#the bottom left one is so funny because he definitely burnt is mouth

[i-love-def-leppard]

JOE HOES ARE GETTING FED WITH JOE CONTENT RN!!!! everyone say ‘thank you ross’🙏

[dorimena]

𝕱𝖎𝖗𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖔𝖑𝖊

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; todoroki shouto

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 1.8k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; sex toy (egg vibrator), public sex, slight exhibitionism, dry humping, implied edging, cursing, cumming in pants, dom!reader, sub!character

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; I tried keeping the reader as gender-neutral as possible, Todoroki just wants you to know how much he loves you, so if wearing a vibrator makes you happy so be it, if this were the first time Todoroki were doing this he wouldn’t have shamelessly allowed himself to cum, aka I’m thinking about doing something with this AU I guess

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; This is for 🍦 anon’s ask about either Todoroki or Aizawa wearing a vibrator in a meeting. I decided to make him the son of CEO Endeavor, so this is a modern AU. There could be some errors around here, but I’ll check it out later. Sorry for the horrible title

Todoroki loves you; he truly does.

Even at the beginning of your relationship, while he still had difficulties in trusting you entirely and accidentally brushed you aside in fear of being too attached or clingy, he’s always known he loves you.

He loves you in the mornings when you wake him up with such a tired yet peaceful expression.

He loves you in the afternoons when you’re cooking dinner in the weird apron Mina gave you as a housewarming gift. (Why cheetah prints?)

He loves you in the night when you massage his shoulders after a treacherous meeting gone south too fast, easing words of adoration and affirmation into his mind while you’re sporting a funky looking face mask.

He loves you anywhere, anytime, however you look, however you talk… He’ll do anything to keep you happy and know about his unlimited love and respect for you.

Even if it means he has to wear an egg vibrator inside of him during his dad’s meeting. The very meeting where it’ll be decided if his dad’s company merges with some young entrepreneur’s named Keigo or something. He can’t seem to remember.

Not like he really cares, anyways. He doesn’t want to inherit his dad’s company. But Touya decided to spite their father by starting up his own, Fuyumi seems pretty happy being an elementary school teacher and Natsuo is busy being a doctor.

God, the only great thing to come out of inheriting this lame company is that he’ll get to see you every day, any day, all the time.

You’re one of his dad’s best logistician coordinators, and while no one in this meeting room know you two have been dating for much longer than your professional career, he’s certain that your horrible rendition of a relaxed façade will raise eyebrows at why him, the youngest Todoroki offspring, is trembling under your stare.

It’s kind of weird bringing something usually done in the bedroom and displaying it secretly in public. Even more weird considering the room is full of older people, except for him, you, that Keigo guy, some secretaries from both companies…

Where was he getting at again?

Oh, right.

The egg vibrator in his ass being controlled by your evil hands (and cellphone) buzzing so teasingly in him, he can’t remember the young entrepreneur’s name. Or the reason why he’s even willingly here in the first place.

He’s trying so hard to keep himself quiet, knowing how god awfully vocal he can get when teased or played with just right. He’s pretty sure his bottom lip is really close to bleeding, or already is. And his palms situated on the dark oak and, in your opinion, ridiculously high-priced table surely have deep dents of his fingernails, maybe some accidental scratches.

O-oh no!

“Shouto? Are… you alright?”

Shit, did he say that out loud?

“Yes, and refrain from vulgar language.”

Todoroki let go of his lip, blinking at his father as he raised an eyebrow. Or so he hopes he did.

“I’m fine. Stop worrying about me, old man.” And he’s never felt so happy hearing his father’s resigned sigh before the meeting continues. It’s unusual for the man to drop a conversation.

His joy doesn’t last for long: the vibrator in his ass is suddenly more intense than a few seconds ago, reminding him why he even spoke out loud.

Pressing his thighs together in hopes it’ll help lessen the buzzing he can finally hear, he looks across the table to give you what is meant as a curious look, but ends up just making him look completely lost.

Was it a slip of your thumb? Was it a punishment? But why punish him if he’s doing this for you? Had he been bad?

Did he miss something when you two spoke about it during breakfast? Wait, was your toast too burnt-

“Ah-” He gasped in surprise, with a frantic and scared look in his eyes. The rhythm of the vibrations changed into one that wasn’t as constant, but it’s still very, very pleasurable. Reminds him of his heartbeat when you milk another fast handjob out of him before he has to meet up with his father.

