#that's the fun part y'all are weak/j

[stargirlintermission]

You know that awful idea that a guy bullies a girl because he likes her? Well that's how I feel about Starscream

[jungkoode]

死 KKANGPAE | #16 死

† shooting range and dinner †

"When his insomnia slips out, you decide being a useful fuck buddy is part of the arrengement. Even if sleeping is not exactly what you want to do tonight."

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⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 9,3k.

content: jeon taking a nap in j-hope’s office and hobi having none of it, verbal fights between friends, bestie plans being cancelled, shooting range practices that feel like lame excuses to touch, insomnia confessions, sleeping arrangements where both of them fail to simply sleep.

☠ author's note ☠

Y'ALL I'M SCREAMING. Look at my boy Jeon being all emotionally constipated and sleepless and GRUMPY! I cannot with him sometimes (⁠╯⁠°⁠□⁠°⁠)⁠╯⁠︵⁠ ⁠┻⁠━⁠┻

So I'm really exposing my kinks here, but the whole "let's sleep together but actually sleep" trope is just *chef's kiss* perfect. Insomnia-ridden boy who can only sleep well with you nearby? GIVE IT TO ME INTRAVENOUSLY, THANK YOU.

And J-Hope being all "I'm your friend whether you like it or not, you stubborn asshole" is everything I needed today. Their friendship is so beautifully dysfunctional I want to frame it and hang it on my wall.

Meanwhile, you guys in the comments are like "show us Jeon's POV!" and I'm over here like "fine, take his whole entire trauma-riddled brain, are you happy now?!" The answer is yes, you're all trauma vultures just like me. No shame in our game.

I had so much fun writing the shooting range scene though! That whole "let me adjust your stance" trope where they're basically just looking for an excuse to touch you? ICONIC. I will never get tired of it. Sue me.

And don't even get me started on that dinner scene. Jeon actually eating with another human being and not hating it? CHARACTER GROWTH, PEOPLE!

Sorry for leaving you hanging with the spicy bits but... actually no, I'm not sorry at all. The slow boil to explosion is the best part and I'm savoring every moment of your collective suffering (◕‿◕✿)

See you next chapter, you magnificent disaster enablers!

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⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

"Again, Jeon?"

J-Hope's voice hits him as soon as he walks in, but Jungkook can't bring himself to care. His body feels heavy, mind foggy with exhaustion.

The medical ward has become too familiar lately—the sharp smell of antiseptic, the soft hum of medical equipment, the way the afternoon light filters through the blinds.

He grunts in response, already making his way to his usual spot. The stretcher's not comfortable, not really, but it's better than lying awake in his own bed.

"You can't come here every afternoon, you know. I have shit to do and your snoring is not precisely helpful."

Jungkook almost rolls his eyes. He doesn't snore—never has—but arguing takes energy he doesn't have.

"Then put some background music."

"You—"

He doesn't wait for J-Hope to finish, just rolls onto the stretcher, facing the wall. The vinyl covering is cool against his arm, and somehow it's grounding... perhaps in a way he doesn't want to examine too closely.

"Are you for real right now? This is the third day in a row you're taking a nap in my office."

"You said yourself I should nap from time to time." His voice comes out muffled, face half-pressed into the thin pillow.

"Yes, but not in my goddamn office!"

The silence that follows is heavy.

He can picture J-Hope without looking—probably pinching the bridge of his nose, that look of exasperated concern he gets whenever Jeon's being particularly difficult. He hears the medic's chair creak as he leans back.

"Look, Jungkook." The use of his real name makes something in his chest tighten. J-Hope only uses it when he's about to say something Jungkook won't like. "I don't wanna be the one saying this to you, but you need to get your shit together."

"Well I am trying to fall asleep right now." The deflection is weak and they both know it.

"That is not what I mean you dimwit." There's that familiar mix of frustration and worry in J-Hope's voice. "Believe me, I'm glad you're finally trying to get some proper rest. But this—in my office? Just why."

Jungkook quiet, hoping J-Hope will drop it. He doesn't want to think about why he keeps coming here, why his own room feels too empty, too quiet. Why he can't sleep unless he can hear someone else breathing nearby.

(He definitely doesn't want to think about how he slept better in that tent, with y—)

"Jungkook."

Not his real name again.

Something in him snaps.

"Fine. I don't fucking know, okay?" The words come out sharp, defensive. He glares at the wall like it's personally offended him. "I just seem to sleep better in company."

"In company?" He can hear J-Hope's brain working, trying to piece together this new information. "Okay, what—? Elaborate right now."

"No."

The word is final, heavy with all the things he refuses to say.

Like the nightmares that wake him up gasping. Or how silence fucking makes his skin crawl. Or how being alone with his thoughts is becoming unbearable.

About how he hasn't had a decent night's sleep since—

"Whose company, Jungkook? This isn't about little bed-hopping habits, is it?"

It's offensive, the question, really.

But all he does is stare at the wall, trying to ignore how his mind immediately conjures up images of you. Of how he actually slept through the night in that tent.

No nightmares, no cold sweats. Just... sleep.

Four fucking years of insomnia, and the solution was this s̶t̶u̶p̶i̶d̶ simple?

"No, it's not." His fingers curl into a fist against the stretcher, leather creaking under fingers—and the sound grates on his nerves, already frayed from lack of sleep. "I ain't talking about it. Drop it, Hoseok."

Using J-Hope's real name now is a low blow, but Jungkook is too tired to care. He just wants to test his theory—see if sleeping near someone, anyone, will keep the nightmares at bay. He doesn't need J-Hope playing therapist, doesn't need him picking apart why this might be working.

Because that would mean thinking about you, about that night, about how for the first time in years he actually felt—

No.

"I'm your friend, Jungkook. And as a member of the Council of Nine, I have to know if anything... or anyone is becoming a weakness."

Jeon almost laughs.

A weakness? No. This isn't about feelings. This is about finally getting some fucking sleep without having to relive—

He cuts that thought off too. Focuses on the antiseptic smell of the medical ward, the equipment, anything but the memories threatening to surface.

J-Hope's concern is misplaced. This isn't about compromising the gang or breaking rules. It's about finding a solution to a problem that's been haunting him for four years.

So if sleeping near someone help? Fucking fine. He'll take what he can get.

Even if it pisses him off that it took this long to figure it out.

"There is no fucking weakness, you got that?" His eyes feel like lead weights in his skull. "I just need some goddamn sleep. I've gotta be sharp for the mission. That's all you need to know."

He can feel J-Hope's eyes on him, searching for cracks where light would shine through.

There's none.

It's been a long time since there's none.

But the medic knows too much, has seen too much. Was there that night when everything went to shit, when V—

"And after the mission? What then? You keep coming back here for your afternoon siestas or are you gonna be sleeping with that company?"

The implication slices through without sugarcoating. There's another word hovering in the air between them, pressing down on the air like a goddamn vacuum.

Traitor.

It sits there like poison, like the taste of copper in his mouth from that night.

Jeon pushes himself up, muscles tense, anger corroding his veins. His head is pounding from lack of sleep, making everything sharper, harder to control.

"I'll deal with it when it comes. Besides, who the fuck will notice? You gonna bitch about it to the rest of the crew?"

"Watch it, Kook." The use of his nickname is a warning, one that would mean more if he wasn't so fucking tired. "I'm trying to help you, not rat you out. But if you become a liability..."

"I ain't no fucking liability."

He's on his feet now, wrath burning through the exhaustion. His fists clench until he can feel his nails biting into his palms.

The suggestion that he'd risk the gang again, that he'd let himself be compromised like that... He does not appreciate it.

It makes something dark and ugly twist in his chest.

"You think I don't know the stakes? You think I'd let myself become another Sylvia episode?"

"Surely you're more intelligent than that."

The words hit exactly where J-Hope means them to. Because yeah, everyone thought he was intelligent back then too. Look how that turned out.

Jungkook holds J-Hope's gaze, something ugly settling in his chest.

For a moment, he considers telling him about you, about this arrangement that's purely physical—no strings, no complications, just a solution to his sleepless nights.

But the words catch in his throat. Because J-Hope isn't just asking for himself, is he? He's asking for AD too. AD, who still carries Sylvia's ghost like an open wound, who took her death even harder than he did.

Who trusted her, protected her, only to watch her choose Jungkook—and then watch her die for that choice.

The guilt sits like lead in his stomach. He can't do that to AD again. Can't make him watch from the sidelines as another woman gets tangled up with Jungkook, always wondering if history's about to repeat itself.

The weight of Sylvia's death is still a chain around his neck, dragging him down every time he closes his eyes.

So he swallows the truth, lets it burn on its way down. This thing with you—he'll handle it himself. Keep it contained. Control it before it becomes something he can't take back.

His face settles into careful blankness as he meets J-Hope's searching look.

"I fucking am. I don't need your nagging."

It's not even a lie. This isn't like Sylvia. He won't let it be. You're different—safer. You know exactly what this is.

"You sure you don't?" J-Hope's voice rises. "Because from what I recall, you've been a messy piece of shit ever since she's gone."

Something dark and ugly coils in Jeon's chest. "Watch how you sling that shit at me, J-Hope."

"Keeping an eye on it, always. Seems we all gotta tiptoe with our words 'round you, huh? Drop one mention of her, and you're all about throwing punches, no thoughts, just rage. Done you a lick of good, has it?"

"Shut your mouth!"

The words rip out of him before he can stop them, raw and ragged.

Because J-Hope's right, and that's what makes it hurt so much.

Four years, and he still can't hear her name without feeling like he's drowning in it all over again.

"Pull yourself together, Jeon!" J-Hope's voice cracks with frustration. "You've been haunted by those fucking nightmares since she died, and now what? Using someone else's body to quiet them down? Jumping from one disaster straight into another and expecting me to just watch?"

Jungkook's eyes feel like they're burning. "No one's asking for your fucking two cents. Always sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

He wants J-Hope to hit him, to hate him, to stop looking at him with that mix of concern and disappointment.

So his next words are not something he's proud of. But something he feels he needs to do.

"Why don't you go find a bottle to crawl into?"

It's a low blow, and he knows it. Watches J-Hope's hand shake, sees the muscle jump in his jaw.

"Don't you fucking go there, Jeon." The warning in his voice is clear. "I see what you're doing—spiraling because you're losing control. But I'm not playing that game. I'm not V."

"Right, you're not." Jeon's laugh is hollow, bitter. "At least that bastard's honest about not giving a fuck about anyone but himself."

"Jesus fuck, Jeon. You're not the only one carrying shit, you know that?" J-Hope's laugh is all broken glass. "Is that what you want? Me to knock your teeth in? You think that'll fix whatever's going on in that fucked-up head of yours?"

"Whatever. I don't give a shit."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Maybe one day you'll actually believe it. Pushing everyone away—that's about the only thing you're good at anymore."

"Don't need anyone. Do just fine on my own."

"Really?" J-Hope's voice is sarcasm. "That why you're trying to sleep in my fucking office?"

"Fucking hell, man. Just drop it and let me rest. I'm not digging into your shit, am I? Let me handle mine." His voice comes out raw, desperate, and he hates it.

"You might not see it, but some of us actually give a shit about you, you stubborn asshole." J-Hope's voice softens, and that's worse somehow. "I might share that council seat with you, but I'm also your friend—whether you like it or not. I'm worried, okay? This isn't how you deal with your demons."

Jeon closes his eyes, exhaustion settling into his bones. "Maybe it's exactly how I deal with them."

Maybe he deserves them.

He doesn't say that.

"It's a shit way of dealing with anything, Jungkook." The softness bleeds out of J-Hope's voice, and something in Jeon's chest loosens.

Anger he can handle.

Concern?

That's harder to dodge.

"Fuck, I'm not watching you spiral down that rabbit hole again. You can hate me all you want, but I won't stand here and watch you self-destruct. Not a second time."

"I get it. Like I said—not your cross to bear."

Jungkook can feel J-Hope's eyes on him, cutting through his bullshit like always.

"Fine, Kook. Hoard your secrets. But the moment it fucks with the mission, you're answering to me—and the Council."

Jeon knows that tone. It's not just a threat—it's a lifeline J-Hope's throwing him, begging him to get his shit together before everything falls apart.

The anger sits like acid in his chest, but he swallows it down.

This isn't about him and J-Hope anymore. This is about the mission. About the gang. About not letting his f̶e̶e̶l̶i̶n̶g̶s̶ weakness compromise everything like last time.

"Got it," he mutters, dropping back onto the stretcher and turning to face the wall. The stone is cold against his face, grounding in its indifference.

Behind him, J-Hope's chair scrapes against the floor as he turns back to his work. The sound is harsh, angry.

But it's okay if he's angry. Better that than worried. Better that than watching Jeon like he's a bomb about to go off.

"Fucking Sylvia," J-Hope mutters.

Then, silence drops.

For all his crankiness, J-Hope won't kick him out. Can't, maybe, because under all that anger is the same guy who dragged Jeon's drunk ass home after Sylvia, who patched him up when he picked fights he knew he'd lose.

J-Hope's right to be worried—secrets in Kkangpae have a way of turning lethal. One wrong move, one slip, and everything goes up in flames.

Again.

(But this thing with you isn't like Sylvia. It isn't. He just needs to figure out how to sleep through the night without—)

Jeon closes his eyes, lets the antiseptic smell of the medical ward fill his lungs.

Maybe if he lies here long enough, sleep will finally come.

Maybe this time, he won't dream.

𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝟻. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚛.

The message glares at you from your phone screen, all business and no explanation. Typical Jeon.

𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗?

．．．

𝘚𝘦𝘦𝘯

Great. He's seen it and can't be bothered to reply. Fantastic.

You stare at your phone, trying to will a response into existence. Nothing. Just that stupid "seen" mocking you. It's like talking to a brick wall, except the wall probably has better communication skills.

Jeon and his one-word texts. The man's got a gift for saying absolutely nothing while still managing to ruin your plans. You had a whole evening of doing absolutely nothing planned, and now? Now you're apparently going to the shooting range. Yay!

You toss your phone onto the bed; angry, petty. It bounces once, screen still lit up with Jeon's oh-so-eloquent message. His profile pic is just a blank space. Of course it is. God forbid he show an actual human emotion. Or, you know, a face.

With a sigh that could probably be heard three floors down, you drag yourself to the bathroom. For once, it's empty. Small mercies, right?

You tie your hair back into a ponytail, all business. Can't have stray hairs getting in the way when you're handling firearms. That's a safety hazard or whatever. Plus, you know Jeon would probably lecture you about it.

Mr. Safety-First-Unless-It's-About-Emotions.

The mirror shows you a face that's equal parts annoyed and resigned.

This is your life now—dropping everything because Jeon decided to grace you with a whole six words. Six! He's feeling chatty today.

You stare at your reflection, wondering for the millionth time how you ended up here. Not just in a gang, but at Jeon's beck and call. The man's like a black hole—impossible to ignore, drawing you in whether you like it or not.

(You like it. You hate that you like it.)

Time to go play with guns, apparently. Because nothing says "fun night out" like potential bullet wounds and Jeon's silent judgment.

This better be good, you think. But with Jeon? It's always a toss-up between mind-blowing and mind-numbing.

Guess you'll find out which one it is tonight.

You finish tying your hair back and grab your phone, typing out a quick message to Yunjin. Your fingers hover over the keys for a second because ugh. You were actually looking forward to dinner with her.

𝙲𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛. 𝙶𝚘𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖. 𝚁𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚌𝚔?

The card reader beeps when you swipe your ID, sound echoing through the empty hallway like some ominous warning bell.

The elevator ride feels like you're being delivered to your doom, each floor passing with total indifference to your impending crisis.

Ding.

Third floor. You step out into a corridor that feels way too quiet. Your sneakers barely make any noise against the floor, which just makes your heartbeat sound louder in your ears.

You reach the shooting range and—because you're not a complete idiot—you don't just barge in. Instead, you peek through the reinforced glass window like some s̶t̶a̶l̶k̶e̶r̶ cautious person.

And fuck.

There he is, in his own little world of violence.

He's wearing his usual dark t-shirt, fabric's stretched across his shoulders in a way that's honestly unfair for every other man. His combat pants are doing that thing where they show off every muscle without being obvious about it, and his boots are planted like he owns the ground he's standing on.

He hasn't spotted you yet. He's too focused on the gun in his hands, handling it with the kind of familiarity that reminds you he does this for a living. The protective gear—ear muffs and glasses—should make him look dorky, but nope. In your brain that simply catalogs as hot.

Each shot he fires is like... well, it's like watching someone who knows what they're doing. Which, you suppose, makes sense.

The recoil doesn't even phase him—his body just absorbs it like it's nothing. Spent casings hit the floor with little metallic pings, and you find yourself weirdly fascinated by the way his fingers adjust on the grip between shots.

(You're definitely not thinking about what else those fingers can do. Absolutely not. That would be unprofessional.)

You watch him reload—movements quick and methodical—like he could do this in his sleep. Probably has, honestly. This is Jeon's comfort zone, after all.

You step inside, and it hits you again how different the air feels in here. Smelling like gunpowder and that underlying tension that always shows up when you're around him.

Jeon doesn't turn around, too focused on whatever target he's destroying. You can't help the little smirk that tugs at your lips because finally—a chance to catch Mr. Perfect off guard. He's so zeroed in on his shooting that he might actually not notice you for once.

(You should know better by now, but hope springs eternal or whatever.)

Your sneakers don't make a sound on the rubber floor as you creep closer. You're already planning it—maybe a sudden clap, or yelling his name. Something to make him jump, even just a little. The thought sends this weird thrill through you, like you're about to get away with something.

You take a deep breath, ready to execute your master plan, when—

"Don't even think about it."

Motherfucker.

He doesn't even turn around. Doesn't move a muscle. Just keeps standing there like some statue of Perfect Shooting Form, and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

It's not fair how he does that—makes you feel like you're being predictable without even looking at you.

"You got radar in your head, or what?" you ask, trying to play it off like you weren't just caught being an absolute child.

Your voice comes out light, playful, which feels kind of wrong in a room designed for practicing how to kill people efficiently. But that's kind of your whole thing with Jeon, isn't it? Finding these little moments of tomfoolery in between all the violence and duty.

Sometimes you wonder if he lets you get away with it because he needs those moments too.

Jeon turns around, and as usual, there's this look in his eyes. Could be the fluorescent lights, could be him being a smug bastard.

He sets down his gun with this final-sounding click that somehow makes the room feel too quiet.

"Let's just say I've got a good sense of when someone's lurking in my blind spot."

The corner of his mouth twitches, and you're starting to think he practices that almost-smirk in the mirror.

You watch as he moves to the gun rack, all fluid movements. He picks out this pristine semi-automatic that gleams under the shitty range lights like it's showing off.

"Come on." His voice drops the playful edge. "If we're going to have your back in the field, you need to be able to hold your own. No hesitation this time."

This time.

The words bring back memories of your first shooting lesson with him—how your hands shook, how the gun felt too heavy with the weight of what it could do. You weren't ready then.

But now, with this mission hanging over your heads like a guillotine, you don't have the luxury of not being ready.

You step forward, closing the gap between you. When he hands you the gun, his fingers brush against yours, and even that tiny contact sends electricity up your arm. The metal's cold against your palm, but you grip it like you mean it. Like you're not thinking about how those same hands felt on your skin just days ago.

"Good." He nods, and something warm unfurls in your chest at his approval. "First, your stance—it's all about balance. Feet shoulder-width apart, one foot slightly ahead of the other."

You follow his instructions, hyper-aware of his eyes on you. It feels like being under a microscope, but like, a really hot microscope that you maybe want to kiss again.

You plant your feet, trying to look like you know what you're doing.

"Now, grip. Not too tight—imagine holding someone's hand. Firm, but you're not trying to crush it."

He moves closer, and suddenly the air feels thicker. His comparison makes your brain short-circuit because now all you can think about is holding hands, which leads to thinking about holding other things, which—yeah, nope.

Can't think about that. Not while you're holding a deadly weapon.

His hands come up to adjust your grip, and it should be clinical. Professional.

But there's this undercurrent of something between you, like static electricity looking for a place to ground itself. Like every little touch is loaded with meaning.

You find your rhythm with the breathing, in and out, as Jeon steps back to give you space. He's watching you with that unreadable expression of his, but his eyes are intense, like he's trying to will you into not fucking this up.

"Align the sights." His voice drops low, and fuck, it shouldn't affect you when he's teaching you how to shoot people. "Focus on the front sight—everything else is just background noise. Breathe in, breathe out, and on the exhale—that's when you squeeze the trigger."

You narrow your eyes, zeroing in on the target downrange.

