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xpeachesncream · 4 years ago

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how many drinks? | one shot (jjk)

summary: the question is - how many drinks would it take for you to sleep with your bestfriend?

pairing: jjk x reader

genre: (18+) college au, dance group au, bestfriends/bestfriends with some benefits au | fluff, smut, sprinkle of angst

words: ~12.2k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, kind of crack-y, dancer!jk to fulfill my needs, unprotected sex, sprinkle of dirty talk, fingering, sprinkle of a handjob, slight biting, nails digging into skin, oc almost gets taken advantage of/forced into doing things she doesn’t wanna do, rough handling, song kang is in this too because i’m also a hooch for him but he’s an ass here, alcohol consumption, intoxication, mentions of blunts/smoking, house parties, cuddling, kissing/makeout sessions, straddling, breast/nipple play, hickeys, fucking on the edge of the bed, multiple orgasms, fingering, licking/neck kisses, oral (f. receiving)

note: one shot title is taken from miguel's song ‘how many drinks’ + a couple of things--

both hoseok and jimin’s piece mentioned below are inspired by real-life pieces my old dance mentor has choreographed and taught. this is the inspiration behind hoseok’s couple piece; this is the inspiration for jimin’s piece

i’m a hooch for all three of them in this video

enjoy imagining koo and oc dancing part of their couples piece like this 🥺

"Y/N." You picked up Jungkook's call as you sat at your desk in your dorm room. You had been finishing up your bio homework until the interruption came blaring through on your headphones.

"Yes?"

"Can I nap in your room?"

"The fuck I look like? A hotel?" You snorted.

"Yeah, a 5 star at that with how good you take care of me." He tries to butter you up, causing you to roll your eyes.

"You're lucky I like you."

"Yesssssssss!" You hear him faintly exclaim on the other line. "Be there in a sec."

"You know my doors are always unlocked." Which, it was true. So many of your friends had decided to live off campus that you and your other bestfriend [and beloved suitemate] were probably the only few left on campus. And that meant people were constantly in your room, hanging out or using both of your rooms, [with permission] or the couches in the shared living room space of your suite as a place to nap. College, amirite? Why the fuck would you lose your parking spot to go back to your apartment when you have friends who lived right on campus? You weren't just good for smuggling free food from the cafeteria to your broke ass, struggling off-campus friends.

Sooner or later, you're greeted by a fluffy, black-haired Jungkook, looking like his shit must have air-dried with how wavy and voluminous it was. He swings your door open so aggressively that you jump a bit in your seat, swinging off your headphones like you weren't even expecting him. You watch as he flings himself onto your neatly made bed like he hasn't felt a bed in years.

"Ugh, yes." He moans as he belly flops onto your bed and stays in that position.

"When's your next class, you little baby?"

"In like an hour or so, I don't know." He says sleepily. "Wake me up, please?"

"Sure." You realize it's Wednesday, and he definitely has Ecology lab later at 3:00PM. You figured you'd wake him up by 2:30 just to give him enough time to groggily walk his ass back over to the science building.

You and Jungkook weren't really close before college. It was moreso that you knew of each other since high school because of mutual friends. You'd see him at parties and he'd see you, but it was never more than the casual hi and bye and small talk. Maybe the occasional comments on facebook pages and the likes on pictures on instagram. But foreel, other than that, that's as real as your friendship got for awhile. You didn't mind it though, you were good with your set of friends and he was good with his. A lot of your friends attended the same university as you two and then your groups intertwined even more.

But, it wasn't until the past couple of months or so where you both unexpectedly got really close - simply just by talking more and being around each other more. You both had similar interests and Jungkook wasn't the most vocal in his group, but with you, he seemed to talk endlessly. He loved comics and he loved raving to you about Marvel and DC superheroes. He loved to draw, and he'd draw you things every now and then - his most recent being you as a scientist superhero saving the world from overgrown malaria-infected mosquito monsters. It was the cutest thing you had ever seen, and you tacked it against your cork board near your desk. Then, small things like that turned to bringing you food or boba, being stuck at the hip where he'd only go to a certain place on campus if you were there; texting each other inside jokes and funny ass tweets all day turned to facetime sleepover calls and then late hangouts eventually turned to actual sleepovers in your bed, where he'd drape his arm around while you both slept but it never escalated into anything more than that in bed. Although he did fucking hate your medium-sized Olaf plushie that took shelter on your bed - he'd always hike it across the room and talk about how annoying he is and how he's always taking his spot. You never understood it, really.

And then soon, it turned to small displays of affection behind closed doors, where Jungkook would hold you close. Hold your hand if you two were in the room watching a show, or movie. Small kisses exchanged. Big kisses exchanged, making out sessions. But, that was literally it. Nothing else. No sex. No pressure. Lots of unspoken feelings, obviously, but you weren't gonna be the one to bring that up. Because you were comfortable, and if anything, you didn't wanna ruin what you guys already had going.

Like, is this a friends with benefits thing? Maybe? Maybe not? It was hard to label it because it's not like you both determined so, it kind of just fell together that way. And there was really no pressure to fuck every single time you got affectionate. It was cute, sweet. And no one really knew it was like that behind doors - possibly your suitemate Kass and her boyfriend, Jimin, but that's only because you shared the dorm suite with her. Jimin was also one of Jungkook's roommates and his really good friend, so whenever they had slept over on the same night, it was pure and utter chaos. But honestly, if Kass and Jimin hadn't been around you two much, they most certainly wouldn't have the idea.

Whatever it was, it was a comfortable closeness that you both experienced and appreciated. However, the both of you were afraid of discussing what this really was, afraid it'll ruin the dynamic. The atmosphere. Having to come to terms of what it might, or might not be. Neither of you can fully admit that you like the other. Although, it got hard. People did lightly tease you two because you both always looked for each other and were stuck by the hip out on campus.

Oh, well. Bottom line is that you liked your relationship where it was at, but it doesn't mean you haven't thought about the what if's. Jungkook was insanely attractive, and it's no lie that girls swarmed him left and right on campus, but he didn't give a shit [either he didn't give a shit or he was dumb as hell?]. Okay, rewind — to be fair, he would have a fling or two, flirt once or twice. He'd tell you so and so was cute and that they've hung out or texted, but that's it. He just wasn't necessarily looking for anything cause he too enjoyed where he was at with everything.

It doesn't take long before Sleeping Beauty is snoring face down on your bed, looking like Patrick Star with the way he's sprawled out. But, you continue to do your work until it was time to wake him. You gently shake him, his puppy eyes looking back at you after being face down all nap.

"Class time."

"No." He groans. "Can't I just stay here with you?"

"No, dude. Get to class." You chuckle. "You already skipped last week."

"Yeah, but this is a new week Y/N."

"Jungkook." You almost say in a scolding manner.

"Fiiiiiiine." He whines as he shoots up and hops off from your bed. "Are you going to our party on Friday?"

"I said I'd think about it right?"

"Yeah, like on Monday. It's Wednesday."

"And I'm still thinking about it." You snort, making him pout.

"Just come for a little bit."

"Why? You know parties aren't my thing and you'll be too drunk anyways. I'll end up wanting to go right the fuck back home as soon as I step outside."

"I'd like to be drunk and have you there. It'll be more fun!" He pouts as he holds your hand and swings it back and forth.

"I mean, to be completely honest, I'll probably end up going because of Kass anyways."

"Because of Kass." He rolls his eyes. "Oooookay. Not because of you, Jungkook, no." He says sarcastically, brows furrowed.

"Ew. You're such a fucking whiner. Leave." You laugh, throwing an empty water bottle at him.

"I'm kidding." He chuckles. "Wanna grab dinner with me after practice?"

"Sure. If you pay." He groans

"Fine. I'll see you later." He puckers up his lips to blow you a kiss, which you automatically reject by giving him a look before turning your attention back to your homework. You were hoping he'd offer to go to In-n-Out because you were craving that #2 with animal fries and a neapolitan shake, plus there was a Target in the same plaza that you wanted to drag him to for new pens and clearance sale shopping. And you wouldn't even warn him about it. He would tag along, no question.

Hoseok stands in front of the mirrors in the studio, pacing back and forth as your dance group learned a couple of 8-counts from this new piece he had been brewing up. Apparently, it was supposed to be a couples piece but he wasn't sure if he was going to keep it that way. He watched to see if this would be better as a group, or if he should stick to his original plans.

Your college dance group was a small group formed by people with pure, genuine interest and love for modern hip hop choreography. Hoseok was the dance lead, with Jimin being the back up lead. The group came together, taught each other pieces, taught workshops for those interested on campus and performed at the various talent shows and productions the school had throughout the year. It was just your group's way of showcasing your talents, something you all purely enjoyed, and it was nice to see the love and support given by the audiences.

"Okay, run that from the top one more time please. We'll take break after, swear." Hoseok chuckles and gives Jimin the cue to start the song back at the starting point. Jungkook makes a funny face at you as he huffs and puffs, trying to catch his breath from the last time you went through the counts.

"Ew." You giggle, slightly pushing him aside. Miguel's How Many Drinks begins to blast through the studio speakers, Jungkook doing his best to sing along and match his tone all while focusing on his steps. Once you're done going through the counts, the music continues to play, Jungkook twirling over to you just to sing—

"Cause I ain't leavin' aloneeee, I feel like I could be honest, babe." He spins to your other side. "We both know that we're grown, that's why I wanna knooooow - how many drinks will it take you to leave with meeeeEEeeeE?"

"You can give me all the drinks in the world and I swear I still wouldn't." You snort, making him frown and click his teeth.

"Too bad that's not really how you act when I ask to sleep over, though." Silence as you stick your tongue out at him. Cause, yeah. You really do tell him to sleep over without hesitation. You loved his company, you can’t lie. "Yeah, fraudulent as hell. I never taught you that." He jokes.

"Shut up, Jungkook—"

"Okay!" Hoseok says, clapping his hands. "This'll be a couple piece. I honestly think it'll work better that way, just like I envisioned it. I'll work with the couple to clean this up before the performance, but to whoever isn't casted for this, Jimin still has a piece to teach the rest of you, so don't feel discouraged!" Hoseok chuckles a bit, giving the rest of the group a small smile. "So with that being said - Y/N, Jungkook, I want you two to do this piece."

"Ouuuuuuuu." Jimin teases you from the sidelines, causing you to put up your middle finger.

"We won’t let you down, cap." Jungkook swings his arm around you.

"I'll teach you the rest of the piece next practice so we can start polishing it up and making it clean before the talent show."

"Sounds good with me." You flatly say, even though 100%, you're pretty excited for many reasons. One, you had been wanting to do a solo or couples piece for awhile, and two, your partner was Jungkook. Your best friend, your ride or die, the dude you've spent so much time with and gave your affection to behind closed doors. It made you giddy just thinking about it, even if you'd blatantly lie to his face later on when he'd tease you. And Jungkook felt the same. You missed the way he subtly bit on his bottom lip when you were named his partner, just so he wouldn't smile too big in front of you.

After practice, you egg him on enough to agree to take you to In-N-Out, without hinting at the plan you had drafted out in your head earlier. The plan that says you're gonna drag his ass to Target afterwards and he had no choice but to come along.

"Y/N, you liar." He groans. "You said you weren't gonna go to Target." He pouts as you follows behind you anyway.

"Kook, I literally just need to get one thing."

"What's the one thing that you couldn't get on your own time?"

"I don't know, I'll have to find out when we get in there." You giggled, causing him to groan again. "Plus, we're here already. Killing two birds with one stone."

"Ah shit, I suppose I can get some bottles for the party."

"Yeah, make yourself useful Jungkook."

"Yeah, make yourself useful Jungkook, aheh." He mocks your tone and does that really weird and ugly ass laugh that dudes always do when they try to mock girls, however, you ignore it because you've just stepped into Target and bitch, this was Disneyland to you. Heaven. Paradise.

"Hm, what are we drinking on Friday?" He says his text outloud as he follows you around the dollar section where you begin to pick up really unnecessary items that you're probably just gonna store away in or around your desk somewhere.

"Should be holy water because you all need it."

"Mmm, I don't know, I don't think they have that but we can check." He responds ever so seriously, causing you to chuckle.

"How many people are you expecting?"

"Honestly, I don't even know. We said we'd keep it to close friends only. I don't really have any friends, so that's all on them."

"Ah, makes sense as to how the entire class was invited." You fire back sarcastically. "Your upstairs neighbors are really gonna have a blast."

"They're invited too."

"You guys are so dumb." He laughs when you hit him against the chest. After walking a bit, the two of you head towards the alcohol aisle, Jungkook grabbing what his arms will allow him to grab since alcohol is a little cheaper here than other grocery stores. "Isn't there a limit as to how much alcohol you can buy?"

"I don't see anything anywhere." He hauls about 4 big bottles back to the cashiers. "Besides, I'm giving them business compared to Safeway and those other grocery stores."

"Grab the coupon at least, genuis. It could save you some money." You take off the coupons from the three bottles.

He looks down at the coupon attached to the 4th bottle. "Sign up today and get 2% cash back on every bottle you buy." He snorts after reading the coupon outloud. "More like sign up today and get 2% cash back turnt." He looks at you. "This doesn't sound like a coupon, miss. Where's the ‘get 5 dollars off’ bullshit?"

"2% cash back turnt? Really?" You furrow your brows at him and hand the coupons to the cashier. "Here. God, maybe you shouldn't be hosting parties with your roommates."

"Maybe not." He holds his bags, even grabbing onto yours as you both walk out to his car. He turns up the radio, the both of you singing along to the songs coming through. When he pulls up to the lot of Edgehill Village, he parks in someone else's marked spot only because it's technically next to your door and he doesn't anticipate to stay long. But honestly, that never goes as planned. He grabs your bag from the trunk, silently following behind you as you unlock your door to an empty suite - just as you expected. Kass was most likely at Jungkook’s, spending the night with Jimin, and you'd be alone for the night. It didn't matter to you though, the peace and quiet was always nice.

"You sure you're gonna be okay here alone?" You nod.

"Yup. It's kind of nice actually." You lean forward onto your bed since it's raised a little higher than usual with bed risers, and open up your laptop. Jungkook sets your Target bag down and wraps his arms around you from behind, planting a kiss on your cheek and on your jawline.

"You sure you don't want me to sleep over? Cuddles sound nice."

"It sounds like you want to."

"Only if you want me to." He nuzzles his head against your neck, waiting for your response.

"Kook, please." You chuckle. "If you wanna sleepover, then go ahead."

"Yesssss! I do."

"Well you need to find parking, or else the person that owns that parking spot will be highly upset."

"You got it, captain. Pull up a movie!" He says, dashing out of your room to move his car. He's most likely going to come back in another 5 minutes, being that the only free parking at this time of night is probably on the other end in the gym's lot, or somewhere on the streets [if he got lucky].

And so that 5 minutes sure does go by before Jungkook is breathing heavily when he walks into your room, duffle bag swung over his shoulder with a big, dorky ass smile on his face.

"I'm back!"

"I see." You snort, still going through the movies.

"Hey, let's run through what Hobi taught us first."

"Ugh, I'm so tired though."

"Cooooome on, just once." He pulls you by the hand, his body pressed against yours as his his other arm wraps around your waist. "Please." His puppy dog eyes look down at you, causing you to push him away because fucking hell, that shit makes you weak. Makes the pussy throb just a lil, you know? Christ.

"Only if you watch 10 Things I Hate About You."

"Sure, I don't mind." He pulls up the song on your laptop. The both of you face the mirror in front of you, careful not to hit each other since you had such limited space to fully move around. Running through it once was a full blown lie, being that you both are doing it for almost 5-6 times before you're laughing at how out of breath you already are. You're so out of it and winded by the last time around that you accidentally hit Jungkook in the face, causing him to whine and stumble off to the side.

"Oh shit!" You laugh. "I'm so sorry, Kookie!" You run over to cup his face. "Are you okay? You good?"

"Shit, Y/N. You have a heavy hand." He keeps his hand against his cheek.

"I'm sorry." You lean in to plant a kiss on his cheek, but Jungkook being Jungkook, he looks to the side to have his lips meet yours instead. He picks you up in one swift motion, your legs wrapped around his torso as he sits you on your bed, your hands still cupping his face. And honestly, you really wanted him. You've always wanted him since this whole thing started. God, he was attractive to you - every little thing about Jungkook was a fucking weakness, but you weren't gonna let up first. Not tonight. The scar on his cheek, his soft, fluffy hair, his toned body, his muscular ass arms, the way he held onto you when you both slept, the way he kissed you.

Lord, he was truly going to be the death of you.

Before the kiss could get any deeper, you smile into it and back away, keeping your gaze on the small, dazed smile Jungkook has on his face.

"Can we watch now?" You ask, subtly biting onto your bottom lip.

"Yeah, good idea."

"Actually, after all that, I need to shower first."

"Can I join?" His eyes light up.

"Sit your ass down. You can go after." You laugh as you hop off the bed, grabbing your pajamas for a quick shower. You literally take 10 minutes, walking back into your room with wet hair and an oversized shirt and shorts underneath. Although you had been completely comfortable with Jungkook, the both of you have never really seen each other fully naked like that. Whenever he slept over, you were both always fully clothed. You've seen him hop out of the shower and come in shirtless, but that's probably about it. You start to brush your teeth as he rummages through his emergency duffle bag full of shit that he holds in the trunk of his car, grabbing a fresh pair of clothes to change into after his shower. You already know his ass is gonna use your shampoo for everything because he loves the smell of it and always talks about how good your hair smells.

While waiting for him, you slip yourself under your covers and pull the laptop closer to you, scrolling through your phone aimlessly to see what's new on instagram. Which, is absolutely nothing, so you let out a dissatisfied sigh.

"Ready!" He comes in, tossing his towel aside and shutting off the lights to crawl into your bed with you.

"You smell just like me." You chuckle.

"It's great, isn't it?"

"Your hair isn't bothering you?" You run your hand through his incredibly wet hair as he shakes his head.

"No, I'll be good."

"Okay." He wraps his arm around you to pull you onto his body, the movie already off to a start. As the movie goes on, you find yourself getting sleep as both of your bodies sink deeper into the sheets, Jungkook still not letting you go. The laptop rests on his belly, while your head is on his chest, his heartbeat the one thing putting you to sleep pretty quickly. He's comfortable, just as you are. He's warm, you're warm. He's content, you're content. You drift off to sleep while he continues to watch, knowing your bodies will be pressed tightly against each other in the morning.

"Kook there's so many fucking people here. The cops are gonna come and shut this down quick." Jungkook shrugs.

"Oh well, wasn't my idea." He snorts. "Shot?!" He hands you a shot that you take with ease, feeling like you aren't drunk enough for all this shit and all these people. "Atta girl."

"Yuck, though." You slightly make a sour face as you feel the warmth trickle down your throat and into your stomach.

"Heeeey, whyyyyy do you look so FaMiliaR?" This girl asks Jungkook in a weird, flirty tone, where every other consonant goes up and down. She's obviously really fucking drunk and out of her mind because for one, she definitely goes to the same school as you two, and she has definitely been in class with Jungkook before.

"Oh uh, my name's Justin Bieber. I used to sing from time to time." He says nonchalantly with you furrowing your forehead at him because what kind of response did he just give her?! What did he just tell her? You're so embarrassed that you slowly turn on your heel and walk out of the kitchen as you hear him sing One Less Lonely Girl hella out of tune, with the girl completely smitten over his drunk ass.

"Where's Jungkookie?" Kass asks as she sits on Jimin's lap.

"Over there, pretending to be Justin Bieber apparently."

"Oh, nice. You don't come across that often." Jimin says sarcastically. "Are you staying here tonight?"

"Yeah, stay here tonight, with Kookie." Kass wiggles her eyebrows, her cheek resting on top of Jimin's head. "It's not like that's anything new."

"Um, I'd rather much be back in the dorm."

"That cold, lonely place? When you could be here, in such a pretty apartment with such a pretty boy?" You shake your head at her.

"Unbelievable." You mutter. Suddenly, an incredibly tall man walks into the apartment, reaching about 6'1 and almost hitting the ceiling with his tall ass. You've never seen him before, but he walks in with Hoseok and Namjoon and for whatever reason, you can't peel your eyes off of him. "Woah, who's that?"

"Who's what?" Jungkook finally comes to your side after being Justin Bieber for a good minute or so, his eyes following yours. Who was he and why were you looking at him so intensely?

"That's Kang! You've never met him?" Jimin says, doing a slight nod to greet him as he passes by. Kang and his fine self looks up at you, a small smirk creeping up at the corner of his lips as he continues through to the kitchen behind Hoseok and Namjoon. "He's a transfer and on the basketball team."

"He's fiiiiine." You and Kass swoon over him a bit, Jungkook giving you a look.

"He's alriiiight. I've seen better."

