you!" from Rafa and an angry "you really want me to beat you up?" from Daveed. They kept yelling loudly at each other, but you tried not to decipher their angry words as you found them private. There was a reason why they had sent you out of the bathroom after all.

After a few minutes, their angry yells finally died down completely and were instead replaced by muffled words in normal voices that you couldn't make out even if you tried. You slowly removed your fingers from your ears, instead burying your face in your hands, angry with yourself for having let it come to this.

Their muffled voices could be heard for a few seconds before the sound was disrupted by someone retching.

One of them was throwing up, the other completely silent. You listened intently for a few seconds to see if you could make out who was throwing up, hoping that the other would say some words of comfort, but neither of them spoke, and after about a minute of silence, you heard footsteps approaching the room you were lying in. The doorknob twisted and Daveed entered the room slowly, his eyes full of pain as he took you in. He sat down on the bed next to you, panting hard, obviously very upset about the entire situation. It hurt seeing him like this. And it hurt thinking about Rafa lying alone in the bathroom. You dried an annoying tear away from your cheek and just barely managed to reset your face before Daveed looked up at you with a sad smile. You did your best to look casual as if you hadn't got the faintest idea of what their screaming match had been about. You acted as if wearing Rafa's shirt meant nothing. Seeing his pained expression had done nothing. Hearing him sob in the bathroom made you feel no ways.

"Everything okay?" You asked Daveed carefully.

"Yeah," he grunted.

"How about Rafa?" you said quietly. Even the sound of his name hurt in your chest.

"He's..." Daveed's words died in his throat as he frustratedly buried his face in his hands with a deep sigh.

You gulped, "is he okay alone out there?"

"Can we please not talk about Rafa right now?" he said slowly.

"Yeah..." you nodded quietly, "come here," you folded your arms around his chest, hugging him tight. He pulled you on top of him and hugged you back, his strong arms squeezing you, bringing you comfort as if he knew what you were going through as well. You sat like this for a few seconds, your arms wrapped tightly around each other comforting the broken feeling you both felt in your chests until his lips slowly found their way to your neck, leaving sweet, sensual kisses to the side of your throat.

"Look," you said quietly, pulling yourself away from him and looking into his chocolate brown eyes, "it's not that I don't enjoy this, but I just think it's for the best if I go home."

"What? No?" Daveed looked up at you with a pained expression, "come on, we can't let Rafa ruin our night," he groaned and moved closer to you but suddenly paused, "unless you don't want to of course. I don't want to force you into anything," he looked carefully at you and you understood why. He wanted to make sure that you were comfortable with the decision you were making. Comfortable with him.

It made you realise that the fact that you were lying in Daveed's bedroom half-naked, meant that you had made your choice long ago. You needed to stick with it.

"Yeah, okay," you said and moved your lips close to his, kissing him softly.

"You have no idea how happy that makes me," he groaned against your lips and you felt him breathe a sigh of relief as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He quickly pulled Rafa's t-shirt over your head, and harshly threw it onto the ground next to the bed. You couldn't help but think of the symbolics in his heated gesture.

His warm hands immediately found your breasts and he started running his fingers over your nipples with a low growl. You enjoyed the confident, hungry look he sent you as you were once again bare-chested in front of him. He moved his face closer to yours, "I still fully intent on making you feel good and make you let loose a little," he repeated his words from earlier that evening with a smile and carefully pushed you down on the bed, a warm shiver travelling up your spine with his words and movements. He hovered above you before his lips started pressing small, peppered kisses to the side of your throat, his one hand running down your stomach and dipping down between your legs, making you gasp softly. His lips moved over your collarbone and down between the valley of your breasts, taking one of your nipples in his mouth, and making you arch your back against him, as you felt his erection pressed up between your legs. He groaned as he pushed his boxer-clad erection closer to you, looking down at you with an erotic spark in his eye. Your fingers found his soft hair and you raked a hand through his curls and reciprocated the look he was sending you; dark and sensual.

You were both getting lost in the sensations you were causing each other when you were interrupted by the sound of Rafa retching and his heart-breaking sobs from the next room. It made your stomach ache horribly and you interrupted the kiss with Daveed, looking towards the wall to the bathroom instead. "I'm sorry, I can't just leave him alone with that..."

"What? You're not serious?" He looked at you with a disappointed look on his face.

"Listen to him," you said softly, as Rafa let out another heartbroken sob.

"He'll be fine," Daveed responded harshly before he resumed kissing your throat.

You pulled your face away from him, raking a hand through his hair one more time, "he's your best friend. Do you really want him to be alone right now? He sounds so heartbroken."

"Trust me - you do not want to deal with him right now."

Rafa retched loudly.

"I'm sorry," you kissed Daveed briefly, "but I have to make sure he's okay. I'll be back in a second."

Daveed let out an irritated grunt but eventually let go of you so you could crawl down from his lap. You quickly found the Raiders t-shirt on the floor and pulled it over your head, exiting the bedroom in a swift motion.

You knocked quietly on the door to the bathroom and found Rafa lying on the floor next to the toilet sobbing quietly. "Rafa, honey, are you okay?" you said softly as you sat down next to him and carefully put your hand on his chest.

He took a deep breath and looked up at you with wet eyes. The gaze he sent you was bloodshot, but he wasn't as pale as before. Throwing up some of the alcohol had definitely done him some good. "Hey," he whispered in a raspy voice as he put his good hand on top of yours, closing his eyes again taking three deep breaths. You noticed that he didn't answer your question.

As you pulled your hand away from his chest to fix him a glass of water, he groaned at the lack of touch and sat up straight, sleepily resting his head on the edge of the tub, looking at you with tired, sad eyes.

"Are you done throwing up?" you asked him as you handed him the glass.

He took a big gulp and nodded "I think so... Listen, can we talk?"

You sent him a small smile, "tomorrow, okay?" you didn't want to cause him anymore heartbreak tonight, "let's get you to bed," you held out your hand.

"Yeah, okay..." he took your hand and let you pull him to his feet. He was still very drunk, so you had to help him with his balance, your arm tightly wrapped around his waist, "come here," you chuckled and walked him to his room with his arm draped over your shoulder. As soon as you entered his personal space, he threw himself down on the bed with a loud groan.

"You're not going to disrobe?" you chuckled at him.

"Yeah, no... I don't care right now," he said and closed his eyes, "I just want to sleep... Let this absolute shit night be over."

You guiltily shook your head and forcefully pulled off his Chelsea boots and socks.

"Are you trying to get me naked?" He joked sleepily from the bed; his eyes closed.

"I'm trying to get you comfortable," you chuckled, "you have to take off your shirt and pants yourself."

Rafa groaned but sat up straight before he pulled his shirt over his head. His eyes were still closed, and his long hair was falling in unruly strands around his face. He looked exhausted as he undid the button on his pants and slid them off himself, plumping down on the bed afterwards.

"You don't think I'll bleed to death, do you?" he groaned and lifted his bandaged hand a little.

"I'm absolutely positive you won't," you chuckled at him, "if it's still bleeding tomorrow, I'll take you to the hospital, okay?"

"Okay, can't wait," he smiled sleepily and gave out a quiet snore as if he'd briefly fallen asleep. He was lying flat on his back which gave you time to study the tattoos he had on his chest and forearms. Some of them you didn't like, others were beautiful. He had one on his pec that you'd never seen before.

"If I love you, I have to make you conscious of the things you don't see," you read out loud, looking at his chest.

Even though Rafa had his eyes closed and looked as if he was just about to fall asleep again, he knew what you were talking about and softly tapped the tattoo he had on his pec, "that's right," he slurred with a small smile. For the first time since he'd cut himself, he looked as if he was peaceful, and you tugged one of his long strands of blonde hair away from his eyes and behind his ear instead. Your fingers lingered on his cheek for a second and he kissed your palm with a small hum, "that means that I have to make you conscious of the things you don't see," he whispered before he drifted off completely.

"Alright Rafa," you chuckled quietly as you ran your fingers through his soft hair. He had started breathing heavily, already fast asleep, "thanks for explaining the words of your tattoo with the exact same words!" You got up from the bed and quietly closed the door behind you as you walked out into the hallway.

You'd only walked a few steps towards Daveed's room when the meaning behind Rafa's sentence hit you and you froze in place. Inside your head, the written words of the tattoo and Rafa's whispered words played on repeat. He hadn't explained the tattoo to you. He had told you that he loved you.

He loved you. Rafa was in love with you.

And you were walking towards the bedroom of his best friend. You turned your head slightly, looking towards Rafa's room. Should you go back to him? Or continue to Daveed? You were completely frozen in time, desperately looking between the two bedroom doors on either side of the bathroom in the hallway, realising that even though you might have been lying naked in Daveed's arms only minutes before, Rafa's words hurt so much in your chest that your decision-making was far from over.

Rafa's room was to the left. He had just confessed his feelings for you. Or, he didn't just have feelings for you; he was in love with you. Probably had been since your summer together in the taco truck. You wouldn't say that you were in love with him, but there was definitely raw, heated attraction towards him on your part as well, or you wouldn't still be thinking about your drunk kiss in the dark eight years ago, the way he was always able to make you laugh, his soft, green eyes. It hurt in your chest to think about how you'd potentially wasted eight years without him by your side. If you went to him, you'd either finally be able to stop thinking of him as 'the one who got away' and actually engage in something romantic with him - or you'd see that eight years of absence might have grown the heart so fond that you had put him on a pedestal that he couldn't live up to.

Daveed's room was to the right. He was waiting for you in there, probably ready to fuck you so good that you wouldn't be able to remember your own name. The preview he'd given you earlier tonight had definitely shown you that he was able to bring all your sexual fantasies to life! And you had craved his touch for so long, to feel his strong hands on your body as he slid into you while whispering sweet words in your ear. You and him definitely had some insane potential - not to mention the fact that he was already calling you baby! He was so crazy about you that you were baby to him! - but did you feel the same emotional attraction to him? Or was the warm feeling in your stomach whenever you looked at him all due to sexual attraction? Could you and he ever become more than raw passion?

No matter what, you'd have to choose between them. You couldn't have both. With whomever you chose, you'd never be able to have the other.

Carefully, you weighed both your options; left or right? Rafa or Daveed?

You started at both of their doors, unsure about where to go, but eventually made a decision. With a deep breath, you stepped closer to the wooden door, grabbed door handle and stepped inside, softly closing the door behind you as you took in the handsome man on the bed.

Tagging: @exrthangel @theatrenerd86 @lonelydance @ohsoverykeri @summerofsnowflakes @ramp-it-up @alexander-hamilhoe @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @riiyy @mysearchforgratification @janthony-stan @sillyteecup @biafbunny @einfachniemand @cashskid @namelesslosers @simpinforu​ @diggsbeatriz​ (Imma keep tagging you unless you say something lol).