It's not just a paper outline anymore—it's a test.

Another thing you need to prove you can handle in this life you've chosen.

You let out a slow breath, and with it goes some of that nervous energy that's been making your hands shake.

Right now it's just you, the gun, and this need to show Jeon—and yourself—that you're not out of your depth here. That you belong in this world of his, even if it's just at the edges.

The shot cracks through the air like a whip, and the recoil hits your palms. It's jarring but real, solid proof that you're actually doing this. That you're becoming whatever it is you need to be to survive in Kkangpae.

Jeon gives you this little nod, like yeah, okay, maybe you're not completely hopeless. But then—oh. Then his mouth does this thing, curling up at the corners into what might be the most dangerous smile you've ever seen.

"Good job."

Two. Words.

Just two fucking words, but the way he says them—all low and pleased—makes heat pool in your stomach.

It's not fair how he can do that, turn a simple phrase into something that feels like innuendo, voice wrapping around you like smoke, seeping into places it has no business being.

You're starting to think weapons training with Jeon might be hazardous to your mental health. And not for the obvious reasons.

Because the fucker is not just hot—though fuck, he absolutely is—he's something else entirely.

The way he handles a weapon, the easy confidence, how he makes everything look so effortless? It's doing things to you. Things that have nothing to do with training and everything to do with how his hands looked wrapped around that gun.

"Let's try again. This time, focus on consistency. You want to be able to replicate that shot every time."

He moves behind you, and suddenly breathing becomes severely underrated.

You try to focus on the target, but your brain's too busy cataloging every tiny detail—how his breath stirs the baby hairs at your nape, the way his chest is just shy of brushing against your back.

You take a deep breath to steady yourself, but that's a mistake because now all you can smell is him.

Pine and wood and leather.

Jeon.

The gun feels heavy in your hands as you line up another shot, and your attention is split between the target downrange and the way Jeon's presence seems to fill up all the space around you.

The shot immediately cracks through the air, perfect center mass.

You should feel proud—and you do—but mostly you're trying not to think about how close he is, how easy it would be to lean back just a little...

Because you know he's all business, laser-focused on getting you ready for the mission. Completely professional. But there are these tiny tells—the way his fingers linger when he adjusts your stance, how his eyes sometimes drift from the target to your face, staying just a second too long.

It's driving you insane.

Like there's this invisible line neither of you is willing to cross first, even though you both know exactly where this tension is heading.

You've been there before, after all. That night in his tent wasn't that long ago.

You lower the gun, trying to ignore how your hands are shaking—partly from adrenaline, mostly from something else.

The way Jeon's looking at you right now.

"Just like that. Keep it up."

You manage a nod because words? Not happening. Your throat's too dry, and honestly, you're afraid of what might come out if you open your mouth.

Another shot rings out, and you can't help wondering if Jeon feels it too. This crackling tension that makes your skin feel too tight. Or maybe you're just losing it, getting all hot and bothered over a man who's literally just teaching you how to shoot people.

"Reload. Keep your focus sharp."

He hands you a fresh magazine, and your fingers brush against his again—and honestly?

This isn't fair.

You're supposed to be learning important gang shit here, not mentally cataloging how good his hands feel.

Your brain keeps replaying every tiny touch, every moment his body was pressed against yours while "correcting your stance."

Which, by the way? Totally unnecessary.

You're pretty sure proper shooting form doesn't require his chest being that close to your back.

Focus, you tell yourself. You're here to learn how to handle a weapon, not daydream about handling... other things.

You need to prove you belong here, that you're more than just another recruit who can't keep it in their pants around the hot Chief.

(Even if said Chief is making it really hard to think straight right now.)

You grip the gun tighter, channeling all that frustrated energy into your next shot. The bang echoes through the range, and you pretend it drowns out the voice in your head that keeps suggesting alternative uses for this private training session.

The magazine clicks into place with maybe more force than necessary, but whatever. You're determined to get through this without embarrassing yourself. More shots follow, each one a desperate attempt to focus on anything except how good Jeon looks when he's in instructor mode.

(It's not working, but at least you're hitting the target.)

You're about to take another shot when something catches your eye.

Jeon looks... off.

There are shadows under his eyes that makeup can't hide, and his movements are slower than usual.

Most people wouldn't notice, but you've been trained to spot weaknesses.

"You look like shit."

The words slip out before your brain can filter them. Because you're such a professional, apparently. But now that you've started digging this hole, might as well keep going.

"When's the last time you actually slept?"

Dark eyes snap to yours, and you swear something raw flutters behind his eyelashes. Doesn't last long-as never anything really does with him. The walls come slamming back up.

"I'm fine."

His tone screams drop it; the voice in your head screams 'don't.'

Good thing you've always been good at hearing yourself first.

Besides, this isn't exclusively about him anymore.

You set the gun down, turning to face him fully. "Look, I get it—we all have our shit. But if you're walking around half-dead, that's not just your problem. That's how people end up getting killed."

He gives you a death stare, and you're pretty sure he's about to pull rank and shut this conversation down. But then he exhales, and something in his posture just... gives.

"Insomnia's an old friend." An admission that comes out rough, like he had to force the words past his defenses. "Been dealing with it for years. It doesn't affect my work."

"Bullshit." You shouldn't push, but your mouth's apparently on autopilot today. "You slept fine in the tent—"

His eyes narrow, and okay, maybe that was too far. But you're not wrong. You remember how peaceful he looked that morning, no trace of the tension that's radiating off him now.

"That was different."

His voice drops low, warning you away from this topic.

But there's something else there too—like maybe he's trying to convince himself more than you.

He doesn't deny it though.

So you nod, letting the subject drop. But you tuck that little piece of information away like a secret—Jeon sleeps better when he's not alone. When he's with you, specifically. You're not sure what to do with that knowledge yet, but it feels important somehow.

Silence falls. You turn back to the range because it's easier than trying to decode whatever's happening here.

The gun in your hands is simple, straightforward. Point, shoot, repeat. No complicated feelings or midnight revelations to deal with.

You cycle through the weapons Jeon's laid out, each one different but serving the same purpose. Pistols feel natural now, like they belong in your grip. Shotguns still kick like a mule, but you're getting better at handling them. Each shot echoes through the room, filling the space where words should be.

It becomes almost meditative after a while. Load, aim, breathe, squeeze. The routine helps quiet your mind, pushes away thoughts of Jeon and sleep and whatever's going on in that cold brain of his.

You're here to learn how to stay alive, not psychoanalyze your Chief's sleeping habits.

When you switch to the rifle, you can't help sneaking a look at him. He's lurking in the shadows like some kind of sexy gargoyle, watching your every move. Even exhausted, he's still intimidating as hell.

But there's something different about him now—like seeing him tired makes him more... real. Less Chief of Tactical Assassinations, more just Jeon.

The rifle's recoil brings you back to reality. You line up another shot, remembering everything he's taught you.

Breathe in, hold, squeeze, exhale. The bullets hit close together, forming a tight group that would definitely ruin someone's day. Jeon gives you this tiny nod that shouldn't make your stomach flip, but it does anyway.

The sun's starting to set, painting the room in long shadows. Empty casings litter the floor around your feet like tiny brass confessions. Neither of you has said much, but somehow it's not uncomfortable.

You've learned two things today: how to shoot better, and that Jeon trusts you enough to show you some of his cracks, even if he doesn't mean to.

You're not sure which lesson is more dangerous.

(Probably the second one.)

You start packing up, going through the familiar motions of cleaning and storing the weapons.

"It's getting late," you say, mostly to break the silence.

When you turn around, Jeon's standing there with his arms crossed, staring at nothing. Or maybe at something only he can see. He doesn't react to your voice, like he's been aware of every move you've made since you started cleaning up.

The lighting in here is shit, but it's not bad enough to hide how exhausted he looks. The shadows under his eyes are getting deeper, more obvious. You think about what J-Hope would say if he saw Jeon like this—probably something cranky and concerned wrapped in medical jargon.

"If it helps," you start carefully, like you're approaching a wild animal, "we can sleep together again. No bullshit—just sleep. Seems like you could use it."

For a second, his face goes completely blank. It's that perfect mask he wears when he's processing something he doesn't want to deal with.

Then—there.

His shoulders drop just a fraction, like someone's loosened a wire.

"I don't need charity."

The words come out defensive, but they're missing that sharp edge he usually uses to keep people at a distance. You recognize deflection when you hear it—you work in the Seduction Division, after all.

"It's not charity." You click the last weapon case shut, buying time to choose your next words carefully. "Consider it... part of our arrangement. We're no good to each other tense or half-awake."

The silence stretches out so long you start to wonder if you've fucked up. Maybe you pushed too far, got too personal. But then he nods, just barely, like he's trying to convince himself he's not giving in to anything.

"I'll think about it."

His voice is gruff, but there's something else there—a hint of relief, maybe. Like you've given him permission to want something he thinks he shouldn't. You pretend not to notice how his eyes linger on you as you finish packing up, like he's already made up his mind but isn't ready to admit it yet.

You glance at the clock, and shit—it's really fucking late. The castle gets quiet around this time, most people already finished with dinner or working night shifts.

Speaking of dinner... you were supposed to meet Yunjin, but someone had to drag you to impromptu target practice.

A thought hits you, and you can't help the little smile that tugs at your lips. It's probably stupid, definitely pushing your luck, but...

"By the way," you say, closing the weapons case with a satisfying click. "Since it's already so late... How about grabbing some dinner together at the cafeteria?"

Jeon looks at you like you've just suggested robbing a bank in your underwear.

There's this tiny flicker of surprise in his eyes that would be funny if it wasn't kind of sad. Like the concept of eating with someone is completely foreign to him.

"Dinner? I eat alone."

His voice is flat, but it's as though he's actually considering it, even if he'd rather die than admit it.

"I know, but it's late." You shrug, going for casual even though your heart's doing this weird skippy thing. "Few people will be there, and I had plans that got... rearranged."

You give him a pointed look because hey, this is technically his fault.

"Don't feel like eating by myself."

He stares at you for what feels like forever, face doing that blank thing he does when he's processing something unexpected. Then his mouth quirks up at the corner.

"I don't usually do dinner dates."

You actually laugh at that. "You wish.Think of it as a tactical debriefing over food. Can't strategize on an empty stomach, can we?"

His smirk gets a fraction wider—the Jeon equivalent of a full grin. It's rare to see him look actually amused, and something warm unfurls in your chest at being the cause.

"Tactical debriefing, huh? That's a new one."

"Come on, Jeon. It's just dinner." You try to sound nonchalant, like you're not weirdly invested in his answer. "Besides, you're probably starving after all that shooting."

He does that thing where he goes all still, like he's running risk assessments in his head.

Finally, he nods. "Alright, but this isn't a habit we're starting."

"Of course not, you have a reputation to maintain, thundercloud."

You can't help the smirk as you head for the door. The nickname slips out before you can catch it, but whatever. You're already in deep.

"Not like anybody would believe you anyway, sunshine." He rolls his eyes, but follows you out.

The way he says sunshine—like it's both an insult and something else—makes your stomach do a little flip. But you're not going to think about that.

This is just dinner. Just two gang members having a totally normal, professional meal together.

The walk to the cafeteria is weirdly peaceful.

Neither of you says anything, but it's not that awkward silence that makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

It's just... quiet. Your brain's still processing everything—the training, the arrangement, the fact that you're actually going to dinner with Jeon of all people.

The cafeteria's practically empty when you walk in. Just a few night owls scattered around, most of them looking like they're running on coffee and spite.

It's nice, though. No curious eyes, no whispers. Just the soft hum of the air conditioning and the distant clink of dishes.

The buffet spread looks like heaven. Your stomach reminds you that you haven't eaten since lunch, growling at the sight of steaming bulgogi and kimchi jjigae. The castle chefs don't mess around—everything looks magazine-worthy, even at this hour.

You load up your tray like you're preparing for hibernation: bulgogi because duh, japchae because the noodles here are actually insane, kimchi fried rice because comfort food is a thing, and those spicy braised potatoes that make your mouth water just looking at them.

Jeon, for his part, goes straight for the protein—galbi ribs, bibimbap loaded with meat, and bossam like he's got something to prove.

You're about to head for a table when you catch him adding even more bulgogi to his already meat-heavy tray.

"Got enough protein there?" You can't help the teasing tone. "Or are you planning to feed a small army?"

Jeon's mouth does that thing where he's trying not to smile but failing.

"I need to keep up my strength." His eyes flick to yours, dark. "Never know when I might need to pin a smartass against a wall."

The laugh that escapes you is only partly nervous. You lead the way to a corner table, far from the few other diners. It feels weirdly intimate, having dinner with someone who usually eats alone.

The food works its magic. You feel the day's tension melting away with each bite, and even Jeon looks more relaxed. That permanent frown he carries around is smoothing out as he tackles his galbi like it's his division's target.

"Holy shit, this is good," you mumble around a mouthful of noodles.

The chefs here could probably work in any five-star restaurant, but instead they're cooking for a bunch of criminals. Life's weird like that.

Jeon makes this little grunt of agreement, cheeks full like a hamster's. He swallows before speaking because apparently assassins have table manners.

"Only decent perk of this place."

You fall into comfortable silence after that, both focused on demolishing your food.

It's strange how normal this feels—just two people sharing dinner, like you don't kill people for a living, like you haven't had your hands all over each other hours ago.

"That rifle technique you used today was solid. Got good instincts."

Coming from Jeon, that's practically a love letter. You hide your smile behind another bite of food, but can't resist poking the bear.

"Well, I have a good teacher. Even if his people skills need work."

He snorts, stabbing another piece of meat with maybe more force than necessary.

"I don't coddle. You get better by doing, not talking."

"True, but positive reinforcement helps too." You gesture with your chopsticks. "I'm only human, thundercloud."

The look he gives you could melt steel. One eyebrow goes up, and there's something dangerous playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Hmmm. Almost sounds like you want to be coddled, sunshine."

The way he says it makes heat pool in your stomach. Because that wasn't about teaching at all, was it?

You laugh to cover the way your breath catches. "In your dreams, Jeon."

You ball up your napkin and throw it at him, which he catches without even looking because of coursehe does.

Show-off.

"Still," he says, ruining the moment like he's allergic to peace, "your reaction time needs work."

"I'll keep practicing." You shrug, aiming for casual. "Can't have you worrying about me in the field."

"Who said anything about worrying?" But his eyes give him away—that split-second flicker before his face goes blank again.

"Oh please." You wave your chopsticks at him. "You were watching me like a hawk in there. Probably counting my breaths or something equally anal-retentive."

He just shakes his head, suddenly very interested in his food. But you're on a roll now, feeling brave or stupid or both.

"Admit it, you care about my progress." You lean forward, grinning. "It's almost sweet."

Jeon looks up then, and oh. His gaze is intense.

"I care about not getting shot because you can't handle your weapon, sunshine."

You can't help yourself. Really, you can't. "Mhm? Thought I was getting better at handling weapons, thundercloud."

His lips twitch, just barely, but you catch it. It's fascinating, really, how you've somehow stumbled into this easy back-and-forth with him. How beneath all his sharp edges and your sass, there's this... thing.

This rhythm that shouldn't work but does.

Dinner's winding down, and you notice something different about Jeon. The tension he usually carries—the one that makes him look like he's ready to snap someone's neck at any moment—has eased up. Even his face looks softer, less murder-y than usual.

"This was... not terrible," he says, like admitting it physically pains him. His eyes meet yours across the table. "The food, the company... both exceeded my low expectations."

"Oh my god." You press a hand to your chest, going for maximum drama. "Was that a compliment? Should I call J-Hope? Are you feeling okay?"

He snorts, and there's this little uptick at the corner of his mouth that you're starting to recognize as his version of a smile.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't get used to it."

"Too late." You stand up, gathering your plates. "I expect this level of praise at every meal now. Maybe we can work up to actual sentences by next week."

"Don't push your luck, sunshine." But he's still got that almost-smile as he gets up too.

"I mean, you already admitted you don't hate my company. That's practically a love confession by your standards."

Jeon shakes his head, but there's something soft in his eyes.

"You're really something else, you know that?"

"So I've been told."

You drop off your dishes, and both head for the elevator, falling into comfortable silence.

You reach for the elevator buttons, aiming for the fourth floor where your room is. But Jeon's arm suddenly appears in your peripheral vision, his chest almost brushing your back as he leans forward. There's this tiny pause—blink and you'd miss it—before he hits the button for the fifth floor instead.

You turn your head just enough to catch his eye, raising an eyebrow. No words needed.

You both know what this is: him taking you up on that offer to help him sleep. Simple as that. Like picking up takeout or scheduling target practice.

The elevator starts moving, and holy shit why is it so slow? The silence should be awkward, but it's not.

Maybe because you both know exactly what this is. No bullshit, no complications. Just sleep. Like you said in the training room—you're no good to each other half-dead from exhaustion.

It's probably stupid, spending the night with your Chief. But you've already crossed that line in his tent, and honestly? If sleeping next to you helps with his insomnia, then whatever.

You're already fuck buddies—might as well be helpful ones.

The doors finally open to the fifth floor, and Jeon steps back. He's giving you space, making it clear this is your call. Which is... weirdly considerate, actually. You step out because why not? This isn't some dramatic decision. It's practical. Logical, even.

The walk to his room feels longer than it should. Your feet are dragging because yeah, you're fucking tired. Today's been a whole thing—training, dinner, and now this weird arrangement that somehow makes perfect sense.

Jeon stops at his door, giving you one last look. Checking if you're sure, probably. You nod because duh. This isn't complicated. You're both adults who sometimes fuck and apparently now sometimes sleep (just sleep) together.

The door clicks shut behind you, and you get your first look at Jeon's private space.

So this is where the Chief of Tactical Assassinations sleeps. You can't help but snoop—it's basically in your job description as a member of Seduction Division.

The room is... exactly what you'd expect from Jeon, honestly. It's like someone took his personality and turned it into interior design.

Everything's black, white, or gray, like he's allergic to color. It matches his whole aesthetic—the guy who sees the world in shades of gray, making calls about who lives and who dies. Maybe the monochrome thing is some kind of metaphor. Or maybe he just really likes black.

There's this massive king-sized bed against one wall, all black sheets and dark gray duvet. The bed's made diligently, but you can see the slight wrinkles that mean he's actually slept in it. Unlike some people who just have fancy beds for show.

Next to it is this super minimal nightstand with just a lamp and—oh. An ashtray. Right. His stress-smoking habit.

The furniture could be from one of those fancy minimalist catalogs. Everything's black wood, clean lines, no fuss. There's a dresser that probably holds his endless supply of black t-shirts, a desk that looks barely used, and a chair that seems more decorative than functional.

What really gets you is how empty it is. No photos, no personal stuff, nothing that says "someone actually lives here."

It's like a really expensive prison cell or one of those model rooms in furniture stores.

You spot a door that has to lead to a private bathroom, and fuck, that's not fair. You're sharing a bathroom with like five other girls while Mr. Chief here gets his own shower? The perks of rank, you guess.

The floor's spotless—like, you could probably eat off it. Not a speck of dust anywhere. The whole place is as buttoned-up as Jeon himself, like maybe if he keeps everything perfectly ordered, the rest of his life will fall into line too.

"Well, it's very... you," you say, because what else can you say about a room that looks like it was decorated by a very organized ghost?

"I don't need anything else." He shrugs.

You hover by the bathroom door, suddenly feeling weirdly out of place. Being in Jeon's private space is... different. Not bad different, just different. Like seeing your teacher at the grocery store, except your teacher is a hot assassin you occasionally fuck.

"Hey," you start, trying to sound casual, "mind if I grab a quick shower first? I always wash up before bed, especially after training." You scrunch your nose. "Pretty sure I don't smell like a spring meadow right now."

Jeon's eyebrow does that thing—that infuriating arch that makes you want to either kiss him or kick him.

"What, you saying I stink, sunshine?"

"We both worked up a sweat today, cloud." You roll your eyes, but you're fighting a smile. "No judgment, just stating facts."

He jerks his head toward the bathroom door. "Go ahead. Towels and shit are in there."

You can't help yourself—really, you can't. As you pass him, you throw out: "Maybe take a page from my book and grab one yourself after. You know, freshen up a bit."

The snort he lets out is almost a laugh. "Watch yourself. I don't take orders in my own quarters."

But his eyes are doing that thing where they get all dark and playful, and you know that look.

Intimately.

"Just a suggestion between... friends."

You draw out the last word, letting it hang there like bait. Because that's what you are now, right? Friends who sometimes sleep together. And sometimes fuck. But tonight's just for sleeping.