"Shut up, no one asked you." You lightly punch him on the side, making him lightly groan while Jimin and Kass laugh. The rest of the party, you suddenly have a goal to find out more about Kang and see what he's about because you and Jungkook weren't official. You both didn't really know what this was, but one thing you knew for sure was that it wasn't anything exclusive. You wouldn't bring it up, so wouldn't Jungkook - so was this really something all that meaningful?

Whatever, you didn't wanna keep going in circles about it.

Jungkook fucking hates it though, and he's honestly really jealous that you're suddenly trying to be all cute and woo the new, tall, handsome [but he's not really that fucking handsome to Jungkook for christ's sake] basketball player. Jungkook almost wants to mock his every move and how suavé he is, almost looking like a try hard with the way he's leaning against the wall and talking to you.

Wait— he's talking to you?! You were literally right next to him 2 seconds ago.

"What the fuck?" He squints, trying to make sure he's actually looking at you.

"You're so full of shit." Jimin laughs.

"What are you talking about?"

"Why don't you just admit that you like her and stop being childish about it?"

"I don't like her. She's just my bestfriend."

"Um, okay?" Jimin snorts. "When you sleep at her place every chance you get and vice versa? When she has a ton of your shirts and hoodies in her own fucking closet? When you always get so affectionate with her in the dorm? Sure, you don't like her."

"How do you know that?"

"I just do, you've done it in front of me and Kass before but you both tried playing it off. I don't understand you two."

"Well, I don't like her. She obviously doesn't either with the way she's trying to be all up on him." Jungkook glares at you, his teeth biting the rim of the cup harshly as he brings it to his lips to take a sip.

"Whatever, I'm just saying dude. Probably better to be straight up about it than not."

"Kaaaaaaay." Jungkook responds sarcastically, trying to play off how butthurt he was right now. Cause yeah, he did fucking like you. He was just scared to admit it though because of reasons like this - the fact that you possibly didn't like him back killed him. The fact that you could possibly be using him to feel wanted, needed. It made his stomach turn.

He just really liked you, and god, did he want to be the one in your bed tonight. Whether or not that ended up in sex, whatever. He just wanted to be the one to touch you, be on you.

Meanwhile, Kang was attractive as hell and ouwee, were you feeling him tonight. You were, you really were - except, you could literally feel the holes Jungkook was burning through you from across the room. You'd occasionally glance over due to how distracting it was, Jungkook literally have no shame with eyeing you, almost glaring at you, from across the apartment.

"Is it too forward if I ask for your number already?" Kang licks his lips, his teeth lightly piercing his bottom lip as he looks down at you.

"No." You smirk at him, taking his phone to put your number in.

"We should kick it soon. I'd love to hang out with you and get to know you better."

"Yeah, just let me know when." You blush, until you're suddenly pulled out of your daze by a loud 'ahem,' the loudest throat-clearing you have ever heard in your life. You turn to see Jungkook making his way back over to the shots, knowing damn well he's calling you over. "See you around?" Kang winks before he tips his cup to you and gives you a single nod.

"Sure thing, cutiepie." You bite onto your bottom lip, making your way over to Jungkook at the shot station, instantly pinching his arm.

"What the fuck?"

"Nobody was calling you over." Jungkook smirks.

"Shut the fuck up, yes you were. I know that was you clearing your throat like that."

"I'm sorry, does it bother you?" He blinks cutely, tilting his head to the side. "Besides, why come over here when you're too busy with your man?"

"Are you jealous?"

"Why in the hell would I be jealous, Y/N? Do you." The words sting you, even though part of you still wants to believe that Jungkook may actually like you. All you can do is sigh and brush it off, placing your cup down in front of him as he pours himself another shot. "You sure?"

"Just give me the damn shot." You say, making it your 7th.

And the 7th turns into 8, 8 turns into 9, 9 turns into 10. And at 10, you're pretty fucking drunk even as the party is starting to die down by the time it's close to 2am. All 10 were a good combination of shots and mixed drinks.

10 drinks.

10 drinks is what it took for you to lay in Jungkook's bed at the end of the night, hands tangled in his fluffy hair as your makeout session intensifies by the minute - all due to this sexual tension, frustration, whatever the hell it was brewing between you two after all this time. The both of you are drunk as hell, and it's pretty evident with the way you can still taste the alcohol on his tongue, both sloppily touching up on each other, kisses getting wetter, clothes coming off like there's no tomorrow.

"Wait, are you sure?" Jungkook says, about to unhook your bra.

"Jungkook, god, just fuck me." You plead drunkily, the room spinning around you. He continues to unhook your bra, tossing it across the room where your other clothes lay, peppering kisses along your neck before licking up a stripe to meet your lips again. He hooks his fingers across the band of your panties, tugging them down and letting them get lost within his sheets. You take this as leverage to tug his boxer briefs down, already stroking his hardened member the moment you come into contact with it. The sad thing is that you both are so fucking drunk, you can't even appreciate the fact that you both are naked in front of each other for the first time ever.

You can't even come to terms with the fact that you both are about to fuck each other and cross that boundary completely.

But, hell, what do you care? You were drunk. You got a cute guy's number. You're getting dick at the end of the night.

"Oh shit, Y/N." He moans into your mouth as he feels you stroking him. "Need to feel you." He quickly runs his finger down your fold, slipping in two digits to pump them in and out, quickly prepping you for his dick.

"Hnnng--Kook." You bite onto your bottom lip as your eyes shut close momentarily, your head digging deeper into the pillow the more he tries to stretch you out. "Want you inside of me."

"I got you." He says. You almost whine at the loss of contact until you feel his tip poking at your entrance. He slowly continues to slip himself inside of you, Kook letting out a small groan while your mouth was left open, a soundless moan releasing before you hiss and take in all of him. He fills you up so well, so completely. He was so big that you felt full, bloated, with him being inside of you the way he was.

"Ohhhhhgod." You whimper as he starts to steady his pace, the lewd noises of his cock slipping in and out of your wet pussy filling his room - god forbid if Jimin or their other roommate Yoongi heard this right now. It would be nothing short of pornographic.

"You're so wet. Is that all for me?" He says, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head as he begins to aggressively thrust into you.

"Y-yes." You whine.

"Say it again."

"All for you, Kook."

"I fucking thought so." He drunkily responds as one hand grips onto your hips tightly, the other in your hair as he digs his head back into the crook of your neck, his tongue messily licking near your jaw before he nibbles onto your earlobe.

"Hmmmmgggh, Jungkook. Fuck." You moan as you start to work your hips upward into his, your clit rubbing against his pelvis, causing the pleasure to pool quickly within the pit of your stomach. It causes goosebumps to pierce through the surface of your skin, your hands gripping tighter on his hair. "You're-you're gonna make me cum. Faster." You plead. He does just so, hammering into you, the sound of his hips slamming into yours bouncing off of the walls.

"Ahhh—Y/N." He groans.

"Just like that, just like that, just like that!" You repeat, your clit feeling incredibly stimulated by the way it rubs against his skin while he fucks into you. "Oh shit! Jungkook!" You moan loudly, biting his shoulder as you feel yourself trembling hard in his grip, your orgasm taking over your entire body.

"Shit, shit, shit—Y/N, Shiiiit." He says into your neck, followed by more curses and groans as you feel him coat your walls warmly. He stays inside of you until the both of you come back down to normalcy, your breathing becoming more regulated. He slowly slips himself out, plopping next to you on the bed, but doesn't welcome you into his arms.

The night goes on, the both of you sleeping on your own sides of Jungkook's bed, not really saying a word to each other. Because the both of you, although still pretty drunk, are more aware by the time it's over and it's become so clear how fucked up this got.

You were hurt. Completely hurt. Because you didn't expect Jungkook to just fucking ghost you after that night. You wanted to talk about it, maybe come to the conclusion that you two should just distance yourselves from each other to figure this out, even if it would hurt you a lot to do so.

No.

That morning, Jimin and Kass had to take you back to campus because Jungkook had darted out of his room, nowhere to be seen until later that night. The next week or so, there were no texts, no calls. No visiting your dorm, no asking to sleepover.

Nothing.

Just radio silence, white noise, if you will.

The one thing he could come up with was a stupid response to your text when you finally caved and asked what you did wrong mid-week.

Something along the lines of 'what do you want me to say, Y/N? do you want me to force myself to feel a certain way?'

Followed by a 'i'm sorry, fuck. that came out really wrong' even though you thought it came out perfectly fine. You understood loud and clear.

Even though this wasn't really an exclusive thing, or even a 'thing' if we wanna be straight up, you still couldn't help but feel like Jungkook had just dumped your ass with no explanation and you were still waiting for that explanation to come, whether it would or not. And because of this, you started to see Kang, hangout with him more often. He even took you out on a dinner date and you really enjoyed his company. He seemed genuine, caring, supportive - even if a lot of the basketball boys were the complete opposite. He was different, you liked to think.

And so you stand in front of the mirrors in the dance studio, you and Jungkook awkwardly running through the piece with Hoseok watching, confused as to why all of a sudden the two of you have this weird tension going on. It hasn't entirely ruined the couple piece, but it hasn't brought it together, either. The both of you could barely look at each other, barely get into the movements, the emotions behind the motions. Hoseok had to correct a few things, his 'pah pah pah's' echoing in the room constantly with how many times you and Jungkook had to be set straight for your sloppy steps today.

"Okay, I'm not saying it's bad, cause it's not. But can you both please act like you at least like each other or something? What's going on with you two? You aren't normally like this." Hoseok says, coming down to a crouch in front of the mirrors.

"Nothing, we'll do better. Don't worry." You brush off the entire question with your quick response. Jungkook looks at you, his hands on his hips, lightly frowning at how much you're distancing yourself even though he knows its entirely his fault for running from his feelings and not being honest with you.

"Okay, let's do it from the top." The music starts, you getting into the piece without making any eye contact with Jungkook. Even the steps that cause you to be close and near Jungkook, you look anywhere but his eyes, and your touch is light, trying your hardest not to let any feelings pass through the motion. Hoseok is a little more pleased this time around, but it still doesn't sit right with him, so he lets you two take a break while he heads to the other studio to check on Jimin and the rest of the group.

"Hey. Are you okay?"

"Jungkook, you don't get to ask me that." He sighs and runs his hand through his hair, not sure if he should continue on or not.

"Y/N—"

"Save it, and let's just get this over with, okay? I don't wanna be here just as much as you." Your words cut him deep because dear, you have gotten him completely misunderstood and yet, he still can't speak. He still can't talk about his feelings. He still can't save this even though he wants to, even though he loathes seeing you the way you are with Kang.

"I never said—"

"Kay, ready? Let's run this full out and make it a good one so we can call it for today." Hoseok says, clapping his hands to hype you two up somehow. The music starts and you're finally able to get into the steps. The emotions. And god, it's only because you're so hurt by your own bestfriend. You're hurt that he fucked you so good, and then dipped. You're hurt that he couldn't even face you the day after. You're hurt that after all this time, he made it seem like you still didn't matter enough - at least enough for an explanation, for some kind of reasoning, conversation, behind what just went down between the both of you. Between what has been going down between the both of you.

Besides the stupid ass responses he gave you through text.

You get so into your feelings that you don't even realize you're tearing up by the time the piece is over, and Jungkook catches it even though you face away from him as soon as the music cuts out.

"Nice, okay! That was so much better! Let's pick it up next session, yeah? We'll keep cleaning it up. Thanks guys!" Hoseok says. You immediately head towards the wall, grabbing your things to avoid any confrontation from Jungkook, but he grabs your arm as soon as you slip through the door.

"Y/N, wait. Stop."

"Let me go." You yank your arm from his grip.

"Why are you crying?" He stops in front of you, his hands placed on your arms to prevent you from moving any further.

"I'm not." You blatantly lie while you aggressively wipe away the stragglers coming down.

"Really? Just gonna lie like that?"

"Why do you care? You haven't said shit to me all week." You snap back, and Jungkook is taken aback from the tone in your voice. You remove his hands from your arms, and take one last look at him before shaking your head and walking off.

Next mistake? He doesn't come after you.

This was a waste of fucking time. If he truly cared about you, he wouldn't let you hurt like this.

You let out a deep sigh before clutching onto your things and walking back to your dorm. The walk from the gym/fitness center was damn near on the other end of campus compared to your dorm. It would be a good 10 minute walk if you really took your time. A good 10 minutes to ponder on your thoughts.

Yes, you liked Jungkook. You really liked him. Having sex with him solidified those feelings even more. How could you not have feelings for your bestfriend after all the moments you've shared? Was it your fault for assuming that? Was it your fault for walking through that door when it seemed to be completely open for you?

"Sup." Kang comes out of nowhere, pulling you out of your thoughts. He swings his arm around your shoulder, gently pulling you closer to his body. "Just got out of practice?"

"Sure did." You give him a toothless smile. Yes, he was attractive as hell. He always will be. But, even with the time you spent together, the date he took you on, he still couldn't make you feel the way Jungkook has been able to make you feel.

"How was it?"

"Um, it was alright. Nothing new really, just cleaning up the piece before the show. You're going right?"

"Why wouldn't I?" He smiles down at you. "Listen, I don't know if you've heard, but there's another party tonight."

"A party? It's Wednesday." You snort.

"Yeah, I mean, one of the boys on the Lacrosse team is throwing it at his family house because his parents will be gone. Wanna come? I'll pick you up. We don't have to stay for long." You looked at your watch.

"What time is it at?"

"Like 9ish?" Enough time for you to shower and get a quick dinner in your belly. Why the hell not? You were caught up for the week. You didn't have any pressing assignments that were due asap.

"Sure. I'll come."

"Cool. See you later then?" He says, about to part ways with you. You simply give him a nod before walking deeper into Edgehill village. You hoped you wouldn't regret this tonight, and you really hoped he meant it when he said you two didn't have to stay for long. You drag yourself into your room, seeing Kass' door wide open, revealing her packing up her duffle bag.

"Hey, where are you headed during the middle of the week?"

"My two classes got cancelled for tomorrow so me and Jiminie are heading out for a mini getaway for our anniversary." You cross your arms and smile. "He's just gonna catch up on shit when we get back I guess." She laughs.

"That sounds cute. I hope you have loads of fun this weekend, babe."

"What are you gonna do?" Kass and Jimin were obviously aware of everything happening between you and Jungkook being that they had to be the ones to take you home. They never pressed on it though, knowing you both were still pretty upset about how things were playing out. They figured you two would eventually work it out, but until then, they would just sit back and keep their mouths shut. You two were being completely stubborn, but it wasn't their relationship to fix.

"Well, there's this party Kang wants to take me to tonight."

"The Lacrosse party? Messy." She laughs. "Be careful, but also have fun, yeah? I still don’t know if I trust him.”

"Yeah I know."

"Tell me how it goes!"

"I will." You wave her off as you head into your room and shut the door. You figured you would just grab dinner on campus to avoid spending more money than you should; after all, dinner seemed to be pretty bomb tonight. You didn't mind going alone, sometimes Namjoon would join you, asking for you to bring him a plate of food while he does the hard job of sneaking inside the cafeteria through the back door. He usually waits for you at a free table and ends up staying there to have dinner with you, updating you on how life has been, how school has been. Sometimes Hoseok would join you, too. Either way, you didn't mind if no one joined. It was nice to have dinner by yourself from time to time.

You get there on time to be able to grab some food, eat quietly and head out before the cafeteria gets way too busy for your liking. You slip into the shower and throw on a mini skirt, a crop top and a denim jacket, lightly fluffing your hair in the mirror and adding a dab of lip gloss to your lips before Kang is calling you to tell you he's outside your dorm. He's wearing something similar to your color palette, however, you don't make much out of it since this also wasn't really an exclusive thing and you sure as hell weren't going around telling people you and Kang had a thing going on.

To him, you two might be a thing. You've definitely overheard people talking about you two in passing.

To you though, you two definitely weren't. And it was a big fuck you to Jungkook for that.

The house is packed from end to end already, and you're surprised being that it has barely hit 10 minutes since the party was expected to take off. Kang is having to park down the hill, allowing you to hop onto his back for a quick piggy back ride up until you reach the front of the house. There's people already fucked up out on the lawn [you figured they fucked themselves over during their pre-game session cause that shit really happens from time to time], either laying there drunkily or yacking on a free patch of grass.

Gross.

Messy, indeed.

Some people are posted, smoking blunts and offering it to people who were passing by. You and Kang both pass up on it, the idea of not knowing where it has been not sitting right with you. You both head straight to the bottles, taking shots and downing mixed drinks to chase it with so that you can catch up with majority of the crowd. Kang has his arm around your shoulder throughout the night, keeping you close to him, even when he's getting pretty drunk. You realize he's a little more handsy than usual, a little more touchy than you expected him to be. It doesn't bother you for a minute, until he really tries to hike up your skirt while you sit on his lap. You gently shoo his hand away, playing it off while he nuzzles his head against your neck.

"Let's go upstairs, babe." He says, the pet name sounding incredibly off coming from him. Maybe you were drunk, maybe you really just weren't in the mood. It just didn't sound cute, if that even makes sense?

"Okay." You respond stupidly, not wanting to cause a scene at a lacrosse party. You intertwine your fingers with his as he leads the way up the stairs, eyeing the doors as they come into view. He leans forward towards each door, making sure it's clear before opening it. You assume he finally finds one that he's satisfied with when you catch the small smirk that grows at the corner of his lips when he turns the door knob and brings you inside. He pulls you into a deep, rough kiss, one that doesn't even allow you to breathe and process what the fuck is even going on. You can't get into it for the life of you, no matter how hard you try to back away. "Wait, wait."

"What's wrong, baby? Isn't this what you wanted?" He says, kissing down your neck as he drops his jacket to the floor. He gently pushes you onto the bed, his hands traveling up your skirt as you lay there trying to push him off.

"Wait, stop." He doesn't listen. He continues until his hands are literally hooking onto your panties, his finger swiping down your clothed folds. You try fighting him off, but he's way stronger than you. He continues to be aggressive, forcefully trying to shove your panties down until you muster up all the energy you have to finally push him off of you completely. "Stop!"

"What the fuck? I thought you wanted this?"

"Who the hell said that?"

"Are you serious? The way that you're dressed and the way that you look at me. The way you approached me at your friend's party - isn't it all because of this? Because you wanted me? Why are you backing out now?"

"Jesus, get over yourself." You stand, fixing your skirt back down. He furrows his brows at you before his hand grips your arm tightly, shoving you against the wall.

"The fuck, you can't just leave without giving me anything. I brought you here to this party."

"Let me go! You're fucking sick. No one even told you I wanted this to go down. I don't know who you think you are, but you need to get yourself together and stop assuming every pussy is yours to take." He attempts to pin you, his hand holding up both of your hands against the wall while the other tries to pull up your skirt. Someone accidentally opens the door, distracting him and giving you leverage to shove him off and get the fuck away. You dart down the steps, fixing your skirt as you head outside and away from the house.

Fuck, you're far from campus. And Kass and Jimin aren't around.

God.

You groan and run your hand through your hair as you continue to walk down the hill and into the neighborhood to get as far away as possible from that house and that gross ass dude. He was literally just like the rest of the basketball team. You've heard stories and they weren't nice. Looks like he was trained well already, and that shit was sad. What a waste. A beautiful human being with such a nasty, sick mindset. You hoped other girls hadn't fallen for his shit.

Ugh, it sends shivers down your spine. Bad shivers.

"Hello? Y/N?"

"Kook, can you come pick me up please?"

"Yeah, yeah. Of course. Where are you?"

"I'll drop my location. Please hurry." You say, looking back to make sure your coast was clear. You drop the pin into your text thread with Jungkook and sit on the curb until his arrival. It's getting pretty chilly out, and the denim jacket you're wearing fails to provide you with the warmth you're looking for. Sooner or later, Jungkook is pulling up, damn near hopping out before he can shift the gear into park.

"You okay? What happened?" He says, opening the door for you before rushing over to the driver's seat.

"Nothing, can we just go back to your place?" He nods silently, and doesn't press any further after hearing your tone. He watches from his peripherals how you fiddle with your fingers and constantly reach to pull your skirt down even though he doesn't think there's any other way you could pull it down even more. He watches as he parks the car on the curb in front of his apartment how you simply undo your seatbelt and hop out to walk straight into his apartment. He watches as you welcome yourself into his closet and pick out some clothes for you to change in.

You were hurt, and his blood boils thinking about who could've done this and what they could have possibly done.

I mean, no. He knows who did this, but the question was what exactly did he try?

He hears the shower turn on, then quickly get turned off after a good 5 minutes. You had stepped in for a quick body shower, using Jungkook's bodywash just to rid yourself of feeling gross. Feeling gross from being shoulder to shoulder all night long, people breathing down your neck. Kang touching you inappropriately. You slip into Jungkook's clothes, his scent wrapping around you entirely. When you head back into the room, Jungkook has his headset back on as he faces his computer, logging back onto his game of League of Legends. You silently toss your dirty clothes to the side of his room, making a mental note to grab it tomorrow morning and toss it straight into the laundry.