“Shouto, are you sure you’re alri-”

“Y-yes, father. I’m f-fine. L-leg cra-amp.” Well, it could’ve come out less coherent, but it’s the best he can speak with gritted teeth and tense shoulders, all while holding back his embarrassing whimpers. It’s enough, again, to make the elder Todoroki look away from his ‘agonizing’ son, soon wondering if these meetings are beginning to bore and wear out the young future CEO and soon make him feel a familiar fear he had when Touya-

But who cares about Enji’s worries and concerns when you have a trembling Shouto Todoroki, whose face is beginning to turn as red as half his hair and eyes as wet as his bottom lip after being bitten mercilessly. You’re sure you can see some red, probably dug his teeth too much and tore the skin a little, but it’s pretty swollen regardless. Maybe his dick is too?

Oh! What if you suck his dick under the table?

No, then everyone will know how he’s so smitten with you, just some random logistician coordinator instead of some offspring of another CEO. Funny how the supervisors care more about Shouto’s relationship status than his own father.

So, maybe just switching back to the rhythm being a continuous hum and finish dragging your thumb up the screen so that the toy can reach its greatest ability?

Too easy, let’s drag it out a little.

But Todoroki won’t let you, not with how he’s caressing your exposed ankle with his shoe, eyes staring pathetically into yours, mouthing “need to, need to, need to”.

So soon? You’ve barely had your fun. You can’t blame him entirely, either.

That morning, the moment you showed him the vibrator you bought for him to wear, he was already whimpering softly, moaning pleas into your neck between every kiss, all while he pressed his hard on against your thigh.

But you didn’t let him do anything to get rid of it, sending him off to get ready, even if he left whining. (He knows better than to throw a tantrum.)

Maybe he’s still sensitive after making him hump your thigh before the meeting?

Yeah, definitely.

It’s pleasant to remember his whimpers of embarrassment that soon turned into soft moans of gratitude, letting you take control of how fast he goes and how hard, all while listening to you explain the toy as he tries not to cum so soon.

You didn’t let him cum (again) because of his father’s secretary calling him to ask where he even was as the meeting began some minutes ago. Oops.

Even if it ‘ruined’ the mood, he was still so excited, and you’re starting to think you can finally see it begin to also appear on his face.

You didn’t change the rhythm or intensity, so it should’ve been enough for Shouto to get used to it, but he couldn’t. Not while he realized, tensing his thighs helped him feel so much more, and his constant shuffling and accommodation on the chair should’ve alerted you or someone, but who would’ve even thought he was trying to fuck the toy possibly deeper inside of him?

He’s pulling himself closer to the table, bringing a tight fist towards his mouth to feign a cough.

He usually does this so that he is dismissed for a break that he’d take as an open invitation to leave. Not on your watch.

Just as he was going to cough, you finished dragging your thumb to the top part of your cell phone screen and watched as his whole body jolted, and even his knee and elbow hit the table.

The room falls to a complete halt, all conversations interrupted by the young Todoroki… moan? Did the young Todoroki just moan?

He doesn’t even realize what is going on with the way he’s trying so hard to stand up and leave. But his legs are too uncoordinated with how violently the toy is vibrating, mercilessly going crazy against his sensitive prostate that just sends more arousal to his dick. If he looks close enough, he’s pretty sure he’s already beginning to leak through his expensive suit trousers.

His mouth opens in complete shock, but with a familiar hand covering it from behind, he forgets about his surroundings temporarily as he pathetically yet cutely whimpers, wrapping his arms around his stomach.

Not like it hurts, just that he’s pretty close to making a bigger mess in his clothes. He’s not sure how he’ll feel about that, not with the way he just realized he’s still very much in public, very much in a meeting, very much in the same room as his father and soon-to-be subordinates.

That has him closing his eyes quickly, feeling himself becoming cross-eyed at how ridiculing this situation is more for his father than for him, and how you oh-so-accidentally brushed against his nipple to hook your arms under his to get him on his feet.

He’s not even sure what you’re saying at this point, everything being muffled by his heartbeat in his ears and loud buzzing taking over his senses and modesty. Something about him complaining about a stomach ache and how you’ll take him to his office.

The men with gray hairs are talking among themselves about how irresponsible Shouto is with himself, others praising how, even in an ill state, he still attended, Keigo watching the ordeal with an odd look on his face, akin to familiarity of the situation probably, and Enji Todoroki being completely lost but slowly feeling his anger rising by the commotion slowly becoming too loud for his liking and comprehension.

But it’s thanks to this distraction that manages to mute out, miraculously, his mewls of your name as his hips twitch wildly, knees buckling as his orgasm takes over his body in violent, clashing waves. His few hot tears are dripping from his chin as he shamelessly moans softly with every shock of pleasure, still trying his best to stand properly.

He doesn’t even get to finish riding out his high before being dragged out of the meeting room, pretty sure he hears his father’s yells flooding the hallway as you snicker in amusement and rub your thumb on the back of his hand you’re holding. Your other hand occupied itself with turning the toy off, eyes set on the elevator closing in.