(Sure it is.)

"So pushy." His smirk should be illegal. "What, you wanna shower together now? Could've just asked, sunshine."

You roll your eyes because it's easier than admitting how tempting that sounds. "You wish, thundercloud. I can handle washing myself just fine."

You head for the bathroom, but pause at the door because apparently, you hate yourself.

Glancing back over your shoulder, you add: "But you know... my back is kind of hard to reach..."

"Nice try." His voice has dropped lower, rougher. "But we said only sleeping tonight. Go get cleaned up. I'll be here when you're done."

The way he says it—like a promise and a threat wrapped in one—makes you seriously reconsider this whole "just sleeping" thing.

The bathroom is exactly what you expected—black and white everything, minimalist as fuck. It's like the room outside but with more tiles and chrome.

You turn the shower on hot enough to steam up the mirrors and step under the spray, letting it pound against your shoulders.

The water pressure is amazing. Of course it is—Chief privileges and all that. Your shared bathroom on the fourth floor can barely manage a decent drizzle, but this? This is heaven.

You take your sweet time, enjoying the luxury of a private shower where no one's going to bang on the door telling you to hurry up.

When you finally emerge, wrapped in one of Jeon's obscenely fluffy black towels (seriously, where does he get these?), steam billows out behind you like you're making some dramatic entrance. Your hair's twisted up in another towel, water still dripping down your neck.

You feel Jeon's eyes on you before you see him. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, and the weight of his stare makes your skin prickle.

His face is doing that careful blank thing, but his eyes? They're giving him away.

"Shower's free," you say, aiming for casual even though the tension in the room is thick enough to choke on. "You know, if you want it."

He just makes this low humming sound that absolutely does not make heat pool in your stomach.

Instead of moving, he just... looks at you.

His eyes track down your body, slow and deliberate, like he's memorizing every inch.

Like he's thinking about what's under that towel.

You refuse to squirm under his gaze. Two can play this game.

"Like what you see?" You cock an eyebrow, channeling your inner seductress (which is technically your job, so).

His mouth curves into that dangerous almost-smirk. "Maybe I'm just waiting to see if you'll drop that towel."

"You wish."

You turn your back on him (which is definitely not just an excuse to give him a better view) and head for his dresser.

The drawers are organized because of course they are. You find his t-shirts, all neatly folded like some department store display.

"I'm borrowing this," you announce, grabbing a shirt that looks big enough to work as a dress. You glance over your shoulder, catching his eyes again. "Unless you'd prefer me naked?"

His smirk grows, and fuck, that should be illegal.

"Be my guest."

The invitation in his voice makes your skin feel too tight, but you're not giving in that easy. This is a game of chicken now, and you're not about to lose.

Even if losing sounds really, really tempting right now.

You unwind the towel from your hair and toss it at Jeon, aiming for his face but hitting his chest instead.

"Just sleeping, remember? Go shower."

The towel slides down his front, and you catch this tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth—like he wants to smile but his reputation won't let him.

He stands up in that way he does, all fluid grace and barely contained power. Without a word, he heads for the bathroom. The door clicks shut, and soon you hear water running.

You grab his brush (because of course he has one, Mr. Perfect Hair) and start working through your damp hair.

It's weirdly domestic, sitting here in Jeon's room, wearing his shirt, using his stuff. The brush is probably expensive—it glides through your hair like it's made of silk or something.

Speaking of his shirt... You pull it on, and fuck. It smells like him—pine, wood, and smoke.

The fabric drowns you, hanging off one shoulder, falling to mid-thigh. There's something stupidly thrilling about wearing his clothes, like you're getting away with something.

Once your hair's somewhat tamed, you twist it up into a bun. The mirror catches your eye—one of those full-length ones that probably cost more than your monthly salary. You can't help checking yourself out, tugging the shirt down a bit because apparently, you still have modesty or whatever.

That's when you see him in the reflection.

Oh.

Jeon's fresh out of the shower, water still beading on his chest, towel riding low on his hips like it's trying to start something. He's got another towel in his hands, drying his hair as he sits on the bed, but his eyes?

His eyes are locked on your ass like it's his favorite meal.

The mirror gives you a perfect view of his face, and holy shit. The way he's looking at you—it's not subtle. At all. His gaze is heavy, hungry, like he's thinking about all the ways this "just sleeping" arrangement could go very, very wrong.

(Or very, very right, depending on your perspective.)

The temperature in the room spikes, and it's definitely not from the shower steam. You can practically feel the heat of his stare through the mirror.

So much for keeping things platonic tonight. A smirk tugs at your lips as an idea forms. Because if Jeon wants to play this game?

Well, two can definitely play.

You reach up to your bun, pretending to mess with the hair tie.

Oops—it "accidentally" slips through your fingers, falling to the floor with a silent grace that would make your Seduction Division trainers proud.

"Oh no," you say, channeling your best innocent voice. The one that fools absolutely no one but works anyway. "How clumsy of me."

You turn your back to Jeon, and fuck, you can practically feel his eyes burning into you.

Bending down—slowly, because you're nothing if not thorough—you give him a view that you know from experience he can't resist. The borrowed shirt rides up just enough to be interesting.

You take your sweet time "looking" for the hair tie, even though you can see it right there. Your fingers trail across the floor like you're putting on a show, which... yeah, you absolutely are.

When you finally grab it, you throw a look over your shoulder.

Jackpot.

Dark, obscure eyes pin you in place. Absolutely hungry. You'd bet good money that towel isn't hiding much anymore.

"See something you like?" Your voice comes out honey-sweet, but there's nothing innocent about the way you're looking at him.

Before he can compose himself enough to answer, you straighten up and sashay over to the bed. The sway in your hips isn't natural, but who cares about natural when it makes Jeon's breath catch like that?

You slip under the sheets, turning away from him because you're evil like that. The mattress dips as he lies down next to you, and you have to bite back a smile.

"We should get some rest." You keep your voice light, casual, like dismissing every inch of space between you. "Long day tomorrow."

He makes this grunt that could mean anything, but you know him well enough by now to recognize the sound of him wrestling with his self-control.

You can picture his face—brow furrowed, jaw clenched, probably glaring at the ceiling like he wants to shadowbox with it.

You wait, barely breathing.

Maybe you read this wrong.

Maybe he's actually planning to be good tonight.

Maybe he really does just want to sleep.

That's fine. Totally fine. This was his idea anyway, right? Just sleeping.

You're about to give up, admit defeat, when the mattress shifts.

Jeon rolls toward you, and suddenly his chest is pressed against your back, all heat and hard muscle. You fight back a shiver as his hand finds your hip, his thumb drawing lazy circles that make your skin buzz. His breath fans hot against your neck, and fuck, this is so much better than sleeping.

"I need to ease some tension, sunshine."

His voice is pure sin, rough and low right by your ear.

Heat pools in your stomach as you roll onto your back, meeting his gaze. His hand tightens on your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel how much he wants this.

"Oh?" You hold his stare, watching his control slip. "I thought you'd never ask."

You're definitely not getting much sleep tonight.

But hey, that was kind of the point, wasn't it?

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[saints-who-never-existed]

Davechella Week Seven: John Irving

Happy Friday y'all! Jirving playlist be upon ye!

Alpha Swallows - Laura Marling He could fall and shake and weep/ But as holy are my feet and hard with mention/ That dear, they may not speak/ We feel tight when there is tension/And our eyes can make us weak And his heart was full of fire at the man he had become/ And his soul was seldom higher with the falsities of fun/ Could embrace sweet desires in moments as they passed/ But he feared ever more, he saw it didn't last

Rite & Rising - Cullen Vance

Seven Hells - Brown Bird Laws of men lay claim to all those without shame/ Who enlighten themselves with the lies/ That our souls are bound to the deafening sounds/ As the megaphones fill up the skies In bonds of conscience, respiration fails/ Blind suffocation proceeds/ By floodwaters swallowed, the proprium of whales/ Shed these lung spires and breathe

There's No Such Thing as a Jaggy Snake - Biffy Clyro Look up!/ C-c-c-c-c-captain Christ says!/ You think too much about the wrong things/ You sing about the wrong things/ Take extra special care! Simply put you're a fuck up/ C-c-c-c-c-captain Christ says!/ You think too much about the wrong things/ You sing about the wrong things

The Hunger - The Distillers Summertime/ The taste of saint secretes of perfume mist/ Console the mind/ I take it in, the lips of pink, I kiss/ Lonely sky/ The more you take, the more that I give in/ Holy eyes/ I never knew, I know, I know, don't go! Hold on to the memory/ Yeah, it's all you got/ I know you'll be there/ To soak up blood lost/ Blood lost, blood lost

Bless Your Soul - The Bones of J. R. Jones Oh, when all of your ghosts in your dark hollow/ All them move to what's holy in you/ 'Cause you're keeping time, ain't hard if you're blind/ Just tap your feet to your prayers offbeat Oh and bless your soul

The Muse - Laura Marling God's work is planned/ I stand here with a man/ That talked to me so candidly/ More than I'd choose My lips at once are rouged/ I feel again the blues/ Of longing, ever longing, to be/ Confused

White as Diamonds - Alela Diane And some hearts are ghosts settling down in dark waters/ Just as silt grows heavy and drowns with the stones/ Some hearts are ghosts settling down in dark waters/ Just as silt grows heavy and drowns with the stones I've known mornings white as diamonds/ Silent from a night so cold/ Such a stillness, calm as the owl glides/ Our lives are buried in snow/ Our lives are buried in snow

The Wrote and The Writ - Johnny Flynn I'm being asked to drink the blood of Christ/ And soon I'll eat his flesh/ I'm alone again before the altar/ Shedding all my old regrets The last of which I'll tell you now/ As it flies down the sink/ I never knew a part of you/ You didn't set in ink, in ink The letters that you left behind/ No longer shall I read/ Your blood's between the pages/ And I can't stand to see you bleed And I'll soon forget what was never there/ Your words are ash and dust/ All that's left is the song I've sung/ The breath I've taken and the one I must If you're born with a love for the wrote and the writ/ People of letters, your warning stands clear:/ Pay heed to your heart and not to your wit/ Don't say in a letter what you can't in my ear

The Snow Hare - Julie Fowlis/Karine Polwart The hare, he waits on the highest hill/ But the snow is no more falling/ The hare, he waits on the highest hill Oh, the dark is rising By the rock of the stag, he shelters in from the weather He prays for the veil of snow to come and cover him over

[acaplaya-musings]

A random assortment of Geoff Castellucci pictures - Part 3

Y'all seemed to enjoy part 1 and part 2, so here, have a part 3! Featuring pics of Geoff from videos where I haven't already saved any screencaps from (not counting Voiceplay Visuals posts), but where he still looks really good anyway. And so because this one involves me going back and rewatching certain videos for the purpose of screenshot grabs (always nice to have another excuse! <3), these pictures are going chronologically by video, oldest to newest, rather than alphabetical by title. And again, featuring little bits of thoughts/commentary from yours truly. This one ended up being longer than part 2 as well, so enjoy!

(Everything below the cut as like the previous posts!)

Starting off strong my fam!!

I said as much in my VoicePlay Visuals post I think but this is honestly one of Geoff's best "shorter (or at least shorter-ish) hair" looks imo. Like look at those waves and curls! To! Die! For!

Also the open shirt with the popped collar is such a look and I kinda wanna see Geoff with a popped collar more often tbh

Also on the Panic Medlry Part 2 video someone commented "Is it just me or is Geoff extra hot in these last two vids". VoicePlay replied with "It's not just you. There was no air conditioning. ;)" XD

I forgot how hard it is to get decent pics of Geoff from this video, rip. I couldn't not include anything from it though! I mean come on!

Sir excuse me who gave you the right (and can they give you the right more often please)

I don't even know what it is in particular about this look that's so good but dear god everything just works and like, y'know, as I very frequently say: He's! So! Pretty!!!

Actually I do know one key component: his smile!!! <3

Well hello there good sir! 👀

Yet another video where Geoff smiles a lot and it's so lovely and nice but goddang is it hard to get a clear pic of him!

Yes a good portion of these pics is honestly just me showing some of my favourite Geoff smiles from different videos, and I apologise for nothing <3

Look, I love Geoff as a Disney villain, of course I do, he slays it absolutely every single time, but goddamn, I would love for more Disney Prince Geoff, in vibes/aesthetic if not any actual Disney song.

Also shoutout to one bit during Eli's When I'm Older section, where Geoff is looking off to the side and smiling <3 (smiling at Kathy? Maybe?)

(Oh and actually, between Sh-Boom and this video, I'm realising I kinda sorta wanna make a picture collection post for Layne as well - he does have some good looks sometimes! Nothing Else Matters, Hellfire, Warriors, y'know?)

Jumping ahead 1.5 years now!

Butter is such a fun video - everyone looked like they had such a great time!

If I Were A Rich Man/Girl MY ABSOLUTE BELOVED

The fluff in the hair, the visible bit of white/grey, the shirt, the smile!!! This video has me so weak y'all <3

Honestly Geoff looks phenomenal in almost every single medley video in particular and I love it (almost every medley - Greatest Showman Medley isn't in this photoset for the same reason that Kidnap The Sandy Claws and Hide And Seek aren't, lol)

(Also appreciation for the long-sleeve shirt behind rolled up to the elbows 👀)

Geoff from like 2022 onwards was "I'm going to find a hundred different black outfits to wear in videos and I'm going to look good every time" /j

Couldn't help but include a pic from We Don't Talk About Bruno in this - he's so silly (affectionate) <3

Not including any pics of Disney Princess Geoff(tm) only because it makes me laugh too much XD (seriously even as soon as Ashley starts singing Isabela's part I already start giggling, and it does in fact get me every time, but you can find a couple of pics of it in my VoicePlay Visuals post for this video HERE

I haven't rewatched this video in a while, so I wasn't exactly sure what kinda quality of screencaps I was gonna be able to grab from it, but well... it delivered!!!

I said this in a comment on the video as well but whoever had the idea to have that little bit of breeze/wind blowing Geoff's (and Adriana's) hair back, you're a genius and I love you

Also DJ_410 has occasionally referred to Geoff having "puppy dog eyes" or something along those lines, and man, he ain't wrong!

Someone said in the comments of this video that "Geoff is slowly turning into a silver fox" and honestly so true bestie <3 (ages! like! fine! wine!)

Also love how you can see the full necklace in this one (fun fact: Geoff's wearing a white singlet underneath, but he actually deliberately ripped it open a little bit at the neckline, which is how we end up with this 👀)

Plus this is the closest we've come to Geoff wearing a upturned/popped collar since the Panic Medley!

I Love Drunken Sailor A Normal Amount

Okay so obviously I already had one image from this video already saved to my folder - my profile pic - but nothing otherwise, and man is this video a goldmine. The arms! The hair! The eyeliner!!!

We really were absolutely spoiled when it came to Sleeveless Geoff in 2023 quite honestly

And what better way to end this post than with the god-tier all around stunningness that is Geoff in Hellfire?

I mean come on he literally looks like a goddamn painting!

So that's all for now! I might at some point do a part 4 or something dedicated to Minis and/or Shorts, but I do have a couple of other post ideas in mind for later down the line, so we shall see!

[l0sercat]

can you please do nsfw alphabet with ghostface? <3

NSFW alphabet with Ghostface/Danny J.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

No after care. Maybe he clean up the cuts but that's it.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves your chest and thighs. They're just so squishy<3

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Loves to cum on your chest, face, in your mouth, anywhere. It doesn't matter as long as it's on/in you

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He once watched you masturbate and recorded it while he was also jerking off

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He has plenty of experience and he for sure knows what he is doing

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Doggy style or legs over shoulders.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Definitely a bit goofy but can be serious

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He is trimmed and it's kept decent.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He jerks off, not a lot but still. He'll come to you if he needs to relieve stress or get rid of his boner

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Blood play, bondage, BDSM, knife play. Honestly anything where your tied up, submissive and weak. He loves giving you cuts and marking you as his. He even carved his name on you<3

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Anywhere. But if I had to choose I'd say the woods because he gets off the thrill of anyone seeing you guys.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing you in revealing outfits, you crying, just bending over for something or you on your knees begging

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Piss kink, scat kink, incest roleplay. He's into some kinky shit but that just gross

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Prefers to receive. He just loves to see your lips wrapped around his cock.

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He's fast and rough. He is never slow and sensual

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He doesn't mind quickies at all. In fact most of the time y'all have them. Especially if your in a trial.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He's down to take risks. Hell he'll even bend you over a window and take you there while your teammates are close by

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He can last 6-7 rounds

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He owns one and will use it on you

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves to tease. It's just so fun to see you squirm and whine

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He groans and moans a lot. He is very loud and not shy

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He has a very high sex drive

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Almost 7inches long and 3 inches thick

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He has a collection of videos of you being fucked or you masturbating. He labeled them all. His bedroom walls are covered by your pictures (mostly graphic but some aren't)

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn't fall asleep very quickly it takes a while

[aveegrex]

FIRST DATE HEADCANNONS

the first part took off so good I decided to feed the rest of y'all who simp for other characters

genre: fluff absolutely, a little nsfw in geto's part but just vague mentions of unspecified sexual activity characters: Sukuna, Todo, Geto, Inumaki, Noritoshi Kamo, Mahito pairing: jjk bois x gn!reader word count: 1,3k cw: oh I guess none, maybe just mentions of medical stuff for Mahito's but nothig specific. I guess I should warn you about horny Geto but like ???, also one mention of andrew tate so brace yourselves

author's note: I tried to do Suguru justice since he's hot but he's also extremely annoying in my opinion so please forgive me if that shows

Sukuna:

big scary curse with big scary thoughts, okay

let’s put it aside for a second and concentrate on his nature

at his core, Sukuna is a man who’s driven not by rationale, but his impulses and urges. Emotions, if you will. 

So I think he prefers bonding through those as well, and not so much through words. He doesn’t need a conversation to make an impression, and he doesn’t need to hear you talking to understand you. He needs to feel you. 

We also have to remember that he loves it when emotions are raw and bare. Battles, orgies, massacres, dances - they show the true sides of people. 

He loves darker settings and would probably be craving something that reminds him of a feast or bacchanalia 

Soooo… Techno rave as a first date? Yes?

Yes.

Bass boosted beats vibrating through your body, sweat and alcohol in the air leaving your mind hazy - oh yes, that’s his vibe. 

He’d love to move to the beat with you, hands roaming each other’s bodies, getting to know each other so close so soon. 

Don’t be shy, he loves seeing you move so freely to the sound of music

Overall a really unexpected yet very intimate first date experience.

Not for the weak of heart, but definitely worth a shot. 

Todo:

Big boi is all about extremes. He’s a passionate loud man, and would definitely try to make your first date fun, loud and energetic

More so, he’s a j-pop stan fella, a music fan

But we have to remember that he’s also a very intelligent guy and would probably want to have a conversation with you

Honestly, I’m thinking a festival with lots of music and dancing activities

And obviously a fireworks in the end

It’s fun and loud, it also leaves room for a chat, and it’s so bright and warm

Also, with all those little games he’d definitely try to win you the biggest plushie possible, pouting if he doesn’t succeed on the first try

Just tell him you believe in him and he’ll bring you that giant teddy with the widest grin possible

If you get tired of all the noise and fuss around, don’t hesitate to tell him that

And don’t be shy to find yourself in a quieter part of park later, making out with that hunk for dear life

Honestly, the date with Todo might be a little exhausting, but it’s a very sweet kind of exhaustion and he will certainly leave you satisfied

Mahito:

to get it out of the way, I find Mahito attractive and a little creepy at the same time, so no hate here to Mahito-lovers, I’ve got you

He’s a very curious man, a little too much sometimes

We know he’s interested in spirituality, things like philosophy and religion

And we also know he’s a little creep who likes seeing dissected and disformed bodies.

But given how he is self-aware and doesn’t want to scare you away, he’d probably try to dial it all down to something conventionally acceptable and just as amusing

So

Here we go

Gird your loins

A museum date. A mummy exhibition. An exhibition of ancient medical practices. A medical theater type of exhibition. 

That’s his jam, and it’s honestly rather interesting. 

He already knows some things about past medical practices, and would gladly tell you how ancient physicians thought that the gateway to the soul is through the nostrils, and how in Medieval times they thought that bleeding helps with inner demons. 

Can’t blame a boy with hyperfixation. 

So not only do you get a rather fascinating pastime, you also are to be provided with a personal guided tour. 

If he rambles too much, and the topic drifts to something not everyone’s gut is ready for, just take his hand in yours and lean into him

He’d immediately skip to something much more pleasant and will drag you to a different part of the museum so you could show him some of your favorites.