Straight into a fire, perhaps. But you loved those clothes so much, it was unfortunate it'd have such a horrible memory to go with it.

Jungkook slowly removes his headset again and removes himself from his game before he heads over and sits on the edge of his bed. You simply look at him, pursing your lips tightly together to prevent yourself from crying.

But he can tell.

"What happened Y/N?" The question triggers you, making you cry into your hands as he sits there, dumbfounded and worried at how he can fix this and make you feel better. "Look, you don't have to tell me all the details but please tell me how I can help. At least tell me if I need to beat Kang's ass." He says, pulling you into his arms.

"He tried to fucking take advantage of me." You mumble as you remove your face from your hands.

"He did what?" He manages to ask even though he has a hard time swallowing the lump that formed in his throat. He already assumed you had placed him in the same category as Kang even though he never intended to take advantage of you. He really took that night as something special [even drunk], and he never meant to make you feel like you were a used object. Not like Kang.

"He-he," You sniffed. "He tried to force me into having sex with him. He took me upstairs at that lacrosse guy's party or whoever the hell it even was, and he started to aggressively kiss me. And then he tried to force my panties down and touch me there, and—"

"Okay, please don't go on or else I'll literally go over there and tear his ass apart right now. I promise you." He says sternly, his jaw clenching tightly. "God, fuck. I'm so sorry Y/N. I can't apologize on his behalf but fuck, you didn't deserve that." He uses his sweater to wipe your tears.

"I don't even know why I'm crying, this shit isn't even worth it." You groaned. "It's just overwhelming to process, I guess."

"That's okay." He says, letting out a sigh as he brushes his hand through your hair and continues to wipe the stragglers falling from your eyes. "Anything I can get you right now?"

"No, I'm probably just gonna go to bed." He nods. "Thank you for picking me up."

"Of course. You know I'll always be there." He says. You slip yourself into his sheets, watching as he makes his way back to his desk. But fuck, the only thing you needed right now was him. You didn't want this distance anymore, and you just wanted to be comforted in true Jungkook fashion.

"Wait."

"Hm?" He hums as he has a hand placed on the head of his chair while he turns to you.

"Can you just lay with me?"

"Yeah." He says, shutting off his computer before making his way over to you in the dark. You feel him slip in next to you, his arm snaking around your shoulders so he can pull you close and onto his chest. "Better?"

"Yeah." You say, shutting your eyes as you listen to his heart beat.

"Y/N."

"Yeah?"

"I never meant to take advantage of you, or make you feel like I used you that one night." Silence. "It was dumb of me, but I just— I had trouble coming to terms with my feelings. I was scared that you wouldn't feel the same way, but I thought fuck it, at least you would know, right?"

"What are you talking about, Kook?" You ask, close to a whisper.

"I'm saying that I really fucking like you, Y/N. No, that's not right." He curses himself. "I-I uh, I'm in love with you. And I don't know if I messed this up already with the way I acted, god I hope not, but you at least deserve to know that I truly do value you and that you mean alot to me. That night, even though we were pretty plastered, it meant a lot to me. It was more than just sex and I'm sure you felt that too." He waits for your response as his fingers rake through your hair. "Please say something, anything."

"I feel the same way, Jungkook. You're an idiot for running off, but I couldn't even stay mad at you. You just know how to hit my soft spots and I can never say no to it. Can never turn my back on it." He presses a kiss against the top of your head.

"Fuck, I'm really glad to hear that cause I don't know what I would have done besides cry if you rejected me." You playfully hit his chest.

"You're annoying." You jokingly say as you chuckle.

"I'm sorry. I really am. I never wanted to hurt you."

"It's okay." You look up to press your lips against his before laying back down.

"And Kang better be fucking glad you're pressed against my body right now because I'm still looking to beat his ass."

"He's not even worth it." Is the last thing you say before you find yourself drifting into a deep sleep, in the comfort of Jungkook's arms.

"You two feeling okay? Nervous?" You and Jungkook shake your heads. "Good, you guys got this. You've been looking amazing during practice, the audience will love you two, no doubt. Just remember to show emotions through expressions and hit every beat sharply." Hoseok nods in unison with the both of you.

"Got it, thanks Hobi." You smile at him toothlessly. You and Jungkook patiently waited for your turn backstage, the talent show already off to a wild and fun start. So many students came by to showcase their talents - from beatboxing, open mic, freestyling [like Yoongi did], dancing, singing, you name it. It was always a fun time at the talent show, and it was always nice to see people getting love for the shit they loved to do.

"You're up next." Hoseok says. "I'll be in the front row. Kick ass and have fun!" He says as he rushes off towards the opposite end to head back out to his seat in the theater.

"Ready?" Jungkook holds out his hand for you to take.

"I think so." You playfully respond as the backstage crew is rushing out the previous talent and rushing you two in to take your places on stage. The lights pick up as soon as the music starts, Kang's big ass head already in full view for you. He's definitely not smiling, no, he has a look of pure disgust because he simply couldn't get what he wanted from you.

And boy, who's fault was that? Not yours, no sir. It was his fault for thinking he had it like that.

But anyways, you're feeling the music, you're feeling the piece because you're dancing with your bestfriend and there wasn't this grey area anymore. It was easier to get into the motions, to get into the feeling, especially when things felt right between the two of you.

And God, what else is more attractive than Jeon Jungkook hitting his 8 counts so smoothly, with just enough umph to make it pop but make it pop cleanly.

Yo, please. I beg. Send some help. You could literally melt on stage.

The moments where Jungkook has to be close to you, where he has to touch you - you let him, and you touch him with meaning. You don't stray away this time because you have no reason to. The crowd is cheering, lots of 'ou's' and 'aw's' erupting from various places in the theater.

"Pretty lady." Jungkook whispers in your ear as the move requires his hands to be placed on your hips for a quick moment. You hear him slightly singing along to the song as he parts from you, causing you to blush.

Sooner or later, the couple piece is over and the song is transitioning to Jimin's piece, you and Jungkook rushing off the stage so the next group can take their positions. Jimin wanted to test his limits, creating a piece a little different than his usual taste - Chris Brown's Came to Do begins blaring through the theater speakers. You immediately jump into Jungkook's arms once you both reach backstage, the both of you immensely happy and pumped that you got through the piece without messing up one step or beat. It went so smoothly that Hoseok was standing in the front row, clapping and cheering in typical Hoseok fashion. You intertwine your fingers with his, slipping through the side door to catch Jimin's piece on stage. You and Jungkook are cheering them on, always impressed by the shit your friends can come up with. You both loved dancing, but you couldn't even imagine coming up with your own pieces to teach people.

That night after the show, everyone heads to a nearby restaurant for dinner with everyone. You all take up almost an entire section of the restaurant, splitting two long tables to accommodate the entire group with doubled the waitresses to take your orders. You settle for water, splitting an abnormally huge and filled deep dish pizza with Jimin, Kass and Jungkook. It was a good day, a good night, everyone at the table happily eating and chatting it up over dinner. You turn down any drinks because to be honest, drinks lowkey make you queasy just from the thought of how much you drank at Jungkook's apartment, plus the added bonus of that party Kang took you to. Jungkook declines as well, knowing he has to drive you back safely.

Jimin and Kass head back to the apartment because Yoongi says he's gonna hang out with Joon And Hoseok for a bit, and they warn you and Jungkook that things may get loud so the both of you decide to really stick to the plan of bringing you back to the dorm. Jungkook does his usual routine of dropping you off first before finding parking around campus. You hop in the shower and come out in Jungkook's oversized crewneck that he left in your closet, forgoing the shorts because you certainly thing that at this point, he'd love to see you in his sweater and panties.

And he does. He smiles as he pulls you close, his hands traveling up your sweater, only to find out that you literally don't have shit on besides some cute little boyshorts. He feels himself hardening in his pants quick because he's incredibly attracted to you and everything about you, always has been, always will be.

"You did amazing tonight." He says, gently kissing your forehead.

"You did too, partner." He gives you a slightly shocked look.

"Is that all I am to you? Your dance partner?"

"Yeah, why? Were you expecting more?" You joke as you smile up at him.

"Yeah, I was."

"Oh?" He gently swoops you up into his arms, your legs wrapped tightly around his torso as he sits you on the bed, his hands resting on your thighs while you continued to hold him around the neck. "Care to tell me what you were expecting?"

"Well, you know, my best friend—" He presses a kiss against your lips, thumbs gently rubbing circles against your hips. "My girlfriend."

"Hm, say that again?" Your fingers are gently playing with the ends of his hair, your lips barely grazing his.

"My girlfriend." He says closed to a whisper, kissing you softly. The kiss deepens quick, Jungkook's tongue lining your bottom lip as his way of asking for permission to take it further. You gladly take it and let him in, your tongues instantly fighting for dominance. Your fingers travel up his hair, tugging ever so slightly just to let him know you want more. That you need more.

And he gets that.

His fingers hook onto the band of your boyshorts, tugging them down and letting them fall down your legs and onto the floor. He breaks the kiss momentarily, his brown, puppy dog eyes looking straight into yours.

"Hey." He says, brushing the hair out of your face.

"Hm?"

"I know I said the last time was special, and it was. It is." He corrects himself. "But, I wanna do right by you this time around. So, is it okay if I keep going? Are you comfortable?" He asks properly, since the two of you are both sober and perfectly coherent, aware of your surroundings and the fact that you'll be seeing each other fully naked in a few minutes.

"Yes." You respond. "Yes, I want you to keep going. I want you. This." He simply nods, bringing his lips back onto yours. His hands climb up your sweater and gently gives your breasts a good squeeze, earning a small moan from the both of you. His other hand begins to travel down to your pussy, two long fingers slowly probing your entrance and causing your breathing to hitch.

"You okay?" He asks lowly. You nod, biting onto your bottom lip as you tilt your head back and rest on your hands, no longer able to keep up with the kiss due to all the pleasure starting to pile up deep in your core. Jungkook starts of slow, his head now buried into the crook of your neck as he works his digits upward, tickling at the right spot.

"Ohhhh, Kook." You mewl as his tongue swipes across the surface of your neck, biting gently beneath your jaw. He begins to pick up the pace, the sounds of him finger fucking you filling up the room entirely.

"Fuck, you're so wet baby." He groans into your neck.

"I'm gonna cum." You whine, teeth almost piercing through your bottom lip in between your whimpers.

"Need to taste you." He removes his fingers and sinks down in between your thighs, gripping onto them and pulling you just a teensy bit more off the edge of the bed so he can get a good angle. The sight of his eyes looking up at you in between your legs is to die for, and the sight alone is enough to make you cum. But, you hold on, you ride out for a little longer - feeling Jungkook's tongue swipe in and out of your folds before he's sucking endlessly on your clit.

"Ahhh, fuck, wait, Jungkook!" He slightly smiles while eating you out, signaling that he's not stopping even if you beg him to. "Hnnng—shit!" You moan loudly as you feel yourself toppling over the edge, your body shaking in Jungkook's grip. You twitch every time he continues to suck gently on your sensitive nub, letting you ride out the rest of your high. He comes back up to your lips, the taste of your own cum lingering on it as you kiss him deeply.

"You taste so good." He says, back to twirling your nipples in between his fingers.

"Wanna feel you." You fiddle with his jeans, undoing his belt and sliding the rest down as much as you could. Jungkook gets out of his shirt and tosses it aside before helping get the sweater above your head. His eyes glow at the sight of your bare body in front of him, wanting to do nothing but please you and please you well.

"God, you're so perfect." He places kisses down your collarbone, to the surface of your breasts before quickly swirling his tongue around your perked buds. You moan as you tug down onto his boxer briefs, immediately stroking his hardened member while he tended to you. Jungkook was a fucking beauty himself - his soft hair, his perfectly toned body, his long 'thick in all the right places' dick.

"Please." You plead. "I want you inside of me." You whimper, causing Jungkook's breathing to hitch when you slightly tighten your grip at the base of his shaft. He gently pushes your hand aside to take over, lining himself up at your entrance. He inserts the tip, watching your eyes roll to the back of the head as he slowly sinks into you.

"Mmmmmgod." He moans. "So tight for me, baby. So fucking wet and tight." He repeats, close to a growl. Your moaning begins to pick up, matching the pace of his thrusting. You're still on the edge of the bed, Jungkook keeping you steady by gripping your thighs tightly. He marvels at the sight of your titties bouncing up and down with every thrust, hissing and shutting his eyes momentarily to keep himself grounded and to prevent himself from coming too quickly. Cause god, he can literally blow any second now.

"Jungggggkooook, yessssss!" You moan loudly, whining even at this point with how good he feels fucking into you at such a fast pace. You're feeling slightly sore already from him hammering into you, but nonetheless, it builds more pleasure for you and you want nothing but to reach your high again. "I-I'm coming!" Jungkook moans in unison with you when he feels your walls pulsating against his cock.

"Such a good girl for me." He says, slowing his pace. The creamy sounds of Jungkook's cock slipping inside and out is music to the both of your ears. He finally gains the courage to remove himself, sitting next to your spot on the edge of the bed and pulling you onto his lap. You swing a leg over, your hands resting on the nape of his neck while you sink yourself lower onto his length. Your mouth opens to let out a moan, but the best you can do is let out a hiss. It feels too fucking good that you can't even process it thoroughly. Jungkook pushes your lips down onto his by grabbing your neck, his other hand guiding the movement of your hips as you roll into him.

"Mmmggg—Jungkook." You whimper in between kisses. "You feel so fucking good, god. You're gonna make me cum again."

"Yeah, cum for me. Cum all over me. It's yours." He grunts, his hands guiding you to work him faster. Your movements are getting sloppier, and you feel your wetness starting to coat his pelvis. He doesn't give a fuck though, and neither do you. This shit feels too good for you to worry about the mess you're making on him.

"Cum with me please." He moans at the sound of you whispering into his ear.

"Faster, baby." He says, almost making you cry at how awfully close you are to unraveling. You tug onto his hair, your head buried deep into his neck as you try and suck onto the surface, trying to find an outlet, some kind of release, until you let go. You suck harshly as you coat his cock with your cum, leaving a purple mark right at the base of his neck. You continue to ride out your high, rolling your hips sloppily as Jungkook finally lets himself go, his moan bouncing off of your walls as his seed fills you up warmly.

You stay in your position, slowly raising your head to cup his cheeks and kiss him deeply once more.

"Fuck, I love you." He says slightly pulling away.

"I love you too." You giggle.

"Didn't actually need any drinks to do this now, did we?" Jungkook jokes, softly pinching your hip.

"Shut up."

"Damn, you both couldn't even at least try to be quiet?!" Jimin yells from outside the door.

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bitchesgetriches · 2 years ago

Note

Hi bitches!

I hope this finds you well 😁

I have a question/an opinion to ask and I am going to need to give context, bare with me here:

I lost my grandmother before the holidays and they were really hard. I have close-knit family and we rallied and supported each other as best as we can through her loss (e.g. taking shifts at the hospital, at the funeral) and through the holidays without her.

Now that we are into the New Year and reality is settling in a bit more - we are needing to start figuring things out

The crux of the issue is my grandmother's house.

My sister (22) and myself (27 year old female) (we both still live at home and do work full time) are facing some pressure from my aunt's and uncle's (my grandma has 4 kids. My mom is the oldest) to buy my grandmother's house. My grandmother's house was the place we all gathered at weekly. We all had keys. People would come and go as they pleased and my grandmother loved it.

I think my uncle's and aunt's are doing it somewhat from a place of kindness: we live in Cambridge Ontario Canada and the housing market was HORRIBLE the last year and a bit, and we are headed into a recession according to the news. They note that we wouldn't need a real-estate agent and they would be willing to give us a deal on the price of the house

But my aunt's and uncle's do have some benefit from this too. My uncle lives in the attached house, he wouldn't need to out up a fence in the backyard, and could continue to use most of the driveway if we moved in rather than having to share it with a neighbour. My aunt's would have less things to clean out of the house as we would be moving in and bringing very little furniture as my sister and I still live at home.

My mom who has just lost her mom is quite upset about their suggestion. We lost my grandma on Dec 18 2022 and on Jan 1 2023 my aunt's were already talking about my sister and I buying the house and having us move in. My mom just lost her mom and bawled hearing about us moving out. It is a lot of change in a short amount of time.

Plus my mom (56) has only started to get her financed together in the last year. The money from the sale of the house is a large part of her retirement fund.

My sister and I have a step father who does own an apartment building. We have been trying to save to go splits with him on a triplex so that we could live at home and rent it out to have property and eventually another stream of income. This has been our plan for like 3 years.

With my aunts talking about my sister and I buying my grandmother house, my sister fell in love with the idea. It is a house that holds so many memories and the lost of my grandma is still so new. She wants to go splits on it with me and move in as she does not want anyone else living in the house - a sentiment echoed by my aunt's and uncle's.

I feel so torn, and stressed and want to cry.

I can get on board with her idea. It would be amazing to have a house. Especially one that has so many good memories. This is an opportunity that not a lot of people get, and i do what to recoginze the pribillage in that. I am concerned about affording the house and being about to financially maintain it. The uncle's and aunt's have offered to cosign with us (and when talking about it, they never once brought up that we could cosign with my mom (which hurt her deeply as they said it right in front of her and she was never listed as an option), they volunterred) but I won't do that. It makes me uncomfortable cosigning with them, and the fact that they never brought up my mom as an option doesn't sign right with me.

Plus I am trying to switch careers unhappy at my job and my sister is thinking of going back to school

But I am also terrified of how relationships may fall apart if we don't try to buy th house

I have been full time employed for 3 years. My sister 6 months.

We would need to go in on this together (and possibly still need my mom to cosign). My sister is in love with this idea and is only seeing it with rose coloured glasses.

I am someone who tends to catastricize so I have already thought of all the ways that things could go wrong.

When my sister mentioned about going back to school for 8 months, my aunt straight up told me that I could get a part time job to told things down while she is in school. I work in L&D at a travel insurance company and am facing burn out as I have been teaching back to back classes since Nov 2021 with no break between them. I barely have the energy to do my job.

With something that was this important to so many people (it was the space that everyone gathered constantly and consistently) we have to be delicate and aware of that.

My step-dad is of the mind that financially it doesn't make sense for us to buy it and move out. That renting out the space while living at home would make more sense.

That buying the house and moving in would mean thinking with our hearts and would be a lot harder than we think both financially and with trying to establish boundaries. Mom is of the same mind.

I feel caught in the middle. It is a hell of an opportunity, but it is not what I have been working towards for the last 3 years. I van see wanting to rent the space out not sitting well with my aunts and uncle's.

I guess my question is what are your thoughts on this? Would it be a good move? Am i over thinking everything

I see so much love and pain in your question. Clearly everyone--from you and your sister to your mom to your aunts and uncles to your stepdad--are approaching this situation with a lot of love. And those approaches are generating unintentional pain. Y'all mean well! But there's no clear answer.

I think you need to take a leadership role with your family here. Tell them that unless there's an extremely compelling reason to move quickly to sell the house, you want everyone to spend some time together inside it to go through the grief process. Get used to the idea of your grandmother being gone.

Importantly, this will give everyone time to think logically through the options, without emotions getting in the way. Maybe that'll change someone's mind! But more importantly, it'll leave you and your sister in your mother's home during this painful time, where you'll be able to support her in her grief.

So in a nutshell: advocate waiting a few months before any permanent decisions are made. Don't rush your grieving processes and don't make financial decisions in a time of emotional turmoil if you can help it.

So sorry for your loss, sweet pea. I hope you have the time and space you need to heal with your family.

Season 3, Episode 2: "I Inherited Money. Should I Pay Off Debt, Invest It, or Blow It All on a Car?"

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fuckyeahcourtneylove · 4 years ago

Photo

Courtney’s green Mercury guitar.

This is a hugely detailed back story so bear with me. Less than 100 of these guitars were ever made – some even say as little as 30.

Tim George and Danny Babbitt were the original creators and designers behind Mercury Guitars – based in Atlanta, Georgia.

They started on the aesthetic development of the Mercury in early ’92. The actual shape was inspired by the smaller Rickenbackers.

It was originally called the “Gemini” – they wanted a name which was timeless and somehow they settled on ‘Mercury’.

The guitars were designed to be mass produced. This is the reason for the string through body design, it was a bunch cheaper - they actually got the parts from the hardware store.

The first Mercury prototype had a brown sunburst body. At this point, things started to go fast for Tim & Danny.