....No spoilers in the comments please :-) 

[jisungsmochi]

somebody to you - hrj

somebody to you - renjun

behold,, the FINAL part of my nct dream x the vamps songs series! leaving y’all with something really wholesome and fluffy bc i’m inlove with renjun 

word count: 2.8k 

summary: huang renjun didn’t like relationships. he thought they were messy, and honestly, a waste of time. he had his whole life ahead of him, so why would he need a significant other to be happy? that was all until he met you, and thought to himself, maybe it wouldn’t be all bad...

read the rest here! 

//

I used to wanna be

Living like there's only me

But now I spend my time

Thinking 'bout a way to get you off my mind

renjun scrolled through his endless instagram feed, swiping through threads of his friends with their girlfriends. he would be lying if he said it didn’t make him

borderline sick. he was always a realist, never really seeing the point of having a serious relationship at such a young age. in his life so far, he’d probably say he’s only had one girlfriend, and it was a random girl he asked to prom so he wouldn’t feel left out. renjun was never opposed to love, he just wasn’t actively seeking it.

“dude i reckon you’re gonna like her! she’s super cool from the sounds of it, and she goes to our university!” haechan insists as the four boys sat down for dinner in their shared apartment.

“i don’t need you to set me up on a blind date. i’m capable of finding someone on my own, thank you very much” renjun rolled his eyes, fed up with the continuous discussions of his single status.

“yeah, and how’s that going for you?” jaemin chimed in, causing jeno and haechan to chuckle in response. renjun just scoffed, shoving his mouth with more food to avoid speaking further.

“give it a chance. the worst that could happen is that you don’t vibe with her and you never talk to her again” jeno tries his best to convince the stubborn boy. renjun just shrugs, his mind contemplating the idea.

“okay fine, one date. if you guys really think she’s soo good for me, let’s see how accurate you guys are” renjun snickers. he was not confident in their matchmaking skills at all, but he loved seeing them fail.

“perfect, i’ll set it up for you. just sit back, relax and be your boring self” haechan grins, tapping away on his phone. renjun ignores the cheeky boy’s comments, finishing up his dinner. his first date in over two years, this should be good...

I used to be so tough

Never really gave enough

And then you caught my eye

Giving me the feeling of a lightning strike

renjun was regretting this date already. all he knew about you was your first name and your uni course, nothing else. the boys had refused to show him any photos of you, claiming that it would be more ‘romantic’ if he fell for you at first sight...what a cliche, he thought to himself.

“how will i even know it’s her, if i don’t know what she freaking looks like?” renjun groaned, nerves slowly building up as haechan pulled up to the date location.

“i’ll point her out, okay? just trust me” renjun let out a short sigh, hands slightly jittery. why the hell was he nervous? it wasn’t like he was going to see her after this one date.

as renjun stepped out of the car, his eyes scanned the scenery.

“jeez, you guys really went all out for this date” he was amazed by the view. it was a restaurant that was by the water, multiple little boats sailing across it and the sounds of birds humming.

“of course, you only deserve the best” haechan winked, eyes looking for renjun’s date.

“dude what if she doesn’t even show up. does she even know what i look like?” renjun was slightly panicking at this point, drifting from his tough exterior.

“haechan?” a soft voice interrupted his thoughts. renjun’s eyes diverted to the owner of the voice. he felt stunned by the sight of you, dressed neatly in some jeans and a flowery blouse. you had slightly curled your hair, hands clutching to your purse as you greeted the two boys infront of you.

“hey y/n, this is renjun, your date for tonight! see you kids later, don’t get up to anything crazy” haechan chuckled to himself, shoving renjun to meet you. renjun almost clashed into your smaller frame, catching you off guard. you gently held his arms, keeping a small distance between you both.

“o-oh my bad, i-i’m renjun” he stammered, eyes meeting yours. you were slightly blown away by his looks...he was really attractive. well done, haechan.

renjun would say the same about you. even though he didn’t have a particular type, (as he found it kind of dumb tbh) he believed you could fit it perfectly.

“i’m y/n! nice to meet you” you widely smiled, renjun returning your expression as he pulled out his hand for you to shake. maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

Look at me now, I'm falling

I can't even talk, still stuttering

This ground I'm on, it keeps shaking

you were currently trying to hold back your laughter as renjun recounted the story of how he caught jaemin with his girlfriend...doing the nasty, during their first week of university.

“oh my goodness! were you scarred for life?” you slammed your fist on the table, causing others around you to glare. but renjun couldn’t even focus on them, attention solely on you.

“of course! it was the first week! like couldn’t they have just waited until midterms?” renjun chuckled at the memory, proud of himself that he made you laugh so much. he must be doing something right.

“you’re really funny, renjun. some of the other guys that haechan tried to set me up with were lowkey boring. i guess he sees me as boring too” you slightly frowned, watching as renjun piped up in his seat,

“y-you’re not boring at all! you’re funny! and pretty too” he muttered the last part, not wanting you to have heard. but you did. you decided not to linger on it much, afraid to make him too flustered.

“you’d be the first guy to say that” you shrugged, taking a small sip from your glass of water.

“have you had boyfriends in the past?” renjun suddenly asked, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“i-uh i’ve had a few. nothing too serious though, how about you?” you curiously ask in return, watching as renjun looked down to his lap. he hesitated before answering,

“i’ve only had one girlfriend before. i’m not really an avid dater” renjun admits to you, hoping that you didn’t find him lame.

“oh neither am i! we have another thing in common! i feel like relationships can get really difficult to manage, especially if you aren’t in the right headspace, you know?” you started rambling, renjun stringing along to your every word. he found such beauty in the way you articulated your words. he was so entranced he almost forgot to respond.

“i totally understand how you feel, i’ve always thought that i should live my life to the fullest before i consider settling down” he commented, causing you to nod along. you really liked his answers, it seemed like you were both on the same page about relationships. you didn’t expect to enjoy his company this much, initially agreeing to go on the date so that haechan would stop teasing you for not having a boyfriend in uni yet.

you walked alongside renjun, waiting for your roommate to pick you up.

“i had a really good time tonight, renjun. thankyou” you kindly complimented, causing renjun to become more shy (if that was even possible).

“no thankyou! there were times i felt kind of awkward, but you really know how to carry a conversation” he smiled, watching as you started to get shy.

“are you flirting with me, huang renjun?” you teased, nudging his arm gently.

“so what if i am?” he nudged you back,

“well i don’t think i’d want you to stop” you smirked. before renjun could say anything back, your heard the familiar voice of your roommate urging you to get in her car.

“oh that’s my ride. i have to get going. this was nice, i’ll see you around renjun!” you hurriedly embraced the boy, placing a gentle peck to his cheek before rushing to your roommate’s car.

renjun still didn’t say anything back to you, his body frozen from your touch.

‘no no no’ he thought to himself...he was falling for her.

All I wanna be, yeah, all I ever wanna be, yeah, yeah

Is somebody to you

Everybody's tryna be a billionaire

But every time I look at you, I just don't care

“so are you gonna tell us about the date or do we have to call and ask her instead?” haechan teased as the rest of the boys sat in their living room. renjun has a book in his hands, wanting nothing more than peace and quiet after his long night.

“gosh, will you let me finish this chapter?” renjun huffed, causing jaemin and jeno to snicker. haechan pulled out his phone, holding it to renjun’s face,

“oh would you look at that? it would be a shame for my finger to slip and dial y/n” before he could continue, renjun hurriedly tossed his book to the side, tackling the pestering boy onto the ground, holding him down firmly.

“holy shit, did you get stronger?“ haechan could barely speak, still in shock from the sudden attack. renjun slowly leans back, letting out a tired sigh.

“you two are ridiculous, let’s cut to the chase, did you like her or not?” jaemin rolled his eyes, ready to hear all the tea.

renjun looked from side to side, not liking all the attention that was on him.

“i-she was really cool. honestly yeah, i did like her. but i don’t think she’s looking for anything too serious at the moment” renjun shook his head, thinking back to your heated discussion about relationships.

“okay that sounds like a cop out excuse. i think you’re just scared” jeno chimed in, the two other boys nodding along. renjun glared at them, trying his best to maintain his composure.

“yeah, i mean, did anything happen aside from good conversation?” jaemin continued to push, renjun now becoming more reserved. of course he trusted his friends, but they never really openly spoke about their feelings like this, it was quite new to all of them.

“she kissed me on the cheek before she left, does that mean something?” renjun muttered, watching as haechan tips himself over, now laying on the ground.

“you’re an idiot, must we spell it out for you? she’s totally into you as well” jeno groaned in frustration.

truth was, renjun wasn’t sure how to properly ask someone out, nonetheless be in a proper relationship with them. he was in desperate need of help...but all he had were his three idiot friends.

“i know i don’t know her well and all, but after she left, i couldn’t stop thinking about her. is this what it’s like to fall for someone? oh god...i’m falling” renjun started rambling to himself, jaemin and jeno now rested against him, shoulder touching either of his.

“the answer is pretty clear, man. go for a second date! make the move, she might be thinking the exact same thing” jeno shrugged, trying his best to advise his friend, the best he could. renjun bidded, actually agreeing with jeno for once.

suddenly, renjun felt his phone ringing. he immediately picked it up without looking at the caller ID.

as if you were listening in on their conversation, your voice rang through renjun’s ear.

“hello? is this renjun?” you nervously stammered, waiting for a response. renjun was completely frozen, his mouth hung wide as jeno pressed his own ear closer to the phone.

“y-yes this is him” renjun finally spat out, hands slightly shaking.

“oh great, this is probably coming as a surprise to you. but i uh, wanted to know if you’d be interested in going on another date” you were able to finish, heart racing as you held the phone tightly. renjun felt his heart stop after your words, jeno shaking him gently to snap out of his daze.

“o-oh yeah, i’d be really interested” renjun replies, mentally face palming himself for sounding a little too eager.

“amazing, i’ll keep in touch” you smiled to yourself, trying your best to contain your excitement. eventually you hung up, screaming into your pillow, kicking your feet up and down. was this how it felt to actually like someone?

“there’s your chance, don’t blow it!” haechan teased, throwing a cushion over to renjun who was still frozen well after the call had ended.

‘holy shit’ he mumbled.

//

the date you had planned for renjun, involved attending the local food markets they held once a month. you thought it would be a social enough setting for conversation to not get too awkward, as well as enjoy a variety of food. renjun met you at the bus stop, dressed in baggy jeans and a blue wind runner jacket. his hair was slightly styled, some strands gelled back. it really accentuated his facial features, making you admire him even more than you did before.