Also he’s the one to buy you a coffee to go after and walk you through the park, reminiscing on what you should do next time. 

A little weird, but adorably so, and certainly worth it.

Inumaki:

Ohhhhh we’re finally getting to the date that actively includes food

If he asks you on a date you just have to know that talking part will be rather limited

But I think Toge didn’t choose onigiri ingredients to be his language for nothing. The boy is definitely a foodie. 

So instead of just sitting down in a restaurant, he’d ask you to a culinary class!

Don’t worry, it’s a beginners’ course and the dishes are rather simple, the class being targeted more towards learning to cook for yourself. 

And couples are welcome to work in pairs!!

So, how does spending a couple of hours side by side with this boy sound? 

You two would definitely be the teacher’s favorites, since you don’t get distracted by chatter and are very concentrated on bonding through completing the tasks and steps together. 

If you’re not good at cooking yourself, it’s no big deal - he’s not a chef himself and would probably mime something cute and funny your way to make you feel better. 

After the class you two get to eat your creation and he’s sitting very close, refusing to take his own utensils, opening his mouth with puppy eyes instead. 

Feed the baby. Feed him. He’s done a good job making that sauce. 

A couple of days later he shows up to you unexpectedly with a little bento box. You’ll find an upgraded version of the same dish inside. 

Kiss him good after, he tried his best and was dead set on conveying his intentions through his silent yet endearing love language. 

Tuna that mayo, love. 

Noritoshi:

oh okay this one is way harder since I don’t know much about him, but let's try

a traditional guy gone rogue? 

I see that translating well into a traditional date with a fresh approach. 

Like movies, but it’s an open air cinema, or it’s a restaurant date, but the two of you are actually just tasting different street foods from the trucks around the park. 

He’s not very creative when it comes to date ideas, so he’ll put his soul into making the best conversation and guaranteeing you feel relaxed, safe and happy the whole time. 

So eventually it turns to improvisation with the two roaming the streets and just diving into stores, following some interesting alleys and chatting your hearts away. 

He’ll take your hand and leave a sweet chaste peck on it when you’re distracted by some toys on display. 

He’ll also be dying of happiness inside if he notices you shivering. Don’t get it wrong!! He’s just on cloud nine since now he has an excuse to offer you his warm jacket and see you in his clothes. 

Please take it, he might die of cold of course, but he’ll die a happy fulfilled man. 

Kamo might get a little anxious about walking you home though, just because he doesn’t want to seem intrusive.

So he’ll call you an uber premium, kiss you softly before you drive off (ugh you know those cinematic through-the-car-window kisses)

And will text you later, asking if you’ve gotten home safely. 

I dunno I just feel like he’s not that much of an asshole and is just trying to manifest a gloomy persona being a softie inside. 

Geto:

ermmmmmm

you fuck

sorry not sorry, the first date with this edgelord was initially supposed to be a one night stand

he just got a little invested with you and now he can’t think of anything else besides asking you on a proper date

ends up just too horny and desperate, succumbing to his monkey desires

yeah you fuck again

it’s absolutely the friends with benefits turned romantic partners situation

idk what else to say like at least he’s incredible in bed you do you bubs

do him from time to time though he’ll get out of this andrew tate phase and turn into a good boyfriend

MDNI, reblogs are welcome, you're free to use these ideas in your personal life although the success is not guaranteed lol

© 2022 AVEEGREX, all rights reserved. reposting and copying my works without my consent is forbidden.

[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Book 4 - Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter Forty-Seven

Description: The Catalysts take action!

Tagging: @endlesshero1122 @whatmcsaid @mysteli @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @feartheendlesssummer @tigerbryn11

Chapter 47: Breakout

Jake

We're fed at some point, a couple hours after we've been caged up. Three covered plastic trays are slid through a space under the door about three inches off the ground, followed by three plastic water bottles that roll lazily toward us before curving right or left and coming to rest against the cage wire. For a moment, we don't move, exchanging wary glances. Finally, I sigh and stand up, marching over to claim one of the trays and bottles.

“Come on, y'all,” I mutter. “No one's getting helped by us starving ourselves.”

Sean and Michelle slowly follow my lead. I take my tray back to my corner and pull off the lid to find a thin hamburger patty, a spoonful of mashed potatoes that look like they've been browned under a heat lamp, and about a half cup of dull green wrinkled peas and faded orange carrot cubes.

“Prison food,” I mutter. “Brings back memories.”

“...Doesn't seem very substantial,” Sean says uncertainly.

“I'm guessing they're more concerned with keeping us alive than healthy,” Michelle sighs. “Eat, Sean.”

“I am...”

“No, you're not. Don't play innocent. You're planning to pick at your food until I finish, and then you're going to claim you're not hungry and offer me the rest.”

I can't help but snicker at the way Sean jumps guiltily, flushing as he mumbles some excuse. Michelle purses her lips fixing him with a stern glare.

“Don't make me tell you again, Sean Gayle.”

I snort. “Better listen to your wife, Cap.” I feel my wry smile flatten as I break off a piece of my hamburger patty with my fingers. “...She's absolutely right. They're not worried about keeping us healthy, so we can't afford to turn away food or water. Not until one of us gets bad enough to need extra  food.”

Sean doesn't directly respond, but he does eat. Michelle meets my eyes briefly, but I look away quickly, focusing on the tasteless sustenance on the tray. Still, I can feel her gaze on me.

“...No one's going to get that bad, Jake. I'm not letting that happen. We're going to get out before it gets to that point.”

“Damn straight,” I mutter. “Alodia needs me.” I stuff hamburger patty into my mouth to avoid further conversation. And because I need to eat.

We all clean our own trays. After about a half hour of silence, we start to drift closer to each other. Close enough that we can start to talk quietly among ourselves. Hopefully quiet enough that the goons guarding us don't hear.

“So...what exactly is the plan here?” Sean whispers. “We need a way to get out of this cage, past the guards, out of whatever kind of compound we're in...and then a way to get home. And to get home we need to figure out where we are to begin with.”

“I can take care of the first part,” Michelle murmurs. “I have a hairpin, and Grace gave me a few lock-picking lessons a few years ago.”

Sean raises an eyebrow. “She did? Why?”

“I was stressing out over exams, and learning how to pick locks gave my brain a break, okay? Can we focus?”

“I get that much,” Sean protests, still whispering. “But why lock-picking and not...sudoku? Or knitting?”

“If I had learned knitting, I wouldn't know how to get us out of here, would I?”

“We'll need some kind of diversion to keep the guards from st—” I cut myself off as I register the sound of footsteps approaching. Heavy footfalls, and as they get closer, there is an accompanying reek of cigar smoke. Lundgren, with more armored goons behind him. He unlocks the door. For a moment, I'm tempted to shout, “Run!” and have us all rush out, but that wouldn't end up well for us, so I bite my tongue. But I'm regretting it a moment later when Lundgren drags me to my feet with a hand around my throat and my friends are pushed back against the cage walls by the others. I grip the meaty wrist under my chin, trying to get under the thick fingers crushing my windpipe. He brings his face in close. Close enough that the cherry-red tip of his cigar comes uncomfortably close to my skin.

“Time for you to come with me, Wolf,” he hisses, “We got a few things to discuss.”

Aleister

“...You're sure about this information?” Police Chief Agatha Greer asks, frowning at the printed-out pages I have placed on her desk.

“Absolutely. My sister is already en route to the American embassy in the Dominican Republic with our head of security.”

“That isn't necessary. We can forward this information to the embassy.”

“And I encourage you to do so. But it would be wise to encourage them to wait for my sister and Ms. Namazi's arrival to contact the Coast Guard.”

“...Why?”

“So that Estela and Zahra can accompany them, naturally.” I can see from the set of the police chief's mouth that she is unconvinced. “I realize you may have qualms about sending civilians into a potentially dangerous hostage situation, but those women have likely faced the very criminals who are likely keeping our friends captive right now, and they are more than capable. Besides that, no one is getting on that island without Zahra Namazi.”

“...You do realize, Mr. Rourke, that with this information, a warrant to search your family's island could be obtained with relative ease?”

“Of course. This is not defiance, Chief Greer. As I said, those are our friends we believe are being held on that island. We want them back out of harm's way. But our security system was designed to protect a relatively unguarded island from intrusion by anyone who might mean harm to the property we keep there, or to the island's delicate ecosystem. Tripping the system will set off...traps. Noxious stimuli. Sound waves. Non-lethal, but designed to incapacitate the intruder until someone arrives to turn them off. ...They would not distinguish between the kidnappers and the rescuers. And if the alarms are tripped, it is possible our friends would also be affected.”

“And the alarms can't be deactivated remotely?”

“They are not designed to be, no.”

She looks at me for a long moment. I wonder if she is thinking of asking me why not. Why our security systems would be designed so that the local Coast Guard would not even be able to set foot on the island to investigate an intrusion. I wonder if it has occurred to her to wonder what we are protecting. Instead she says, “...Then, it is highly unlikely that these security...blips...are a distraction.”

“Indeed. It is also highly unlikely that they were achieved by someone without intimate knowledge of Rourke International's systems.”

“...A disgruntled employee perhaps?”

“Given their targets, I do not believe so. There is a long list of targets I would expect a disgruntled employee to go after before these particular people. Myself. My sister. My wife, my son, my sister's girlfriend. My father-in-law. Or my mother-in-law. My sister's maternal uncle.” I deliberately leave Estela's mother off the list. As far as most of our employees know, both of our mothers are long buried. It would be difficult to explain to an outsider that my mother is an AI and hers was recently reincarnated. “Those who have gone missing are very dear friends. But there would be no reason for our average employee to assume that they are so much closer to us than our partners and blood-relatives.”

But clearly the police chief is not behind on the gossip. “...I was not considering that they were disgruntled employees of yours. Or at least...not that they had been hired under you. Everett Rourke Senior had a particular obsession with the young woman who went missing from California, didn't he?”

I nod slowly. “...Yes,” I admit. “He did. ...Are you suggesting that someone employed under my father might be the one orchestrating this? As some sort of...what, a tribute to my father?”

“You don't sound particularly surprised by the suggestion.”

I shrug. “The possibility occurred to me, too. But...it isn't as if I could immediately point to a suspect. Or a motive.”

“...If it comes to it, would you cooperate in allowing us to question your employees?”

“We are an international corporation, Chief. ...I imagine you are not interested in wasting time in this investigation, and would only be questioning employees that you have a solid reason to suspect.” I hesitate a moment, but I feel compelled to set my jaw and look her in the eye. “...If any current employee has had a hand in the disappearance of my friends, I want them out of our employ. If you can trace their disappearance back to someone in our company, I would gladly put the cuffs on them myself.”

“I doubt that will be required of you, Mr. Rourke. But I'll do my part to see that this whole situation has a happy ending.”

Jake

A backhand across my face makes my teeth rattle and leaves me smarting. I hold in a cry, gripping the arms of the chair I'm tied to, and keep my eyes screwed shut until my ears stop ringing.

“Thought we were gonna talk, Lundgren,” I growl when I trust myself to speak again. “So far, I ain't hearing anything outta your shit mouth.”

“Talking ain't much fun,” he replies, shrugging. “And I ain't got much to say.”

“Then you mind I do the talking?”

“You got something to say?”

I raise my head, feeling the contempt seeping from my eyes and my voice when I say, “I was wondering if there was word on my wife. Any idea when she's getting here?”

Lundgren leans over, bracing his hands on his thighs. “Let's say I know. Let's say I know exactly when she's coming. Why do you think I'd tell you?”

I try not to let my shoulders slump. “...Can't blame a guy for trying.”

“Who says I can't?” Another hard backhand gets my ears ringing again. I can't hold back a grunt, especially when the next blow comes before the last one's stopped smarting. And then there's a third, and a forth. When a weak yelp finally slips out, I get a moment's reprieve, and I get my tongue back under control.

“...Won't ask why you're doing this. Gotta say, it's funny you never try to defend what you did.”

“Yeah? You find that funny?”

I don't dare try looking at him. My eyes ain't focusing right, and I don't want to look at him anyway.

“They say every man's the hero in his own story. Even Rourke tries to pretend he's benevolent. Or at least that he deserves power because he's smarter than everyone else or more ambitious or whatever.” Now I do raise my head just a little. “But you...you don't pretend it was ever about anything other than stepping on anyone smaller than you. I guess that's kinda like thinking you deserve power if you can get your hands around it, but you ain't never tried to pretend that's a virtue.”

“So you admire honest dishonesty?”

I force my eyes to focus so I can glare at him properly. “Didn't say I admired it. Only thing worse than a bully is one who knows he's doing wrong but does it anyway.”

Lundgren crosses his arms, looking down at me with contempt. “I ain't never claimed to be a complicated man, Wolf. I ain't looking to convince you that you should've sided with me. I can tell ya till I'm blue in the face it would've been better for your health, but you probably realize that. Men like you and Darwin are too damn hung up on your principles to see sense when it's staring you in the face.” He reaches out to grab a fistful of my hair and drag my head back. I gasp as the sudden motion sends a sharp pain lancing through my neck. “...This, Wolf...it's just about getting what I want outta you. I just want to see you suffer.”

“I thought as much. But thanks for clearing that up.” He lets go of my hair and circles behind the chair. I can't turn my head enough to see where he's gone, but I hear the rattle of small metal objects behind me. In spite of myself, I feel my pulse quicken. When I speak, my breath catches a little. “Let me guess what you got there: thumbscrews, hot pokers, and pliers for teeth and toenails?”

Lundgren chuckles. “Loving the bravado, Wolf. Maybe you can help me decide where to start.” He circles around to face me again. He's got a police truncheon in his right hand now, and he taps it menacingly against his left palm. “Wanna start light, ya know? Build it up.”

“Sure, I get it. It's like sex, right? Don't wanna blow your load too quick or you're left frustrated.”

He hums noncommittally, trailing meaty fingertips over my neck and shoulders, pinching here or there or grasping my chin and turning my face toward him only to let go again a moment later. I feel like a dog in a kennel show. At first, I don't even realize what it was that made him pause at the same time as I startled in my chair. Then the scream registers, echoing from somewhere else in the compound; a protracted howl of agony that makes my blood run cold. I know that voice.

“...Mike...”

Lundgren steps back, smirking. “Your armor's cracking, Wolf.”

I look up sharply, tugging at my restraints. “What have you done? What have you done to him?!”

“Think I'd better go look in on that,” Lundgren remarks absently. “I'll be back when I feel like it.”

“Wait!” I scream desperately as he strides out the door. “Where is Mike?! What have you done to Mike?! Lundgren!”

The clanging of the metal door as it shuts securely behind him cuts goes through me like an explosion, and then there is an unbearable silence.

Zahra

I've been working for five years on strengthening security around the island to keep the Vaanti safe without the protection of the time bubble or the crystals. It doesn't take much to send an encrypted message to Seraxa, warning her that there will be outsiders poking around the island and that Elyys'tel needs to lock down. The data collected from the security breaches suggests that the kidnappers landed somewhere on the southern tip of the island, so not close to any major Vaanti settlements. But it only takes one sighting to put their whole damn race in danger. Unfortunately, getting the Coast Guard to cooperate with me and Estela is predictably frustrating.

“Lieutenant Torres,” Estela says, her voice low and icy as she struggles to keep her temper in check. “Zahra and I know that island. None of your team have ever set foot there.”

“That is not enough to justify bringing two civilians into a potentially hostile situation,” the Lieutenant replies. “Besides, La Huerta's tiny.”

“It's got an area of about forty square miles,” I retort. “And there are at least half a dozen places they could be holding our friends within a ten mile radius of the point of breach. Half a dozen abandoned compounds, volcano shelters, or labs nestled in a dense jungle.”

“It's been almost two days since our friends went missing,” Estela adds. “There's not going to be much time to waste. If you let us guide you, everything will go faster.”

“You could give us a map.”

“We don't have maps of the island!” I snap. “We've never needed them! And don't talk about us giving you directions, because neither of us trust you not to get lost. We'll stay outside while you storm the compounds, but we're not staying on this ship.”  

Torres looks at me like I'm a piece of gum stuck on the bottom of his shoe. Or a gnat buzzing in his ear.

“You're not going to help your friends by fighting me on this.”

“Actually, we are. Because you letting us help you is the only way our friends get helped.”

Torres sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. “...I am going to regret this.”

“No,” Estela says flatly. “You will not. Not if you're smart.”

“If I were smart, I wouldn't be letting a couple of civilians talk me into bringing them along on a rescue mission.”

“You would if you those civilians were your best chance of a successful mission.”

“Yeah, well, we'll see I guess,” Torres grumbles. “Forgive me if I'm not all that confident.”

“You're forgiven. You've never met us.”

Torres rolls his eyes and me and gets up to stalk up onto the main deck, leaving me and Estela in silence. Estela sighs, coming to sit beside me, gazing over my shoulder at the screen of the laptop balanced on my thighs.

“Any luck figuring out who sent that email?”

I shake my head. “Figuring out who sent it is a puzzle for another time. Right now, I'm more concerned with reading up on Project Galatea.”

“So what have you figured out?”

“Looks like Project Galatea was some kind of AI that Cassandra Chandler was working on. Or...Cassandra Sullivan at the time. And if I'm understanding what I'm reading correctly...the project data was stolen. And probably sold to Rourke.”

“Hnn,” Estela sneers. “And I expect he used it to create Iris. So he wasn't the entirely self-made man he claimed to be. Aleister will love this.”

“Yeah...I think he probably got a lot of Iris from Project Galatea. But Iris probably wasn't his first attempt. The message said that to find Cassandra's child, we have to consult her first baby. I think there may be a version of Galatea around somewhere. Probably somewhere on the island.”

“Let's hope it is. We don't really have time for a wild goose chase. Actually...let's just hope everyone we're missing is on the island. Then we don't have to worry about tracking down Galatea.”

“That would definitely be the best case scenario,” I agree. “Worst case scenario is that this actually is a wild goose chase. That one of Rourke's pets sent this along as a distraction. Hell, Project Galatea might even be fabricated.”

“Then for now, we focus on the island. We focus on finding our friends.”

Sean

“...I don't think we can wait any longer.”

Michelle looks at me. Her expression is grim and determined, but there's fear in her eyes. “Sean...we can't be rash if we want to survive this.”

“We can't just sit around indefinitely, either!” I whisper. “We can't be sure Lundgren intends to bring Jake back at all. At this point, we don't even know if Mike is alive!”

“And if we're both killed right here? Who's going to help Jake and Mike then?” She crosses her arms, sighing down at the floor. “...I don't...disagree with you, Sean. But we still need a plan.”

I draw her into my arms, bending slightly so that I can whisper in her ear. “Okay. You're right. So. There's two of us...and currently, there's two of them. So what do we do?”

“We have to take them out somehow. And arm ourselves so that we can deal with anyone else who comes around.”

I let my gaze slide over toward the guards and find my eyes drawn to their belts. Batman-style utility belts. ...Murder-y Batman. They've got sidearms, taser guns...and...several canisters with bright red spray buttons.

“...Hey, Michelle,” I murmur. “...What do you suppose is in those canisters?”

“Not sure. Pepper spray, maybe?”

“...Think we could use it?”

“I think we should try to use anything we have at our disposal. Including pepper spray.”

“Well. Then let's put our heads together.”

Jake

I don't know how long Lundgren spends beating on me. He probably wasn't kidding about starting light and working up. He spends most of the time he's in with me working around my head and face, but he does get me in the gut a few times, and at one point he kicks the chair over to have at anything he can reach with a belt like he's a drunk lowlife dad waling on his kid. ...Like he's goddamn Marcus Gayle... I can't help thinking it as I lie on a rough concrete floor with a chair still strapped to my back, gritting my teeth against the fiery sting of synthetic leather against my flesh. Weird what you think about when you're trying not to think about the pain. When it hurts just enough that you might still have some ability to distract yourself. That's not going to last. I know that. In a few days, I won't be able to think about anything but the pain. I'll be screaming. ...Like Mike...Where is Mike? Oh, god, where is Alodia? What are they doing to her? What are they going to do to our daughter?

...I shouldn't have left her. I knew I shouldn't have. I knew it before I got on the fucking plane that I should have stayed with her. If I had listened to my goddamn gut instead of rationalizing until I convinced myself everything would be fine . . .