The original ones built were of various colours. Danny worked during the day at a huge store in Atlanta called Rhythm City and they allowed him to put the guitars in the store. They sold one to the band Collective Soul, they sold one to a guy in a band called Head Hunter. Another one was sold to the guitar player for Porno For Pyros. One was sold to Guy Picciatto of Fugazi.

They built a metallic green Mercury (a special vintage General Motors paint colour, a paint typically used for cars) for Tim personally. One night, Danny saw Nirvana was in town and he wanted to try and get it in front of Kurt. Somehow he got backstage and he met Courtney Love and she fell in love with the vintage green Mercury guitar and asked if he could sell it to her. Of course they could! They were now on cloud 9. This was huge. Soon after they sold Courtney the guitar, they went to another Nirvana show (they think Mississippi) and got back stage again. They met the band (minus Kurt) and pre-sold a guitar to Pat Smear and somehow got the go ahead to build one for Kurt. This was “off the charts” (according to Tim) and they went home in a daze. Pretty soon after this, Kurt passed away and Courtney went on tour.

Things after that got pretty tough for Tim & Danny – life became tumultuous due to some personal happenings (bad landlords, getting kicked out of their share house and having to get rid of their guitar making tools) and they grew apart emotionally and lost their passion for making guitars together.

Right before they left their home in Georgia, Courtney had called to ask for more guitars for the tour. This was not possible. “I don’t think we even replied. This was foolish because she probably would have paid for us to build a shop or at least bought us the tools we needed.” – Tim.

Some time passed.

“I saw the Hole “Violet” video one night at a bar and got to see our guitar make music video history. You will notice the Mercury 3+3 headstock in the video and the Mercury pick-ups. I went to see Hole play at Lollapalooza and saw our design on the big stage and cried. A Rolling Stone magazine image of her with the guitar was next. I was happy to have given something back to music/guitar history.” – Tim

The first time she used the Mercury was at Reading Festival in August 1994.

She adorned the guitar with 4 four leaf clover stickers at the bottom of the guitar (sometime between December 1994 and January 1995). One of them peeled off and she stuck it to the top. And the volume and tone knobs were eventually gaffa taped down to stick them in place because Craig Montgomery (Court’s guitar tech) was sick of her fucking with the sound (lol).

The Mercury was absolutely trashed and thrashed on stage during 1994 and 1995. You’ve seen the videos. It was roughed up pretty badly.

By July 1995, Courtney had added a new guitar to her touring repertoire (alongside the Mercury, a Univox among others): the Fender Venus. Seeing her play both the Mercury and Venus interchangeably, it was very evident that the Fender Custom Shop had directly copied the body shape of the Mercury with their normal hockey stick headstock.

I am unsure if this was sheer laziness on Fender’s part but the guys from Mercury didn’t appreciate this – as you can imagine. I think they wanted to sue, but two guys going up against a global giant probably wouldn’t bode well for them. Plus there’s some weird law that says you cannot patent guitar body shapes or something.

By the end of the 95 Hole tour, the Mercury was officially retired. When Hole started touring in 98/99, the Fender Venus was her go-to, alongside the occasional Telecaster or her vintage Gretsch.

Tim and Danny are still friends to this very day and are in constant search for one of the original guitars to come up for sale. They have have no complete Mercury’s left. Let me know if you run across one. They are planning on building the Mercury’s again one day when they get older just for the fun of it.

See below for some other photos: Tim & Danny with one of their Mercury guitars (these examples look like they are semi hollowbody’s rather than the solid body Courtney owned.) The bottom guitar in the stack of guitars picture is an example of a guitars they were in the midst of making for Kurt.

I wish I knew where the Mercury was.

#courtney love #mercury guitars #mercury #hole #kurt cobain #tim george #danny babbitt #1992 #fender venus

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get-shiggy-with-it · 4 years ago

Text

#1 Victory Royale

✧ pairing: college student!spinner x student!afab!reader

✧ word count: 4.4k

✧ warnings: college au/no quirks, light angst, mostly soft/fluff, smut, could be hate fucking if you squint, afab reader but no pronouns, this is pretty tame, by like my standards, I wrote this at work, not really a warning, but it felt like you needed to know that

✧ summary: relationships suck and Spinner is starting to think maybe he does too

✧ ao3 mirror

✧ a/n: Hey y'all, welcome back to more college au bs from me. This is set in the same universe once again as all my other college pieces. A very sweet anon asked if we'd ever get to see more of Spinner, so here he is! Also with another cameo from shiggy's bitch (endearing) cause I can't help myself.

“Ughhhhhh….”

Spinner’s groaning echoed through the tiny apartment, the heavy sound of creaking couch cushions under his weight following.

“What?” his long-suffering roommate shouted out their bedroom door, rapidly shoving clothing and a toothbrush into an overnight bag.

“Uggghhhhhhh!”

He let out with another, louder dying animal wail. He’d been like this since they woke up—wallowing in some strange concoction of self pity and Red Bull on the kitchen floor when they walked in for water two hours ago.

“Motherfucker,” they mumbled, tossing their bag to the floor and marching, more than a little disgruntled, into the hall. “What do you want?”

Spinner was sitting upside down on the couch now, feet up against the wall tapestry and cotton candy hair splayed out on the floor. He stared blankly as his friend came into view—arms crossed, frowning at him from the end of the hall—and opened his mouth once more, letting out another garbled grunt that had one of the neighbors pounding twice on the wall to shut his dramatic ass up.

“Dude seriously, are you gonna tell me who pissed in your cereal or are you just gonna scream until the guys next door kick a hole through our wall?”

They almost felt bad as he looked away, sniffing and letting himself slump farther off the sofa until he was sprawled completely on the hardwood and staring, glassy eyed, up at the ceiling.

When he finally spoke a full sentence, his gaze was locked on the water stain above him from a year ago when the upstairs neighbors flooded their apartment trying to make jungle juice in the bathtub.

“I don’t know, I’m just in my feels as the kids say,” he sounded so dejected—strange for someone who was perpetually energized to a frustrating degree—that their shoulders immediately slumped from a hardass square to a softer, more sympathetic angle

They padded over to join him on the floor.

“Care to elaborate, oh roomie of mine?”

There was a pause and Spinner tapped his nails against the hardwood idly before responding.

“I guess I’m just feeling, like, fucking I don’t know,” he sighed, knocking his head against the dusty boards, “left out I guess? That’s not quite right, but it’s just Magne mentioned last time she came to The League meeting that Jin was seeing somebody and it just got me all introspective and weird…”

“Hm,” his roommate hummed thoughtfully and studied the way the textured white ceiling gave way to the rings of brown water damage, like a dead and dying flower, “I thought you and Jin weren’t ever that serious?”

“We weren’t,” Spinner groaned again and rubbed his eyes. “We went on like, one date a year ago and I haven’t thought about it really at all since then. I’m not sure why hearing he’s got someone else now made me so fucking...jealous I guess.”

“I mean, maybe you just never really gave yourself the time to process it?” they asked and received only an annoyed huff and accompanying groan. “Sorry, should have asked if you were looking for advice or just wanting to rant. My bad.”

“No, it’s fine. I think it’s just…”

Spinner trailed off and they shifted as the hard floor bit at their back and made it ache. The muscles were sore already as it was, and Tomura blowing their fucking back a few times a week wasn’t really helping. They’d created some kind of perpetually horny monster, but something told them cracking a joke about it wasn’t really going to help the situation much. Thankfully, Spinner found his way to filling the silence a minute later.

“I don’t think it has anything specifically to do with Jin. Yeah I liked him, we’re still really good friends and I don’t feel like I need him to be more than that. It’s just that—and this is gonna make me sound like a massive asshole—but with you and your new fucking boyfie and now even Jin finding someone to date I just keep seeing reminders everywhere of how motherfucking isolated I am.”

“Oh,” they felt their face burn a bit, guilt frothing as they were forced to acknowledge the fact that in all the time they’ve spent holed up with Tomura, Spinner had been discarded like an old Steam game, bought impulsively on sale and never played again. “I’m sorry I haven’t been prioritizing you—”

“No, no, no shut the fuck with that,” he waved his hand to cut them off and pushed himself up on his palms. “I know I’m not being fair about it, and I really am happy for you guys, but idk man….I just feel like I’m never gonna find that you know?”

Beside him, his roommate remained sprawled out on the floor like a homicide tape outline and was just as deadly quiet.

“I just,” he continued, running an angry hand through his hair, “I know I could be such a good partner. Like I’m funny and I’m not a fucking creep, which is actually a plus to most people.”

He shot a side glance down and they rolled their eyes, sitting up and knocking his shoulder roughly till he toppled back to the dirty floor and they stood above him.

“Fuck off,” they chuckled.

His roommate watched as the laughter seemed to infect him like a bad cold, creeping down the back of his throat and shaking in his chest.

“No I’m serious, I would be such a fucking great boyfriend. I give goddamn top quality cuddles and I actually know how to do laundry, what more does one need truly?”

“Damn bro, you’ve known how to fold your own clothes this whole time?”

The giggling spread into the quiet space, rocking through both their shoulders and leaving the air feeling light—fresh like the first nights of Spring. When it finally petered out into friendly silence, they were both far lighter.

“I just like the way you fold my t-shirts, the sleeves don’t get those weird creases when you do it,” he muttered and stood, doing his best to fix the wild pink locks that stood on end from his fidgeting.

“Yeah I’m sure,” his roommate rolled their eyes and turned back down the hall.

When they left for the night to stay over with their boyfriend, Spinner tried not to acknowledge the way he subconsciously glared at their back as they walked out the door, skipping yet another League meeting to swap spit with that guy from their English class.

He tried even harder not to think of how their bed would be warm and their legs would have legs to tangle with, their chest have a chest to lay against, while he heated up instant noodles in the microwave and fell asleep alone on their living room couch.

Not to mention that tonight was the big tournament with that new group on campus. He was really banking on his bff (best fucking friend as they were always sure to clarify) and him teaming up to crush those assholes from The Commission or whatever they called themselves.

Fucking lame as shit name in his opinion.

In any case, he’d have to settle for Magne again, and she was such a loose cannon they were sure to get their asses handed to them. She was a great fucking tank, he’d be the first to admit, but strategy was not a strong point of hers and they desperately needed that tonight.

He could feel the sinking weight of failure rolling in the pit of his stomach already even as he dragged himself into his room to tug on an old pair of jeans.

It bothered him way more than it should, the idea of losing some gaming tournament that, by all means held little to no actual significance.

Spinner knew the stock he’d started placing in games was growing to an unhealthy degree.

He knew that.

But self awareness rarely did anything to alleviate the irrational fear of failing at one of the only remaining consistencies in his life.

It stung worse when the tournament kicked off and by the third round, Spinner was the only remaining League member in the brackets.

“Fucking shit…” he muttered to himself, the small basement room alight with the blue glow of the monitor and the sound of frantically smashing controllers.

Behind him on the couch—stolen long ago from the theater building—Magne held him by the shoulders as he grit his teeth and leaned into the movement of his avatar on screen.

“You got this babe,” she shouted, cheek pressed up to his ear. “Make ‘em eat shit for me!”

“I would if you stopped distracting me,” Spinner hissed back.

Really it wasn’t Magne’s aggressive and somewhat bloodthirsty style of encouragement that shook his focus so badly.

It was his opponent.

The fucking president of The Commission sat, thighs spread and pressed to his, resting your weight on your elbows and snarling beside him in the couch.

Your face was split in this heart stopping grin as you quite deftly dodged all his attempts to get a hit in and managed to land a few of your own in the process.

And you looked really hot doing it.

Which was definitely just a side effect of the punch he (didn’t) drink and the body heat fueled temperature of the room—sweaty skin against sweaty skin making his mind wander against his will.

The shifting in his seat was absolutely just to illogically make him move faster and had nothing to do with how tight his pants now seemed.

So much for not being a fucking creep.

Your teammates were gathered in a circle behind you, enraptured and exuding the kind of smug confidence that said quite clearly The League was fucked from the second they walked in.

Not even two minutes later your hands were thrown up, punching the air and your team piling over the back of the couch to drown you in a sea of celebratory limbs.

Spinner felt himself deflating even as he was toppled off the couch by your screaming members and The League collectively cursed in the background.

Truthfully he’d known the chances of winning were slim.

Ever since his roommate started getting busy with classes and clubs that ‘looked good on their resume,’ The League had gone downhill rapidly. It was a problem since long before that Shigaraki guy swooped in and stole them away, but Spinner couldn’t stop himself from lowkey holding that against him.

The League had consumed so much of his life in college, functioning as a haven where he was finally respected and belonged to an extent he’d never experienced before.

The stink of failure and loss, not of the game but the only space he’d ever really occupied without complaint, burned his face and made the room feel more suffocating than usual.

Magne looked as though she wanted to give him one of her signature—and admittedly very comforting—hugs, but the deadly look of disappointment on Spinner’s face must have made her think twice.

The rest of his team seemed to read this sudden downward shift in the room as they began to filter out, climbing the steps onto street level and away from the suddenly stuffy, uncomfortable meeting spot. Normally everyone would stay and finish off the drinks snuck past the janitorial staff, eating Doritos until well past midnight. This time they couldn’t wait to be rid of him.

He couldn’t really blame them.

The multimedia building was a strange place after hours. Once Spinner might have called it something rare and liminal, now it felt more like a prison.

He stood, packing up the consoles a bit more roughly than necessary when someone cleared their throat behind him.

He turned to see you, standing alone with hands on your hips and scowling like you were the one who just got their gaming reputation ruined.

“Dude what the fuck was that?”

Spinner bristled at the knife sharp point of your tone.

“Really?” he asked incredulously. “You seriously waited around to rub your win in my face?”

You rolled your eyes and took a step closer around the couch. “I’m not talking about the fucking game dumbass. Why the hell are you pouting like I stole your fucking candy or some shit? You ruined the vibes man.”

“If anyone was ruining the vibes, it was you and your cocky ass team.”

Spinner felt himself stepping closer too, pulled in by the celestial weight that accompanied any kindling argument.

“Me?” you pointed to your chest and scoffed, “Wow, I was really hoping you’d actually possess a bit of emotional maturity, but if this is how you get after a loss I’m not shocked your fucking club is bleeding members.”

At some point the two of you had gravitated close enough that he felt the puff of your last breath on his cheeks. Two comets, ready and willing to collide.

“I’m not being the asshole in this situation, you know that right?” Spinner glared down his nose at you, heart pounding in his ears. “Maybe you shouldn’t make fucking unfounded assumptions about people you don’t know.”

“So then why are your panties in a twist over a fucking game?” you retorted.

He was peripherally aware that your eyes had taken on the same laser focused quality as they had during the last round. Determined and locked onto him without sparing a glance to anything else.

It was this same undivided attention that he’d envied in you as you played, and as Spinner felt it trained on him, his pants once again felt uncomfortably restrictive.

“It’s not about the fucking game okay!?” his voice came out hoarse and far more petulant than he’s been aiming for.

Though he quickly felt the embarrassment give rise to a secondary heat as you both breathed each other’s air and searched the face across from you.

“Then what is it about?”

That strange, unexplainable, inexplicable rush of potential filled the small gap that remained between your bodies—the kind of tension Spinner was beginning to think he’d never feel again.

He’d kissed plenty of people. Almost more than he’d like to admit, or that they’d like to admit more accurately.

But when his flickering eyes found your hard stare still and unwavering from his, it felt incredibly natural to lean in and press his lips against your fading frown.

It was slow going, the few centimeters that separated you seemed like miles as he moved slowly, never breaking eye contact until his mouth was finally slotted over yours and you weren’t pushing him away.

There was still a bit of lingering confusion, as this was decidedly not what either of you appeared to be expecting from the prior conversation. That coupled with the fact that Spinner wasn’t entirely sure he remembered your first name made the feeling of your tongue prodding at the seam of his lips all the more startling.

When he gasped, you slid your hands up his chest and licked into his mouth. Tongue tangling between breaths, Spinner felt himself getting lost in the familiar and coveted taste of another mouth, another body, another hand that grasped, that desired, that wanted him.

***

Your knees dug into the cushions on either side of Spinner’s thighs as you bounced in his lap. He fought to keep his eyes open against the pleasure of his cock sinking into you over and over again, so he could watch the way your head was thrown back and your chest heaved with the exertion.

He dug his hands into your hips and let his head hit the back of the couch, feet planted on the floor to help his hips thrust up into you, earning him some of the prettiest, stifled moans he’d ever heard.

Truthfully, he had not expected to fuck you. He figured you might be down to just make out for a bit until the cleaning staff came and booted you from the building, but both your pants had quite quickly and naturally found their way to the floor.

Neither of you spoke much, which he was thankful for. That would have been far too complicated of a conversation, especially considering you really didn’t know each other all that well.

Spinner usually liked to do a bit of ‘getting to know you’ type activities before he hooked up with people, which he did with surprising frequency for somebody so starved for a long term thing. Sex just fucking felt good and it was this eagerness that was his downfall. Most people he’d fucked around with seemed to read the urge to get into their pants as a diminished interest or emotional attraction and Spinner ended up with more friends with benefits than actual friends...or benefits.

Regardless, it was fine by him that the only form of communication passing between you for now were scattered groans of pleasure and the wet slap of your ass against his thighs.

He’d nearly forgotten how fucking amazing pussy felt.

For no particular reason, Spinner had always found himself fooling around with bodies more similar to his own. Not that he had any real preference, though the lack of experience often made him a bit nervous in the whole ‘pleasing your partner’ department, despite many helpful lessons from his roommate.

That was all to say that Spinner was incredibly thankful you reached down to guide his hand that had clumsily begun rubbing circles on your clit. That is until you simply knocked it away and went back to riding his dick like a fucking champ.

Then he did speak.

“Wanna make you cum,” he mumbled and really did sound like he was pouting this time.

You peered down at him, slowing your pace so you sat flush in his lap, grinding his cock deep against your walls. Spinner keened as you clenched around him, pussy so deliciously warm he felt himself near to drowning in the feel of you.

“Mm fuck,” you panted, leaning in to steal a few more messy kisses from him before lifting up and enveloping him in the slick heat all over again. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No,” he nipped at the column or your throat, careful not to leave any lasting marks just in case. “If I’m finishing, you’re fucking finishing.”

You pulled back and stared at him for a moment. He felt you purposefully tightening around him just so he would squirm under your curious gaze. After a moment you smirked and rolled your eyes again, taking his hand and guiding his fingers back to that little nub just above where his thick length was seated inside you.

Spinner was proud of his dick, it was hefty but not so long that it was a hassle to fit—just enough to reach all the important bits. He was sensitive as hell too most of the time, so just about any pressure felt amazing. But the best part of it was watching whoever he was fucking fall apart on his goddamn perfect cock.

So when you whispered, “Like this,” and showed him the rhythm and motion you liked, he pulled himself back from the brink to pay attention, speeding up until that look of cooled control slid right off your face.

“Ahh, yes fuck...” the words tumbled from you freely now. “Shit, yeah just like that—”

Spinner could get fucking drunk off the low groan that left you as he planted his feet more firmly and bucked his hips up. He must have hit something good by the way you choked and moaned boarding on too loud, though he had neither the heart nor self control to stop you.

“Feel good?” he grunted, picking up the pace and force he thrust into you, so that you had to loop your arms around his neck and hold tightly as he speared you on his cock.

“Fuck...yes..” you whimpered into his shoulder which did wonders for his ego.

Spinner kept up his rubbing frantic patterns on your clit and feeling the gradual constriction of your walls around him—the coil growing tight and ready to snap. He nudged your cheek with his until you pulled back a bit to face him.

“I want to see you,” he murmured, sucking your tongue into his mouth for a moment and tearing himself away so he could watch as you came undone around him.

You gave him a strange, soft look and pressed your forehead to his, eyes zoned in on only him.

The rest of the room, the whole fucking basement and campus melted away under that stare.

Your nipples peaked through your shirt, brushing against his as you were jostled into him by the movement of your hips. As you reached your peak, words devolved into increasingly breathy gasps. It took Spinner an incredible amount of concentration not to fucking paint your insides then and there.

Your pussy was so goddamn tight and warm and milking him just right, it was a fucking impressive feat to remain staunchly at the edge of his peak as your mouth fell open and your fingernails scratched at his back when you finally came—the telltale spasms around his cock and the near sobs coming from you more than enough indication.

He lost himself well and truly then.

Lost in the false sense of intimacy that came with being allowed to see you fall apart, this person he barely knew yet made him feel immensely important in that moment. Your breath and spit was in his mouth, the smell and feel of you soaking his length pushed him beyond the realm of conscious thought.

There was only a deep and burning need to be closer to you. So, so much closer.

His hands moved of their own accord, hooking under your thighs and flipping your bodies so your back hit the cushions and he hovered above you. The angle allowed him to slide deeper, pulling out and thrusting his hips in fast, hard strokes that hurtled him towards release.