“you look really good today, i mean, not like you don’t look good everyday i’m sure you do..” you shook your head at your rambling, wanting nothing more but for him to laugh it off. renjun just smirked at you, planning another witty comment to respond,

“not as good as you though” he gently guided you to walk with him, his hand travelling to the small of your back. you slightly froze at the contact, but aimlessly followed him. he surely had his way with words.

as you both tasted some amazing food, renjun found him standing quite close to you. if you were trying a sample, he would stand behind you, his chest touching your back occasionally. it seemed really natural to him, and you didn’t mind it at all. he would often touch your shoulder gently to grab your attention, or pull you along by your waist. it gave you massive butterflies that you could shake off.

“did you want to start heading home? we can walk to the bus stop together” renjun offered kindly, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as you slowly made your way out of the large crowd. just as you were about to respond, rain started sprinkling from the sky. renjun quickly moved you to stand under some shelter as the rain came pouring.

“how the hell are we meant to walk in this?” you half shouted, clutching onto renjun’s side. he couldn’t bear moving you away from him,

“let’s just run, we can’t wait for it to pass” he suddenly took your hand, pulling you along as he bolted to the nearest bus stop.

“you’re so crazy, renjun!” you shout at the boy, giggling at the entire situation. before you knew it, renjun span you around, pulling you close to his chest.

“the only thing i’m crazy about is you” he confessed, catching you completely off guard. he had a habit of making such flirty comments, but this time you felt he wasn’t trying to joke around.

“w-what?” rain was washing over the both of you, your clothes completely soaked at this point.

“i really like you, y/n. i really freaking do. i didn’t want to admit it at first because i was scared of the idea of dating. but i want to be with you. i want to be somebody to you. everyone is out here trying to settle down and start their lives, but i feel like with you we can go at a steady pace. i don’t want to rush things, incase it gets messy, and difficult. but i just needed you to know that i really like you, and i hope it’s not all in my head that you like me back” renjun firmly confessed to you, eyes never leaving yours. you slowly raised your hand to wipe some rain drops off his face, watching as he smiled into your touch. he held you tightly in his arms, awaiting your response.

“renjun, i think i made it really clear that i like you back. i was also nervous about how you’d react, considering you weren’t really looking for anything serious at first. i think we should give it a shot, we can worry about all the stress and possible fights later on. all i know is that right now, you’re the only person i want to be standing in the rain with. now can you please kiss me?” you couldn’t contain your smile as renjun leaned into you. his lips pressing gently against yours. your fingers now running through his wet hair as he held your waist firmly. the kiss started getting deeper, the atmosphere really playing into the romantic nature of it all. eventually you both pulled away, foreheads presses against eachother, softly giggling.

that was the beginning of your relationship with renjun. despite having ups and downs (as expected) you both persevered and tried your absolute hardest to make things work. renjun finally admitted to himself: falling inlove wasn’t so bad...especially when it was with the right person.

[buckyskorpion]

Do Something Bad, Too - Part 5

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader

Summary: It’s like every single Alpha on the planet won’t rest until they’ve confessed their eternal wish for you to mother their children, and it’s getting old. Luckily, that’s a problem Bucky might be able to fix.

Warnings: language, a/b/o dynamics, mentions of violence

A/N: sooooo..... lets not mention the last time i updated this fic was four years, and get excited that im finally updating!! woo!! i really hope this was worth the wait, im very anxious about letting you guys down. let me know what you honestly think! love u all, thank u for sticking with me

series masterlist | main masterlist | my ko-fi

You stay in Nat’s apartment in the Tower for the rest of your heat, which lasts an entire week. Nat comes and goes throughout that time to make sure you’re drinking enough water, to make you dinner or run you a bath, or sometimes just to keep you company when you’re capable of that. She doesn’t stay long, though, aware her presence just makes the unbearableness of going through heat even worse. She also doesn’t mention Bucky’s clothes or anything about that first day, which you’re immeasurably grateful for. You don’t think you could talk about it without crying.

To say you’re humiliated is an understatement. Mixed with that is all this guilt and shame and self-hatred for inflicting that situation on you and Bucky. Mostly for Bucky. He had made it so very clear he was only comfortable helping you with the scent thing, and even with that there were boundaries. You had blown through them all by showing up to his apartment, triggering both your instincts to do things you couldn’t control, and now he probably resented you enough to never want to see you again.

You don’t blame him. It doesn’t stop it from hurting so much, though.

You’ve well and truly fucked yourself now. Not only is it omega instincts driving you towards Bucky now, but also your own stupid, naive heart. You miss his giant hands and broad shoulders that block out the world for a second, narrowing your scope to just the two of you. You miss the way you can breathe around him, how the world doesn’t feel so scary and foreign to you when he’s by your side. It’s crazy because you weren’t even close, you weren’t even really friends, but now you never will be because you’re so goddamn stupid it’s actually astounding.

Nat’s plan had not worked. And this time, you couldn’t even blame her for this colossal backfire. This is all your handiwork.

You’re back in your office, returning to work once your fever died down and you could stand to be in the vicinity of other alphas without passing out. Maybe you’re tapping rather aggressively on your keyboard, and maybe all the techies on the floor can hear you sigh and groan in frustration every two seconds and are sending you strange looks through the glass. Whatever, you’re their boss, they can’t say anything. Besides, your boss has requested some rather strange security upgrades and you’re not sure if it’s within your job description to email Tony Stark and say what the fuck?

It turns out you don’t have to, because Tony Stark comes to you. It’s not often he takes part in the day to day workings of Stark Industries - that’s your job, after all. But he comes striding into your office eating an apple and wearing sunglasses during the middle of the day, and points a ringed finger at you.

“You’re back,” he says, and you find yourself glancing down at your baby-blue pantsuit just to make sure you are, in fact, back. Stark takes a very pointed breath through his nose and adds, “You smell terrible. This is great!”

“Great?” You can’t help but sound bitter. Your smell is hardly great to you. Even after sweating out your entire body-weight and taking more showers than is considered healthy, you still smell like Bucky. You can’t escape him - not your thoughts, not your heart, and certainly not the way your skin seems to emanate him like he’s crawled underneath and set up shop. It’s embarrassing and humiliating, because it’s not real, and just serves to remind you of the terrible mistake you’ve made. You hope beyond hope Stark doesn’t recognise the other alpha scent clinging to your pores.

“Yes, great. I need your help,” he says, sitting down in a chair opposite your desk. You glance at the specs you have open on your computer, the strange security upgrades he wants you to make to the Tower, and then back to Stark’s million-dollar smile. It’s unsettling. You feel a headache forming before he even opens his mouth.

“If this has anything to do with these emails-“

“Those can wait,” Stark says, waving a dismissive hand at your computer. He lobs his applecore into the bin beside your desk as if to punctuate his point, then says, “This is a request on behalf of the Avengers.”

“Um,” you say, rather eloquently. Avengers? What on earth could they want with you, unless- you groan, rolling your eyes to the ceiling. “Natasha.”

“She highly recommended your expertise,” Stark says, and that headache brewing in your temples blooms into a full-blown migraine. He stands, smooths out his slacks, and says without room for question, “Follow me.”

This is how you end up back in the residential floors of the Tower, much to your chagrin, which Stark seems to pick up on. The closer you get to Bucky’s floor the more fidgety you become, heart racing and skin turning clammy until you watch the numbers fly by and you leave him somewhere in the clouds above Manhattan. The elevator doors ding open to a floor that seems to go on forever, full of gym equipment and fancy simulation tech you figure the Avengers must use to train. You find Natasha’s red head on the sparring mats, tackling someone to the ground with her thighs, and glare daggers as you follow Stark into the room.

“She’s alive!” Natasha calls across the room, ignoring your death glare for a knowing smirk. Her voice echoes through the warehouse-style gym floor, drawing the attention of the others in the room. The Avengers, and all of a sudden you feel like an eighteen year old kid watching aliens attack New York on a grainy satellite TV in the desert again. This is like meeting celebrities on another level. Steve Rogers finishes wrapping his hands as he walks over to you and Stark, Sam Wilson beside him, and Natasha gives Clint Barton a hand to help him up from the mats.

“What have you roped me into now, Nat?” you ask, not bothering to hide your frustration. You’ve just about had it with her meddling, but you should’ve known it was a pipe dream to think she would stop.

“We know you’re very busy, we won’t take up much of your time,” Steve Rogers says, extending a hand and introducing himself like he needs to. Captain America needs no introduction.

“I know who you all are,” you say, giving them a nod. “And you’re right, I am busy. So why am I here?”

“You and Nat must get along like a house on fire,” Clint says, earning him an elbow in the gut from Nat herself. You grin, all sharp in the way Nat tells you looks scary in a hot way, and watch as he subtly shifts behind Nat as if to hide behind her smaller frame. It’s only then that you register the scents mingling between them, and realise that Clint Barton is Nat’s omega. She grins at you, beatific and serene, as if she can read your thoughts and knows exactly what you’ve just figured out.

“Let’s not hold (Y/n) up any longer,” Nat says, grinning in a way that always spells trouble for you. “She’s a woman in high demand.”

Stark leads them to what seems to be a large empty space in the training facility, but it’s soon filled with hologram projections from a tiny Starkpad he pulls from his pocket. You fall into step beside Nat, using your height advantage to glare down at her and convey the level to which you want to strangle her right now. She just loops her arm with yours and kisses you on the cheek, frustrating your attempts at intimidation before you can even begin. Bloody Russian spies, you grumble to yourself as you come a halt in front of the holograms.

You’re looking at building specs, that much is obvious. Why, though, is entirely lost on you. The structure is a tall hexagonal building reminding you of a panopticon, with security floors in the centre and what seem to be prison cells surrounding them. Details jump out from Stark’s hologram - security cameras, miniature guards patrolling the floors, thermally sealed doors and electromagnetic force-fields on the cells. It’s a prison, you surmise, and you’re starting to get a bad feeling as to why you’re here.

You turn to Nat and say, “I’m not going back in the field.”

She pats your arm with only a tiny bit of condescension and says, “I’m not asking you to.”

“You’re my Head of Security,” Stark says, then gestures to the hologram building, “If you can design impenetrable security systems, surely you can undo them.”

“You want me to help you break into this place?” you ask. The team all nod, and you look back at the intimidating, virtual-blue building in front of you. “It’s a fortress.”

“Yeah, they really upped the anti on security since I was in there,” Sam Wilson says, earning him a reproachful look from Steve. It does nothing to soothe the anxiety starting to thread through your chest. Failing the Avengers doesn’t seem like an option, but from where you’re standing, neither is breaking into this facility.