I don't know what makes Lundgren leave off me when he does, but I don't question it. I don't say a fucking word. I keep my teeth clenched and try not to groan. I feel a whimper sticking in my throat, trying to claw its way up, but I swallow against it like it's a giant horse pill I'm choking on. I'll end up giving him the satisfaction if I'm here much longer. I know that. But I'm holding out against that inevitability as long as I can. He doesn't say anything. Just leaves the room and slams the door locked behind him, leaving me in a windowless room with a single, dim bulb fixed to the ceiling as my only source of light.

I let it out. I let out what I've been holding back. Not all of it, and not all at once, but I start to let the air out of that balloon in little moans and whimpers and quiet, shuddering sobs. Crying for myself, for my brother, for my wife, for Sean and Michelle and the fucked up direction their honeymoon has taken, for Diego...wherever he is. God, I hope he's with Alodia. Please, just wherever those two are, please let them be together...

My tears aren't dried yet, but somewhere in my brain, it's clicked that I'm secured with ropes, not chains. Braided, nylon ropes. I can work my way out of ropes. It won't be easy. I'm secured with my forearms pressed to the arms of the chair, palms down. I'll have to get my arms turned if I want my fingers to have a chance of reaching the knots. It's gonna take effort. It's gonna take time. It's damn sure gonna hurt. But it's all I can do right now.

It's for Alodia. Every effort I make here, it's all for her. I grit my teeth and curl my hands into fists. The muscles of my forearms constrict against their restraints. I hold it as long as I can stand before releasing and trying again. Gotta wear the rope down. Like water smoothing down a stone. Like filling a bucket drop by drop. Another fist. Another drop in the bucket.

Hang on, Alodia. I'm coming.

Estela

A small unit of Coast Guard sailors under Torres' command disembark with us on the island, once Zahra has disarmed the security system to let us through. I don't know what precisely their titles are, but apparently they have the authority to help our friends and take their kidnappers into custody, so I really don't care. We draw up on the beach in a lifeboat, and I find a place where the small vessel can be secured against the rising tide. There is still more than a hint of distaste in the way Torres looks at me and Zahra. I can't say I entirely blame him. I am not arrogant enough not to realize that he has a perfectly good reason to believe two civilians would be a liability on this rescue mission. And now we've gone and forced his hand. But to his credit, he isn't being petty about it.

“So how do you think we should go about this?” he asks without making it painfully obvious he is trying not to sigh.

“I suggest we start by letting Iris sweep for anything unusual,” Zahra replies.

“Iris?” Torres repeats, Zahra pulls the drone out of her backpack, holding it up to show him.

“AI drone. A project of Rourke Senior's, but she's been reprogrammed to work for us now. She's linked up to our security satellites, and has a few sweet sensors and tracers of her own built in. She might not get us exact facial matches or anything, but she can give us a clue where to start, and she'll let us know when we're getting warm.”

Zahra clicks the drone on and opens her hand to release Iris, who hovers in the air for a moment before her hologram flickers into view. The sailors raise eyebrows and exchange glances, clearly interested in this piece of tech and curious to see where this is going. With Imogen Rourke's consciousness in control of her program, Iris is more human now than when we first met her, but that also means she's human enough to know when she needs to downplay her humanity. She keeps her expression and movements particularly artificial as she blinks down at Zahra.

“Hello, Zahra,” she chirps. “How can I help?” Of course, she already knows what Zahra needs. We discussed everything at length on the flight to the Dominican Republic.

“Iris, I need an approximate visual scan of the island at present. Can you do that for me?”

“Enabling all scanners...all scanners enabled...opening to all frequencies...connecting to satellite  security system...connection successful. Converting all data to visual...conversion successful. Connecting to Zahra's phone...”

Zahra's phone chimes from her pocket. She pulls it out and grins triumphantly, turning the screen to show off the image. Torres leans in for a closer look, frowning skeptically at the image on the screen.

“Is that a satellite map? We have access to satellite maps.”

“Not like what Iris has access to. This isn't just satellite imagery.” She turns the phone back to look at the image herself as she taps and glides her fingertips over the screen. “It's all the data Iris can gather, converted into visual data that I can interpret, and it's all recent enough to be relevant. It even shows hot spots, like...” she trails off abruptly, frowning at the screen. I feel my heart flutter with anxiety.

“What is it? What did you find?”

“...I'm pretty sure it's a plane.” She looks up at Torres. “Definitely not an authorized flight. Jake McKenzie and Mike Darwin are the only pilots with clearance to land on the island, and they'd normally land on the northwest strip near where the resort used to be. But there is another strip a couple miles from here—and it's not far from one of the old bunkers.”

Torres frowns a moment. Then he nods. “Okay. I guess we know where to start looking. ...Lead the way, ladies.”

Jake

It's not long before the spots where the ropes make contact with my right arm start to burn. I grit my teeth and keep going. No surprise, it gets worse, progressing to a line of hornet stings that makes me suck in my breath every time I move. I'm starting to see blood on the ropes by the time I finally succeed in turning my arm over, and the pain is making my throat feel like it's slowly closing, but I can bend my fingers toward the knots at my wrists now, and that's enough of a start. I've been here for hours, at least. I'm thirsty enough to know that. God, there's probably a lot I'd do for a drink of water right now.

Every muscle in my body tenses as the sound of the door's locking mechanism unlatching reverberates through the room. My heart hammers against my ribcage, my blood singing in my ears, my fingers starting to sweat and slip in their frantic and futile attempt to get one of the knots undone before the door opens. For an instant, light floods over my face, stinging my eyes. But then Lundgren's shadow blocks it out and the door closes again, shutting us up in the shadows with the acrid smell of cigar smoke. He crouches down next to me, balancing on the balls of his wide feet as he takes the cigar from between his teeth and breathes the smoke into my face. He hooks a meaty forefinger under the braided band of nylon around my forearm.

“Been busy, Wolf?” he sneers. He taps his cigar and a smoldering ash falls onto my cheek. I flinch. I can't help it. “Yeah, figured you would try something like this. You're a determined idiot that way.”

He clamps his cigar between his teeth again and pulls a switchblade out of his boot. There's a small click as he flicks it open, the light from the single bulb swinging slightly above my head winking off the blade's edge. He rests the blade on my cheek.

“You could use a shave.”

“My wife likes the fuzzy look,” I retort. I feel the blade's point trail down my neck, over my shoulder and down my arm. It doesn't really register that he's cut through the bonds around my forearm until he's slicing through the ones around my wrist. My first instinct is to go for the ropes on the other arm and tug them off. But his first move is to grab my raw, bleeding wrist and squeeze. I hear myself make a strangled noise as the pain wedges my breath in my throat and makes my eyes water. I can feel him staring at me as he holds on for a few seconds, but I can't look him in the eye. He lets me go, and in the next moment, he's dragged the chair upright again with me still in it. The violent, disorienting motion turns my stomach and sets my head whipping back and forth on my neck. I've hardly stilled before Lundgren grabs my hair and drags my head back. He leans close, breathing cigar smoke into my face.

“I'm ready to hurt ya a little more, Wolf. But I'm gonna be sporting this time. Give ya a fighting chance.”

I feel his knife wedging under the nylon cords on my left arm and cutting me loose. He's got me by the throat before I can fully register that both my hands are free. They fly to his wrists now, fighting to keep the heel of his hand off my windpipe as he drags me bodily upright.  

“You're weak, Wolf. Always were. Scrawny, shaggy dog. You got soft on the run. Civilian life has made you softer. Maybe you should thank me for the fact that I'm gonna kill you before your brat kid can make you saggy and turn your hair gray.”

“F-fuck you...”

The room blurs abruptly behind him. Pain flares in my neck, and then in my shoulder and the side of my head when it connects with the hard concrete wall. I can't hold back a cry. Lundgren laughs.

“That's right! Yelp, Wolf! Yelp for...”

I look up as he trails off. He's scowling, but not at me. His gaze has turned toward the door. When the ringing in my ears settles, I realize what's got his attention. Just beyond the door, there's the sound of shouting and running footsteps. His fingers around my throat loosen just slightly. I wonder for an instant if there's any chance of me getting a good kick to his balls in, but before I can take aim, the door slams against the room's interior wall. I feel a grin split my face.

Sean and Michelle, both armed with rifles, stand in the doorway, their weapons aimed at Lundgren.

“Drop. Him.”

[joonbug22]

Midspring Night’s Dream (Enemies to Lovers!J Hope AU)

Pairing: Plus Sized Female Reader x J Hope

Word Count: 4,508

Genre: Angst a tiny bit of smut

Warning(s): mature language, fat shaming, smut in the second part

A/N: after a year of attempting to write this, I’ve finally gotten something post worthy. it’s longer than I’ve anticipated so I will break it into 2 parts. enjoy! btw this was written for my sister @carissalovespandas and written in her image.

Part: 1 / 2

“Did you really think you could pull that off at your size?”

You could still hear Hoseok’s voice ringing in your ears as you laid out on your bed, sobbing. It wasn’t uncommon for him to say little sideways comments like that when you hung out with the boys. You usually shrugged them off or fired one right back at him, but today you just couldn’t handle it.

Today was a beach day, a late celebration of Yoongi’s birthday after a cold winter and too much time spent working for all of you. So you all decided to pile up in the van and head off towards the coast for what was supposed to be a fun-filled day. When Seokjin pulled up to your street to pick you up you were a grinning mess, beach bag in hand, excited to spend some time with your boys. It had been a while since you’ve all been together and you couldn’t wait to start the day, having barely gotten any sleep the night before. From the curb, you could count out six of the seven men waving at you excitedly, waiting for you to hop inside the vehicle. The last wore a scowl on his face, his smile having disappeared as soon as you made eye contact. Still, you chose to remain happy, wanting to make the best of the day as you climbed into the very last row in the car. You found yourself in the back seat between a giggly Jimin and a sleepy Jungkook.

“Happy Birthday Yoongs!” you beamed from the back of the van. You could see the birthday boy’s gummy grin from his passenger mirror. Jin had let him sit in the front seat since it was his day. Before Yoongi could even reply a ‘thank you,’ Hoseok had to open his big ass mouth.

“Someone remind me again why she’s here.” he didn't even bother to look back while he spoke, which infuriated you.

“I'm here because I'm the sunshine of the group,” you reached forward and gently smacked the back of his crimson colored head. Jimin covered his mouth with both of his hands, stifling a laugh.

“Watch the hair brat,” he finally turned to face you for the first time in the whole car ride. His face was contorted into some nasty look and you had to admit he looked hot when he was mad. Especially when his anger was aimed towards you, which was basically every time y'all were together. You didn't know whether you wanted to smack the look right off his face or kiss it off, probably both. Okay, you had to admit the slightest crush on Hoseok since you met the boys your freshman year of high school. Jimin was in pretty much all of your classes and the two of you soon became besties. After introducing you to the rest of the group, you were soon adopted into the pack, having been inseparable since graduation. All of the boys knew about your crush on Hoseok except for the man himself. And you honestly never planned on confessing, long as he kept that attitude on him.

It's crazy to think that you could've fallen for such an asshole, but it was really the way that other people talked about him that got you. It was the way he acted when he thought no one was watching that got you. You remember staying late nights at school, just to steal glimpses of him dancing in the school’s studio. The way his body moved was absolutely mind-blowing. He was always so graceful, but strong. It made you wonder if he was even human or some immortal sent to this earth to taunt you with something that you wanted so badly, but couldn’t have. So there you were, stuck on this idiot who seemed to be an angel to everyone besides you. You had to get out of your thoughts. What was he saying?

“There's only one sunshine in this group,” he gave you a slow, agonizing once over as he spoke, “and that spot’s already taken by yours truly.” You could feel yourself becoming self-conscious under his stare and began to pull at your white cover-up, pulling at the thin material in an attempt to hide your cleavage. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d think he was checking you out. You wouldn’t be able to blame him though. You were pretty thick and well endowed. If you were him, you’d be checking yourself out too. Either that, or he was silently judging.

“Honey, if it's that important to you, you can be the sun. There are tons of stars that are much bigger and hotter than the sun.” You scoffed while wrapping your straightened hair into a messy top knot.

“Hotter? I'm not so sure about that one,” he turned back around in his seat, now facing the road. You could still hear him mumble under his breath. “But bigger? Yeah, much bigger.” Definitely silently judging.

You were pretty sure everyone in the car could hear him and it fell silent except for the light buzzing of the broken radio. You had nothing to say back. You were bigger than him, than all of them. As if he could read your thoughts, Jimin grabbed hold of your hand.

“Hey don't listen to him,” your best friend whispered into your ear. You could feel Hoseok staring at you from the corner of his eye, not sincere enough to look at you directly. “He's just upset because we couldn’t go to the beach for his birthday. It was way too cold.” You found yourself going from chuckling to full-on, genuinely laughing. “C’mere,” Jimin pulled you closer, wrapping you into his chest, and you dozed off just like that for the car ride. --- You woke up to a smiling Jimin, shaking you awake.

“C’mon!" He pulled you across the empty back seat. “Everyones at the beach already, let’s go!” he extended the last syllable, the smile on his cheeks reaching his eyes.

“Okay Chim!” you followed him out of the van and onto the pavement. The sun making its home on your skin. The two of your stretched your limbs after being left in the car for God knows how long

“I'll race you to the water,” you arched an eyebrow at your bestie who was currently bent in half, feeling the light burn in his hamstrings.

“You can't even swim. Why-” and before he could even finish his sentence, you were halfway to the ocean, sand flying up behind your feet at you ran. “Hey that's not fair,” the giggling man chased after you, treading sand with ease that he caught up to you right before your toes could touch the salt water.

“What are you doing?” you yelled as two arms wrapped tightly around your waist, hindering you from winning the race. “You're cheating,” you flailed your body wildly.

   “I'm saving you from drowning,” Jimin beamed from behind you, not letting up on his grip. “Plus I'm also saving your hair from getting wet. It looks so pretty like this, and I know it took so long for you to get it like this.” He reached up to squeeze the top knot atop your head.

   “Hey, hands off the hair,” you swatted at his wrist.

   “I swear, sometimes you're just like Hoseok hyung.” you found yourself snapping to face him in utter shock.

   “I can't believe you would even compare me to that mouse.” You smacked your best friend’s abs with the back of your hand.

   “Please, if I'm a mouse, then you're totally a rat.” you hear Hoseok speak up from behind Jimin. He had removed the white t-shirt he dawned earlier as he casually walked towards the water, pushing the sunglasses he wore off of his perfectly sloped nose and onto his head. The small gesture almost had you drooling as the sunglasses pushed back his bangs, revealing his forehead, one of your many weaknesses for the man. You said nothing, eyes following him as he proceeded to enter the ocean. Refractions of the sun bounced off the water and displayed across his toned, tanned back.

“Whatever, I’m going to get some sun,” you feigned being angry and stomped off toward the giant blanket that the rest of the boys had set up before your legs completely turned to jelly.

---

   Maybe after half an hour of reading your favorite poetry book under the shade of the big rainbow umbrella that Taehyung brought, you found a bouncing, wet Jungkook approaching you.

   “What’s up Kook?” you lowered your book into your lap.

   “It’s just…” He looked down at his feet as he spoke. “The guys and I were gonna go deeper into the ocean, and you haven’t gotten into the water all day, and I just wanted to know if you wanted to come play with us.”

   “Well, Jungkook, you know I can’t swim, right? I’d rather not drown today.” You laughed out loud. His gesture was sweet and it was cute that no matter how long you’d known the boys, Jungkook, the youngest,  always got shy talking to you alone.

   “I know- I know you can’t swim,” he finally managed to make eye contact with you. “That’s why I was going to offer you to ride on my back, but that’s only if you want to.”

   “Kookie, I don’t know if you knew this but I’m-”

   “Noona, I’ve been getting really strong.” He interrupted you before you could bring up your weight.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” You only half-believed him. “But I’ve gotten stronger too. I’ve really been focusing on muscle, and we all know muscle weighs more than fat, and I don’t want to be responsible if you hurt your back or can’t swim with us both because I weigh us down and the both of us drown.”

   “Noona,” the boy’s prominent front teeth appeared in a smile. Somehow he found your nervous rambling amusing. “I can carry you. If I can throw Jimin over my shoulder and carry him that way, I most definitely can give you a simple piggy-back ride. Trust me.”

   “Okay bunny boy, let’s do it,” You set your book aside and peeled off your cover-up as well as the jean shorts you wore to reveal a white bikini bathing suit. This was the first you’d worn a two-piece bathing suit in front of the guys. Through getting more fit, you didn't really notice a physical difference, but just having more physical power gave you a new found confidence to wear the item. Well, that and some persuading from your best friend. Jimin had convinced you that Hoseok loved seeing girls in all white, but you wouldn’t admit that was half the reason you wore the revealing suit.

“You're actually going to trust me?” the younger man blinked in disbelief.

   “Well, no,” you gestured for him to turn around and squat down low. “But if I'm going to prove you wrong, I'd rather it be here on dry land than in the water.” You mounted your friend’s back, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. You almost crapped your pants when you were lifted until your toes were no longer on the sandy floor, and you instantly locked your thighs against Jungkook's waist.

   “See, I told you I was strong noona,” the man set off toward the water once you were secure on his back.

   “Holy shit Kookie,” you nearly shouted into his ear. “When did this happen? Like, I knew you worked out, but I never expected this much from you.”

   “Hm…” he thought, “maybe this past winter?” You two finally reached the part of the ocean the rest of your friends were currently in. Your smile hurt your face, hearing them scream your name like excited children.

   “Thank you for finally joining us on the wet side,” Namjoon’s dimples poked through his cheeks as he grinned a closed mouth grin.

   “You're just in time for the most intense chicken fight of the century,” Yoongi announced, arms spread wide as if it were sort of live show in Vegas. “In this corner,” the birthday pointed to his left, “we have the Kim Team.”

   You did your best the applaud at Taehyung boarding Seokjin’s back without slipping off of Jungkook’s. Though he had a solid grip on you, you could never be too safe.

   “And in this corner, I give you the JJ Team!” Yoongi pointed to his right where Hoseok climbed atop Jimin.

   “Wait, why are they called JJ?” you interrupted.

   “Because,” Hoseok’s face displayed pure annoyance, “my dance name is J-Hope.”

   “Ha!” you let out a huge guffaw, “and who named you that? Because you don't seem to give anyone hope, Jung. Maybe you should’ve named yourself ‘J-Horse’ instead because of your horse face.” The rest of the group roared with laughter. It was a long-running joke among your friend group that Hoseok looked like a horse, though you didn't quite see it. You always thought his features more resembled a Roman sculpture, carved from marble. You dreamed of just being able to run your fingertips along the bridge of his nose or brush against his heart-shaped lips.

   “Okay,” the short-tempered man jumped off of Jimin’s back and sauntered towards where Jungkook stood with you on his back. You swallowed hard. “If I’m ‘J-Horse’, then you're Miss Piggy because, well,” he looked you over once more, “you know.” "I-," you couldn't form any more than that. "I-"

"By the way, who told you told you to wear a bikini?" A smirk formed in the corner of his mouth. "Did you really think you could pull that off at your size?"

You could feel your stomach drop and suddenly you didn't want to be there anymore. “Kook please take me back to the shore,” you said under your breath. Without a second thought, Jungkook carried you back, ensuring your safe landing onto the sand. As soon as you were grounded, you found your legs were taking off in a sprint before could think. You only stopped to grab your cover-up and denim shorts, putting them on before racing off of the beach. You could feel seven pairs of eyes glued to your back as you sprinted. You could hear Namjoon calling out to you, but you didn’t dare look back. You ran and ran until your legs nearly gave out, until your lungs stung and you could do no more than bring your hands to your knees to catch your breath. Then, when you were out of earshot and could no longer hear the cars along the road, you finally let yourself cry.

~~~

   “Seok, you really took it too far this time,” Namjoon shook his head, watching your form disappear into the distance.

“What are you talking about?” Hoseok scoffed, making his way out of the ocean and onto the sand.

“Well,” Namjoon followed his friend but stopped himself from speaking the rest of his sentence.

“Hyung,” Taehyung spoke up, following the older boys. “You kinda ruined Yoongi Hyung’s birthday party.”

   “I was just joking with her, same as usual, I don't know why she’s acting so damn sensitive today,” Hoseok’s smile faded when he realized none of his friends were laughing along with him.

   “People can only take so much Hyung, and you're always taking it too far with her,” Jimin clenched his fists as he pushed past Hoseok, nearly knocking him over. “It’s not like you deserve to know or anything the way you treated her just now,” he looked over his shoulder, making eye contact with the scarlet-haired boy. “But that girl is fucking in love with you dude.”

~~~

   You straightened up from your crouched position, wiping the tears from your face when you heard an oncoming car. You could hear the motor slow as it began to align with the pace of your walking. Goosebumps rose on your arms. You refused to make eye contact with whoever was following you for fear it’d give them a reason to talk to you.