Spinner couldn’t keep himself quite now either, panting and moaning and gasping unashamedly with his eyes screwed shut as you took his cock so unbelievably well.

It wasn’t until your hands, softer than he’d imagined, cupped his jaw and pulled him down to meet you that he was brought back down from whatever higher plane of existence his impending orgasm whisked him too.

Your lips weren’t nearly as frantic as the rocking of his thighs, the slap of his balls against your ass. The sweetness was an odd but welcome contrast.

“I’m gonna—fucking mm...” he tried so hard to get his tongue to form the words but he could feel himself slipping further as you started clamping around his length again.

“I know,” you breathed against his lips, faces pressed together and unmoving eyes steady on his own. “Ahh, inside if you want.”

He did want.

Oh fuck did he want nothing more in that moment to stay sunk in your warmth and pump you so full, but the last few remaining logical braincells reminded him that was not a great idea. Not without a more in-depth conversation neither of you was in a state to have.

“Shouldn’t...” he groaned and moved to pull out but your ankles locked around his ass and forced him back down.

“It’s okay,” you huffed and rocked into him, squeezing around the sensitive head of his dick just once, just right and that did him in.

It was something in the way you looked at him, so that he could feel nothing but secure—nothing but safe wrapped up in you. Something about the way you pressed him closer, in the movement of your thumb on his cheek.

It scratched some deep seated, lonely itch in Spinner.

Made it feel like this meant a hell of a lot more than it probably did.

In seconds he was blowing his fucking load right into you, milking himself in your heat until he was spent and overstimulated. You were kind enough to pull him to you, turning your bodies so you laid side by side on the coach, his softening cock slipping from you in a gush of release.

For a minute or so, neither of you spoke, just stared, long and comfortable at the stranger you’d just fucked on the gaming club couch.

Well.

Fucked wasn’t really the word he’d use at that point to describe what you’d just done, but anything more than that felt presumptuous.

You broke the silence as he nuzzled into your palm.

“You really needed that didn’t you?”

Spinner couldn’t help the familiar, infectious laugh that rattled in his chest. He liked the smile it earned him, far more genuine than any others you’d worn that night.

“Uh, yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

You hummed, nodding in response. “Mm, me too.”

And somehow, for no real logical reason, Spinner knew you understood. That you felt the same isolation, the same starvation for love, for holding weight in someone else’s world.

That the games were just a placeholder, a way to fill the space, to get lost in other lives, in other stories where he did matter. Where his actions had foreseeable and measurable worth. That’s why it hurt to lose. Not for the glory, but for the destruction of the only remaining diversion from how empty his reality felt.

Even if it wasn’t really.

Even if there were friends and benefits and friends who offered both. His roommate could let him rest his head in their lap on movie nights or sleep in his bed on occasion when the heat went out and he got cold too quickly. But none of that quite filled the hole like you now, holding his face and knowing the struggle without him having to explain it.

Nothing like you pulling him in and kissing him too familiarly for someone he’d only known a day.

Magne used to say something about shit like this. Something like how people bond in train cars when there’s a rat eating a slice of pizza and you all watch it happen. Some weird camaraderie forged in the shared experience of life being a little fucking freaky a lot of the time.

That was how it felt when you slipped your leg between his and brushed your lips together again. Content to lay, half naked in the media building basement, making out with some guy you beat at Smash and fucked right after.

Reveling in the brief but meaningful feeling of mattering in some small, strange way to someone else.

Of holding weight.

Of being held.

#spinner x reader #shuichi iguchi x reader #spinner x y/n #spinner x you #college au #mha angst #student!reader

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pretchatta · 3 years ago

Text

tripping the light fantastic

The brief was simple: infiltrate an Imperial gala and steal a datachip from one of the guests. Hera's contact had procured them false identities as wealthy socialites as well as providing a description of the target, so all they had to do was show up. Kanan didn't see how this operation could go wrong.

Of course, that was before he knew what Hera was wearing.

Things became a whole lot more complicated after that.

that evening wear series i started in june? i finished it!

rating: teen; kanan jarrus/hera syndulla; 7.5k words

---

“Hera, the hovertaxi’s here!”

Kanan tried not to sound too impatient as he called to her from the cargo hold of the Ghost, but he was cold.

The thin, silken material of his shirt was cool against his skin, and his formal jacket was doing nothing to insulate him against the recycled air of the ship. Hera had told him he’d be fine once they reached their destination, but they would never get there if she didn’t hurry up.

“I’m coming!” came her muffled shout from somewhere above him.

He heard the clatter of heels against the deck and decided to believe her this time, so he walked back down the extended boarding ramp. The spaceport outside was no warmer, but it was a step closer to the extravagant Imperial gala they would be attending tonight. The impractical outfit had been provided by the same contact who had procured their invitations – or, rather, invitations for the two wealthy socialites they would be posing as.

Kanan waved at the taxi driver to indicate they wouldn’t be much longer and got a flat stare from the rhodian in response. He resisted the urge to rub at his eyes; Hera’s contact had insisted that they’d stand out if they didn’t follow fashion trends, and apparently the big one at the moment was glitter eyeshadow. It made his eyebrows itch.

He heard the sounds of someone coming down the ladder behind him and turned back to face the cargo bay.

“I’m sorry,“ Hera was saying, her voice clearer now she was closer. "The straps on these shoes are so fiddly, I don’t understand how anyone could have the patience to wear them every day.”

"You should have said something,” Kanan called back with a grin. Sometimes she really made this too easy. “I’m sure I could’ve helped, I’m great with my fing-”

He was cut off by the sight of Hera appearing at the top of the boarding ramp, the comment dying on his lips. Silhouetted by the light coming from inside the Ghost, one very accurate way to describe her appearance was stunning.

She was wearing a long, sleeveless dress made of the same silken material as Kanan’s shirt, and in the same deep burgundy colour. The V-shaped neckline plunged almost to her waist amidst the elegantly draped material, which clung to her hips and cascaded down her legs. The hem fluttered around her calves, revealing the impossibly high stiletto heels that were the reason for her lateness. They matched the colour of her dress, which contrasted beautifully against her skin.

Kanan gaped at her as all other thoughts fled from his head. He rarely saw Hera without her gloves, let alone the rest of her baggy flight suit; the combination of the dress and so much bare skin was almost too much for his brain to process.

She began to descend the ramp, hips and lekku swaying, apparently unaware of the effect she was having on him. As she drew near he could see she had applied a small amount of makeup – not much, but just enough to enhance her features, plus her own smear of glitter eyeshadow.

She came to a halt in front of him. “So, how do I look?”

He struggled to find an adequate response to her question.

“Words fail me.”

“That bad, huh?“ She gave him a knowing smile, then gestured behind him. "We should get going before our driver gets bored of waiting.”

The thud-hiss of the ramp closing jolted him back to himself. They were leaving Chopper in charge of the ship while they were gone, something that Hera seemed far more comfortable with than he was.

“Right, yeah, let’s go,” he said, shaking his head a little to clear it. He fell in step beside her as they walked over to where the taxi waited.

As Kanan opened the door for her, his hand automatically went to the small of her back to help her in. He aborted the motion with only inches to spare; her dress was completely backless. He jerked his arm back, feeling self-conscious about touching her bare skin, and managed to turn the movement into offering her his arm instead.

Hera took it with a smile as she climbed into the hovertaxi. Kanan followed, careful to sit so that there was still space between them, feeling suddenly warm despite his earlier discomfort. It was dawning on him that the evening ahead might be very difficult – and not just because of their mission.

Their false identities had them attending the gala husband and wife, and he was glad they didn’t need to start pretending until they got to the venue. He knew he hadn’t been subtle in his attraction towards her these past few months, but there was a line between casual flirting and going too far that he had been careful not to cross. Sometimes he thought he saw flickers of what could be reciprocation from her, but she had never given him any indication that she welcomed or returned his feelings and he did his best to respect that.

He had a horrible feeling that he would be getting awfully close to that line tonight.

When they pulled up to the venue, Kanan played the part of a dutiful husband, climbing out first and holding the door for Hera. She gave him a grateful smile as she took his proffered arm and let him help her out; now that the initial shock of her appearance had worn off, he could see that she was struggling without her usual flight suit and boots.

Their destination was a large private home worthy of the title ‘mansion’. It was made all the more impressive by the way it was uplit in the early evening twilight. Though it was in the middle of a bustling city, a narrow border of immaculately trimmed hedges surrounded the house, separating it from the buildings around it. A short flight of steps led up to the open front doors, warm light spilling out in welcome.

“Ready to put on a show?” Hera murmured from beside him.

Their brief was simple: infiltrate the gala and steal a datachip from one of the guests. Imperial suppliers often liked to finalise business deals at events such as these, and tonight ownership of a large consignment of weapons would be changing hands. Hera and Kanan were to locate the seller and swap the chip containing the manifests and shipping details of the sale with a fake, and then transmit the information to Hera’s contact. The shipment would be hijacked and stolen before the Imperials realised anything was wrong. It put fuel and supplies in the Ghost and took firepower away from the Empire, which made it Hera’s favourite kind of operation.

Unfortunately the guest in question was half the reason for the not-inconsiderable security force that was also in attendance tonight. Their disguises would get them in, but it would take a lot of skill and probably a fair amount of luck to grab the chip and then get out. The longer they could go without raising suspicion, the better.

Kanan turned to look down at her, his expression serious. “I’ll follow your lead.”

Her only response was to adjust her hold on his arm, linking them together more securely. He was happy with this; it struck the perfect balance of apparent intimacy, yet she could easily withdraw if she felt uncomfortable. He led her up the steps and to the doors.

The entrance hall beyond might have been described as small and modest by some. Those were the people this event was no doubt for – by Kanan’s standards, it was opulent.

Smooth blue stone lined the walls and contrasted against the golden tones of the floor. The gentle burbling of running water came from a small fountain in the center and echoed off the high, arched ceiling. Ornamental plants in intricately decorated pots lined the edges of the room, many with colourful flowers in bloom, their perfume hanging in the air. A heavy curtain in a rich, deep gold colour hung at the far end, and the faint sound of music could be heard from beyond.

“May I see your invitations?”

A sharply-dressed man in all black had been waiting just inside the door. Pale, slight and human, he couldn’t be a better example of an Imperial if he tried. That image was only reinforced by his companion; standing just behind him was a stormtrooper, silent and imposing.

Kanan affected a look of polite surprise. He had assumed they would give their cover names, maybe present their falsified chain codes. He flicked a glance at Hera, who was looking expectantly at him.

“Invitations?” he stalled, hoping desperately that her skintight dress might yet contain hidden pockets.

“I need to confirm that you are allowed in,” the doorman explained patiently. “You did bring your invitations with you, as requested?”

“Of course we did!” Hera assured him with a smile. “My husband wouldn’t have forgotten something as important as our invitations. They’re in your pocket, aren’t they, dear?”

Kanan tried to remain calm as he widened his eyes significantly at her. He hadn’t put anything in his pockets before they left, and he was pretty sure there wasn’t any chip or card in there already.

“Are they?” he asked.

Hera’s smile became fixed, and he got the distinct impression she was resisting rolling her eyes at him. She stepped forwards, right up to him, and then one of her hands brushed against his hip. Heat flashed through his core in response to her touch. Her hand continued downwards, slipping into his pocket, as her face moved closer to his. It took all of his concentration to hold still.

“Must we play this game at every event, love?” she murmured. There was a low, sensual quality to her already wonderful voice that only stoked the simmering heat in his gut. Before he could think of a way to respond, she leaned in further and her lips brushed the corner of his mouth. It was only the lightest of touches, but his skin still tingled even after she pulled away.

She waved the two slips of flimsi that had just been in his pocket at him, giving him a pointed look.

“Here they are,” Hera said airily to the sentry, passing him the flimsi. “You’ll have to excuse my husband – I married him for his looks, not his brains. But can you blame me?”

The man gave a forced chuckle and looked distinctly uncomfortable as he gave their invitations a cursory glance. Then he gave them a nod and waved them towards the curtained archway.

Kanan let Hera lead him across the atrium. He shook his head slightly; right now, he needed to focus. They had a job to complete, after all.

“I always knew you hired me for my handsome face,” he joked, quiet enough that the doorman wouldn’t hear.

He expected her to laugh it off as she usually did at his attempts at flirting, to gently remind him of the line that existed between them. Yet again, Hera threw him off balance.

She shot him a small smile as she took his arm. “Well, it wasn’t for your ability to check your pockets.”

He was unable to come up with a response as she led him beyond the curtain.

The gala was in full swing on the other side. A huge ballroom stretched before them, towering columns of more pale blue stone holding up the arched ceiling over a curved white dancefloor. The music came from a live band at the far end, and guests in gowns of all colours swayed and twirled over the dancefloor in time with the beat. Precious gemstones glittered under the soft lights, along with shimmering makeup and body paint akin to the eyeshadow Hera and Kanan wore.

Those who weren’t dancing were talking and mingling around the edges of the room. Small droids wove between them, carrying trays of drinks and canapés. Hera snagged them each a drink from a passing droid and they began to slowly make their way through the crowd.

Kanan caught snatches of conversation as they passed, mostly inane chatter with the occasional obsequious flattery or plain flaunting of wealth. He knew without a doubt that every single person present cared only about themselves; the whole event was a sickening display of the extreme inequality that was not just present but practically encouraged by the Empire. He almost felt disappointed that this was a stealth mission and not an opportunity to cause chaos.

They completed their circuit having managed to make only minimal interactions with other guests, and found a space to stand in. The part of the crowd nearest the entryway moved too much to allow them to survey the whole room effectively, so they ended up next to one of the columns about halfway around the dancefloor. It made watching the entrance difficult, but they had a decent view of the rest of the ballroom.

So far, none of the guests present were the person they were here for. Kanan didn’t have a description of their target but Hera had told him they would have a golden sunburst emblem displayed prominently on their outfit. The riot of colour made spotting something that would normally be so distinctive difficult, but they had both been looking and were yet to see the sunburst.

The curtain moved and Kanan craned his neck to see who the newest arrival to the party was, but the ladies’ matching black dresses held no additional colours.

“Let’s dance,” Hera said suddenly from beside him.

Kanan turned to stare at her. “What?”

She was scanning the rest of the room anxiously. “Everyone else seems to be having at least one, and I don’t want to stand out. Plus, we’ll have a better view of the entryway from the dancefloor.” She dumped her empty glass onto a passing droid-table and grabbed his hand. “Come on!”

Kanan barely had a moment to put down his own half-finished drink before she was dragging him towards the dancefloor.

“But I don’t know how to dance!” he protested after her.

It earned him a sceptical look over her shoulder. “How can you not know how to dance? It’s easy, just follow my lead.”

She found them a space amongst the twirling couples and turned to him, still holding his hand in one of her own. He briefly noted that they did in fact have a great view of the entrance from here, and then she stepped in close and his attention narrowed to only her.

The heels brought Hera’s face high enough to be very close to his; her breath ghosted over his cheek. She placed her free hand on his shoulder, and through the thin material of his shirt he could feel her fingers were still cool from where they’d been holding her drink. He didn’t know what to do with his other hand, and in his indecision it hovered awkwardly.

She rolled her eyes at him.

“Here,” she told him, releasing his shoulder just long enough to place his hand on her waist. His fingers brushed the soft, bare skin of her back and he had to resist the urge to touch more. His whole body felt suddenly very hot.

“Now try to follow my feet with yours,” she murmured.

It took Kanan a few moments to register her words. He could feel the heat of her body radiating through the thin silks of their clothes, and the sweet smell of her perfume filled his nose. He wanted to either push her away or pull her closer; it was agony having her so close, and yet not close enough.

Hera started to move, leading the steps of their dance, and Kanan’s brain struggled to keep up.

“Kanan,” Hera hissed as he stumbled, almost standing on her foot.

This wasn’t working. He needed to focus, or they’d start drawing attention to themselves.

Kanan took a deep breath and cast his mind back to a place he’d sworn he’d never return to. He wasn’t touching the Force, not quite, but it still felt wrong to call on the old meditation techniques. He felt the wash of calm sweep through him as he emptied his mind and regulated his breathing. The Force hummed in response, so close and so ready for him to take it, use it, draw strength from it. But he held himself back from going that far. All he needed was to ground himself.

Emotion, yet peace.

How ironic that, after years of denying his past, it was the Jedi code that he most needed now.

Kanan ignored the irony of his predicament as he followed the movement of Hera’s feet carefully, trying to stay in time with them without getting underneath the sharp heels. Fortunately the steps were simple, and it wasn’t long before they settled into a rhythm.

He managed to keep it together as they slowly traversed the dancefloor. Between focusing on his breathing and on Hera’s steps, he had no awareness of anything else; the contact could have been dancing right next to them and he wouldn’t have noticed. But their cover remained intact, and Hera had eyes sharp enough for both of them.

Once Hera saw that he was keeping up with her, she experimented with something different. She released his shoulder and spun away, still holding his hand. Her dress flared out around her calves as she moved, revealing more of her smooth, slender legs. Her eyes sparkled with the joy of the dance. Kanan’s heart skipped a beat; she was breathtakingly beautiful.

She twirled back into his arms and he took another deep, grounding breath. He wasn’t sure if it was weaker from the dancing or if he was just getting used to it, but her perfume wasn’t as overwhelming now. This whole semi-meditation thing was getting easier, too; maybe he should try it more often.

“I still can’t see the target,” Hera murmured in his ear, and his concentration broke. That low, lovely voice would always be his undoing.

Fortunately, his feet seemed to have memorised the steps and didn’t need his brain to continue moving.

“Maybe they’re not coming,” he replied lightly, trying hard to keep his voice steady.

“No, this contact has never been wrong before. They’ll be here.” She sounded confident in her assertion, and Kanan really wasn’t in a position to argue.

“Though, if they take much longer,” she continued, “we should check out the buffet table.”

He felt an amused grin spread over his face. “You’re hungry?”

“Starving. I meant to grab a ration bar before we left, but getting ready took longer than I expected.”

Something about her admission made affection swell in his chest.

“I think this dance is almost over,” he said, hearing the song start to wind down and trying to hide his relief. “If you want to keep watch I can go find you some food.”

If she was lucky they might have Gruuvan Shaal kebabs, or even some meiloorun. His mind had already drifted to thoughts of what Hera might like to eat as he started to take a step back, but then her grip on him tightened.

“No – wait – I think that’s them!”

Hera’s arms were suddenly steel, holding him in place as she craned her head over his shoulder. Kanan felt frozen in place.

“Where?” He tried to turn to see for himself.

“Don’t look, just keep dancing,” she hissed. “I’ll try to move us closer.”

The band started up the next song, a slower one with a different beat. Hera let go of his hand to place both of hers on his shoulders. Somehow, she was now even closer than before.

“Put your hands on my back,” she murmured, her lips barely an inch from his ear. “Keep following my steps.”

He did as he was told, his short-circuiting brain incapable of anything else, both hands splayed against her bare skin. It was warm under his palms but he resisted the urge to stroke his fingers along her spine. She had moved closer to him so that her chin rested on his shoulder and her chest pressed against his. The silk did nothing to hide the curves of her body; combined with the touch of her bare skin, it would be easy to imagine there were no clothes between them at all.

Don’t think about that, he told himself sternly. He wondered if Hera could tell he was feeling a lot warmer than usual. He tried meditation again, hoping it would cool the flush in his cheeks, but it was harder than before.

Hera led him in the new dance, slightly easier than the previous one. It was slower and had fewer steps, so it wasn’t long before Kanan could let his feet continue for him. There were more distractions with this one, however; as well as Hera being much closer, every now and then the tips of her lekku would brush the backs of his hands. Whenever that happened it was like the light touch was igniting sparks over his skin. The meditation didn’t seem to be as effective now; he worried that at any moment his hands would start trembling.

“I’ve got eyes on her,” Hera whispered. Kanan felt her breath over his earlobe.

“Her?”

“Mikkian, middle-aged, blue skin. She’s got the golden sunburst on her shoulder; she’s definitely our target.”

He felt Hera slightly change the angle of their movement, guiding them across the dancefloor. The steps lengthened and Kanan needed to focus harder to follow them. If anything, the distraction helped.

The band began the final cadence of the song, and Kanan found himself desperately hoping that Hera would let them stop dancing. Maybe even step outside for a minute. Fresh air would be good.

“She’s going somewhere – this is our chance!”

A moment later Hera had slipped out of his arms and was moving away. It took his mind a few moments to catch up, but by then she’d taken his hand again and was leading him off the dancefloor.

With Hera gone, clarity returned to his mind in an instant. They were on the job now: hunting an Imperial for tactical data.

This, he could do.