“I’ll need to know what it is first,” you say, “Then I can try and help you. Emphasis on try. I’m not a miracle worker.”

“It’s called the Raft,” Steve says, his face growing stony and set as he talks. “It’s a prison designed for enhanced persons by Secretary Ross. After Germany, I broke Sam, Scott, and Clint out. But Wanda-“

“We need to get her out of there,” Clint says. You pretend not to notice as beside you Nat discreetly takes his hand, rubbing her thumb across his bruised knuckles.

“Leave the search and rescue to us,” Stark says, and you watch him shift uncomfortably under some inscrutable looks Steve and Sam are giving him, “We just need your help on how to get into the joint.”

“Simple,” you breathe, but only Nat laughs. This seems like an impossible task, but from the look of  everyone around you, failure isn’t an option. You’re going to have to make the impossible possible. It’s a good thing you’ve had some experience with that - in the military, trapped into sand-filled corners with no foreseeable way out, it really did seem like you were working miracles to stay alive out there. You swallow past a dry mouth and blink through desert-gunked eyes, say, “I’ll need that Starkpad, and some time.”

“You have forty-eight hours,” Stark says. The hologram disappears in a blink as he throws the Starkpad, no bigger than your palm, which you only just manage to catch. Stark clicks his fingers, as if an idea as just occurred to him, and says, “Oh, I almost forget to tell you! The Raft is underwater. Completely submerged, middle of the ocean, super top-secret. Fun, right?”

Your heart drops to your stomach. Fun is not the word you you would use. Only forty-eight hours to break into the most secure facility in the country, if not the world? This day couldn’t possibly blindside you anymore.

As if the universe is conspiring against you, FRIDAY’s voice chimes in from overhead speakers to say, “Mr Stark, Sergeant Barnes is on his way to the gym floor.”

You feel your whole body lock up, heart seizing in your chest - Bucky? Here? You weren’t prepared to see him yet, or speak to him. What would you say? How could you apologise for one of the worst crimes you may have ever committed, and you’ve killed people? Natasha unloops her arm from yours, tries to soothe you with a hand on your back but it does nothing for the anxiety shooting sparks throughout your blood stream.

“How many times have I got to tell that illiterate Soviet popsicle, he’s not on the fucking team,” Stark grumbles, storming towards the elevators with a scowl. Steve clenches his fists, glaring after Stark but Sam holds him back. He mutters something only Steve can hear which makes him close his eyes and exhale sharp through his nose - frustrated, but calming by the nanosecond.

It’s a shame nobody thought to do the same for you.

“What did you just call him?” you say, ignoring Natasha’s warning murmur of your name as you follow after Stark. Maybe you still have some residually elevated hormones from your heat, or you really are just a lovesick idiot who can’t control her temper, but whatever it is has you absolutely incensed. Stark stops dead, clearly caught off guard by the venom in your voice, and spins on his heel to stare at you incredulously.

“Excuse me?” he says, blinking owlishly at you as you lean up into his space. You’re aware you’re overstepping the boss/employee line, but you can’t help yourself. The rage is brewing, and with each laboured breath Bucky’s scent grows stronger and stronger until it’s all you can smell. It settles over your skin like armour, and the urge to protect that hold on you, to protect him, is beyond your control - it’s primal.

“Don’t talk about him like that, ever,” you snarl, watching with satisfaction as Stark’s eyes turn round and wide.

He glances behind you towards his friends and says, “Are we sure she isn’t an alpha? Sheesh.”

“Tony,” Natasha warns, but it’s too late. You use the palm of your hand to slam into Stark’s solar plexus. You kick out his kneecap and he drops on one knee, wheezing and gasping for air. It all happens so fast you can’t even think about the repercussions of assaulting your boss, let alone what’s driven you to do it in the first place.

“I don’t need to be an alpha to kick your ass,” you hiss, glaring down at Stark who looks up at you like you have, in fact, lost your mind.

At that moment, the elevator dings and reveals Bucky practically seething behind the elevator doors. He storms in, larger than life - in the week or so it’s been since you’ve seen him, you’ve somehow forgotten how physically intimidating he actually is. You immediately step back from Stark’s kneeling figure, feeling the strange need to hide your hands behind your back like a kid caught with the cookie jar. Bucky glances wildly between you, Stark on the ground, and the ring of Avengers in different states of attempting to intervene. He heaves ragged breaths and is emitting a scent that threatens to take you to your knees, too. Authoritative, powerful, protective.

That submissive, animalistic side of you makes you really hate being an omega sometimes.

“Why is she here?” Bucky asks someone behind you, probably Natasha. He swings his, frankly, frightening gaze to Stark and demands with just as much venom as you had, “What did you do to her.”

“Jesus Christ, nothing!” Stark wheezes, clutching at the spot on his chest you’ve definitely bruised. He points an accusing finger at you and cries, “She hit me!”

“I’m so sorry,” you say, feeling your hands start to shake where you clutch them behind your back. You look to Bucky like maybe he can explain, which makes you sick to your stomach because he’s not yours to look towards. Now, more than ever, that is abundantly clear. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do!” Natasha pipes up behind you, helpful as ever. Bucky glares at her for you this time, releasing you of his burning-hot stare. His gaze has the power to paralyse you, and you need to get away from him, this, all of it - right now. You don’t get a chance to, however, before Natasha once again sticks her foot in it and says, “She was defending your honour, James.”

“Yeah, and I’ve no idea why. One quick google search should tell you he doesn’t need any-“

It takes you a second to realise the snarling, growling sound echoing through the gym is coming from you. Your face burns as you roll your lips together, cutting the sound off completely. For your entire life you’ve been headstrong and confident, but this whole experience with Bucky from the very first day you met him has shaken your entire self-perception. Everything you’ve known has been turned upside down - it was easy when all alphas were assholes, and you were one omega they couldn’t fuck with. Now, you stare down at your shoes and refuse to look in Bucky’s direction because he’s affected you so much you can’t even control yourself anymore. The worst part is that it’s entirely your own doing, because Bucky made it very clear you aren’t the one he wants, so everything you’re doing right now is just incredibly humiliating.

“(Y/n)?” Bucky’s voice makes you shudder. Looking at him would surely make you burst into flames, from embarrassment of the last time you saw him which you can’t even think about, or from the shame of pathetically defending a man who doesn’t want anything to do with you. He doesn’t even want you here, storming up to ask why you’re in his home in the first place.

“I’m gonna go,” you say, giving Bucky a wide berth as you head for the elevators. You can’t get there fast enough, practically sprinting to press the close-door button as fast as you can.

“Wait-“

And then, the absolute worst thing happens. You almost crush the Starkpad still in your hand from clenching your fist so hard - you have to, in order to keep your hands by your sides and not in Bucky’s personal space. Because just as the doors are about to slide closed, he slips in between them and FRIDAY seals you both in. The elevator fills with Bucky Bucky Bucky, just like your heat-addled brain has been chanting at you since you stumbled into his apartment a week ago.

Bucky stares at you wide-eyed, and you stare back just the same. This could possibly be your worst nightmare come to life, especially when the elevator screeches to a halt and FRIDAY’s dulcet tones hammer your fate home.

“I appear to be having some technical difficulties,” FRIDAY says, sounding confused if an AI can sound like anything. “I’m so sorry, I’m trying to fix this. It seems someone is manually overriding my control of the elevator.”

“Nat,” you groan, in unison with Bucky. So that’s it. You’re stuck in an elevator with Bucky and are being forced to face the music, by the powers that be. The powers being Natasha, a no good meddler who is going to be in a world of pain when you get out of here. Alpha be damned.

[rose-sereniteeth]

[2] Night water conspiracies and a warm milk with honey

(HOLY SHIT I’M WHIPPED)

[Sereniverse]: [2]

Pairing: Mingyu x reader

Word count: 1.7k

Genre/warnings: idol!au, technically poly!seventeen, crack, smut, language, oral (f receiving), fingering, being a bit too whipped for people.. a bit of fluff in the end

Summary: the one where you wake up in the middle of the night, meet a sleepy Mingyu in the kitchen and try to figure out why the water tastes so good

A/N: I love Mingyu. ....

...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH :3

...

You had been living with them for almost two months now. About five weeks after you had moved in, some events had occurred that led to three hours of you getting used by Hoshi, Joshua and Jeonghan in the sweetest ways you could imagine and the boys hadn't stopped teasing you about that night ever since.

They had heard all the sweet noises the three men had pulled from your lips and had gotten really riled up by it. Most of them could control themselves though, even though they had all dreamed about touching and tasting you one way or another. Not that you would have minded.

But not Mingyu. 

He had voiced his yearning for you that night and despite the fact that you had almost been passed out in Joshua's arms, you had still heard and understood his complaints about missing out on you.

Needless to say that you were extremely flustered around the boys all the time, especially Mingyu, after that. 

They looked at you differently now. Could also be that you only noticed it now though. 

Mingyu could control himself for exactly two days before he approached you. You were standing in the kitchen, getting a 3 am glass of water because you had woken up for some reason. You thought that nightly water always tasted better than water during the day and you wondered what they did to the pipes at night to make it this great as you took a sip from your glass. 

You were so immersed in your night-water-conspiracies that you didn't hear him enter the room so you jumped when Mingyu pulled you into a tight back hug, his hands snaking around your waist to your belly, resting his chin on your head. 

"G'night, stinky." He greeted you. You rolled your eyes, answering "Hey, dipshit." Calling each other names came to be your dynamic over the past weeks and you found it really fun. 

His body was warm against your back, his breath slow and his heartbeat calm. You could tell from his low rumbly voice that he was pretty tired and could only have woken up minutes ago. "You tired, big bear? Can't sleep?" you asked. He made some grumbly sound before answering "Mmh no, I mean.. ugh-". You giggled "So you are tired. Too tired to talk, it seems." "Mhm, seems like it." He mumbled. "Should I get you back to bed? Do you want a cup of warm milk with honey, to help you get to sleep?" You questioned. 

"I'd rather have you, honey. Get you to my bed..." He grumbled lowly, lips right next to your ear now. You choked on your water. Mingyu loosened his grip around you to let you cough and you turned around in his arms hesitantly once you were done dying. 

He just grinned down at you lazily before carefully taking your face into his left hand, his right staying at your hip. You could feel your face flush, it must have been red like a tomato. He let out a small chuckle as he bent down slightly and caught your lips with his gently. 

You were pretty sure that you stopped breathing for a bit, but soon enough you found yourself kissing him back. The kiss was genuine, filled with way more than just sexual desire and you were melting into him like warm wax. Your arms were wrapped around his broad neck when he started deepening the kiss, exploring your mouth with his tongue. 

He had wanted to do this for so long and it was even more heavenly than he had anticipated. 