   “Need a ride, pretty lady?” you heard a familiar voice shout from the driver’s side, followed by a squeaky laugh.

“Seokjin, thank god it's you.” you sighed in relief. “I thought you were some strange dude ready to lure me in and sell my organs on the black market.” he stopped the van and you opened the front door, gladly accepting the ride.

“Who says I’m not,” he erupted into another fit of squeaks. “How did you manage to get this far without shoes?” You looked down at your white manicured toes, covered in dirt and ash. You hadn’t even noticed you were barefoot.

“Fight or flight I suppose,” you shrugged your shoulders.

~~~

You were awoken from your sleep by the sound of your doorbell. You didn’t realize you’d fallen asleep. Getting up from your messy sheets, you wrapped yourself in your silk robe, cloaking your pajama shorts and camisole. Quickly glancing at your phone, you wondered who could be ringing your doorbell at ten o'clock at night. Seeing the missed calls, you concluded it was probably Jimin. He might've been worried when you didn’t answer his calls after Seokjin took you home.

“Sorry Chim, I-” your face contorted into a nasty scowl when you happened upon the redhead boy in your open doorway. He offered a half smile, teeth chattering as he scratched the back of his head with one hand. “I have absolutely nothing to say to you.” You proceeded to slam the door but noticed that it was being blocked by something. “What the fuck are you doing?” You released Hoseok’s hand from the doorframe.

“Please, hear me out,” he doubled over, gripping his injured fingers.

“Don’t you think you've run your mouth enough for today? Did you come to accuse me of assault too?”

“I’m so, so sorry,” he managed between gritted teeth, obviously still not recovered from the impact. You rolled your eyes, not having ever seeing Hoseok be sincere. Sure you’ve heard stories about how what a good, honest person he is from the boys, but you just couldn’t risk it. What if he was just here to play some prank on you?

“I’m going to get you an icepack and then you’re going to get the hell off my property,” as you turned to leave into the house, you felt him grab your arm. You doubled back, catching sight of where his hand met your skin. Hoseok had never touched you before and you were surprised at how responsive your body was to it, gooseflesh trailing up the entirety of your limb and suddenly you could feel the spring night’s breeze. A shiver road down your spine. How long had he been waiting in the cold? His hand was freezing.

“I don't need it; I can bear the pain. Please just,” he let you loose, sensing a discomfort. “I just want to tell you this, and you can never talk to me again. I promise,” he held out a pinky finger.

“Okay, you have one minute,” you crossed your arms across your chest, avoiding his pinky promise, as well as his gaze.

“Okay…” he took in a shallow breath. “First of all, I want to apologize again, not just for today, but for every day that I’ve spoken to you since the day we met. Not only have I been incredibly rude, but I've not been my true self. You see,” his weight shifted between his feet, not being able to look at you fully. “When I get around you, I just don't want you to see what I’m really like. I’m a coward and such a pushover. I wanted to show you that I can be a real man, someone who isn’t sensitive or gets scared easily, but I’m a terrible liar. I can’t act and every time I tried to act tough it just came out as so…”

“Thirty seconds.”

“So evil," he shivered at his own words, "and that's not me. I'm not evil, at least, that's not how I meant to be to you. I didn't want to be the one hurting you. I just wanted to show that I could be man enough to protect you from anyone, even though I couldn’t even protect you from myself and this turned out horribly wrong.”

“Hoseok,” you finally faced him. You were shocked that you were giving him the time of day and you were even more shocked that you actually believed what was coming out of his mouth.

“And I know it's no excuse for what I do, for what I've done; it’s just that I felt like that was the only way I had the courage to talk to you and-”

“Hoseok,” you repeated, louder the second time. He stopped rambling and his eyes met your own. You could finally see them, welled up with the tears he was holding back. “Why would you be afraid to talk to me or even want to protect me? What you're saying isn't making any sense.” You found yourself whispering once his full attention was on you. Even when he was being vulnerable, he had a way of making you feel small, insignificant.

“Because,” he spoke barely any louder than you were. “I love you.” Although his voice was low and soft, those last three words nearly knocked you over with the power they held.

“Come on,” you gestured for him to come inside the house and close the door behind him.

“Are you going to hit me again?” he obeyed hesitantly, his height shadowing yours in the dim light of the hallway.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” you were offended that he’d think you'd intentionally slam his hand in the door. “I’m getting you an ice pack, now come on.” You sauntered into the kitchen, him at your heels and burning a hole in your back with his eyes. You grabbed an icepack from the freezer, wrapping it in a kitchen towel. “Now,” you spun around, not expecting him to be as close as he was. You could feel your heart skip a beat at his closeness. Clearing your throat, you found your voice again. “Why did you stick your hand in the door?” you held your hand out for his injured one. Once he allowed you to, you gingerly ran the pack along the back of his fingers.

“I needed you to know the truth,” he hissed at the contact.

“So you stuck your hand in a slamming door?”

“The pain in my hand is nothing compared to the pain I’ve caused you," he avoided your eyes again. "I can hold my own ice pack by the way.” he took a step forward to grab it, but you pulled it out of reach.

“Can you let me be nice to you Seok?”

“Sorry,” he held out his hand once more. “I keep forgetting.”

“Forgetting what?”

“That you like me too.”

“Who told you that?” you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, the redness in them being a dead giveaway. Despite being well melanated, for your whole life you’ve turned red when embarrassed.  

“It was Jimin.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” you subconsciously tightened your grip on the man’s hand.

“First of all, ow,” your eyes widened immensely as you mouthed at least ten apologies. “Second of all, don't be mad at him. He was only defending you. If it hadn’t been for my big mouth, I would’ve never found out. Come to think of it,” he tapped the index finger of his free hand against his chin. “The guys have been pretty good at keeping this a secret because if they knew we both liked each other-”

“They knew you liked me and didn’t say anything?” You handed the pack to Hoseok, attempting to leave the house in an outfit that probably wasn’t suited for the cold of the night before Hoseok grabbed you without thinking. His chest pressed to your back while his arms wrapped around your shoulders. You could feel the strength of his heartbeat that way. You just became aware of how nervous he was being close to you as well and your anger slowly subsided.

“Don’t leave again,” he spoke softly by your ear.

“Okay,” you turned around in his grasp and his hands slid down the flat of your back. More chills. You looked into his brown, half-moon shaped eyes, gazed along the bridge of his nose and stopped at the mole on his pouty lips. You loved that mole of his. His lips: pretty, pink, inviting. “Seok,” your voice cracked.

“Hm”

“Can I kiss you?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” his hands drew goosebumps to the curve of your lower back and you took your time gliding your hands up his toned neck to hold his face. To say that you’ve imagined your first kiss with Hoseok a hundred times would be an understatement. None of those scenarios measured up to the real thing. When Hoseok’s lips touched your own, soft as rose petals, an audible moan escaped, but it was too hypnotizing to be embarrassed. Man, was he an amazing kisser, the way his lips matched the fluidity of your own. When he tugged at your bottom lip with his, another moan. When he migrated his tongue into your mouth, another moan because God he tasted so damn good.

“Please,“ you pulled away for a moment. He looked hurt, another pout forming on his lips and you kissed it away. “I want you.”

“Fuck,” his eyes darkened and before you knew it, you were lifted off of the floor and placed onto the kitchen counter. “For the record,” he spoke breathily between marking up the base of your neck with nibbles and kisses. “You looked so fucking sexy in that white bikini. It drove me insane seeing you on Jungkook instead of me.”

“But I only want you, Seok,” you whined in response, wrapping your legs around him to pull him closer.

“Say it again please,” he ground into you through your silk shorts, dancing to the rhythm of your breathing. "Call me 'Seok,' again."

“It’s you, Seok,” you exhaled at the added friction of jeans, against silk, against skin. “It’s always been you.”

“How does your voice sound so raw and I’ve barely touched you?” your only response was desperately grinding on his hardened length through his pants. You nearly cried when he pulled away from you, the only remaining contact being his hands on the meat of your thighs, pinning you to the countertop. You squirmed under his stare, watching his gaze go to where the silk stuck to your center as he dug his thumbs into your soft flesh, leaving red marks. “Want me to make you feel good?” he licked his lips making them shine with saliva. Nodding eagerly, you reached your arms out to him. “Use your words baby.”

“Yes please, please make me feel good Seokie.”

[crimes-and-gelato]

Only Half a Blue Sky (Chapter 7)

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes

A/N: 

[arrives one week late and still hungover]

Hello, lovelies! How are y'all? HAPPY NEW YEAR! OMG! It's 2019! And yes, I am late, as stated. All I can say is that I'm sorry. I wasn't really in a good place, and I kinda drifted off into a different place just to get everything off my mind. Thus, I am going to give a S/O to the manhwa that kept me company while on sabbatical:

Here U Are

!!! It's sexy and fluffy and just perfect yaoi. If you're still here, thank you for waiting. And this is it, the finale. You won't have to do any waiting anymore. So, I guess kudos to that? It was hard writing this last one, I had written and deleted a lot of scenes in the making. But I fervently hope that this is everything you've wanted. As promised it's a happy ending, because canon already hurts. As always, remaining mistakes is all mine. I've only read this ONCE after writing everything. Fun fact: I beta-ed it in Comic San. [gasps] Another thing, this contain a bit of violence, or like mentions of it really. This is long already and I am holding you back from your last chapter. So, once more, thank you for being here through the journey. And I hope you enjoy this last piece of the story.

**

**

‘The problem with most of us,’ he said, ‘is not the lack of love. It’s the inability to understand why anyone in their right mind would want us.’ -S.Z.

**

**

There’s none of that biting cold anymore. But the pain remains, although a little more bearable than it was before. Nonetheless, it is present. And heavens, it’s a chore to even open his eyes, but he managed to.

Tony’s not sure if he’s having some hallucinations, like what he had when he was in Afghanistan, but he likes this dream better than his current reality; even if, this dream is set in a hospital. God, he really hates hospitals, but he’ll take it over the room of torture with Mike.

And would you look at that, this hallucination is already going great by featuring both Pepper and Rhodey. Although Pepper seems to start crying when Tony acknowledged them both.

‘Oh god, Tony,’ Pepper cries.

‘Tones.’ That’s Rhodey, reaching out immediately to stop him from shifting upright on the bed. ‘Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe,’ his best friend whispers, Rhodey’s hand is warm against his bare shoulder. And this is getting so much better by the second with how real the touch feels like. ‘Try not to move so much because that’s bad for your healing ribs.’

‘You’re not allowed to have office leave longer than six days anymore,’ Pepper informs him, sitting down on the bed near Tony’s aching thigh. She takes his IV free hand and breaks into another soft sob. ‘Not if it gives you room to get kidnap. Again.’ She sniffs. ‘I can’t do this anymore, Tony. My heart can’t take it.’

Tony only looks at Pepper with a small smile, quite happy that his imagination can conjure Pepper perfectly. God, he’ll miss Pepper, too.

‘Do you want some water, Tones?’ That’s Rhodey again, he has removed his warm hand on Tony’s shoulder and he misses the contact already. He needs physical contact without it having to hurt. Not like Mike’s touches that promises pain.

He wants to tell Rhodey to come back, to stay. But his mouth is dry, his tongue is heavy. Things are starting to get hazy again,, he suspects it’s all due to the consistent pounding in his head. Jesus, why did the bad guys go for his head when it’s his bread and butter.

‘God, Tony,’ Pepper says. ‘You gave us a scare… I hope you know that you need to compensate for all the stress we all went through because of you.’

His precious Platypus has offered him a cup of water with a straw; he’s only realising now that he’s parched. Mike’s only given him water and bread once a day, which isn’t enough.

‘I can’t believe a simple I’m sorry doesn’t cut it nowadays, Miss Potts,’ he replies. His own voice sounds weak to his ears. His eyes feeling heavy again, but he fights against the pull of unconsciousness. He wants to stay here: in this moment. He doesn’t want to go back to reality where Mike awaits him with new ways to break him down.

‘It doesn’t, when I know how much you’re earning, Mr. Stark,’ Pepper retorts easily, tears slowly drying, and eyes free from more waterbreak.

‘And your billions wouldn’t even cut it either to compensate,’ Rhodey adds. ‘What you need to do is stay out of trouble. That’s how you’ll compensate. Stay out of trouble and be safe, starting now… and for the rest of your life, you idiot.’

Pepper nods in agreement.

‘No promises,’ he says and blinks thrice to thwart the pull of slumber because he wants to stay, and bask in Rhodey and Pepper’s worry and nagging. He doesn’t want to go back to the cold and pain and more torture. He doesn’t want to see Mike, or even the guy’s shadow.

‘Does something hurt?’ Pepper asks, hands hovering over Tony’s body like she’s trying to locate which part is aching.

‘I’ve already called Bruce.’ He hears Rhodey say more than he sees his best friend muttering it.

Tony fights hard against the mental and physical weariness that’s taking him away from his beautiful dream. He lets out a low whine of protest because his own body won’t listen to him when he tries to move himself awake.

‘Shhh…’ It’s Pepper’s calm voice, her soft hand cautiously caresses his bruised cheek.

‘It’s okay, Tony.’ That’s Steve’s voice. Steve is here. In his dream. But he can’t see him because his eyes won’t cooperate to open.

‘Please,’ he begs, facing where Steve’s voice is coming from.

‘You’re safe, sweetheart.’ Is the last thing Tony hears before the darkness takes him again.

**

**

Warm hands on his own is the first thing that welcomes him back into consciousness. It feels amazing. That and also, how he’s no longer hearing that annoying water droplet that has been his constant companion along with the cold and pain.

Slowly, Tony peels his eyes open and observes the room his in. It’s the same hospital room he had in one of his dream. Does it mean he’s dreaming again?

‘It’s nice to see you awake, Stark.’ It’s Bruce Wayne.

Wow. That’s unexpected. He can’t believe he has the ability to dream of Bruce.

Bruce gives him a small amused smile. ‘You’re not dreaming, Tony.’

And did he say that last bit aloud? So much for his usual non-existent brain-to-mouth filter.

‘How are you feeling?’ Bruce asks. ‘Do you need me to call your doctor? Or Dr. Banner, perhaps?’

Tony shakes his head. ‘I’m okay,’ he answers, which is half lie because everywhere in him still aches like a motherfucker but he doesn’t need a doctor. ‘Water, maybe?’

Bruce nods and releases Tony’s hand he’s been holding to fetch a cup. And Tony’s only realising that it’s Bruce hand that was keeping his warm. Now, it feels a little cold without Bruce’s touch.

‘Here.’ The other man offers him a cup with a straw and Tony drinks.

‘Am I really not dreaming?’ he asks when he finishes half the glass.

‘No.’

‘How are you?’ There’s a few healing marks on Bruce’s face, due to the same explosion that almost killed Tony — that almost killed them both.

‘I’ve had worse.’ Bruce puts the cup to the nearby table and reclaims his chair. Tony almost asked him if he could hold his hand again because somehow the room feels colder.

‘JARVIS, could you please bring the temperature up a little?’

‘Affirmative, sir,’ JARVIS replies. ‘And welcome back home.’

‘Thanks, J.’ He smiles at his AI. ‘Glad to be back.’ He then turns to Bruce. ‘I can’t say I’m not happy to see you’re here. But… why exactly are you here?’

‘Ms. Romanov let me in and said to watch over you while she goes and grab some coffee.’ Tony gives him a deadpan look. ‘That’s true. But actually…’ Bruce clears his throat and looks at everywhere but Tony’s inquiring eyes. ‘I came here to apologise.’

‘For what?’

Bruce squares his shoulder, like he’s preparing for battle. He’s brave, Tony will give him that. He looks Tony in the eyes as he says, ‘Your kidnapping. It was my fa—’

‘No, it wasn’t,’ Tony cuts off, giving the other a man a smile even when it still hurts his face to do it. ‘I’m an Avenger, and everything I do is a constant life hazard.’

‘But still—’

‘Please don’t,’ he remarks. ‘You helped a lot in this mission. The reason why we were able to avoid civilian casualty in Sokovia.’ Bruce still looks like he wants to argue. ‘And I also enjoyed building that Radioactive Gamma Energy Scanner prototype, even when it didn’t work.’

‘And this is why you need to stick with your other Bruce.’ Bruce chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. ‘Not our best two a.m. invention.’

Tony wants to tell him that they can still improve the prototype and make a successful Weird Energy Scanner for magical aliens or magical items. But the door suddenly opens, and burst in Steve and James.

‘JARVIS said that you’re awake,’ Steve says.

‘What is he doing here?’ James’ glaring at Bruce.

Both super soldiers are in their own strange image of tired and worry. Plus, displease on James’ side as he eyes Bruce.

‘I guess that’s my cue to leave,’ Bruce tells Tony. He’s rising up from his chair.

‘You should,’ James agrees frostily. ‘How did you even manage to get here?’ He crosses the room and postures terrifyingly on Tony’s other side. ‘After what you did in Sokovia.’

‘Buck,’ Steve warns softly, standing next to his soulmate.

‘No, Stevie.’ James’ glowering again, close to his Winter Soldier one. ‘It’s all his fault. I’m not even going to be surprised if he’s HYDRA and it he was on it with the kidnapping.’

‘Buck, please.’

‘So, you better leave now, or not even Steve will be able to hold me back from all the things I want to do with you,’ James threatens.

‘Enough,’ Tony orders. He runs his free hand over his face, the headache starting to come forward on full force again. ‘Bruce is here because he’s my friend,’ he tells both the super soldiers. ‘And he’s not HYDRA.’

‘You can’t—’

‘I know that, Sergeant,’ he presses, putting authority in voice. ‘We’ve been in the same circle since we were young. He’s my competitor since then. And I’m smart enough to know that you have to make your enemies closer, or as Pepper use to call it: stalk your enemy creepily.’

‘You’ve always been a Peeping Tom on me, Stark?’ Bruce looks more amuse than surprise at the confession with his raised eyebrow.

Tony snorts. ‘As if you’ve never gotten your nose in my business as well.’

‘You’ve always made your business quite interesting, and hard to ignore,’ Bruce replies.

Steve clears his throat, ceasing Tony’s answering remark.

‘I’ll come by again, Tony.’ Bruce rises up from his seat, eyes on the two super soldiers.

‘Don’t be a stranger,’ he tells the other billionaire. ‘And if you can come back with Alfred’s cookies, you can get me dirty on my back again.’

A metal squeaks, but it’s swallowed by Bruce’s laughter.

‘I do like you in such position, especially under…’ He trails off and leaves a kiss on top of Tony’s head. ‘Looking forward to it,’ he says when he pulls back, eyes gleaming with mischief that Tony’s clueless of.

‘Bye, Bruce,’ he bids as the other billionaire exits the door happily. When the doorknob clicks, he turns to the two super soldier, who both look annoyed — jealous almost, but that can’t be true, right?

**

**

‘You can’t see that man again,’ Bucky tells the genius. And he knows he’s being blowing this out of proportion, sixty percent because he’s jealous and angry at Tony and Wayne’s parting exchange.

‘And why?’ Tony demands, glaring back at Bucky fiercely despite all bandaged-up in a hospital bed and not as near as reprimanding as he thinks he is.

‘Because… Uhmm…’ God, is it hard to make his reasons sound sane when it’s all fuelled by jealousy. He turns to Steve for help, but the blond clearly doesn’t know what to do as well. Maybe they should have planned this ahead. ‘Because… he’s not safe, okay?’

‘Did you not hear me what I just said, Frosty?’ Tony sounds frustrated and tired. ‘Bruce is trustworthy. He’s not HYDRA.’

‘How else would you explain Sokovia?’ Bucky argues.

Tony closes his eyes tightly as if he’s trying to fight back an upcoming headache. ‘Sokovia,’ he begins, opening his eyes reluctantly, ‘is not his fault. It’s the general hazard of being an Avenger.’ His brown eyes are piercing. ‘It’s with Bruce’s help that we managed to intercept that HYDRA base without much civilian casualty. He’s the one who gave information about the sceptre’s whereabouts even before Thor managed to get Loki on Earth. And even with Loki, it would have taken some time to point out the sceptre’s exact location. That time alone could have given HYDRA enough opportunity to use the power of the sceptre for mass destruction.’