They were on the other side of the dancefloor to where they’d started, and slightly closer to the curtained entryway. Kanan caught sight of the mikkian woman walking around the edge of the room, staying close to the wall. The sunburst was an oversized brooch on one of her shoulders, contrasting elegantly with the deep purple of her velvoid dress. She reached another curtain and, after a quick glance over her shoulder, she slipped through and disappeared on the other side. Kanan caught a flash of an ornate archway like the one they had entered through and guessed it led to the rest of the mansion.

Hera was still leading him after her, weaving around a table that was in their way. Something caught his eye and he reached out a hand to snag it as they passed, slipping it into his pocket. They reached the curtain that clearly marked the area beyond as off-limits to gala guests and Hera paused, turning to meet Kanan’s eyes. He nodded to indicate he was ready, and she wordlessly pushed it aside so they could follow the mikkian through.

Beyond was a grand-looking hallway. A lush strip of carpet ran down the center and ornately framed paintings hung along the walls. Kanan caught a flash of blue head-tendrils disappearing around the next corner, but Hera was already in pursuit. He wasn’t sure what Hera’s plan was when they reached her; pretend to recognise her and pick her pocket? Knock her out and rob her, hoping no-one would find her before they could get out? Whatever it was, he was ready to follow his captain’s lead.

Something caught his eye, and Kanan nudged Hera. She glanced up at the hidden security cam he indicated and tapped her temple, then winked. It took Kanan a moment to understand, but when he did he nodded with the dawning realisation. There were some types of glitter that scattered light in such a way that it scrambled any sensors trying to detect it; their eyeshadow was not just a fashion statement, but a way to conceal their faces on any security recordings.

Rounding the corner, they found the hallway split as a staircase led up to the next storey of the house. Hera silently pointed to a recent scuff in the thick pile of the carpet on the lowest step. Between the soft surface and the still-audible music from the ballroom their target had the advantage of stealth on them, but there were other ways to track her.

They ascended the stairs in a crouch, but needn’t have bothered. As they reached the hallway at the top they saw a door just finish closing. As quietly as they could, they crept to the door, past more doors, curtains and paintings. Hera was reaching for the handle when Kanan felt rather than heard a presence at the foot of the stairs.

He stiffened.

“Someone’s coming,” he whispered to her.

She quickly glanced around. “In here!”

She grabbed his hand and dragged him behind a heavy, floor-length curtain opposite the door the mikkian had gone through.

It turned out to be covering a small alcove housing some kind of ancient relic displayed on a stone plinth. Hera shoved him into the back of the alcove, wedging herself between him and the plinth and twitching the curtain closed again behind them. It was thick enough to let in no light, so they were cast into darkness.

When Hera didn’t move back, Kanan realised just how little space there was around the relic and its stand. It felt like every inch of Hera’s body was pressed against his, warm and soft and utterly maddening. It didn’t help that, in the dark, all of his senses seemed heightened to compensate for the lack of sight. His mouth felt suddenly dry.

He heard the muffled sound of several sets of heavy footsteps on the carpet, and then the soft swish of the door opening and closing. The sweet scent of Hera’s perfume was in his nose again, though this time there was something else underlying it, something familiar that made him think of home. That was strange; he didn’t have a home. Not beyond the Ghost, if that even counted. Muffled voices brought him back to the present situation, a man’s and a woman’s coming from the room behind the door and another one, nearer but tinny, as though it came through a comm.

“This must be the hand-off,” Hera breathed against his ear, and Kanan had to work to stop his knees from giving out. “Sounds like a guard outside the door.”

“What’s the plan?” he managed.

There was a brief pause as she thought. “On my mark, we stun the guard and then two in the room. I’ll grab the data, you keep watch, and then we get out of here.”

“Got it.” He gave a small nod, forgetting that she couldn’t see it. “Wait – we don’t have blasters.”

“I do.”

She shifted against him and then something warm and soft that felt suspiciously like skin brushed against his hand. He snatched it away like it had been burned

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

“Getting my blaster,” she replied in a calm whisper. “The only way I could conceal one in this dress was with a thigh holster.”

Oh. Okay. Just her leg. That was all it was, just her bare thigh pressing against his hip from where she’d hitched the dress up. Which he’d just touched. His heart was in his throat.

“On three,” Hera whispered, shifting again as she resumed standing on two feet.

“One.”

Kanan felt the hard edge of her blaster against his shoulder as she brought it up to a ready position.

“Two.”

He reached out a hand, ready to pull the curtain back.

“Three.”

Kanan whipped the curtain aside and they burst out of the alcove. Hera squeezed two shots off at the single stormtrooper standing guard, and Kanan was at the door before they finished hitting the floor. It swung open, and Kanan dived into the room beyond.

He caught a brief glimpse of a pair of startled faces and made a split-second decision to go for the man. He was tall, human, and dressed in the crisp, dark uniform of an Imperial naval officer. A swift blow to the head sent him reeling as Hera shot a stun blast at the mikkian. Before the man could recover, Kanan had stepped to the side so Hera could take him down too. It was all over in seconds, the only sounds having come from Hera’s compact little blaster.

He turned to congratulate her, but Hera was already on her knees beside the mikkian patting her down for the datachip. Kanan strode to the door instead, hauling the unconscious trooper inside before stretching out his senses for signs of anyone else approaching.

A prickle at the back of his neck told him that was sooner than he’d have liked.

“Hera, we’re about to have company,” he warned her.

“Hang on – wait, I think it might be inside–”

His ears caught the soft thumps of heavy boots coming up the stairs.

“Hera!”

“Got it!”

There was a click sound and he glanced back to see the mikkian’s sunburst brooch open in Hera’s hand, revealing a hidden chamber with a small datachip inside. Unfortunately, his next look to the hallway outside showed him a pair of stormtroopers cresting the stairs.

“Hey, you!” one shouted.

Kanan cursed as they started to raise their weapons. He ducked back into the room as a pair of plasma bolts hit the doorframe.

“Time to go!” Hera was already on her feet behind him, and he let her push him aside as she stepped up to the doorway with her blaster ready. She darted out just as the bootsteps reached the door; two shots later and both troopers were on the floor, unconscious.

Kanan grabbed her hand. "They'll have called for help; run!"

He half-dragged her in the opposite direction, continuing down the hallway and away from the scene they had created.

“There goes our stealth,” Hera panted from beside him.

They rounded a corner and found the hallway continued ahead, though there were also stairs leading upwards to one side. Kanan shook his head and led Hera so that they stayed on the same level; they wanted to be going down, not up.

“If we can get back to the main party, we can lose ourselves in the crowd,” he said to her, a plan for their escape already forming in his mind.

No doubt it would not be long before someone discovered the five unconscious bodies they had left behind, but they wouldn’t have a description of who to look for. As long as they weren’t caught anywhere they shouldn’t be there would be no reason for anyone to assume they were anything other than genuine guests.

“Good idea, but first we need to get there,” Hera pointed out somewhat breathlessly.

There was another corner up ahead, and if Kanan’s sense of direction was leading him true they should be on the other side of the ballroom now. If the mansion was somewhat symmetrical, then just here –

“There you go,” he panted as they turned the corner. "Our way back."

At the other end of the hall was a staircase just like the one they’d come up. They raced forwards.

Kanan only got a flicker of warning, but it was enough. He skidded to a halt and flung out an arm to stop Hera just as the tinny sound of a communicator reached them from the stairs.

“–assaulted guests and took out three troopers. Do not let them escape. Repeat, all squads to the Clovis wing, at least one attacker–”

The now-familiar sound of boots on carpet was coming up the stairs.

Hera tried the handle of the nearest door, but it didn’t budge.

"It's locked!" Hera hissed.

Kanan looked for an alcove like the one they had hidden behind before. There was a matching one here but it held no ornament, only an empty plinth, and so there was no curtain to conceal them. There was no way they’d be able to run back around the corner before they were spotted, and standing here, out of bounds and out of breath, looked far too suspicious for them to be simply wayward guests. After all, what else would they have been doing?

The white tops of a pair of stormtrooper helmets came into view on the staircase.

Kanan had an idea.

“You can forgive me for this later,” he whispered, pushing Hera by the shoulders into the alcove. He desperately hoped she would; it was a terrible idea, but it might just work.

This space was no larger than the one on the other side of the house. His chest pressed against hers as he yanked the tie out of his hair. His other hand still held her blaster which he offered back to her. She took it automatically despite the confusion in her eyes, but he didn’t release it, instead guiding her to hide it under his jacket as he raked his free hand through his now-loose hair.

The stormtroopers had reached the top of the stairs; they’d be spotted any second now. Time to sell it.

A brush of his fingers tilted her chin up towards his face.

“What–”

Her words were cut off as he bent his neck and kissed her.

Time seemed to stop the moment their lips met. The world fell silent, the only sound his heart pounding in his ears, straining after their sprint through the mansion. His awareness shrank to Hera and only Hera. She had frozen against him, though only a moment ago he’d felt her breathing just as heavily as he was. Not that he was breathing any more; time had stopped.

It was a simple kiss, a press of his lips against hers. It was nothing. It was everything. It was Hera.

And then she kissed him back.

He knew it was just the surprise wearing off as her brain caught up to what they were doing. He knew she was just maintaining the cover he’d hastily created for them. But that didn’t stop how right it felt.

The hand still on her wrist gently stroked its way up her arm to her shoulder, while his fingers under her chin caressed the soft skin of her neck, down, until they brushed along her collarbone. Her breath hitched in her throat and her lips parted ever so slightly–

“Hey!”

Time snapped back to full speed as they broke apart. The stormtroopers had reached them and one was pointing a blaster at Kanan’s chest. Well, it would be more accurate to say both of them, as there wasn’t much space in it.

Kanan was breathing again, even more heavily than before, and he knew exactly how he looked with his tousled hair and the startled, almost guilty expression on his face. What he'd intended as a charade had become all too real as his mind was still reeling from the kiss.

“Oh, uh, sorry–” the trooper faltered and pointed the weapon down. “This area’s off-limits to guests.”

Kanan simply stared at him blankly. Of course it’s off-limits, that’s why we’re here.

“There’s been a security breach,” the trooper tried again, “you need to go back to the main ballroom, sir. Ma'am.” He nodded at Hera while managing to not look directly at her; Kanan got the impression that if his helmet had been off, they would have seen his face steadily turning red.

“A security breach?” Hera repeated in a breathy, Ryl-accented voice. Smart; the confident woman she’d been at the door had helped them to get in, but now they needed to be unassuming and easily dismissable.

Kanan sighed. “Just as I was starting to enjoy this event,” he muttered, loud enough for the trooper to hear.

“We need to secure the area. Please move along.” The trooper gestured towards the stairs, but he was already moving to walk past them and his companion was a few more steps ahead.

Kanan stepped out of the alcove but kept one arm around Hera’s shoulders, keeping her close and allowing the hand that held her blaster to remain concealed under his jacket.

“I hope nothing has been stolen,” Hera said worriedly, still with the accent, as they began descending the staircase. “Our host was telling me earlier, he has quite the collection of old Clone Wars relics here. Very valuable to thieves.”

“Probably what the breach is,” Kanan said confidently. “I’m sure they’ll catch the thief.”

They reached the foot of the stairs and he glanced back over his shoulder; the troopers were out of sight. They’d done it. Around the next corner the archway that led back to the ballroom became visible, the music growing louder with every step. Hera made no move to withdraw her arm and stow her blaster.

“That was a nice bit of quick thinking,” she said, back to her normal voice though she kept it carefully neutral.

Kanan couldn’t quite bring himself to look at her. “I’m sorry there wasn’t more time to warn you. Or, y’know. Ask.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She stopped to let him pull the curtain aside, the noise of the music and the guests reaching full volume and washing over them as they re-entered the party. “It worked, and now we’re back to being just two more guests.”

“We’re not out yet,” he reminded her. “C’mon, our best shot is probably right out the front door.”

They weaved through the crowd, Kanan still with an arm around Hera’s shoulder as they made their way slowly back across the ballroom. It almost felt strange that the party had changed so little in their absence, but they couldn’t have been gone longer than half an hour. The band were still playing, the dancefloor was still in full motion, and people still clustered around the edges engaged in conversations.

They reached the curtained archway to the atrium feeling much like they had during that first circuit of the room when they’d arrived. No-one gave them a second glance, too engrossed in their own affairs to spare a thought for two people they didn’t recognise. In a place like this, that meant you were unimportant, which suited Kanan and Hera just fine.

A few scattered guests were lingering around the pool as they ducked around the curtain into the atrium. One of two wafted folding fans at themselves, trying to cool off after dancing. Kanan and Hera were completely ignored as they walked past. The open doors loomed ever closer, along with the freedom that lay beyond.

They were just passing the doorman when his stormtrooper bouncer spoke.

“They’ve accessed the surveillance footage from the halls – the intruders are disguised as guests," he said, his voice tinny through the helmet's comm. "One human and a tail-head. No-one can leave until they’ve been found.”

“Uh oh,” Kanan said softly. The exit was mere steps away.

“Hey, you!” the doorman called over to them. “Stop there!”

Kanan swore.

“Run!” Hera shouted.

They took off as one, tearing down the steps to the street beyond. Blaster bolts hit the hedges as they reached the end of the path and rounded the gateposts, breaking into a sprint. Or, at least, Kanan did; Hera cried out from behind him. He skidded to a halt

“These kriffing heels – I’ve twisted my ankle!” She was still trying to hobble forwards, though at nowhere near the pace she could normally manage.

Behind her, stormtroopers were starting to pour out of the mansion.

“Okay, new plan!”

There was no time for anything clever. Before Hera could protest, he scooped her into his arms and started running again.

To her credit, Hera adapted to her new situation immediately. She still held her blaster in one hand, and as he carried her away she took aim over his shoulder. She wouldn’t be able to hit anything with any accuracy like this, but he knew exactly what she was doing; her shots sent the stormtroopers scattering for cover, allowing him to increase their lead on them.

He darted into an alley. Adrenaline was allowing him to run with Hera in his arms, but it would only last so long before his muscles would register their strain. Now, with no-one watching, was the perfect time to execute part two of this improvised escape.

The Force had been waiting all evening, hovering just next to his awareness, and now he finally drew on it. Kanan leapt, higher than he would have even unladen. He landed on the flat, permacrete roof, and with the Force flowing through his body he was running again.

With no more targets to shoot, Hera's arms encircled his neck, holding on for dear life. Kanan raced over the rooftops, leaping from one to the next over the oblivious pedestrians on the streets below. He’d already oriented himself and was heading to the spaceport. One of the perks of travelling like this was that he could do so in a perfectly straight line. Even if the Imperials tried to shut down the port they’d have to take the long way around to get there.

The scream of a twin-ion engine gave him warning, and he dropped back down to another abandoned alley a few streets over from the spaceport’s entrance. The TIE swooped overhead, searchlights coming on as it entered the zone the Imperials calculated they would still be inside of. Kanan smirked triumphantly.

“Well, that’s one way to save on the taxi fare,” Hera said as he set her carefully back on her feet. He didn’t quite let go of her, aware that she was putting most of her weight on only one leg.

He huffed out a laugh between panting breaths. “Don’t start counting on rides for supply runs.”

She grinned at him. “Of course not, you have a terrible luggage allowance.” She elbowed him lightly in the ribs.

He pretended to look affronted. “Well, if you want your spacious cargo hold back I suggest we get moving.”

Her eyes lingered on his face a few seconds longer, her smile softening with a fondness that echoed in his chest. Then her expression turned serious as she looked towards her injured ankle and took a tentative step onto it. She let out a hiss of pain, but managed to limp to the other side of the alley.

“It’s not too bad,” she said, seeming to find it easier on the way back. Then she started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Kanan asked, confused.

“The whole op was actually not too bad.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Seriously?”

“Sure, we were seen, but they didn’t get our faces," – she gestured to her eyeshadow – "neither of us got shot, and we got what we came for. By our standards this was almost a perfect run.”

He joined in the laughter. She had a point; for them, it was pretty good.

“It’s just a shame we weren’t able to get any of that food,” she added wistfully.

Kanan felt a flash of guilt, even though it wasn't his fault. He'd said he would bring her something to eat, but then they'd been distracted by the appearance of their target. He remembered their pursuit of the mikkian, how Hera had immediately been focused on their mission as she'd led him off the dancefloor.

“Actually…”

Kanan reached into his pocket for the item he’d swiped earlier that evening. They'd passed right by the buffet tables on the way to the curtained archway and until that moment he'd forgotten he had in fact kept his word to Hera.

He presented the meiloorun to her with a proud smile.

She gaped at him for a moment, staring between his face and the fruit in his hand. Then, her surprise softened to something he couldn’t quite read. It wasn't just gratitude; there was a warmth to it, an aching fondness in her eyes. She took a step forward, grabbed him by the lapel–

And kissed him.

For a second he was frozen with shock, one hand holding the meiloorun and the other hanging by his side. Then his mind caught up with what was happening, his arms slid around Hera, and he kissed her back.

It was the same as their kiss earlier, and yet it was also different. It was still Hera, her presence filling every one of his senses, but this time there was nothing held back. Her mouth parted easily against his, her tongue gently tracing his lower lip. His free hand caressed the bare skin of her back, his fingers softly stroking up her spine. She shivered against him.

When she pulled back an inch to breathe, he felt like he was floating.

“Definitely a perfect run,” she corrected herself in a whisper.

He gazed into her shining eyes with awe. It’s always perfect with you, he wanted to say. You’re amazing, you look beautiful tonight, I would do anything for you.

Instead, he kissed her again. Her lips were soft and eager against his.

She already knew.

#kanera #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #star wars rebels #fake relationship #kanera fake relationship #star wars: rebels #sw rebels #kanan x hera #sw fic #skywalkeh #if anyone else wants to be tagged in my writing just shoot me a message!!#fic #pretchwritta

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makkoskafanfic · 4 years ago

Text

KakuHidan WIP fic teaser

This is part of WIP release March! A KakuHidan one for a change.

This is a Maffia - Modern setting AU but with special powers. I planned to write something like this... oh since I first started to ship KakuHidan some 9 years ago, probably.

The idea came up again as we were rewatching Naruto last year and I got pretty far with it, before we reached the HashiMada arc and of course all the fangirl neurons in my brain got hyperfixated on HashiMada again.

I have almost 10K words written of it, so I hope to continue one day, and not to let it go to waste. This scene is Kakuzu’s and Hidan’s first meeting. As such I would rate it M (or a strong PG13? I don’t really get the ratings) No sexual themes at this point, but there are a bunch of people getting killed, blood, gore, violence and Hidan’s dirty mouth.

Strange to say after this, but I had fun writing this, hope you will enjoy.

Kakuzu secured the Harley and looked at the unassuming building he found at the address he was given. While it wasn’t in the best of neighbourhoods, it certainly wasn’t in the worst Konoha City could offer either. A sign in the window announced it was for sale and the faded advertisement above the door let him know it used to be a barber’s shop. All in all, not where he would imagine some crazed prophet performing his homicidal ritual. Well, his source assured him this was the place - the man knew Kakuzu didn’t take disappointment well, so it was unlikely he’d give him anything but a hundred percent confirmed information.

He walked around the building to a small alley packed with overflowing rubbish bins to find the backdoor. He pushed on it and it gave easily - it wasn’t locked. It opened to a small room that once must have been used by the staff. It was mostly empty now, save for the empty shelves along the walls, a small desk with some old newspapers stacked on it, the large cardboard box underneath it and for the man sitting in an old office chair with one arm broken off. He stood up as Kakuzu entered. He took in his appearance, his leather jacket, his dark jeans, his mid-calf boots, the mask covering the lower half of his face, the biker helmet under his arm and he still somehow came to the wrong conclusion. He was just as tall as Kakuzu and more obviously muscled, which probably gave him a false sense of security.

“Here for a haircut? I’m afraid we’re closed for business.”

“Wouldn’t let you touch my hair,” Kakuzu grumbled. “I’m here for Hidan.”

The man’s eyes cut briefly towards the desk, which told Kakuzu what he needed to know.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No? I was told I need to come here to praise Lord Jashin and see the wonders he’s capable of.” He was also told some idiotic password that he didn’t bother to remember.

“The show has already started,” the man sneered at him, “no late joiners allowed.”

“That’s a pity,” Kakuzu took the helmet from under his arm, looked at it pensively for a moment, before smiting the man down with it in a lightning fast movement. There was a sickening, wet thump as it crashed the man’s skull. He wiped the blood off, noticing it got dented with annoyance. This mission was already proving to be a headache. At least there was never a complaint from Pein when he added his extra expenses for his damaged accessories.

He pushed the desk and the box out of the way, uncovering a trapdoor on the floor. A narrow staircase led down into darkness.

“A barber shop with a dungeon,” he muttered to himself as he descended. “What a circus.”

The light seeping down through the open trapdoor quickly dimmed completely as he took on the corridor. Always well prepared, he took a small torch from his inner pocket and switched it on. There were a few side doors, but he didn’t bother with them. As he walked down the corridor, the voices coming from behind the door at the end became louder and louder. He pocketed the torch and slid it open.