The rapper moved his hands to tap at the backs of your thighs. You took this as a hint to jump and straddle his hips to hold yourself up. It wasn't an invitation but rather a command in the way that he was holding you. Maybe it was the night water but you couldn't find the strength to not follow his order to have a little fun, as you usually would have done. His lips had something addicting about them and after he had hinted at his intentions, you could feel neediness pool between your legs. You definitely wanted more.

His large hands at your thighs, he carried you to his room easily, his lips never leaving yours. He dropped you onto his bed, hovering over you. When you pulled apart to breathe you remembered something "What about your honey milk?" He scoffed "Who cares about that? The only thing I want on my lips right now is you." He added, his face so close to yours that you could feel his heavy breath on your lips. 

With that he connected his lips with yours again, pushing slightly so you would lean back and lay down. When you were laying flat on your back, him towering over you, he started trailing his lips to your jaw and neck, pulling the sweetest breathy moans and gasps from you.

Your legs wrapped around Mingyu's waist and your hands went under his shirt, traveling across his carved torso. His skin was so soft under your fingertips and you couldn't wait to see him. He chuckled when you started tugging at his shirt. "So eager, little bunny. No patience." You could feel his grin on your lips when you opened your eyes to make puppy-eyes at him. "Please?" 

His grin widened into a shining smile as he slightly pulled away from you. Just enough to take off his shirt. When Mingyu caught you staring at his toned chest he slowly straightened his back, looking down at you a little bit too confident. "Like what you see, Bunny?"

You just continued looking, mumbling something absentmindedly as you stared at his toned torso. You were certain that he was shining. His skin so smooth and soft, his light muscles casting beautiful shadows over it in the dim light of his bedside lamp. He chuckled yet again before he bent down to you, letting his shirt fall wherever. 

Your lips were on his in an instant as it was his turn now to rid you off your shirt. When it was done his lips attacked your neck again, his teeth nipping the skin as he started sucking on it slightly. You let out a grasp that earned you a small sound from deep within his chest. 

Your legs were between his now while he was holding himself up on his hands and knees and you thought you would try to tease him a bit. You angled your leg slightly, pressing your thigh to his crotch, where you could feel his hard member straining against the confines of his slacks. He let out a low moan, having to pause marking your skin. It took him a second to catch himself again but when he did, he looked at you with hooded eyes. The sound of him and his look shot arousal straight to your core and if you weren't wet already, you would definitely have been now..

You breathed his name automatically. It was a plea for him to start touching you and he immediately listened. He pulled your sleep shorts and underwear away in one swift motion and didn't lose time kneeling before the bed and diving between your thighs. His strong hands grabbed your hips and pulled you towards him. You felt his hot tongue lick a long stripe over Your heat and moaned his name before you had had enough time to process what he was doing. 

Your hands went straight for his hair, tangling your fingers in the strands and pulling slightly from time to time. Mingyu made out with your flower furiously. He was so immersed in your scent and taste and the way you felt that he didn't know anything but you in the moment. 

After a short while he added a finger, playing at your entrance first before he slowly pushed it in. Though the stretch was not a lot, it made your eyes roll back and a series of moans and pleas leave your lips. 

You pulled at Mingyu's hair roughly when he added a second finger and started scissoring his digits inside you, stretching you out more. The sudden harsh tug made him growl at your core, sending vibrations through your whole body that made you clench around his fingers and he chuckled at your body's reaction to him.

“P-please.. Mingyu…” It came out more like a breath than real words, but he heard it, detaching himself from you and pulling his fingers out immediately as he looked at you with blown out pupils. “What is it?” he asked curiously but out of breath. You didn’t hesitate, answering him “Please, need you inside me, Mingyu.” You knew what would come next, judging from the smirk that played across his rosy lips. “And don’t you dare tell me that you already were!” “Or what?” You shook your head. “Just fucking kiss me already.” You said, leaning forward and reaching out for him to pull him towards you.

He smiled into the kiss as he rose from his knees, taking off his sweats and underwear in the process. He swiftly grabbed a condom from his bedside drawer and you watched him as he opened it with his teeth, looking up at him with hooded eyes.

///

You slept like a baby in his warm embrace after you two were done and only awoke in the later morning hours to two voices in the room. 

" -lucky beanpole-ass lookin'.." You couldn't identify the voice in your half-sleepy state. "Shut up Jihoon, she's still sleeping, idiot." Mingyu whisper-shouted, holding you tighter to his chest. "And at least I'm not some tiny-ass smurf-gnome kinda abomination, asshole! Now fuck off and close the door. I'll make you even shorter, if you wake her up." He added, fake aggression evident in his tone. Jihoon went to close the door, not without mumbling a "Geez Rambo, chill your enormous breadstick ass down man.." more to himself than to Mingyu. 

You fell back asleep for a few more hours shortly after that, snuggling into the big boy a bit more.

[bellisperennis0]

Forever Yours

Word Count: 1,687

Warnings: Language

A/N: Another fluffy Coco story no one asked for. GIF create to owner. As always Thank You so much for reading and hope you enjoy! ❤️

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

Coco sat on your couch nursing a beer, clear annoyance written on his face. You were currently in your room trying on ever outfit you had in your closet for a date you had in just a few hours. “I don’t see why you are so upset.” You yell down the hall towards Coco as you tried on another dress. “I just hate seeing how upset you are after your date with all these pendejos, querida. That’s all.” He calls back. Walking back out to the living room with yet another dress on you stand in front of Coco, “Zip me up please.” You ask as you turn your back to Coco so he can zip up your dress. “I get where you are coming from, I do, but how am I going to meet Mr. Right if I don’t get out there and at least try. I’m tired of being alone, Coco.” You continue. “You’re not alone. You have me!” he tells you, tapping your back to let you know he was done. “And I’m forever thankful, but that’s not the same. What you think?” you ask him turning around to face him. “Still like the first one best.” He tells you, taking his seat on the sofa. Grumbling you stomp back to your room.

Another hour later, you are dressed and ready to go. Walking out to the living room where Coco, and now Angel, were watching a game. “Alright, what do you think?” you ask the guys as you give them a twirl. “Fuck, querida. If this man doesn’t rip that dress off of you by the end of the night, I sure will.” Angel tells you. You just roll your eyes and giggle. You look at Coco waiting for his response. “You look beautiful. He will be dumb not to like it.” He tells you. “Thank you.” You give him a smile. Just then your doorbell rings, “He’s here. Please don’t leave this place a mess like last time, yeah?” you tell them both as you give them both a kiss on the cheek and head to the door. “Lock up when you leave please.” You tell them as you go to open the door. “Wait! You aint gonna let us met this guy?” Coco asks as he gets up from the couch. “You’re hilarious. Absolutely not!” you say before slipping out the door.

----------

“What’s wrong with you, bro? Why are you over here pouting?” Gilly asks Coco as he hands him a beer and takes a seat next to him. “y/n is on another date.” Angel pipes in. “Damn, bro. When are you going to man up and tell your girl how you really feel?” Gilly asks him. “I just don’t want to ruin the friendship, bro. What if we aint meant to be together and I lose her completely.” He says taking a drag of his cigarette. “That girl has been by your side through all the shit you have done, and not once walked away. Don’t think something like that will chase her off.” Gilly tells him. “That’s true bro. She knows your deepest darkest secrets and never once batted an eye. Either she’s just as crazy as you are, or she’s your ride or die.” Angel chimes in. Coco just sits back and takes in everything his brothers are saying. Maybe they were right, maybe he had to see if you two could be more than just friends.  

Just then his phone began to ring, when he saw your name on his screen he smiled, getting up to take the call away from his brothers. “Mi Dulce.” He answers. The sound of your sniffles makes him clench his jaw, obviously your date didn’t go too well. “I’ll be right there.” He simply tells you before hanging up and jumping on his bike, heading to you.

----------

When he walks into your apartment, he finds your tear stained face, sitting on the kitchen floor, chugging down a bottle of wine, another empty bottle next to you, and a pint of ice cream almost empty. He gives you a sad smile, before taking a seat next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. “What happened this time?” he asks you as he places a kiss to your head. “Apparently he wanted to become a Prospect for the MC. Knew I had connections.” You say sniffling. “Fucking asshole” you can hear him say under his breath. “And here I was thinking we were hitting it off. Third date, no way was he a hit it and quit it guy, he must really like me if he keeps asking me ask. He was just using me to try to get to the MC. Fucking Stupid.” You throw the ice cream container against the kitchen cabinet out of anger.

Tears now streaming down your cheeks, “What’s wrong with me Coco? Why can’t I find a man to love me for me? Am I really that horrible and broken that no one will love me?” You cry out, every word breaking Coco’s heart a little more. This wasn’t the first time he has come over and found you like this after a date, but something about tonight breaks his heart more to see you this way. “Stop, there is nothing wrong with you. It’s them; they are the ones that can’t see how great you are. And you know what, fuck them, querida. Their lose.” He tells you as he pulls you against his side again. “Why can’t I find someone like you, Coco? You always make me feel like a queen. Always there for me no questions asked. Where is that guy for me? Huh, where is he?” you ask. He didn’t know how to answer that. “Why don’t we get you into bed, querida. Come on.” He says as he pulls you up with him and takes you to your room. Helping you get undressed and changed into your pajamas, he then tucks you in for the night. Giving you a kiss to your forehead, “Sweet dreams, mi vida.” He tells you. “I love you Johnny.” You say as you cuddle into your pillow.

----------

“Querida….y/n…rise and shine sleepy head.” You hear a voice say as they softly shake you awake. Groggily you open your eyes to see Coco sitting on the bed next to you. Looking over at your clock on your night stand you saw it was already late in the afternoon. “The fuck, Johnny!?” you ask as you try to wipe the sleep from your eyes. “Coffee. Your favorite Danish from that overly expensive bakery in town.” He says as he lifts the coffee and Danish in his hands to show you. “Tylenol and a glass of water on your night stand. Get up and get ready. I want to take you somewhere.” He says getting up and heading towards the door. “Where are we going?” you ask him. “One hour. Lets go!” he shouts as he makes his way down the hall.

You have forgotten how freeing riding on the back of Coco’s bike was. Comfortably pressed into Coco’s back, the rumble of his bike beneath you, the open road, the wind in your hair and the scent of Coco always relaxes you. Taking it easy he didn’t go too fast and just enjoyed the ride and your company. Occasionally his hand would stroke up and down your leg, he’ll turn to flash you a smile and you’ll gently squeeze his waist and place a kiss to his shoulder.