Bucky didn’t know that Wayne is that significant to this Sokovia mission. But it doesn’t matter because his irrational thought can easily ignore all of Wayne’s importance and focus solely on how the man wasn’t able to protect Tony, and is still trying to get together with Tony. He won’t turn a blind eye to that.

Tony needs someone who can save him, who will be there for him when he’s defenceless. Because Tony might be a strong superhero, but he’s still a man; and human’s can still have their moment of vulnerability. And someone dependent should be there to defend Tony when he can no longer do so for himself.

‘So, I hope this is the finality of the discussion, Sergeant,’ Tony informs. ‘I won’t stand it anymore, with how you’re trying to accuse an innocent person who’ve done nothing but help for the greater good.’

And Bucky wants to argue again, because he can’t stand it as well that Tony’s taking Wayne’s side. But Steve wounds his hand on Bucky’s bicep, ceasing him from further upsetting Tony because the genius isn’t on his best health. Bucky needs to remember that and be considerate of it. Clearly, his debate isn’t rational, and basically it’s just him projecting his anxiety and exhaustion over the last few days when the engineer was kidnapped and unconscious.

But it’s hard to not blame Wayne for all of Tony’s suffering under that sadistic HYDRA agent, even after he had gotten creative with the agent’s face after they rescued Tony. Bucky can picture that day as clear as if it was yesterday and not a whole week ago.

Three days after the first video was sent JARVIS had managed to track the video source. Somewhere in the coast of Spain. And two hours later they have drawn out a plan to rescue Tony.

Loki and his glamour played a huge role in the rescue. Him and Thor went to the HYDRA rendezvous point in France where they bluff an exchanged, while him, Steve and Natasha head to the secret base to rescue Tony, because no way in hell will HYDRA return the engineer after getting the sceptre and the Winter Soldier. It was an ambush.

A small battalion awaited the two alien gods glamoured as Steve and Bucky with the sceptre. But they all perished in the end because really, what can HYDRA goons do against gods. Clint, Sam, and Rhodey were also there for support to contain the casualty.

Meanwhile, back in the base, Bucky wreak havoc with his two companions. Him more than the other two because Natasha was stealing important files and destroying them so they won’t be used anymore. Steve on the other hand secured Tony and brought him to Dr. Banner. Bucky had a free rein to soak the floor with blood because he needed to unleash his anger.

It wasn’t his best moment, and he regret it a bit because it reminded him of his Winter Soldier days. His therapist wasn’t supportive of it either. But somehow — despite how fucked up it sounds — it was freeing. And maybe Steve had to pull him back to sanity after the carnage, and how close he was to killing Tony’s tormentor.

‘Look,’ he begins, feeling guilty for upsetting Tony when they just got him back and he’s not completely healed, ‘I’m sorry for being rude to Wayne…’ And Tony’s looking at him hopefully. ‘But, you can’t really blame me — us — for suspecting him, because he returned home fine. But you… you were taken. And then, they… they send us videos. Videos of your torture.’

‘What?’ Tony’s eyes grow wide.

‘You don’t know?’ Steve inserts. ‘They sent us long videos of you being tormented by Andrei.’ He places an arm around Bucky’s shoulder, stopping the tremble that takes over Bucky’s body at the thought of those vile videos. Of Andrei’s fists landing on Tony’s ribs and face. And the knives.

‘I didn’t know that,’ Tony mumbles.

‘I’m sure that’s also Andrei’s thoughts when he was generous with his punches, unconscious of what can happen to him with each blow he’s left on you.’ Bucky all but growls.

There’s a small horror in the engineer’s eyes. ‘You captured him?’

‘He’s alive,’ Steve replies.

‘Unfortunately,’ Bucky adds sourly.

‘We need him alive for informations,’ the blond reminds, but he also wasn’t happy that the sonuvabitch is still breathing after what Tony had gone through under his dirty hands.

‘Good,’ Tony agrees. ‘Maybe he can point us to the remaining HYDRA bases.’

‘You don’t have to worry about that, sweetheart,’ Steve says. ‘You need to rest. Doctor’s order. And we’ll take care of everything, okay?’

The shock on Tony’s face at the sweet moniker is cute, and distressing. Bucky’s once again reminded that Tony had to live all these years thinking that Steve was for Bucky alone. And he can sympathise with the engineer’s pain, and wishes Tony didn’t have to feel all alone and abandoned.

And true to Tony nature, he ignores the nickname and acts as if Steve had slipped up. But Bucky knows his blond soulmate didn’t. They’ve talked about this: the both of them. He had come clean with the truth to Steve and did his own research about trio soulmate bond.

Apparently, their kind of bond is rare. Not a lot has been written about it. And now that he’s sure Steve is also Tony’s soulmate, Bucky’s confident that they can all work it out. There’s enough love to go around with the three of them. No one needs to be left out, like he feared. Everyone will have enough of what they deserve — and hopefully more — even if Bucky’s scared he’s going to fuck it up at times.

He’s been doing a lot of thinking, right here besides Tony’s bed for the first three days that the billionaire had been unconscious. Him and Steve were sitting on each side of Tony’s bed when they’ve discussed their situation.

Before, Bucky’s been scared of adding Tony to their dynamic because he’s afraid that he’s not going to be enough to love two amazing people at the same time, and give them the love that’s not in pieces but whole and sufficient and everything Tony and Steve deserve. Up to this day, he still thinks that what he’s providing for Steve isn’t adequate for what he had been given.

Now, it’s different. Bucky will forever try to be worthy of their love — or whatever love they can spare him. And maybe he’ll come around the fact that he deserves them, too. That the universe had made a perfect match out of them. All three of them.

And they are perfect, he realises, now that his fear of being not enough isn’t as loud as before. Not when he knows he can keep Tony — because after almost losing the engineer, he will never let him go again, come heaven or hell — and know that if he fuck up at times, Steve will be there to give Tony what Bucky can’t because he’s broken. And Steve, his idiot, beloved Stevie who will be taken care of as well on times Bucky doesn’t think he can.

Slowly, he wants to accept this twisted and wonderful fate he had been given. The fear may continue to echo inside his head, but he’s got two marvellous soulmate who will help silence his demons. And in return, he’ll try to protect them and love them and cherish them for as long as he’s breathing. They are his life now, his reason to become better. They are everything.

‘And there’s something we need to talk to you about,’ Steve begins. And Bucky can see Tony’s guard rising up at the seriousness in Steve’s voice. He bets that if the genius isn’t bedridden he’d probably try to avoid them.

Tony cracks a fake smile. ‘Whatever it is, I’m sure I have a valid explanation,’ he jokes. ‘And before we proceed… with whatever this is, I do believe that according to my Miranda Rights, I have the right for an attorney, right?’

‘That’s a lot of right in one single sentence,’ Bucky points out teasingly, trying hard to calm the sudden anxiety in Tony. And maybe for himself as well, because this is it. The moment of truth.

‘I’m not sure if this is the right time for this conversation,’ Steve says, sitting down on the vacant part of Tony’s bed. For someone so big, Steve managed to be careful about the genius’ injured thigh. ‘But… after all that’s happened, I don’t think this can wait. Not after we’ve seen you be tortured and almost die.’ His blue eyes sincerely hold Tony’s brown ones in silent query to proceed. Tony barely nods. ‘Tony… all the nights we’ve waited for you to open your eyes felt like forever. And, at times it felt like you won’t open them again.’

‘Cap…’ Tony’s hand moves as if to wipe the rogue tears on Steve’s cheek, but he stops mid action as he sees Bucky, and drops his hand instead.

‘Those were unbearable days.’ Steve sniffs. ‘And we couldn’t do anything. We couldn’t protect you, or tell you that you have to come back because… because life without you would never be worth living.’

It’s Bucky’s turn to put a supporting arm on Steve’s shoulder.

‘But you have Bucky to live for, Cap,’ the genius reasons out. ‘He’s your soulmate.’

‘And so are you,’ Steve states. ‘We saw the video. You... you said my name.’

The silence that follows is loud. Tony’s face undergoes a series of emotion. There’s fear, loneliness, denial, and pain etch on his feature. Steve remains glued to his seat as he waits for Tony to process the news.

Tony chuckles without humour. ‘I think now is the perfect time to demand a lawyer?’

‘Tony, please.’

‘No, Cap.’ The ever so stubborn Tony Stark, almost as stubborn as one Steve Rogers. ‘This is a mistake. You and Bucky are bonded, and I’d be a selfish bastard to come between that.’ His voice cracks a little. ‘And I won’t. I promise. I will never come between the two of you. You both deserve each other. You survived the war together and managed to find each other in this century… that’s a miracle by itself, and a true testament that you’re for meant to be.’

‘You and me are the same,’ Steve insists.

‘It’s not.’ Tony shakes his head. ‘It’s nothing but some cosmic mistake. Or the universe trying to doom you into being with someone like me.’

‘Doom? Tony, anyone would be lucky to have—’

‘You’re just saying that now, Spangles. But in the next week or maybe tomorrow, you’ll regret even looking my way. And what of Bucky? He’s going to kill me if I ever made you cry, which I already did by the way, by almost dying.’ He looks defeated. ‘This isn’t going to work, Cap. I’m a fuck up, too many issues, broken, etcetera. And you’ve got Bucky, who’s got amazing sense of humour and caring and remembers birthdays. Surely, you don’t want to trade all that for—’

‘Please don’t finish that sentence,’ Steve requests. ‘Also, for the record, I’ve been half in love with you after the battle of New York… How can I not be, when you’ve given me a home, your valuable time, your precious friendship. You’ve given me new purpose to live after I’ve lost everything I hold dear.’

Tony lets go of a heavy sigh and looks away from Steve. ‘Snowflake, help me out here,’ he says to Bucky. ‘Aren’t you going to fight for your man?’

‘I am,’ he replies, which Tony nods to in approval. The genius even turns to Steve to gloat. He circles around the bed to get to the other side. ‘And I’m scared… I don’t know what to say, or what I’m going to do if this doesn’t work out, because for these past weeks I’ve been tormented by this very moment… and how you’re going to react…’

Tony’s eyebrows furrow. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘I am going to fight for Steve… as I am going to fight for you,’ Bucky continues. ‘Because you might hate me after learning the truth, but I’m just going to take that. I’d have whatever emotion you can scrap for me… because after losing you… I don’t think I’ll be able to live with myself that you’ll never know — that, that to me, you’re an amazing person… that you’re kind and selfless… that you’re very easy to like… and...’ He tries to swallow the anxiety forming in his throat. ‘And to love… Anthony Edward Stark.’

The engineer’s eyes grow wide, his lips parted in a small o that in a different scenario, Bucky would find cute. But not now. Not when Tony knows the truth: he’s soul bond to his parents’ murderer.

‘Tony?’ Steve puts a anxious hand on his shoulder.

‘I know how complicated it makes everything,’ Bucky proceeds, not meeting those brown eyes. ‘Especially that, it’s my… my hands… I was the one who… who…’ His hands clench into fist, and he exhales through his nose. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry… Your, your pa-parent’s de—’

‘It’s okay,’ Tony says. ‘It’s okay… You don’t have to apologise for it anymore, Snowflake.’ The genius reaches for Bucky’s hand. ‘You can move on now… I have. And you should, too.’

God, that cautious touch, making him feel like he’s something valuable, something precious, and not something broken or disgusting. Bucky looks up to Tony, his vision a bit blurry by the unshed tears. ‘You deserve more.’

‘I can say the same to you, James.’ Tony gives him a timid smile and squeezes Bucky’s hand tenderly.

And fuck, hearing his name fall from Tony’s lips with care and softness, makes him outright cry. Tears spilling like tsunami waves in his eyes. The weight that usually sit in his chest vanishes at the warmth he’s receiving. How did he get so lucky after all that he’s done?

‘Oh my god, I made the Winter Soldier cry,’ Tony teases, but his voice is a little hoarse. And Bucky doesn’t even want to glimpse at those kind brown eyes or else he’s going to make a greater fool of himself.

‘This is very progressive,’ Steve comments.

‘Did your therapist say that?’ Tony asks.

‘Yes, and it’d do you good too if you see one yourself.’ Bucky sees the genius pouts and just about to retort when Steve adds, ‘And Bruce doesn’t count because he’s not that kind of doctor.’

‘But I like Bruciebear,’ Tony insists. ‘He’s understanding. And he cuddles me afterwards and tells me I’m an idiot and problematic but he still likes me.’

‘I can… do that for you, too,’ Steve offers, blushing a little. ‘Bucky can, too.’

Now it’s Tony’s turn to blush, looking at Steve as if he can’t believe what the blond had said. Then he turns to Bucky with the same incredulous expression.

‘We’d be happy to listen to you,’ the blond continues. ‘And hold you.’

Tony pulls his hand from Bucky and puts them on his lap. He stares at both of his hand as he plays with them, just to do something other than look at both super soldiers.

Bucky’s crying had stopped as he finds his other soulmate in such a shy and adorable situation. Who knew someone like Tony who flirts like he breathes, and a literal ad for sexy no matter what he wears or what he does, blushes so easily?

‘And kiss you,’ Bucky adds, wiping his face with the back of his flesh hand.

‘Can we do that, Tony?’ Steve asks, voice dripping with sincerity and hope.

‘Oh my god,’ Tony exclaims. ‘You’re going to be the death of me.’ He glares at them, but the red in his cheeks never fades. ‘I am old with a poor heart, you rascals.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Bucky says, feeling brave and sure for the first time, because Tony’s forgiven him. Tony wasn’t disgusted with him when he learned Bucky’s also his soulmate. ‘We’ll take good care of you.’

And Christ, if Tony doesn’t look endearing all flustered. They did that. He wants Tony to always look this lovely shade of red when him and Steve showers him with love and compliments. Never again does he wants to see the genius lonely or unhappy.

‘We promise to take good care of you.’ Steve reaches for one of Tony’s hand. ‘If you let us.’ His other hand comes to cup Tony’s face delicately, making the genius look him in the eyes. ‘Will you let us?’

**

**

3 months later…

Every wound has healed but Tony continues to have nightmares of dirty water and cold rooms. The smell of rust also makes him anxious, and the sight of blood turns him pale. But he’s doing better.

He wants to think it’s because of Bruce’s advance medicines — those amazing poultice for his burns, the miracle drugs for his broken bones, and the gel for his healing thighs stitches. As much as Banner said he isn’t that kind of doctor, he’d developed some sublime medication. And maybe, this is also Bruce’s way to amend for the deaths he had done in the past. Tony understands that more than anyone else.

His hospital days seem to be long gone, but it had been such an event. Everyone visited him, and someone always stayed with him, usually it’s Steve and James. Even Loki had the heart to see him and offered to help with his healing. Tony said no, having done with magic. Also, not trusting Loki.

After the confession between him and the Wonder Twins, everyone in their close circle seem to have heard of their fate. It’s not shocking since they have two skilled spies in the group. He also came clean with Pepper and Rhodey about it.

Pepper cried and told him that she’s happy for him, even if he was such an idiot for thinking he didn’t deserve the two super soldiers. His two best friends made him promise to be honest with them, that he shouldn’t have to suffer alone anymore.

And according to Steve, Rhodey and Pepper did a shovel talk with him and James. James is still shaken, although they both wouldn’t say what exactly Rhodey and Pepper threaten them of. So, that’s his life right now.

He slowly peels his eyes open and inspects his room. It’s so damn cold in the morning. And he hates the cold.

He sits up on the bed and realises that he’s also alone. He hates being alone, as much as he hates to admit it, because it makes him sound clingy. Just weeks after he’s been discharged, there had always been someone with him, even when Steve and James had slowly moved in to his suite.

He likes waking up with Natasha the most because she plays with his hair and reads him poems in Russian. No one allows Clint to watch over him because one time they broke the glass table in Tony’s living room and set fire in the kitchen. Thor’s on Loki duty till both gods went back to Asgard. Bruce is a stingy caregiver because he won’t allow Tony to use his tablet, saying the radiation is bad for his healing.

Pepper stays sometimes too, when she’s not busy with the company. Rhodey had been called back to work a few days after Tony’s discharge, and he insisted that his best friend should go because he’ll be fine. Only when Bruce and Nat convinced Rhodey that they’ll look after him did his Platypus leave.

Now, that he’s fully healed, no one has to look over him anymore. He misses being pampered with attention, somehow. But his family also have their own lives to live and he should probably wean himself out of his dependency. He’s okay on his own anyway, Howard trained him so.

But fate thinks so otherwise because…

‘Tony?’ Steve knocks.

And he’s not sure he should complain. Never look at the gift horse in the mouth, they say.

‘I’m decent,’ he jokes and smiles at the blond when Steve enters the room — their room, he reminds himself. Heavens, that will continue to surprise him on the days to come. ‘And you don’t have to knock every time, Spangles.’

‘It’s okay.’ Steve’s smile in return is soft and it melts Tony’s inside just thinking that it’s all for him. That he can now honestly say that the smile is for him. No need to pretend. And it makes his heart burst with so much happiness.

‘That’s unfortunate, doll,’ James chirps, following Steve into the room from their morning run. ‘Was looking forward to see some naughty stuff.’ He presses a kiss on Tony’s bed hair and sits next to him. ‘How was your sleep, sugar?’

And that’s another thing that Tony will never get use to. He literally pinches himself just to be sure that he’s not dreaming, because he’s not sure that he’s allowed to have all of these. To have both Steve and James.

‘Not even a proper kiss.’ He pouts at James. The corners of the super soldier’s eyes crinkle with happiness. And he’s glad to see James happy. It took some time to convince the ex-assassin that Tony likes — the other L word can wait, because he doesn’t want to scare them both off by his clingy feelings — him just as much as Tony likes Steve.

Both the super soldiers chuckle at him. And because the other brunet is closer, James leans in and kisses him sweetly, a hand — the metal one at that! — holds his face in position. He closes his eyes and savours James’ warm mouth.

This is another thing he can never get over: being kissed. He had his share of kisses in the past. But never like this. Not even close. And he didn’t know he was missing a lot before, because who knew that kisses could be an out-of-this-world experience.

Well, in all honesty, Tony’s imagination is nothing compared to the reality of kissing any of his soulmates. It’s like a thrilling adventure and a warm home all at once. He never wants to stop feeling his heart hammering like it’s going to runaway with the happiness he cannot contain inside his chest.

‘My turn.’ Steve directs Tony’s face to the other side of the bed where he’s sat. Like a sunflower following the sun, he goes willingly and welcomes Steve’s perfect lips against his own.

He hums happily when Steve deepens the kiss, mouth expertly moving in demanding pursuit, and Tony allows Steve to take whatever he wants. He groans encouragingly, matching Steve’s enthusiasm. He’s always going to be amaze that Steve kisses like Tony’s mouth is something he needs to conquer and own. Definitely, not something Tony had imagined and expected.

Kissing Steve makes Tony feel safe even when the man kisses possessively. It’s hot and sexy, and dangerously mind melting. He can’t think when Steve kisses. His brain becomes a puddle of useless goo that just chants: SteveSteveSteve. It’s nice to have someone take control, and for him to simply do nothing but feel the exhilarating mouth on his.

When Steve pulls back so they can both breathe, James’ metal hand cautiously guides him back for another kiss. And James kisses him with the same burning passion as Steve did, but mellow like Tony’s delicate and precious.

James kisses opposite than Steve, Tony wants to think it’s because the man is still cautious with physical affection since he’s still not used to it, and he’s considerate of Tony’s fragility. And Tony loves him for it. A part of him wants to reassure James that he’s not going to break.

But nonetheless, kissing James is still an experience. His mouth is always eager to please and give Tony as much as he wants. Everything about James’ kisses turns Tony into a greedy goblin who takes and takes and takes. James turns him into an insatiable black hole that thirsts for those pretty lips like one needs air.

James lets him go, but connects their foreheads together and waits for Tony to catch his breath. He can feel Steve circling his arms on his waist as he rest his head on Tony’s shoulder.

God, what good had Tony done in his past life to deserve both these amazing super soldiers? His luck might be changing. That or something bad is about to happen. A man like him doesn’t deserve to keep this happiness without paying for it.

‘Shhh…’ Steve murmurs, hands tightening around Tony’s waist. ‘We’re not going anywhere.’