The people inside didn’t seem to notice his late entry. Kakuzu did a quick count. There were eighteen of them on the floor, plus two on the low stage - a woman tied to a chair, and the man he recognised as Hidan from what Pein had shown him.

First impressions were important and Kakuzu trusted his instincts. Hidan was loud, foul mouthed as he sprouted his religious nonsense and Kakuzu was taken by the deep intuition that he, for his own peace of mind, had to kill this man. He was trouble.

He pushed himself through the small crowd, ignoring the men’s protest that he was blocking the view. Just a few feet away from Hidan he took his time to assess his opponent. He was young, just as Pein’s file said, face smooth, his half-naked body well toned. He seemed physically strong with his lean muscles, but not a match for Kakuzu’s own might of course. He was ranting about his Lord Jashin, something about his eternal gift and punishment of heathens… he was damn noisy. His voice was a deep baritone which could have been pleasant if it was quieter and if he wasn’t working himself towards shrill yelling as he got more and more agitated. The people around Kakuzu didn’t mind though - they were murmuring appreciatively, repeating some of the phrases, like “Hail Lord Jashin”, “Bring death and destruction, oh Lord,” “I swear to murder and destroy in your name”.

Kakuzu knew he was supposed to observe the whole ceremony to see the presumed powers of this preacher for himself, but he wasn’t sure he could stand much more of this. He could just shoot Hidan and see if he died or not. Not quite what Pein wanted, but it would do the job, wouldn’t it?

Hidan's eyes swept the crowd during his speech and Kakuzu made the mistake of meeting them. The dark mass was abruptly cut short. The crowd muttered as their leader fell silent, but Hidan ignored them.

“Looks like we have a heathen, an unbeliever in our midst today!” he glared at Kakuzu, then suddenly laughed, pointing at him. “Kill him my children, let his blood flow freely as it pleases Lord Jashin!”

How the little shit knew instantly, Kakuzu had no time to ponder as the mob closed in on him immediately. Most of them were unarmed, but he spotted a few knives and what looked like a beer bottle broken in half. He kicked the first man who reached him in the stomach so hard he flew away to collide with the edge of the stage. He crumbled to the ground there like a puppet whose strings were cut. That gave him some space to work with.

His opponents were no skilled fighters, so even with their numbers against him, Kakuzu didn’t have a hard time. The magazine of his Sig Sauer held fifteen rounds, almost enough for the whole bunch. Kakuzu never missed a shot - he liked to be effective and he hated anything to go to waste. The rest he took down by bare hands. The men managed to land a few hits, even a couple of stabs, on his arms and chest, which enraged him further. They were ruining a perfectly fine leather jacket.

He took it off and tossed it aside quickly when the last of his attackers fell to the ground with a smashed-in face. Blood was running down his left arm from a long and shallow cut. There were smaller wounds on his chest, though they were easily to ignore.

He looked up at the two people on the stage who didn’t join the fight yet. The woman tied to the chair - unconscious, maybe drugged, so no kind of threat, and the annoying preacher. Hidan didn’t seem to be disturbed by the defeat of his followers. He had a long, sharp pike in his hand - he pointed at Kakuzu with it and he grinned.

“Lord Jashin blessed me with glorious destruction today! All this blood and the corpses! Thank you, Lord Jashin! I’m your forever faithful follower and will sacrifice this son of a bitch to you as well! His blood will seal the sacred…”

“Shut up,” Kakuzu cut into this annoying speech, feeling the beginning of a headache forming behind his brows. “One more word of this nonsense and you’ll end up in so many little pieces even your god wouldn’t be able to tell how you looked originally.”

“How dare you interrupt my prayer, you heathen fucker?!” Hidan shrieked at him. “You’ll die in the most glorious agony!” Like the obviously brainless idiot he was, he charged Kakuzu with a shrill battle-cry of “Lord Jashin”, holding his pike in front of him as if he was some misbegotten knight on a tournament.

Kakuzu waited till the last moment before he stepped to the side, grabbed Hidan’s wrist and yanked it above his head. Despite his cruising grip, the priest didn’t drop his weapon. He went fully berserk, getting caught like this. His shoulder gave a sickening, loud pop as it dislocated, but he didn’t seem to notice the pain. He brought both of his legs up and kicked out, aiming at Kakuzu’s crotch. He managed to turn away slightly, but the impact on his thigh and side was still bruising. He grunted in pain, cursed the little shit under his breath and raised him even higher up from the ground.

Hidan shrieked in indignation and still didn’t let his weapon go. Kakuzu had to give it to him, there was something to be said for his tolerance of pain. He caught the preacher’s free hand as he swung it to claw at his face and took a firm hold on it too. Hidan swore, but was far from giving up.

He bit Kakuzu’s neck in an underhanded move and kicked him in the knees so hard his legs buckled. He allowed them to fall to the ground, pinning Hidan underneath his heavier bulk. He clasped his hands above his head, restraining them and kneeling on his legs to immobilise him fully. The Jashinist screamed vulgarities at him, thrashing wildly as he tried but failed to dislodge Kakuzu.

“Shut. Up” Kakuzu grid out, slightly breathless as he was fighting this utter madman. “You little shit, just stay still for a…”

Hidan spit him in the face, more blood than saliva, barely missing his eye. That did it.

Stitches came loose on the underside of Kakuzu’s wrists, allowing the secret weapon of his body to burst forward.

“What the fuck…” Hidan gasped as the tentacles wrapped themselves around his neck and squeezed. After that only unarticulated, gurgling sounds left his throat.

While Kakuzu found satisfaction in defeating his enemies, he always killed because that was his job or because that was the fastest way to achieve his goals and not because it caused him joy. This time however he found immense pleasure in the sudden silence. It was broken by pathetic, wet, choking sounds only, then not even those as Hidan’s lungs ran out of air. His trashing slowly quieted down, but Kakuzu didn’t let go until the last twitches stopped and Hidan’s eyes - a surprising shade of violet, now that he had the chance to see them from close up - rolled up in their sockets.

He looked quite dead, with the foam in the corner of his open mouth, with his blood everywhere, but Kakuzu checked his pulse before he withdrew his tentacles to be sure. He rolled off from the still body and allowed himself to spread out on his back for a minute. His whole body ached, his clothes were ruined and he was in a foul mood.

“I’ll ask for a pay rise after this,” he muttered to the deadly quiet room. He closed his eyes - only to open them in alarm when he felt movement from next to him. He tried to roll away, but Hidan - magically back from the dead, the pike he never let go throughout his thrashing raised high - was too close. The preacher bore the weapon down, into his heart.

“Take that you rotten bastard,” he cackled and tried to yank the pike free, probably to thrust it through his chest again. Kakuzu grabbed it and didn’t let go. “You can hope they pay well in Hell, but I don’t think Lord Jashin will be kind to a heathen shithead like you! He will torture you for an eternity and reward me, his faithful servant with…”

Kakuzu breathed through the sharp pain, raised his free hand and grabbed his slicked back hair. He sat up and dragged him back, until Hidan didn’t have any other chance but to let his weapon go, if he didn’t want to lose a handful of hair.

“Ouch, ouch, ouch, it hurts you shitty fuck! Let my hair go!”

Kakuzu yanked the metal rod out from his heart, wincing at the pain. He could feel his threads moving under his skin, stitching the gaping would back up. Losing two hearts under a week. Maybe he was getting old.

“You should be busy being dead,” he told the priest. “And as such not concerned about your hair.”

“Fuck you, my hair looks too good to be touched by the likes of you!”

“It’s a horrible dye. This must have been a shithole of a barber shop.”

“As if you are the one to talk! When did you get a cut last time? Never? And what’s with that fucking mask? Is it the flu season or what?”

“Shut up,” Kakuzu said with resignation as he knew now it was in vain.

“You shut up. Why are you not dead, anyway?”

“Because we are both out of luck today.”

He stood up and experimentally let Hidan’s hair go. The priest got to his feet as well, examining him with his head tilted to the side. He then looked around the room, at all the scattered bodies lying around and sighed.

“This was the best mass I ever celebrated,” he said dreamily. “Was I mistaken? Are you sent by Lord Jashin?”

“No,” Kakuzu snorted at this absurdity. “I was sent by the Akatsuki. The Leader heard of your special… ability and wanted me to recruit you to our ranks.”

“What the fuck is the Akatuski?”

Kakuzu looked at him silently, pondering the probability of someone living in Konoha and never hearing about its most powerful criminal organisation. Hidan looked honestly clueless. An immortal idiot. Wonderful.

“A place that would offer someone like you many possibilities. You get jobs done and it will treat you well.”

“I only want to spread the word of Lord Jashin and live to please him.”

“You want people to listen to you? Or you want to kill them? The Akatsuki will help you with both.”

“Are there more people like you?”

“There are some… not ordinary people in the organisation,” Kakuzu said carefully. “Though not quite like me.”

“So only me and you are immortal?” Hidan grinned at him. Kakuzu didn’t contradict him - he wasn’t immortal, just very hard to kill, but he didn’t need to give the advantage of knowing that. It seemed he was being successful in his recruitment. He wasn’t quite convinced it was a good thing. “So what now?”

“I am to present you to our Leader in two days. You’ll come with me, so I can keep an eye on you till then.”

Hidan looked around and shrugged.

“It’s not as if I have any followers alive at the moment. I guess I can go and see that Akatsuki bloke with you. Who are you, by the way?”

“I’m Kakuzu.”

“Kakuzu, ehh? Is that a last name or a first name?”

“It’s a name,” Kakuzu snapped irritably. “You can call me by it.”

“All right then, Ka-ku-zu,” Hidan grinned as he dragged his name out in an inane sing-song. “I’m Hidan.”

“I know,” he sighed with resignation. “Go and grab whatever you need and let’s head out.”

Hidan muttered something about his sacrifice and went to finish the woman off, probably. Kakuzu changed the magazine in his gun and made sure that they left nothing but dead bodies behind. They needed no potential eye witnesses. He didn’t bother with cleaning up though - good luck for anyone who tried to find his fingerprints in any recent databases.

He put on his torn jacket, re-tied his hair in its ponytail and waited impatiently for Hidan. The Jashinist reappeared at last, wearing a hooded coat, but still no shirt and a small backpack.

“I’m ready to embark this new journey Lord Jashin guides me on,” he grinned at him and Kakuzu was quite sure he was just trying to piss him on. He glared at him, but it didn’t intimidate the younger man at all.

“Let’s go then.”

#kakuhidan #kakuhida #kakuzu #hidan #fanfic #wip fic release #wip

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puckngrind · 4 years ago

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What’s In A Name: 15- J. Toews

chapter 15.

Where we left off: Jon and Bekah enjoy All-Star break in Miami and run into her college best friend.

Warnings: smut, language

Word Count: 3,045

Series Masterlist ) Puck ‘n Grind’s masterlist

Bliss.

Bekah met Jon in Minnesota a week after vacation. Kelly and her husband, Zack picked Bekah up and it was like no time had passed from college. Zack was Kelly’s college boyfriend. The two eloped two summers after graduation when Zack followed her home to the twin cities. The two welcomed their oldest daughter seven months later and started a life at a family of three. Bekah realized the distance plus sudden life changes were what made the two drift and she hated that she didn’t know Kelly’s kids. Watching Kelly in mom mode was fun as the kids scurried around her. Bekah convinced them to come to the game with her with some push back about the free tickets. The game went into overtime with the Blackhawks winning. Bekah looked down at the tired eyes of the three kids, Isabella, Brayden, and Oliver. “You want to go see the locker room?” All three’s eyes went wide and heads nodded like bobble heads. The group headed down and Jon gave them a little tour and pucks. Bekah took in how sweet Jon was with the kids. Getting down on their level, letting Oliver lean into his leg and speaking what Bekah deemed kid speak. She fell a little harder for him in that moment and had a moment where she pictured their kids. Her attention was quickly brought back to Jon and the kids as she leaned down to answer a question from Isabella.

“He scored on the power play, won, and gave them a tour... our kids are going to be Hawks fans aren’t they?” Zack pulls at his Wilds jersey while whispering loud enough for Jon and Bekah to look over and laugh.

“Is that so bad?” Jon smiles while standing straight and pulling Bekah into his side. “This one converted easily.” All those in ear shot laugh knowing Bekah was never really a hockey fan.

She really had become a fan of the game over the last 4 years and not just of Jon’s play. This change in the way she watched the game was noticed by everyone especially Brynn, who watched more of Bekah than the game while the Blue Jackets were in Chicago. Marie joined Brynn and Bekah and commented a few time on the changes of her daughter. Seeing Bekah happy and in love made Marie at ease with the quickness of the engagement. With the wedding five months away, the ladies took the weekend to go dress shopping. Bekah’s fingers brush the tulle and lace of the dresses that were pulled when Brynn called to schedule an appointment. The trio realized quickly that the boutique knew exactly who Bekah was marrying by the dress selection. Bekah sees Brynn’s feet on the other side of the rack and spreads the dresses.

“Holy shit Rin! Have you LOOKED at these prices? These dresses are insane. Imported from Italy some of them.” Bekah whisper yells and Brynn laughs. “And you can afford every. single. one. friend. Jon said pick the dress you want, regardless of the price and you are doing just that. MOH duty to ensure it happens.” Bekah swallows hard as her hand keeps coming back to the same dress.

“You’ve touched that dress multiple times, Rebekah. Maybe you should try it on?” Marie’s voice comes out of no where causing Bekah to jump. The sales woman hears and moves Bekah and the dress quickly away while the other escorts Marie and Brynn to the waiting area. When Bekah emerged they all knew. She found the dress she would be marrying Jon in. Marie wipes her eyes as Bekah fusses with the veil. “It’s perfect. Simply perfect.” Brynn nods her head with tears filling her eyes.

Wedding planning with Jon during the season was interesting but he was intentional with their time. His only real request was leaving the honeymoon completely up to him. One evening while laying in bed, Jon could feel Bekah was thinking of her mile long list of things to do. “You got everything under control. I’m so damn impressed, Baby.” Jon’s arm pulls Bekah’s body into his and kisses her sweetly.

“Thanks. I’m thankful you can help when you can.” Bekah’s body shifts under Jon’s arm.

“But? I feel like there is a but in that statement.” Jon’s lips press into her temple.

“But nothing. Everything is falling into place. The invitations. The food. The cake. The... dress.” Bekah clears her throat.

“Do you not like your dress? Because if not, it’s not too late Beks.” Jon whispers.

“Why would you say that? I love my dress. It’s perfect.” Bekah sits up.

“Your list. You paused while listing your dress and did that thing with your lips where you pull the inside of your lip into your teeth. Seriously, it doesn’t matter the price, if you want a new one, you and Brynn can go as soon as she can get here.” Jon’s fingers run up and down her spine.

“It’s so incredibly stupid but I just keep thinking that maybe I shouldn’t wear white...” Bekah places her face in her hands and rests her elbows on her knees. She feels the bed shaking and turns to see Jon trying not to laugh. “What? It’s tradition and well...”

“And what Beks? You aren’t a virgin so you shouldn’t wear white?” Jon pulls her into his chest unable to contain the laughter. “Sweetheart, wear white, ivory, pink, blue, black... I don’t fucking care. I know you will look gorgeous and frankly, all I care about is making you my wife.” His lips kiss down her jaw and he moves her chin to find her lips.

“Well, it’s not white, white...” Jon’s body lands on top of Bekah’s and she exhales from the weight.

“Don’t tell me. I want to be completely surprised. Just know, I do not care what color your dress is Beks. At the end of the day, it is just you and me becoming husband and wife. The rest is just a show for the world. Now, can I... well... I need... can we... fuck. Words.” His hips roll into hers making Bekah moan out. “Yeah, that. Now that we are done with the dress conversation. Shall we?” His body moves down hers, positioning himself between Bekah’s legs. Slight kisses on the inside of her thighs while he adjusts her legs. Jon’s fingers dance down from her clit to Bekah’s core and his tongue follows begetting jolts and groans from Bekah above.

“Tae.” Bekah’s entire body feels the wave produced by tongue and fingers moving together. He hums into her skin while continuing to suck and flick her most sensitive area. “Tae, I’m gonna...” She didn’t finish her warning. Bekah’s thighs tighten around Jon’s head as an intense orgasm rips through her body. Jon’s free arm wraps around her thigh to pull her leg past his shoulder as his tongue and fingers don’t let up. “Fuck. Jon.” Bekah leans up realizing he’s not letting her come down from this high. His lips press into her and then releases. Jon’s fingers pump and curve while he shifts his weight to his knees. “What are you doing?” She pants out. Jon’s fingers move only to be replaced with his cock and his body drops down onto Bekah.

“Making sure you have a damn amazing orgasm since I won’t be able to give you one for a few days.” Jon’s swollen lips kiss her’s and Bekah moves her legs to wrap around him.

“Oh, it’s working, Tae!” Bekah’s fingers claw at his back feeling her second build deep inside.

“I know.” His voice was low and mischievous. Jon grunts. “Beks, you feel so damn good.” His hips snap into Bekah but don’t retreat. Bekah squirms under him pressing her hips into his. He pulls his head up to look into Bekah’s now open eyes. “I love you. You know. Forever.” He whispers before he releases sending Bekah’s high crashing over her again.

“I love you too, J.” Bekah breathes out while running her fingers through his hair. “Now, can we talk flowers?” Bekah’s change of subject made Jon laugh into her chest.

“Sure, wild local flowers?” He kisses her neck and lifts up. Seeing his blissed out fiancée’s face knowing his suggestion was perfect.

The season ended with another year without playoffs. With the season of change everyone seemed to be ready to put it behind them and start fresh in the fall. Bekah and Jon went into full wedding prep mode with time spent as off season usually was. Jon did a bachelor party weekend golfing in the Carolinas while Bekah met Brynn, Kelly, Alyssa, and both moms in Chicago to take in a Cubs game and shopping. The ladies were impressed with how calm Bekah was with everything.

“I think married life suits you.” Brynn leans into Bekah while the ladies were having dinner on the roof.

“I’m not married, yet, Rin.” Bekah looks at her friend. “He can still...” Bekah takes a long sip of her wine afraid to finish the sentence.

“Yeah, he won’t. He wanted to marry you months ago. You two are made for each other and this wedding is just a public declaration of that. I will say I am impressed you haven’t really Bekah-ed anything either, right?” Brynn bumps her shoulders and Bekah feels the heat in her cheeks. “Oh, no. What?”

“Well, I told him I wasn’t sure I should wear white.” Bekah whispered looking at her mom, Andrée, and Kelly taking in the view.

“Oh Bekah!” Alyssa chimed in. “You didn’t!” The two giggle causing the rest of the ladies to look over. Bekah pulls her legs into herself and nods taking in the conversation with Jon before the season ended. She drifted into her own thoughts as the girls discussed bridal showers and getting the dress to Arizona.

It was July in the blink of an eye, Jon and Bekah were on their way to Sedona almost a week before the wedding. Everything was set in place. “You ready, Baby?” Jon wraps his arms around her waist and lands his chin on her shoulder taking in the stunning backdrop for their ceremony. The venue’s host off making sure everything for the day was scheduled to arrive on time.

“Yeah. It really is beautiful here. And this view Tae. This view is breathtaking.” Bekah’s hand slides down Jon’s arms looking out over the red rocks.

“And it will be the second most beautiful view on Friday.” Jon’s lips kiss the corner of her mouth as she smirks remembering their first trip.

“I think you are going to love the dress. I mean, I hope you will. I tried on one plus my reception dress.” Bekah whispered.

“You could wear sweats and I would love it. But no doubt, it’s the perfect dress for my bride.” Jon had a way of making Bekah feel so loved and relaxed in the middle of moments others would stress out in. Which was exactly how she felt as the wedding day came. The guests were seated and Bekah looked down at her dress. Her fingers rub the lace overlay as she moves her hands down the modern a-line dress. The ivory underlay catching the light almost looking rose gold when she looked into the mirror. Brynn’s swift movement of her chapel train made Bekah’s eyes meet her matron of honor’s that were filled with tears.

“Are you crying?” Bekah’s voice broke through and she turned to Brynn who could just nod her head. “Rin.” Bekah’s hand envelop her best friend’s. Brynn’s hand moves from their embrace and reaches up to fix Bekah’s T necklace that sat perfectly in her v shaped embroidered neckline.

“I’m just so damn happy for you, that’s all. I feel like I’ve been your coach this whole time. Your biggest cheerleader.” This makes the girls laugh. “Jon told me to make sure you had this and that your mascara was waterproof before you opened it.” Brynn reaches for a tiny box that had been unnoticed in the hustle of getting ready. Bekah looks down, looks at her friend then opens the tiny box. A handkerchief was folded neatly in it. She recognized it as her grandfather’s but noticed there was something added. “Always yours” Bekah breathed out willing the tears to stay put. “How did he? When did he?” Bekah looked up at her father.