Before you knew it you were pulling off the road and onto a dirt driveway. Stopping and turning off the bike you and Coco get off. He grabs a blanket and a small basket from his saddlebag and takes your hand. “Come on.” He tells you as he leads you through a small trail that led to an overlook. You were blown away by the view. “Wow, that’s beautiful. Is that all of Santo Padre?” you ask as you stare at the sun setting over the small town. “Yeah.” Coco simply says. You turn to him to find he had a blanket laid out and two cups of hot chocolate. “So how many girls have you brought up here, Cruz?” you joke, eyeing him as you take the hot coco from him. “Just you. You’re the first.” he admits. “Bike broke down not far from here a while back, and I found this place looking for some phone reception.” He continued. “So is all this some kind of pity party for last night?” you ask him. He smacks his lips and shakes his head, “Not even like that querida. I don’t know, just thought I would show you how a real man should treat a lady.” He says, giving you a wink. “Look Coco, whatever I said last night….” You try to say, but he’s quick to cut you off. “No, y/n listen. I just need to get this out before I chicken out. I’m done with always seeing you in tears over some fucking douchebag that can’t see your worth. Done with this friend with benefits bullshit. And I’m done holding in how I really feel about you.” He says, you try to interrupt, “Coco” you try to say. “You asked me last night why you couldn’t find a man more like me. I’m right here, querida. I’m all yours, if you want me.” He tells you. You couldn’t help yourself from jumping into his lap and crashing your lips onto his.

“You have no idea how long I have been waiting for you to say all that” you say as you break the kiss. His thumbs wipe away your tears. “I know. I was afraid that it wouldn’t work and I would lose you.” He admits. “You will never lose me, Johnny. I’ll always be here.” You give him a peck on the lips. “I’m all yours, mi dulce.” He tells you “And I am forever yours.” You tell him as he pulls you into another kiss.

-xx

[penaltybox14]

Summer of 51′s

Summer of 51′s Prompt 12: Waking Up

Behold: I create an entire spinoff featuring two minor characters who appear in three episodes.

...

A half-mile from the house where he grew up, the river bent up nearly in two and cut a deep, lazy curve into the soft earth.  On the deep side was a rope swing and you had to wait til you were big enough to either haul yourself back up the bank or swim all the way across.  The first time he swung out from the bank he didn't know how to let go, and he toppled off in three directions at once and hit the water so hard he forgot which way was up. 

His lungs seemed to pinch and twist up like Kip Roberts from down the way who was struck by polio when he was six years old and lived at the state school and only came home for holidays and the light in the back of his head was so hot and so bright he couldn't not find the sun again and when he did he gasped and choked once and saw stars, and he lay on the warm sandbar a long time after.  Water flowing over his fingertips and rubbing up against his leg like a cat.  The sun above was hot and chased the clouds to ribbons and the trees danced and the water was cool and earthen-smelling like a cellar.  A grave might smell like that, he thought.

In Los Angeles, the river limps down from the hills, some days hardly no more than a damp spot on her concrete course.  She rages or she retreats and there isn't one single scale from one single fish from Canoga Park all the way to the Pacific.  Cars race there; young men fight over girls; runaways fret away the nights in the outflow pipes.  One day there was a backpack wedged into a crack; another time a jacket caught on a grating.  People are always calling in bodies that turn out to be plastic bags, or department store mannequins, or mounds of earth, or dead cats.  Once it was a dead deer, half skeleton, and its long supple neck seemed to crane toward the sky and the empty socket of its eye was full of flies that spun and buzzed and flickered like rage.  The stench of it rose up into the sky and stung the eyes and Terry Malley said they should've put on their SCBA first but at least it wasn't so bad as that lady who died in her bathtub on the 4th floor of a walkup tenement who didn't even have a purse nevermind a name. 

The water was rising and the clouds walled up the sun and made it seem like dusk, when they were toned out for someone trapped.  Jack Vaughn had already warned him about Brice, and Terry Malley was making book out.  Brice didn't seem happy about working with him but he didn't seem unhappy, either, he was hard to read, that one, behind the glasses.  When Bob treated him fair, there was a fleeting expression on his face like surprise.  When the tones dropped, his face was implacable.  He had been doing a crossword at the table.  Bob had been taking a nap on the couch.  It was another day in paradise, like Terry Malley would say. 

The water was the color of the clouds tumbling out of the hills and it was rising through the grate.  If there was someone, you couldn't have heard them.  He couldn't seen anybody but he didn't have time - his foot hit a patch, inching down the embankment, and the line went taut and the earth went up and the sky went down and he was nine years old again, spinning out like Apollo 13 up above when the tanks had blown, like a Soviet satellite aging out of orbit.  It was dark and cold and if he had never come up, he would never have known the difference.

Brice was pumping on his chest when he found the good earth again, and the sky was back in place, and his teeth hurt, and his body hurt, and he retched and rolled and gasped and Brice thumped his back and his shoulder and said Bob, Bob, it's alright. 

Said it so soft, over the roar of the water, he might've missed it.  He's sure Cap did, and Lenny Volente their engineer, and Keith Kerney who stood there balking like a probie, and Greg Alford who squatted down with his mouth open and teeth bared like a dog, in the rain.  In the sounding pounding rain.  But it was Brice he was looking at, Brice he was seeing, Brice who had been thumping on his chest and had rain in his eyes, without his glasses, his glasses had come off somewhere and there were raindrops on his lashes and running down his boyish face.

"Bob," he said. 

He couldn’t find his voice yet so he took Craig's hand tight in his, gloves soaked, gloves smelling like wet animal, his turnouts reeking of old smoke like ghosts.  Would've been gone, and never known the difference.  Only the rest of 'em, soaking in the cold rain.  Only the rest of 'em, left standing on the banks.  

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 27

First time reader click here

TWs/Summary: If you read carefully, you knew this; if you didn't: reader was drugged at the party. Hangover from Hell ft. boys being cute, Loki being best friend material and reader fully integrating him into the Gen-Z community via Monster energy drinks and depressive music whilst being sad. I live for Loki/reader friendship tbh.

So folks, this is the last big plot thing before the endgame. I reckon it's about 10-15 chapters left until out happy ending and the next bit is going to focus on developing reader's and Stephen's relationship. There will be smutty parts too - either chapters or interludes, idk, depending on how well they'll integrate into the story.

I love y'all.

Ow, was my first thought upon waking up. My head throbbed something fierce, the pressure behind my eyelids was unbearable and my mouth tasted like a bog on a sunny summer's day. I was warm, from both sides, and one of the bodies felt foreign in everything besides the smell - sandalwood leaked through the lead curtain of alcohol and sex.

Needless to say, I had trouble piecing together the fine details of last night but had enough coherence to remember our... Activities. I was sore and Strange's long arm was still possessively draped over both me and Tony. The luck was on my side as I carefully wiggled out of his grasp, padding to the bedroom on quiet feet. The sorcerer barely moved, only grumbling briefly at the loss of my warmth and immediately quieting, shamelessly snuggling into Tony.

I would have not exaggerated if I said it was the worst hangover of my life. It was baffling, really, because I'd gone way wilder and didn't suffer half as much after effects; my first attempt to brush my teeth ended with my face resting against the toilet bowl, my empty stomach rejecting what little liquid in it was left as the room spun on its axis. That was incredibly embarrassing and I hoped my boys wouldn't wake up to witness my best impression of a bum - and they didn't, both men still sound asleep and interwined like snakes when I put on the shirt closest to me and departed in search of coffee.

My mood only worsened. Steve and Bucky were already up, shoveling an impressive amount of eggs and bacon, as Bucky quietly teased Steve about his own hangover. The blonde man was slightly greenish, disheveled - we traded equally glum looks and nodded to each other in silence. The smell of food made my stomach churn and I retreated, one black coffee in hand, towards Bruce's lab, having been informed by Friday that neither Tony not Stephen planned on waking up.

"Morning, Princess," Bruce smiled kindly, pushing his glasses out of the way to hold me close and give me a sweet kiss. "Had fun? The boys still asleep?"

I giggled at Bruce calling Tony and Stephen boys. "Yeah. I wouldn't be wearing Stephen's shirt if he was up and about, I think." I pointed out the obvious.

Bruce chuckled, holding my face to give me a long, thoughtful look. I stared back, hoping convey my respect and adoration without having to say a word; like Tony, I wasn't particularly apt when it came to talking feelings. Whatever Bruce was looking for, he found it, and sealed it with another kiss, twice as long and twice as sweet. We stood like that, my head on his shoulder and my arms firmly holding him to myself, until the elevator dinged behind the glass wall, revealing a shirtless Stephen and Tony in his pajama pants, both men bickering animatedly.

"Aw shit, here we go again," I rolled my eyes, unhappy about the possibility of the magic being broken. I rather preferred all three men to be like yesterday: friendly, kind and relaxed.

"I will kick them out if I have to," Bruce shrugged, turning me around to face them.

Tony smiled, seeing me, stopping mid-conversation. "Princess, I am disappointed in your lack of manners. You left me with Merlin and he is mean." The engineer unceremoniously snatched me from Bruce and smooched me, hangover breath and all.

"Gross, Tony," I rolled my eyes, giving the man a light shove in the chest. "Morning, Steph," I addressed the third man who had gone back to his usual stoic expression. Just to see his resolve crack, because I loved pushing his buttons, I gave him a good morning kiss too, and was unexpectedly blown away by the eager response from his side. As I pulled back, I noticed his cheeks dusting a light pink.

"I came to get my shirt but I think you'd rather keep it," The sorcerer's fingers caressed my skin beneath the collar of his shirt, voice still low and scratchy from sleep and those magnetic eyes fixated on the exposed flesh of my chest, no trace of previous awkwardness.

"You sure 'bout that?" I pushed one of the sides off, exposing my shoulder, seeing Tony gulp the remainder of my coffee, one hand already messing with the screen that Bruce was focused on. "I think I look better without it," I would never miss an opportunity to tease the uptight man.

"Quite," He grinned, "It's a shame I didn't get to see much last night..." Two could play this game, okay.

"Oh, but you will," Tony piped up suddenly, a hint of smugness in his voice barely covered by Bruce's fond chuckle. I really didn't know what to say, suddenly overwhelmed with the attention, my emotions amplified by the hangover - party drugs tended to exaggerate my anxiety on the comedown.

And what a comedown it was. My social energy ran out very quickly so I complained about a nasty headache and retreated into my room, Bruce's gentle hands pressing a bottle of Ibuprofen into my own. Despite my attempts to tame my rioting body, it got worse before it got better and shortly before lunch, I had thrown up twice more. Pissed off, I ran a bath with cold water and sat in it until I felt somewhat human to prepare myself for a journey to Wanda's apartment - as a last resort, I was going to chug on of Pietro's Monster energy drinks that I knew he kept hidden there.