‘Are you a mind reader now, Capsicle?’

‘No, but I can feel your body language,’ Steve replies.

And he notices that he did suddenly went stiff. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s okay, doll,’ Bucky soothes and places a kiss on Tony’s forehead before he pulls back. ‘We understand.’ He gets a hand on Tony’s nape and massages the area. ‘More than you know. Especially for me.’ He meets Steve’s eyes.

‘I’m just happy you gave us a chance, Tony,’ Steve says. ‘I didn’t even know you were gay —.’

‘Bi,’ Tony corrects.

Steve rolls his eyes affectionately. ‘Yes, that.’ He places a kiss on the side of Tony’s head. ‘Not only that, I didn’t even know I was falling in love with you. Not till Bucky said he loves you, too.’ He reaches and holds Bucky’s free hand, intertwining their fingers. ‘And that instead of being jealous, I was happy to learn that he feels the same way about you.’

‘God, you’re enlightenment is awful, Steve,’ he teases and laughs. He felt the blond tenses behind him. He mentally curses himself for saying something that have upset Steve.

‘You said my name,’ Steve states in disbelief before Tony could say his apology. ‘You said my name.’ The man’s smiling ear to ear. ‘Say it again… please.’

And Tony wants to die of embarrassment that very moment for his slip up. He still tries to avoid using both super soldiers’ names if he can because it feels like a grand declaration of that L-word he tries not to think about, even when he’s just dying to say it.

He knows the feelings of saying someone’s name because he surely feels elated and whole whenever Steve or James say his name with adoration and care. And he wants them both to feel the same when he says their names. But he’s scared. Afraid that it’s not the same for them as it is for him, because he’s Tony. Broken Tony, flawed Tony, narcissistic Tony, who might never be enough.

‘Tony,’ Steve whispers. And suddenly Tony’s whole world flips. Literally, because Steve easily tosses him on his back. ‘Say it again. Please.’ Steve hovers above him, arms bracketing Tony’s head.

Tony looks at James for any semblance of help, but the other brunet only looks as hopeful. He gazes back into expectant baby blues. It drowns him, the want to let it all go and bare his feelings for these two amazing people.

‘I’m sorry, sweetheart,’ Steve says and leans down to kiss him. ‘I didn’t mean to be so demanding.’ Another kiss. ‘Take your time. We have many days ahead of us… We’ll wait and still be here.’ Another kiss.

Tony wounds his arms on Steve’s shoulders and pulls the man for a deeper kiss. ‘Steve,’ he whispers on the man’s lips. ‘Steve.’ He kisses the tip of the man’s nose, who’s currently semi-catatonic. ‘Steve.’ He kisses just above the blond’s left eyebrow.

‘I think you broke him,’ James comments amusedly.

‘Oh my god.’ He should be worried but he can’t help the goofy smile on his lips.

‘Sir, you have a visitor,’ JARVIS interrupts.

‘Who is it, J?’ he asks.

‘Mr. Bruce Wayne,’ JARVIS replies.

In unison, both super soldiers groan with irritation. And Tony wants to chastise his boyfriends — can he call them that too besides soulmates? — to be nice to Bruce, especially James.

‘Tell him I’ll be down in five,’ he tells JARVIS.

‘Message relayed, sir,’ JARVIS informs.

‘Thanks, J.’ He smiles at his AI, always proud of his smart creation. He turns to the super soldiers who’s not happy about Bruce being here… again. But it’s a regular thing now that they’re working on a project along with Dr. Banner. ‘No more comment, boys. We talked about this.’

And they did. Tony had explicitly explained to his possessively jealous soulmates that nothing happened between him and Bruce, despite Clint’s lewd comments and teasing the morning after the gala. Or even after Bruce’s continuous mentions about that night in such off proportion. The only reason that Tony got dirty and was on his back was because they were working on a machine.

Sometimes, Bruce likes to get a kick out of it just to pester the Wonder Twins. Tony should probably tell him to stop in case Brooklyn One and Two do something drastic. Although, a tiny part of him — which he will deny to his grave — likes the idea that he can invoke jealousy.

‘I have work to do, boys,’ he tells them, pushing Steve off of him so he can see Bruce. Steve doesn’t budge. ‘Again, we talked about this.’

‘I know,’ Steve agrees. ‘And we’re going to be okay with it… Just give us a second though.’ The blond starts to slither one hand underneath Tony’s top, mapping warm skin. His mouth finds its way to Tony’s collarbone. ‘Right, Buck?’

‘Steve,’ he whines, trembling under that dexterous hand that caresses his torso. And suddenly there’s a cold metal hand on his bare knee, opening his legs. James leans down to the patch of skin that Steve has unwrap. ‘James.’

And god, these super soldiers are annoying as fuck. But Tony can feel himself getting hard at each heated kiss left on his body. They touch him and kiss him and leave their marks. Marks that will never fade for a few more days. Marks that Bruce will see.

God, they are the worst. But fuck does he need more.

‘Please…’ he begs, never been shy when it comes to sexual intimacy. Not now when his whole body is on fire and just needs to be touch. His brain is nothing but a string of want want want.

They’ve never had done beyond a handjob or blowjob before. But that doesn’t mean that Tony doesn’t completely lose his mind over those, because as he’s learned, everything done between him and his soulmates had been nothing short of spectacular. He could lose his mind alone just being kissed or embraced by them.

Being touch by them like this? He forgets his own name.

‘Please…’ He pulls Steve away from the second hickey he’s trying create. Steve obliges him to a kiss, while James continues to pepper his chest with kisses, a small bite here and there. The metal hand pinches his nipple, just a tad painful. He gasps into Steve’s lips.

‘We’ll never stop you from seeing him, Tony,’ Steve promises, eyes slightly darker. ‘But after this. Don’t you agree?’ His hand squeezes Tony’s clothed erection.

‘Yes,’ he replies hastily, more concern about getting off and the wonderful hands on him, than his friend downstairs.

‘Good,’ James approves and pulls Tony’s nipple a bit more that has the genius moaning. ‘God, you’re so responsive and beautiful like this.’ He licks on the other one. ‘And all ours.’

‘JARVIS, please tell Mr. Wayne to go ahead with Dr. Banner,’ Steve states. ‘Tony will need another ten more minutes.’

And Tony’s not sure if JARVIS did manage to reply or not. He can’t concentrate, not when Steve’s got a hand wrap around his dick.

**

**

After coming twice — once on Steve’s hand, and next on Bucky’s clever mouth — Tony weakly proceeds to meet his two colleagues for their project. He had a quick shower before seeing them just to get rid of the smell of sex. But he can’t really cover the decorative love bites Brooklyn One and Two left on his neck.

His friends only rolled their eyes at him and didn’t say anything more as they continue their work. God, he hates his soulmates. He plans on going even with them in the future.

And it puts a cheesy smile on his face at the thought that the three of them has a future together. That’s more than what Tony had wished for. He promises to try his best to be worthy of his soulmates. Even when they’re irrational sometimes. They can all work it out, because Tony’s irrational sometimes too.

But yes, the payback. He needs to think of a brilliant and dubious plan to punish the both of them. Maybe Natasha can help him.

 **

**

Fin.

[illtrytobegood]

Home for the Holidays: goodbye (1 of 3)

Cookie Bun:  Quinton watched shifter leave, before turning around to see gummy. This was one of the people who tried to eat him at school. Be didnt trust this guy…but it seemed like shifter did.“…..Hey.

GUMMY (LLA):  Gummy looked over to the strange cookie flower, he knew Shifter trusted them for some reason, but he was freaking out. Shifter was gone…he tried to compose himself before he finally said, "We need to find Shifter….” Cookie Bun: “….well…i agree with you on that….

GUMMY (LLA): Gummy gripped the exit candy tightly in his vine, he didn’t know how to feel about the cookie flower, he gave a shaky sigh, "Let’s check the park, then the library… he couldn’t have gone too far, not in the condition he’s in.”

Cookie Bun: “Oh…uh…o-okay.” Quinton forgot this place had a Park…he forgot alot places even existed. But that wasnt important at the moment, what was more important to him was finding shifter.

GUMMY (LLA): Gummy offered a vine to Quintion. "Here, follow me, we can look together”

Cookie Bun: “……Quinton was very hesitant…but he took gummys vine, with his own small chocolate vine.

GUMMY (LLA): Gummy gripped tightly on Quinton’s vine tightly and burrowed the two flowers into the park.  Gummy glanced around, unsure of where to look in the park first. "SHIFTER!”

Cookie Bun: Well, aside from getting pulled from place to place, quinton looked around for a few moments, before calling out.“SHIFTER? SHIFTER! SHIFTER WHERE ARE YOU?

GUMMY (LLA): Gummy dragged quintion around, looking around the park. he looked around noticing the large half omega, by a tree. What was Chimera doing? he went in closer. "Chimera, have you seen…” his voice trailed off seeing a flower being smooched by Chimera.

CuteCat: Shifter froze as Chimera’s mouth pressed against his face. His mind went blank - this had never happened before. He could not account for it, could not understand what it meant. Was this what they wanted of him? His leaves lowered and he just stared at the giant abomination that was kissing him in shock, not hearing anything else that was said to him.

(Dunal) Chimera: he pulls away after a moment, blushing a bright red right down to the tips of his petals, covering his face with his paws

Cookie Bun: Quinton eyes widened as he saw this. He mumbled something to himself, before staring at the floor.

Eclipse/Petals: “Uh.. see? We care!” Petals just smiled awkwardly. Third wheel, much.

GUMMY (LLA): Gummy looked shocked seeing Shifter being the flower of the smooch, looking at chimera… Those two were smoochbuddies…? Shifter had a smoochbuddy…? Gummy didn’t know why but it sort of hurt him…. he couldn’t place the feeling…Gummy shook his head, finally looking over to Shifter, “Shifter! Shifter, I got the candy for you”

CuteCat: Slowly, Shifter’s head tilted to the side. He was staring blankly at Chimera, his voice faded. “Is this why you tortured me?” He didn’t hear Gummy. He had been crying again, but now his gaze was all… wrong. Empty. … He started to laugh, loudly. “You really are all freaks!! It’s not even about him?!” He was bleeding, he was sure of it. He pulled the soul from his chest just to see how badly it was cracked and broken. “It’s all just so you can have fun. Like I tried to have fun.” He couldn’t stop laughing. Nothing he did or promised would stop them. They’d torture and kill him even if he helped Pointy. There was no way out. And that fact held a desperate hilarity.

Cookie Bun: Quinton didnt say anything. He was just eyeing down chimera.

(Dunal) Chimera: No, that isn’t-!

GUMMY (LLA): Gummy went closer to Shifter, he was terrified, this didn’t make sense, why did this…, “Shifter! Shifter, please don’t do anything you’ll regret!”

Eclipse/Petals: Petals was getting restless, unable to get Shifter to understand. “If you want to be like that, ITS ABOUT YOU, IDIOT. Thats why they want YOU to help, cause only YOU know how. Did you not even check out how many are trying to help him too? There are other also worried about you, jeez…”

SpaceConstellation: His head seemed to twitch from yET another argument abrewing in the distance

CuteCat: “Oh right.” Shifter looked straight at Petals, his smile stretching all across his face. “It’s for my own good. He put acid in my eye for my own good.” It had burned, it had hurt. It was for his sake. It was supposed to help him. “He almost decapitated me to make me happy.” He had choked, screamed, everyone staring and watching, telling him to let it happen. “He ripped out my throat over and over to save me.” Screaming, pleading, unable to move. No anesthesia. Unable to breathe. “He tried to keep me here because I’ll be happier that way.” Cut off from his friends, askers, people who wouldn’t hurt him. No way back. “He tore out my petal because I didn’t need it.” Tried to leash him. Cutting, hurting, laughing. Not giving it back. “He hugged and held and called me his baby all to comfort me.” Pleading didn’t help. Nothing helped. Bad touch. “He drugged me so I’d feel better.” Unable to even remember what he had done. “He put metal shards in my neck for my sake.” Painful static images. Couldn’t breathe. So much blood. His voice was getting more and more genuine the more things he listed. My sake. It’s about me.

Eclipse/Petals: Petals felt even worse now, and cringed as he went on. “I… Oh God, they all wanted to help you, but they did it half-way. C'mon Shifter, don’t let those dense people break you…” He went up to Shifter and hugged him, as awkward as it was.

SpaceConstellation: Ayye i could give y'all a piece of my mind for making things worse for him! Ah, he’s bloody innocent n all of you go n think he’s me. hAH I dont know whether to be proud of the insanity or absolutly miserable for bringing this upon him! he cackled, continuing to twitch and watch them in the distance

GUMMY (LLA): Gummy started shaking, tearing up as he heard Shifter talk. did he think that he was going to hurt him too…? did Shifter think he would…“Sh-Shifter….I….” Gummy gripped the candy tightly, he was a horrible friend… he should have come here faster, he should have… “I’m sorry…. I….”

(Dunal) Chimera: Chimera looked down, silent now and in obvious emotional pain

CuteCat: Shifter wrapped his vines around Petals, tightly. Too tight, not letting him move. He whispered to the other flower. “I’ll help you, too.” A third vine searched the ground until he located his knife, raising it and then moving to stab it through Petals’s stem.

Cookie Bun: Quinton stopped eyeing chimera, and floating over to Shifter *Shifter….He was at a lose for words….he knew what it felt like. People forced his to feel someway…others tried and eat him…and people he cared about the most betrayed him.

SpaceConstellation: hOLY FUCK A storms a-brewing! he howled in laughter as the glint of the knife caught his eye

Eclipse/Petals: Petals felt trapped, and with the ominous words Petals tried to escape. “Uh, S-shifter? Are you okay?-”  He did not notice the knife.

(Dunal) Chimera: Chimera moves to stop him, then hesitates Shifter….?

GUMMY (LLA): Gummy gripped the candy tighter, breaking it in half  as he started to worry. Gummy noticed how they candy broke taking part of it going towards Shifter, “SHIFTER! I CAN SEND YOU HOME!” He couldn’t take it anymore, he wanted to help shifter, he knew whatever was happening it was just like him before, Shifter was scared, he had to be… “SHIFTER PLEASE- j-Just listen to me!”  " ….I can….“ gummy sniffed, shaking. "I…”

CuteCat: Shifter dug the blade deep into Petals’s stem , then unwrapped his vines from his victim and backed up a step. “It’s for your own good,” he said, more amused than he had any right to be. He twisted and pulled the knife, not back, but to the right as he tried to slice most of Petals’s stem apart and cripple him. “You’ll thank me later.” He laughed, remembering those words. Immense, blinding, helpless pain with that little phrase attached. … Why were there tears in his eye? No matter. His insides were still bleeding. He wanted it to stop.

SpaceConstellation: WOOOOO! Hes laughing so freaking much stop that MUUUUUURDEEEERRRRR!

Nightmare (Celestia - Admin): Nightmare appeared next to Gummy and put a vine on him gently. Looked at him then on the place where Shifter was. He noned to this side, like… giving signal to someone. After a moment Candy appeared next to Shifter behind his back and used on him quick sleep magic.

Eclipse/Petals: When that slice cut through Petals stem, all he could do was open his mouth in a silent scream. “Don’t… be… 3…” was what he managed to croak out, just before fainting from the extreme pain

GUMMY (LLA): Gummy looked over to nightmare he was sobbing. he pulled out a few more vines, he just wanted his friend… he just wanted to help… why couldn’t he… “Shifter… pl… please….”  " I just…. I…“

Nightmare (Celestia - Admin): (will wait for CC response now, moment)

(Dunal) Chimera: Chimera just listens, crying Please, don’t…! Don’t do this….!

CuteCat: Shifter was cackling and crying at the same time, a deranged grin on his face, but before he could do anything else something struck him. He froze, faltering and swaying, trying to fight against it, but he was weak and within moments he had collapsed, dropping his knife and passing out. he picks up both fainted flowers in his paws No….

Nightmare (Celestia - Admin): Nigthmare took Gummy to his vines and hugged him, trying to make him calm down. "I-it’s okey… h-he is alright… just fell asleep…” He said also shivering and crying little.  He could come faster… if he only knew…

SpaceConstellation: HAHAHA! Castor had seemed fo limp toward them now wHAT A SIGHT!  look at em swirling eyes of murky green insanity~

Nightmare (Celestia - Admin): “Chimera! Take Petals to hospital! Now! We will take care of Shifter with Gummy…” He said still hugging friend.

SpaceConstellation: wHY did cha stop it? It woulda been nice to see an argument escalate that far! You gotta go aaaalllll the way or its useless!

(Dunal) Chimera: he nods, putting Shifter down and Petals in his maw, barreling at Castor with rage in his eyes

GUMMY (LLA): Gummy held nightmare tightly, he couldn’t stop crying, he couldn’t stop. his shaking wouldn’t stop, he was a horrible friend, he did everything he could and still… why couldn’t he be a good friend, he tried, he’s do anything… Shifter didn’t even notice him… it was like he…. “I… I just want to send him home… I j-just want him to be safe… I… just want…. ” Gummy’s grip tighted as he started to get thornier. he could hardly speak, “I just want…. to wake up….”

Eclipse/Petals: Petals barely reacted to the surroundings, still unconscious from the pain

SpaceConstellation: he sneered, sliding to the side and whipping his tailcoats like he was that person with the red flag n Chimera was the bull Too slooowww! Why dontcha take your rage into a tree?

Nightmare (Celestia - Admin): “SHUT UP!” He looked angry with his scary face at Castor. Then he pet little Gummy stem. “G-gummy… we must take Shifter to somewhere safe, without people which can hurt him… i-is he… is he even alright? Is someone hurt him physically? I must know!” He looked worried but tried to stay calm and help Gummy to calm down.

(Dunal) Chimera: he snarls, putting Petals beside him and quickly healing him before running at him again

Nightmare (Celestia - Admin): Candy after moment, came next to Nightmare, just listening with frown to talk.

SpaceConstellation: You charge with no clear sense of attack! And oh my dear Nightmare, dont flatter me with that look! he seemed to enjoy the scary face Nightmare made while sidestepping to the right again just as before

Cookie Bun: This whole thing was confusing. Everything had happened so fast… *…Wha…Shifter…why……

CuteCat: Unconscious as he was, Shifter could not move in any way and was thus easily carried. Small, too.

SpaceConstellation: Im not here to hurt anyone, seeing as everyone hurts tHEMSELVES! I would rarher talk thank you!

Eclipse/Petals: Petals twitched a little from the brief healing, but still did not wake up. Still stuck on the ground.

SpaceConstellation: he seemed to bubble with glee in the chaos

GUMMY (LLA): Gummy sniffed, he try to calm down, he could hardly get out the words, “I-I have space… he’ll be… safe…” he reubbed his eyes..pausing a moment as he tried to settle down, “ L-letep kept… stalking u-… I tried to stop hi-…. ”

(Dunal) Chimera: he manages to twist once he side steps and lunges right at him

SpaceConstellation: his hands lash out and stomp onto the beasts muzzle, propelling him up and over the beast instead of being smushed flat. Unfortunately momentum wise he lands on the beasts back

(Dunal) Chimera: he tries to buck him off, and Castor has a clear line of sight to his sensitive antenna, damaged speaker and vital soul tubes on the back of his neck

SpaceConstellation: His hands latch onto the back,  and once his legs are locked around in a stradle,  it’s awfully hard to buck him off. Stick man has great muscles in da legs or how would you poledance~? His whole mouth n teeth snap out to chomp into the antenna

Nightmare (Celestia - Admin): “Hm?” He didn’t understood the last words but at least understood that there is some place when Shifter can be safe. “O-okey… we… must go there… take Shifter with us and go there. I have few things in inventory for him if he will feel bad or will be hurt.” He looked at sleeping Shifter… “You should take him to your vines  Gummy… if he would wake up suddely it’s better for him to have you as close as it’s possible…”

GUMMY (LLA): Gummy nodded, rubbing his eyes one last time and going to grab Shifter, he wrapped him in his vines and carried him towards nightmare. “Follow me….”

(Dunal) Chimera: he screeches, desperately trying to claw him off, his antenna easily snapping, but giving his mouth a powerful zap in the process CuteCat:  Shifter was easily picked up, hanging limply in Gummy’s vines. SpaceConstellation: He twitches in pain from the zap, hair fizzling with electricity ,but it turns into a moan as he lets go and drops to the ground, since the reflex is to arch your back, thus tilting down. He hits the ground running in a sporadic way

(Dunal) Chimera: he instantly follows, even more angry now

SpaceConstellation: Im sO glad i flustered uou this way dear Chimera! Oh Guuuummmeeeeyyyyyyy!

(Dunal) Chimera: he starts moving faster, surprisingly fast for a beast his size

GUMMY (LLA): Gummy gripped Shifter tighter, extending a vine to nightmare, and attempted to burrow with the 2 in vine to the hotel room. He wasn’t going to let Shifter go no matter what. Nightmare (Celestia - Admin): Nightmare burrow with Gummy to some room in hotel. He looked little around at least here Shifter will be safe. Nightmare was silence for a moment. "I… don’t even know what exactly happened there… and… I don’t know if I want to know…“ He said sadly llooking at the floor.”

Cookie Bun: “Hey wait- “ Quinton teleports tot he hotel, looking around for nightmare, and gummy.

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