“That man knows you well, B. You found yourself a good one there.” Jim smiles sweetly and Bekah just nods her head. Brynn takes the baby blue handkerchief and tucks it into Bekah’s wildflower bouquet before handing it to her.

“Is the bridal party ready?” The coordinator’s voice breaks through the emotion filled room. “You have one handsome groom waiting for you. The entire room took a breath and got in line. Bekah’s dad offered his arm and she wrapped hers in his. They rounded the corner, music playing, all 200 guests on their feet staring at Bekah but she was looking for Jon and only Jon. Bekah finally sees Jon who is beaming at the end of the aisle. Tailored black tux almost leaning sideways to catch his first glimpse of his bride walking her way. The two decided to go the traditional route and not see each other before this moment and it was worth it. His look was worth it. David nudged him from his spot once Bekah and her father were stopped. Jon makes his way to the two. Shakes Jim’s hand and offers his arm to Bekah who presses her hand into his forearm to ground herself.

“Beks, you are the most beautiful bride ever.” Jon whispers as the two walk the few steps to the minister. Kelly straightens out her train while Brynn grabs her bouquet so she can place both hands into Jon’s. His thumbs rubbing the tops of her hands. The two so lost in their non-verbal conversation that they didn’t hear the minister ask Jon to repeat after him.

“Jonathan, repeat after me... please.” The officiant says again eliciting a laughter from the crowd. The ceremony was perfect in every way. Sunset over the Sedona rocks in the backdrop with their closest friends and family members witnessing their union. Both Bekah and Jon misty eyed but not crying which surprised everyone. Patrick joked he lost the bet with Duncan on their captain actually shedding tears during the event. The couple savored every moment as one. “By the power given to me by the state of Arizona, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss her bride.” Jon pulls Bekah in and his hands cup her face kissing her deeply but then retracting after the cheers.

“I love you. Ma femme pour toujours.” Jon whispers and Bekah’s eyebrow shoots up. “My wife forever.” He translates and Bekah kisses him again.

“Je t'aime Tae.” Bekah whispers then they look out to the crowd realizing they had an audience.

“I am happy to introduce to you Mr. and Mrs. Jonathan and Rebekah Toews.” The music plays and the guests stand. Jon grabs her hand and they walk down the aisle dipping her to kiss his wife again before heading towards the reception area.

The reception went smoothly. The couple found a baker that specialized in flourless cake. The meal was amazing and the hockey players behaved themselves for the most part. Jon twirled Bekah around the dance floor not letting his hands off her. By the time the two made their way to their honeymoon suite the event crashed over them. Jon scoops Bekah up and carries her over the threshold. Her reception tea dress being unzipped as soon as he closed the door. “So, Mrs. Toews...” Jon’s eyebrows wiggle.

“Yes, Mr. Toews... ok that doesn’t have the same effect.” Bekah kisses him. Her fingers playing with his new wedding band. “Do you want the lingerie now or on this mystery honeymoon?” Her dress being dropped to the ground and an animalistic sound erupted from his lips.

“Later. I want you now.” Jon growls into her skin while she finishes removing his already half unbuttoned dress shirt.

“Ya, sure. I brought a set for this weekend. It even has Mrs. written on the ass.” Bekah presses her lips to his chest.

“Tomorrow, after our rock pictures. We can have a second wedding night.” Jon moans under Bekah’s touch.

“Speaking of, you think I can get up there in my dress? I would hate to fall to my death a day after getting married.” Bekah looks up at her husband with a smirk.

“I’ll carry you, promise.” Jon smiles and his lips catch Bekah’s. “The pictures will be worth the little sweat to get you up there.” Jon tosses Bekah lightly on the bed. “Now, where was I, oh yes. I need to fully bliss out my wife.” He unbuckles his pants and crawls over top of Bekah as she lets out a little laugh. “What?” Jon’s eyebrow questions.

“Wife. I just. I like that title.” Bekah wraps her arms around his neck and presses up to kiss him deeply. Jon moans.

“Rebekah Toews, I fucking love you.” Jon whispers.

“Hmmmm... Maybe I’ll keep it Pierce, you know so people can pronounce it.” She giggles as Jon groans from her joke.

“Funny Beks. Funny. You are legally Pierce for the honeymoon travel then we can change it... if you want. You know I want you too.” Jon’s lips ghost over her skin.

“I am. You know that.” Bekah’s body reacts to Jon’s touch. “Tae, question?” He hums in acknowledgment. “Where are we going for our honeymoon?” Bekah’s fingers comb through his hair.

“Chicago.” Jon mumbles against her breast.

“Come on, Tae.” Bekah pulls her legs up to try and move him.

“Not tellin’. You will find out when we board the plane.” Jon bites at her skin and she jumps.

“Seriously. You won’t tell me?”

“Nope.” Jon pops the p and places his chin between her breasts. “Mrs. Toews, you have forever to ask me all the questions. Forever. Can I plllleeessseee have sex with my gorgeous wife now?” Jon pushes up and kisses Bekah hard as she melts into him.

#Jonathan Toews fic #What's in a name fic #WIAN #j toews #jonathan toews #tazer me 19 #love a damn blackhawk 🤦🏻‍♀️#happens in the 2018-2019 season

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halequeenjas · 4 years ago

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Not So Friendly Meetings || Alcher & Jasmine

TIMING: Before the incident with Alcher and Leah PARTIES: @zahneundklauen & @halequeenjas SUMMARY: At Leah’s suggestion, Alcher seeks Jasmine’s help.

For good measure, Jasmine asked Lea’s friend to meet her at her office. She’d only been slightly nervous about taking the wards down, but since Leah had provided her with a vial of tears, at least she had her left arm back which meant she could more easily swing an iron rod if Larry Bob decided to pay a visit. Hopefully, this woman’s ghost wasn’t violent. She doubted they would be and would probably relish at the chance to talk to their sibling. At least, most ghosts seemed to like being able to relay their message. It was odd being a telephone of sorts, but if Leah was friends with this woman, she could offer up her services free of charge. Even if that was reluctant. Her office was in pristine condition with some of her certifications hung up on the wall as well as her Equal Housing Opportunity Acts poster as was mandated by the law. She kept her office somewhat modern looking with touches of plants here and there. Most of them came with a care guide from Nell to save them from her… whatever the opposite of a green thumb was. She saw Ada approaching through the glass door to her office and smiled warmly as she entered. She extended her hand to shake, “You must be Ada.” Her eyes lingered behind her for a moment, not seeing any trace of a ghost. She couldn’t feel anything off either. The woman definitely wasn’t possessed at the very least. “Leah explained that you may be experiencing some ghost problems. Sorry to jump right into things, but could you tell me a bit about it?”

Alcher was never opposed to getting help, but the inherent problem with exorcists was that they were human. Human plus, sure, but still human. They all mostly still operated within human law and human morality, which meant she would have to monitor what she said and how she acted. Even the office the woman had Alcher come to was filled with human stench and human commodities. The only good parts were the plants. Alcher approached the doors, waiting for her to open them, glancing down at the extended hand, but not taking it. “I am,” she answered, looking back up at the woman. She seemed relatively normal, but then again, there was very little about mediums that stood out among humans. “You must be Jasmine.” Alcher took a seat across from her and took in the office around her. “I’ve been seeing my dead brother around,” she said simply, “I had an encounter with something Leah told me might be Deogen fog, and ever since then, I’ve been seeing him around. I believe only I can see him, and he talks to me.” Took another look around before resting her gaze on Jasmine. “He’s not here now.”

Considering what Jasmine agreed to help with, the aloof nature and lack of niceties from Ada took her by surprise. The hand she extended fell back to her side and her perfectly arched brows furrowed together momentarily. If Ada wasn’t going to keep with what was considered polite then neither would she. “That’s me, yes,” she answered plainly. She sat tall in her chair as she sat down at her desk and listened to what Ada had to say. If an encounter with some other monster had set off being able to see her brother, it seemed more likely it was an illusion. People didn’t just gain the ability to see ghosts… except for that one time ghosts were visible in White Crest. Okay. maybe it wasn’t entirely impossible, but it seemed unlikely. “If Leah believes it was a Deogen fog, I’m inclined to believe her. She’s very well versed in this sort of thing. I don’t believe that would give you the ability to see ghosts though.” Her tone was matter of fact though she would need more details. “There are ways to be sure though. I had taken the wards down here temporarily so a ghost may enter if they wish. If he’s a ghost, I’d be able to see him while he’s present.” If he seemed to be keeping to himself outside of that, Jasmine doubted that would work. “Are there certain places he usually appears to you? There are a few things we can test.”

“It’s not all ghosts,” Alcher corrected, not bothering to keep the ice from her tone, “just the one. And, like I said, I’m not sure he’s a ghost. Hence why I’m here.” She trusted Leah, she truly did-- but humans were all the same. They would either believe her or write her off, and Jasmine would be no different. She didn’t owe this woman anything, especially not her politeness. “He’s not here now, as I said before. I only tend to see him in--” she paused, clicked her teeth-- “moments of distress.” She glanced around the office once more, as if to check and make sure she was right, that Klaus was not here at the moment. “What are these tests, then? I’d rather not have to linger on this, if he’s not actually a ghost.”

“I never said it was,” Jasmine snapped back unable to fully hide her annoyance. She had offered her help up to this woman. What was with the attitude? If she had this all handled on her own then she could be gone. Deep down, Jasmine’s sense of purpose wouldn’t allow for that. So, through gritted teeth, she said, “Moments of distress are hard to imitate, but you should keep some salt on you.” She fished through her purse and pulled out a ziplock bag that was filled with rock salt. It wasn’t ideal and she’d much rather see this “ghost” for herself, but she was finding she wasn’t too eager to spend much time with this Ada woman. She handed the bag of salt over and explained, “When you see him again, sprinkle a bit of this on him. If he fades or flickers, he’s likely a ghost. They’re also sensitive to iron. If the sale has no effect, then you have something else on your hands. Likely an illusion. Does your brother ever ask you to do anything?”

Alcher eyed Jasmine warily when she pulled out the bag of salt. Her annoyance was lost on Alcher-- human sensibilities just didn’t matter to her, and so often, she was blind to them. She reached out and took the bag, giving it a small shake. “That’s it? Just...pour salt on him?” She lowered the bag and returned her gaze to Jasmine, crinkling her nose. “Right. Will do.” And iron. She would keep these things in mind, no matter how much she begrudged learning them from a human. She thought for a moment, trying to remember all the things Klaus had said to her. “No, not really. He mostly just…” reminds her of her failings, “talks about our childhood with me. Or tells me I’m doing something wrong. Typical older brother things.” She was certain of that. “So how do you know Leah?”

The woman in front of her seemed wholly unimpressed with her suggestion. Sure, it wasn’t much, but it’s not like Jasmine could do all that much considering the maybe ghost wasn’t even here. Plus, it was more knowledge than Ada had previously. She hardly needed praise from this woman though. “Yes, that’s it. If it’s really a ghost, they’ll disappear for a while. I could also put wards up around your home if that’s something you’d like. If you see your brother in the building with wards up then that’d also be a dead giveaway he’s not a ghost and more likely an illusion.” Still, if this was a ghost problem, she had some obligation to help even if she found she wasn’t a big fan of this woman. “Hm,” she said pondering what exactly that could mean, “Not sure that really feels like an unfinished business sort of thing that would keep him on this plane, but I guess we’ll see. Let me know how it goes when you see him next.” The small talk surprised her given Ada’s general demeanor. Alright, maybe she was trying. Not everyone was great at the social thing. “Oh, Leah? We’ve been good friends since we were kids. We went to school together and have stayed friends all these years. How do you two know each other?”

So that was it. Ghosts, Alcher though, were pretty pathetic, then. Just a swing of an iron rod, or some salt? Sad. Well, they were dead already, but unlike vampires and zombies, they had no solid form. Perhaps they’re only advantage was that they could not be seen by the normal eye. Alcher postured to herself whether or not it might be possible to see them through some magical means, and if she was willing to stoop to the level of a human to ask that. She went with no, for now. Perhaps if this turned out to actually be a ghost, she would reassess. “I will pass on the wards for now, until I know for sure what he is,” she answered shortly, brushing off the rest. She was, however, much more interested in the other woman’s answer about Leah. Childhood friends. She wondered if this woman knew of Leah’s true nature and how truly special she was. Her brows knit together. “Have you lived here your whole life, then? In White Crest?” she shifted on her feet, plastic groaning as it took on all her weight for a moment, before switching back. “We actually met at one of the restaurants here. We got to talking and it turned out that we had a few things in common. She’s helped me with a few problems, as well. She’s a very smart girl,” she answered, “very special.”

None of her knowledge seemed to be all that impressive to Scars over here. Jasmine didn’t need her praise. She knew her extensive knowledge of ghosts, exorcism rituals, and background with languages was impressive. Hell, she’d put a lot of time into all of the above and this woman was here for her help. Albeit, she couldn’t provide the most help without meeting the ghost or not ghost in question. “Hold off on the wards, got it,” she agreed. In this town they were always a good idea, but it was her brother in question here. She remembered how she removed the wards from her own home when it was Bea that was the ghost. “Oh yeah,” she answered, a bit more cheerful now that Ada seemed to be engaging more in there conversation, “Born and raised in White Crest. Definitely an interesting place to grow up to say the least.” She listened as the woman explained how she met Leah. It was no surprise to her that Leah was making new friends so easily. Her arms rested on her desk and she nodded along. “Leah is a great person to get to know. Even if it’s not a ghost, it’s likely one of her books has something on this. I can’t tell you how many time her books have literally saved the day.” Clearly she liked Leah’s manners, but that was okay. The way she said special though caused Jasmine to raise a brow. “She is very special. In many ways, but most importantly, she’s one of my dearest friends and one of the kindest people I know. Did she have any other ideas for what could be going on with your brother?”

“Interesting is one word for it,” Alcher agreed, “though I’m not sure you’d understand the word I would use to describe it.” Not many Americans bothered to learn German, or even Polish, for that matter. Too far deviated from their beloved romantic languages. Not that she cared much for human language, but it was the one she was taught to love and communicate with, and so she held it close to her heart. “She’s already trying very hard to research what it might be. Hence why she sent me to you in the meantime.” She reached out and ran her hand along one of the bookshelves in the office, letting her fingers trace some of the spines. A strange collection of books, though Alcher could only understand the titles of half of them. “One day her compulsion to help others is going to get her into trouble,” she commented, turning her eyes to look at the other woman, but not her body, “she needs someone around to protect her when that happens.” It was the unasked question that hung in the air before Alcher turned to fully face Jasmine. “If it’s not a ghost, she believes it’s some sort of leftover magic from the Deogen fog. So I suppose all that’s left to find out is if I need a witch doctor or, well,” her eyes looked Jasmine up and down, “you.”

“Try me,” Jasmine said with a hint of a smirk on her face, “Though I only know English, French, and Latin fluently, I have a baseline understanding of a good number of languages… given they’re all ancient languages used for different exorcism rituals.” Was she being a little show off-y? Probably. Did she care? Not even a little bit. There was still a certain air between them that made her feel more inclined to brag. She wasn’t sure how she got along with Leah so well, but she wasn’t going to question Leah’s choice in friends. “That sounds like Leah. I’m sure she’ll be reading book upon book until she finds the answer,” she responded and she watched as the woman ran her hand along her books. Most were on real estate seeing as they were in the office. There was the occasional book on ghosts and the like on her shelf though none were in English. No one ever questioned that too deeply and if they did, she simply said she enjoyed the study of languages. Not entirely off base as it was. Her eyebrow raised at the mention of Leah needing to be protected. Did that mean she knew Leah was a phoenix? If anything, her favorite flame thrower was far more capable of self defense than most, but this town had a way of throwing some pretty crazy loopholes and Leah wasn’t entirely down to harm others. “I don’t disagree with you there. This town can be dangerous… for everyone really. I love who she is and how willing to help others she is, but I think I’ll always worry for her. Unless it’s a ghost, I’m not the most helpful protector… though iron rods are good for whacking people. Just don’t have the enhanced strength to back it up. Do you feel inclined to protect her?” If it had anything to do with magic, she knew Leah had that covered. “Hm,” she said slowly, “Well, I think either way, Leah has contacts to cover it. She has me for ghosts and our other best friend for magic so… you could say we’re quite the trio.”

Alcher pondered a moment, before the right word came to mind. “Kuddelmuddel,” she answered simply, a word that had no direct translation from German to English, but meant something along the lines of unstructured chaos or mess. And while Jasmine’s repertoire of languages would have impressed any normal human, Alcher had no care for it. She knew a few languages herself, out of necessity, but the language she preferred was the one of her beast, and therefore it was the only one she cared about. “I do,” Alcher answered honestly. Leah was small and fragile and her talents lie in helping others through information and research. She was not a fighter. She should not be in positions that put her in that situation, no matter how strong or capable she thought herself. If there were monsters out there that could give Alcher a run for her money, then Leah was hopeless. Alcher would not let anything happen to her, on her watch. “It’s a pity you exorcists aren’t granted with anything other than words and sight. Your cousins get superstrength, after all.” She folded her arms back over her chest and tilted her head. “A magician and an exorcist. Leah makes the most interesting friends, doesn’t she?”

Jasmine listened closely to the word only to realize she’d never heard it before. It didn’t have any familiar Latin or Greek roots to it that would have made it rang a bell. It sounded more Germanic which while the language had some ties to Latin and Greek, it was a beast all its own. “You got me, I don’t know what that word means. Good word though. What does it mean? Roughly, anyway.” She knew better than most that not everything translated well to English. There still seemed to be an air about Ada that she wasn’t quite sure about, but she was admittedly curious about this friend of Leah’s. Especially since losing Bea, she found she was considerably more protective over the people she loved. If this woman felt so inclined to protect Leah, Jasmine wouldn’t complain even if she wasn’t necessarily a fan. She absentmindedly organized some of the files out on her desk and raised an eyebrow. “Cousins? I don’t have any cousins with superstrength,” she asked with a her features scrunching together in confusion, “Mediums don’t have super strength either if that’s what you mean though some of them have telekinetic like abilities.” Blanche came to mind though the young woman was still learning how to harness said abilities. There was something in the way Ada mentioned Leah’s friends and called Bea a magician that caused Jas to let out a huff. “Pretty sure magicians and witches aren’t the same thing. One does party tricks, one does actual magic. You sure seem rather concerned about the company she keeps for someone who only just met her.”

“I suppose the closest thing would be...chaos, a mess, unpredictable.” Not that Alcher had enough understanding of the English language to explain properly. But that wasn’t the important thing here, and she didn’t care to explain further. “No, I’m aware exorcists have no superstrength. Cousins as in...hunters,” she said with a hiss for that last word. The reason she had been brought into this world, to take down the hunters. “Wardens. You people who think you are chosen to protect mankind. I don’t take issue with exorcists usually, if they mind their boundaries.” Her eyes settled back on Jasmine. She doubted the woman had many hunter friends, but one could never be too careful. “All magic is just tricks,” she said evenly. “I understand what it’s like in this world for her more than you or your magician friend ever could. Bond is not forged through time, but trust.” She let the words sink in before taking in a breath and standing up a bit taller. “But, if that’s all-- I think I’ll take my leave. I’ll let you know if it turns out my problem is a ghostly one.”

“Huh, I’ll have to remember that one,” Jasmine mused as she took mental note of the word. Perhaps she’d find a better translation later. The next part left Jasmine a little perplexed. Hunters were hardly cousins to exorcists and mediums. If anything, exorcists were more closely aligned with spellcasters and even there, their abilities differed considerably. Still, she didn’t quite like the sound of hunter. Sure, she had nothing against them and they were helpful, but she still couldn’t wrap her mind around actually killing someone or something. “I would hardly say hunters are our cousins. If anything, maybe spellcasters, but even that’s a stretch.” Then she was talking about minding boundaries and she was suddenly even more eager for the woman to leave. Jas didn’t really care what this woman thought of her, but she didn’t need some sort of threat out of this. “Right. Well, this exorcist was offering to help you so maybe you could chill on the whole pseudo threatening vibe thing.” She rolled her eyes. This woman thought she was better friends with Leah than her or Bea? Not that it was a competition, but she sure felt the need to assert herself there. “Whatever you say,” she scoffed, “I think Leah is more than capable of deciding who her friends are. I don’t really feel the need to assert that I’m a good friend to her.” Thankfully, she was ready to leave now and Jasmine gave her a slight glare and said, “You know what, I think that’s a great idea.” She didn’t bother with a wave and shook her head for a moment before she returned to her actual, paying work.

#wickedswriting #not so friendly meetings #alcher

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