The retrieval was a success. Cans securely hidden in the kangaroo pocket of Tony's oversized hoodie I had thrown on, I had to make a haste detour to throw up once again - the closest bathroom was in Loki's apartment and I only managed to knock twice before throwing open the door and making a mad dash for the porcelain throne, a very confused Asgardian following my movements with raised eyebrows.

"Hangover from Hell," I croaked once the first wave subsided. Loki nodded in understanding, waved a hand to summon me a water bottle and shut the door behind himself.

As I sat there, desperately trying to understand why was I feeling like utter shit... It clicked. Bile rose to my throat once again, and I just dry heaving, mulling my revelation over and over again.

I didn't take any drugs. I had been drugged. My memories became hazy and dream-like shortly after someone had given me the drink... Someone, who? It was a split-second moment; Sam, even in his drunk state, didn't keep his eyes off me for too long. Maybe it had been someone the team knew? Possibilities began playing out in my head. Cursed was my overactive brain - the anxiety from the leftover drugs was making me panic.

"Fuck, FUCK," My hands shook - I only noticed it because I had spilled water on myself, adding cold and wet to the unpleasant sensations I was already experiencing. "Why am I such a fucking fuck-up." Taking a drink from a stranger seemed downright idiotic now. Middle school bullshit.

"Are you alright?" Loki's worried voice interrupted my inner monologue.

"Yes," I replied, voice cracking. "No. I don't fucking know."

The door all but flew open, the Asgardian taking several long strides to take a good long look at me. The frown on his face tells me all I needed to know about my physical and mental state.

A slender hand tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "What happened?"

I laughed tersely, feeling tears to begin welling in the corners of my eyes. "I'm an idiot," Seeing his face get annoyed briefly, I conceded: "I got drugged yesterday. My drink."

The hand that he had slid between my shoulder blades froze. I felt his whole body go rigid and his nostrils flare, the smell of ozone and something foreign - magic - filling the small space. The air around us became charged with the power of his anger. "Pardon?" His voice was dangerously quiet.

I physically fought with the need to flinch away from him, settling for lowering my eyes and staring at the dark stain on my hoodie. "I got carried away dancing. Someone handed me a drink and my stupid ass just shotgunned it," I confessed, picking at the wet spot. "And I can't tell anybody because I had a threesome with Stephen and Tony," I suddenly realised, my voice raising in pitch. "They're gonna think I didn't want it and feel bad. You know how Tony blames himself for everything under the sun..." Another wave of dizziness and nausea hit me as I leaned against the wall closest to me.

"Alright," Loki conceded after a brief pause. "We absolutely are telling the others. I'll make sure they understand," The Asgardian stated firmly in a tone that bore no argument. Seeing me lift my head to protest, he interrupted me before I could say anything: "Did you... Did you want it?" He asked me, hooking a single finger under my chin to look me in the eye.

I nodded, feeling my face heat up.

"You're not lying. The team knows of my ability to detect lies. Nobody will blame anyone..." Loki trailed off, obviously already plotting something. I wished it were a prank both of us were conspiring on instead of... Trying to make sense of this cluster fuck of a shit show. The circus called, they seemed to have left their clowns behind. "Although I will have a word with Sam." The Asgardian muttered darkly.

"No, it's not his fault. I just got too relaxed, I need to pucker up and be responsible for myself," I protested, damn well knowing it wasn't the Bird's fault. Everyone was drunk and I should've known better.

"It's not yours either," Loki sneered, seeing right through my self-loathing. It took a deep, slow sigh for him to calm down. His expression softened and the hand that was on my back resumed the gentle stroking as he scooted closer to me to press my side against his chest. "Vile people of this kind aren't exclusive to Midgard. It could have happened to anyone."

I nodded, my logical part briefly taking over as the waves of nausea and dizziness waned. I stifled a giggle, coming to another sudden revelation. "You holding up my hair as I barf out my hangover? That makes you qualified for the position of my Best Friend," I stated with a snort.

Loki chuckled, relaxing bit by bit. "I accept the position," His voice was unusually soft and a little bit shaky; I chose to tactfully ignore it. "Shall I call for assembly in the war room?"

I sighed, the dread and anxiety creeping it's way back in. "Can we just... Wait a bit? I have something- hold on-" I rummaged around my pocket, taking out two cans of Monster. Loki eyed them curiously and I extended one to him. "It probably won't do much for you but for me it's a last-resort hangover cure." I popped open the metal cap, seeing him do the same. "Be warned though, it tastes kinda funky if you're not used to it," I announced the disclaimer but it simply egged Loki on.

The scrunched up face he made was pretty funny. "It's sour but sickeningly sweet at the same time? I can't tell," He briefly eyed the written ingredients on the can.

"There are a bunch of flavors. Pietro likes the plain one, I like the purple one better, it's not so tongue-burning." I paused to inhale loudly. "If this is what college life looks like, I don't want to go," Mustering up my courage and gathering my balls in a knot, with one broad motion I closed my nose and poured the carbonated acid down my throat until my eyes watered. "Gimme a minute," I hiccuped, trying to keep it down.

Wide-eyed, Loki took a chaste sip of his own drink, eyeing me warily. He looked part impressed part disgusted with the little stunt. "I am pretty certain that is counter-productive."

"Caffeine make brain and body go skrrt," I argued back. "Friday, play my "grant me the sweet release of death" playlist. I'm upset," I announced and the AI obliged silently, the first notes of Placebo's 'Exit Wounds' beginning to play. If I was going to mop in a stranger's bathroom, I was going to do it with style. Even if said style was just simply stealing in my own misery with emo background music.

Loki stared at me, I stared back, both of us lost in our respective minds. At one point, he began swaying to the music slightly, resting the cool tin of the can against his cheek; I followed suit, mouthing along to some of the lyrics. It took us about a dozen songs to finally finish the liquid acid that was Monster energy drink and my ass felt like the bathroom tile itself: flat and hard.

"Do you ever feel like the universe just hates you for no fucking reason?" I groused, taking Loki's outstretched hand and slowly feeling the blood rush back to my legs.

"You wouldn't believe," He rolled his eyes in solidarity, vanishing away the empty containers. "Norns, give me a Hel-damned break."

I laced his arm through mine as we exited his apartment, feeling considerably less upset than I was before. I couldn't protect myself, but one look at Loki's sullen, irritated expression was bound to scare off anyone who dared to interrupt our mission.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95

[yandereclues]

Request: Hey! I saw that you take requests for Stranger Things and was wondering if you’d take requests for borderline-terato Mindflayer! Billy Hargrove?

Request by: @youre-gonna-stink-and-burn 😊

Note: I changed things up a little with the mind flare, just to fit the Yander print better. But I really hope you enjoy !! 💕 (also based on the pronouns in your bio I assumed you would want male pronouns, if not I can change them real quick.)

Pairing: Yandere! Flayed! Billy Hargrove x Male! Reader.

Warnings: Displays of obsessive behaviors, slight violence? And sexual themes.

(Credit to @fivemoonjunction for the cool gif 😋)

“Hey umm,” you spoke as stress-filled tears threatened to pull from your eyes, “have you seen Billy recently? He hasn’t been answering my calls and-“ your shaky words were cut off by Max’s reply.

“No,” she seemed uninterested. She went to close the door, but you managed to get a sentence out before It clicked closed; “Well, if you see him please call me.”

She opened the door again slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes. The unintelligible emotion behind her words put you off slightly. She quickly slammed the door closed. You stared at the frosted glass, at about eye level on the door. A small, almost silent sigh escaped your lips as you tilted your head up. But as you looked up, you noticed a pair of curtains flowing outside of an open window. You recognized the window, the same one you had been ushered to crawl through on many nights. Memories flew around your mind at the thought.

You remembered the chilly autumn evening vividly. “C’mon baby, if you jump, I’ll pull you up,” it was like his voice called to you from the open window, beckoning you closer. You had put all your faith into Billy’s relentless weightlifting that night, hopping towards the window. You remembered just barely touching the window sill, as strong warm hands gripped your forearms.

Many things had happened. You remembered music, calloused hands, cigarette smoke, and piercing blue eyes encasing you throughout the night.

A chill filled your system. The last time you had seen those beautiful eyes was last Friday. When Billy had dragged you to the changing rooms of the pool after hours. He had pressed you against the cold stone wall, lips grazing over your neck. Running his hands down your body as he usually did. This time though, he hesitated. As if he was waiting for some sort of signal.

It took a few seconds for it to set in how cold his hands were. He refused to let you ponder the subject though, as he resumed kissing your neck roughly. Much rougher than your previous nights, where he had been gentle, patient. His chest was pressed against yours, almost uncomfortably so. You shiver at the words he spoke softly into your ear that day. “I’ll be back for you, don’t worry.”

As soon as you got to your front yard, you threw yourself off of your bike. Not bothering to put it in the garage. Rushing to get to the door, you nearly dropped your keys as they shook, trying to get the damn thing to open. When the door finally slipped open, you scampered through, closing and locking it as you entered.

————————————————————————

“Come here,” you heard him call, “come here baby.” Billy sat down on his old bed, beckoning you forward with his pointer finger. You crawled forward, reaching your hand to touch his thigh. You seemed a mere inch away, but the only thing in front of you was now your kitchen phone. It rang, even as you rushed to pick up the receiver, it simply rang.

You could see him, on the other side of the line. You could feel him. He was cold, afraid, desperate. When the phone would stop ringing, he would dial your number again, placing it to his ear as he awaited your voice. You spoke through the receiver;

“Billy? Are you okay? Why are you so cold?,” you were frantic, trying to express your concern to him. But he wasn’t in his home anymore, he now stood in the field outside of your school. He just stood there, taking a long, shaky drag of his cigarette.

————————————————————————

Your eyes opened lazily, taking in the lights you had left on when you fell asleep. You looked at your bedside clock, it’s 1:26 AM. You stumbled over to the light switch, so inconveniently placed next to the door to your room. You flicked the light off, turning to now return to your slumber. But the familiar feeling of thirst made your throat scratch. You huffed, pulling the door open to stumble your way to the kitchen.

You flicked on the lights in the kitchen, the harshness of the fluorescent light fixture stung your eyes. A cold breeze flowed in from your left, making you shiver as the hair on your arms stood on end. But you got through it, in an attempt to grab a glass of water so you could go back to sleep. You tilted the glass up. “Hmmm?,” the top layer of the water seemed to have frozen. A frustrated huff left your lips. You stumbled towards the entrance of the house, where the thermostat was attached to the wall.

As you turned the corner towards the thermostat, the temperature continued to drop. Your eyes widened, as they landed upon your front door, standing wide open. You froze, not really knowing what to do. When you came to your senses you quickly walked over to close the door. But before you could close it;

Something called out.

The sound seemed to pull you outside. The grass was wet against your bare feet, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. You walked for a while, it seemed like it took twice as long as it did on your bike to reach your destination.

Billy’s house was dark; no lights, no sounds. You stepped up to the front door, almost knocking on it, when the sound of those awful curtains flowing outside of Billy’s window reached your ears. You looked up. There was something, no, cigarette smoke being blown outside of the window.

You walked over, noticing the ladder Billy had always set out when he wanted you to come over. It was an old rusty ladder, leaned up against the side of his house where his window was. You placed your hand on the rung, hesitantly. What if the smoke was just your imagination? You would practically be breaking and entering.

You quickly forgot those thoughts though, as you hoisted yourself up the ladder. One rung at a time. The final step onto the roof had always been a little awkward, but you managed. You tip-toed over the roof, taking no chance in waking the people beneath you. You stood under the window now, looking into the pitch black room, in which smoke no-longer emanated.

With a quick breath, you jumped. Your fingertips barely grazed the window sill. But once again, a strong, firm grip held onto your forearms. The grip easily pulled you through the window, with you simultaneously ending up on the floor.

You looked up, seeing those piercing blue eyes shining in the moonlight. “Billy!” You stood, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Bringing your body to his. He returned the embrace, nuzzling his face in your neck. You could feel him inhale deeply, as if taking in your scent.

He pulled away for a moment, moving his hand up to hold your jaw. “You heard me calling you?” He asked. It seemed like a rhetorical question, as his answer lies with you standing in front of him. Still, you nodded frantically. He smiled, his grip on your jaw tightening. He spoke; “hmmm, good boy. C’mere.” He pulled you over towards his bed. He sat, having you stand between his legs.

You piped up “Wait, where were you? I tried calling you so many times, and you didn’t answer. I was starting to get—,” something wasn’t right. Where the hell did he go? What happened?

Billy, in an attempt to pull you away from such silly questions, spoke; “You know, you’re so pretty. My pretty little boy, hmmm?” You froze, not knowing how to respond to his words, his touch. Dear lord it was cold in here.

You looked over, Billy must have turned on the lamp on his bedside table while you weren’t looking. Your eyes averted his, instead scanning the walls. It seems he had torn down all of his porno magazines.

You were surprised, he had spent years putting all of those up. But now they were instead replaced with, Polaroid’s? Many of them were blurry, like he had been in a rush. But one of the photos seemed oh-too familiar.

This photo, unlike the others, was framed. It was a photo of you and Billy. He had insisted that you sit on the hood of his car, while one of his buddies took the photo. As you looked closer, you realized that many, if not all of the photos were of you.

Many you remember having told Billy he could take while doing, scandalous things. Others seemed to be of you in many positions. Asleep in his bed, making him breakfast while his dad was at work, and the occasional shot of his hand on your ass.

Billy refused to let you ignore him longer. He pulled you down on the bed. With seemingly more strength than ever. He had you pinned down by your arms. He stared down at you with hungry eyes. His teeth shined in the lamp-light as he licked his lips. He leaned his head down to your lips, kissing them aggressively.

“Shit,” he whispered, “you drive us fucking crazy.” He bit your lip, hard. His action caused you to gasp, attempting to wrench your hands away from his grasp to sooth your lip. He only gripped them harder, with a bruising force. “We’re so lucky,” he breathed. “I thought I was crazy about you before, but he’s showing me just how much I can love you.”

Billy moved both of your wrists to his left hand, using his right to reach for the cuffs on his nightstand. Without warning, he quickly snapped the cuffs around your wrists. You then began to panic, struggling against the cuffs. He still had one hand, holding the chain linking the cuffs. The other, now moving up your neck.

“It’s okay, you can trust us,” his hand gripped your neck softly, “we aren’t gonna hurt you.” You tried kicking, thrashing your legs around. You tried kicking his legs, but it was to no avail as they stood solid where they were.

“Billy, what the fuck!? Let me go, now! Are you crazy?! You disappear for like a week, and now you’re talking about ‘we’!? What do you mean ‘he’s showing you’?!”

His grip tightened around your throat, choking you mid sentence. His expression changed, now darkened, like a switch had been flipped. He spoke, low and hoarse; “Don't fucking talk to us like that! You won’t know a damn thing about what’s out there. He’s shown me shit you couldn’t even imagine,” he growled “this is the only way you’ll be safe. The only way we can make sure you’re all ours.” His expression softened. “You're all ours,” he barely whispered.

As well as his expression, his grip on both your restraints and throat lightened. You took this opportunity, not knowing if such a thing would occur again. You pushed his hands off of you, leaving him momentarily stunned. The handcuffs rendered you slightly, but you pushed up from the bed, jumping over to the window. Making you realize, it was colder inside, than it was outside.

You got practically half way outside before Billy lunged towards you, dragging you down to the floor by your ankles. You fought back, pushing him away. But the seemingly inhuman force he used, easily had you rendered defenseless. “Stop struggling honey,” he huffed. Once again his hands wrapped around your throat. Only this time around, he didn’t hesitate to completely choke you out. He watched you try to pry his hand away, merely sighing as your body went limp beneath him. “Hmmm,” he spoke, “you’ll understand soon darling.”

——————————————————————————

Part two? Maybe?

[starry-seongmin]

#42 -  “S/he’s right behind me isn’t s/he?” 

#45 -   “You did that to hold my hand…i-”

Warnings: swearing (I think there's only one swear word?)

“Oh please, one bonk to the head and you will get knocked out” K scoffed. “Me getting knocked out? It doesn’t matter if you’re ripped, one gust of wind and you’ll get blown away like paper” you retaliated.

“So you do admit that I’m ripped” the beanpole smirks only to be smacked straight in the face with a cushion, laughing at your flustered face. “Shut up, idiot” you made a face at K who was still laughing. “That’s okay, don’t be embarrassed Y/N” he cooed, pinching your cheek to which you slapped his hand away, glaring playfully at him. “If you ever need someone to catch you and protect you, I’m here” he winked. 

“Guys, keep it low?” a voice spoke up. “Huh, you’re still here?” you glance at Geonu who was looking at you with disgust written all over his face. “Yeah, good to know you guys remember me. Please keep the flirting to a minimum...” he complained. “Better yet, don’t do it while I’m there” he finished before going back to his phone.

This was the thing which left you confused. The dynamic, the relationship between you and K would consist of friendly banters and competitiveness with light flirting, mostly from his part. 

“Just because you have no one to flirt with doesn’t mean you have to be a spoil sport” you teased, rubbing it in his face. “I’ll let you know I have Jungwon and Heeseung...two people, whereas you two..” he shrugged. “Show off” K mumbled. “Now where were we?’ he turned to you.

“I was just gonna say how you’re a thin ass celery stick” you replied, patting his head. “Honey, I’m stronger than you’ll ever be” he smiled sadistically. “I doubt that...how about an arm wrestle?” you offered, getting in position and placing your elbow on the table. Your competitiveness irked him and he sat across from you in the same position. 

As soon as your hands came in place, K, being the annoying shit he is, didn’t let the opportunity pass. “Admit it...” he piped, making you raise your eyebrow. “Admit what?” you asked, genuinely confused.  “You did that to hold my hand…i-” he began but was interrupted as you slammed his hand on the table, catching him off guard, taking advantage of the situation he put himself into. 

“That’s not fair!!” K protested, glaring at you as you did a victory dance. Geonu looked at the scene before him with amusement and shook his head, smiling to himself. “Aww..big boy is sad” you teased, provoking K. “Oh whatever, I let you win” he pouted, getting up and leaving the room. “Bring me a glass of water, hyung!” Geonu called out as K left. 

The boy turned to you, smirking. “You did it to hold his hand, right?” He asked, already aware of the answer. You winked at him and gave a salute. “I did it to hold his hand” you agreed, flopping down on the couch. “I’m afraid if you guys get together, the flirting will get worse than it already is” he sighed. 

“I don’t think it will happen” you replied, looking at the ceiling. “What K and I have is completely platonic...” Geonu noticed the sadness behind your voice and smiled sadly at you. “Did you think of telling him?” he asked, sitting straight. “I did but I don’t think it will be a good idea.” you admitted. “I can’t just walk up to K and go..hey, remember we flirt and all? Well, I actually mean it because I may or may not have a thing for you and I hide it by getting on your nerves” you let it all out. 

“Uhh...” you looked at Geonu, only to see him looking at the door behind you and then back at you with an awkward expression. You groan, wanting nothing more than to kill yourself. “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?” you ask, dreading the obvious answer. "You know what?” Geonu stood up. “It’s been a while since I flirted with Jungwon, gotta blast!” he blurted, hastily leaving the room.

The room was instantly filled with tension as K walked over to you, pushing your legs down, he occupied the now available space on the sofa. You sat up and avoided his eyes wanting him to disappear or you to disappear. At this point anything would be welcome, even the apocalypse. “I would have appreciated it if you told me this yourself instead of me overhearing it.” he spoke, his seemingly normal tone sounding deafening in the silence of the room.

“Yeah well, if you were in my place you’d understand why I’d rather keep it to myself than to tell you” you replied, “I’d rather have what we have right now than to lose you as a friend” you confessed, daring to see his expression which was blank. 

Curse him and his control over emotions

“Well, you’re right, I guess...” he spoke, choosing his words carefully. “I don’t think I want to be your friend now” he finished. You sighed in disappointment, hurt by his words. “Now that I know you reciprocate my feelings, I think it would be stupid of me to have you as a friend rather than a partner” he added, his expression turning from serious to a mischievous one, smirking at your bewilderment. 

You processed his words, finally understanding what he was implying. “You fucking imBECILE!!” you yelled, attacking him with the cushion. His laughter rang across the room as he tried to block your attacks, finally succeeding  by holding your wrists. “I’m sorry!!” he let out in between laughs. 

You finally let go and turned away from him, your back to him, swearing at the celery stick behind you. You jolted when you felt arms around your waist as K pulled you towards him, your back resting against his chest. “Aww..my baby is sad” he cooed. “Want me to kiss the little pout away?” he teased which only earned him an elbow to his stomach.

“Oh God..I was right” a voice groaned from the doorway. Turning to inspect, Geonu and Jungwon were peeking from the doorway. “They’re going to be worse now that they are dating” he complained. 

“Go bother someone else” K scoffed waving his hand. Jungwon grabbed Geonu’s collar to drag him away. “I’m happy for you two” the younger boy smiled before leaving with an exasperated Geonu. “Now that we’re alone...” K smirked, leaning forward only to be blocked by your hand. “At least buy me dinner first” you grinned making K chuckle. 

“That can be arranged”