“You did great, Shou. I’m so proud of you.”

Your praises always make him keen, but this one makes him moan the loudest today, his shaky hands finding purchase on your hips to press them flush against his. Doesn’t matter the curious wet spot on his crotch, all that matters is that you know how horny he still is.

“P-please? Please, y-y/n. I-I think I ne-need more. St-still hot!”

Now, who are you to deny the man who came in front of his father shamelessly?

[motleyfam]

I Must Leave, Right Now, Immediately

Fandom: Batman, DCU

Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne

Word count: 3034

Summary: Tim splits his pants at a charity gala. To say that he’s expecting merciless teasing from his brothers is an understatement.

What he gets is… not that?

Read it on Ao3

Like most problems in Tim’s life, this whole situation could have been avoided if only he was a little less of a Walking Human Disaster.

Three weeks ago, when the invitation to the charity fundraiser for the Gotham Homeless Youth Center first arrived in the mail, Alfred had asked each of the boys if they had suitable attire. And Tim, distracted by the case notes he was pouring over as he shoveled Froot Loops into his mouth at three p.m. on a Sunday, assured him that, yes, his old suit still fit just fine, and no, he definitely didn’t need to try it on to check because he was just as infuriatingly five-foot-three as the last time he’d worn the thing.

Damian—who’d promptly requested that his own suit be altered to adjust for what Tim figured couldn’t be more than the half an inch he’d gained in height—suggested that Drake might do well to start looking into platform heels.

(The ensuing fight took up most of the next hour, eventually ending in Bruce banishing them both to their rooms on threat of no mid-week patrol.)

So that was strike one.

What Tim failed to take into account, however, is that all the extra training he’s been doing these past few months with the Titans has added a few inches of girth to his scrawny limbs, which would be a welcome addition if not for the fact that now his trousers are just a smidge too tight. Not enough that anyone else would likely notice, but just enough that they’re a bit more… slim-fitting than Tim is used to.

Strike two.

Then there was the fact Tim hasn’t exactly been keeping up with his laundry as of late. Alfred’s been on a ‘teach the boys more independent life skills by sheer force of will’ kick lately—kind of funny considering that method obviously never worked for Bruce, who’d burnt toaster waffles last week and set off three of the manor’s fire alarms—so Tim’s been doing his own clothes washing. Or, more precisely, letting it pile up in the hamper to the point that when he emerged from his pre-gala shower a few hours ago with a towel wrapped around his waist, running on three hours sleep and a triple shot of espresso, there was exactly one pair of clean underwear left in his dresser drawer—of the dazzlingly ‘tighty-whitey’ variety that he’d stopped wearing sometime around middle school.

Strike three.

Strike four, was less Tim’s fault and more due to the unseasonably warm weather they’re having for October, which caused him to ditch his suit jacket back at the table, leaving him a bit more exposed than he’d otherwise be. Granted, he does have exceptionally bad luck as a person in general, so it’s still debatable who’s to blame.

But strike five was definitely all Tim.

It’s kind of amazing how someone as meticulously trained in stealth as Tim could be clumsy enough to knock a whole tray of mini éclairs off the edge of the dessert table with one wrong move of his elbow.

Equally amazing how, the very same reflexes that kicked in to shoot Tim’s hand out and drop him into a sudden deep squat both managed to save the tray from clattering to the floor, and to spell Tim’s doom.

Because the next thing he knows, the sound of ripping fabric is echoing in Tim’s ears and the room feels significantly draftier than it did just a second ago.

Tim shoots back upright, immediately turning around so that he’s facing the room with his back to the wall, the blood already rushing to his face. Setting the tray down, he moves swiftly backwards behind the dessert table over to the back corner of the room, where an inconspicuous glance over his shoulder reveals–

It’s bad.

It’s the entire back seam of his trousers, ripped in two, top to bottom, exposing his bleach-white briefs for all to see. Not to mention the fact that the room is filled with paparazzi at the moment, all no doubt thirsty for shots of Gotham’s favorite billionaire family in compromising situations.

Tim closes his eyes, bringing his hands up to cover his face. This can’t be happening. He’s screwed. So screwed. Absolutely nothing could make this worse.

“Yo, Replacement.”

(Spoke too soon.)

“The old man wants us all out by that big-ass marble fountain in the foyer in five minutes,” Jason informs, snagging a short fluted glass full of chocolate mousse from the dessert table as he approaches. He’s dressed in what constitutes for Jason as formal attire—black jeans, a button-down with a tie, and a dark leather jacket instead of his usual brown one. Alfred must have put his foot down. “Someone from the Gazette’s gonna take a pic of us for their cover photo. Publicity stunt or something.”

(Someone, please, just kill Tim now.)

“Uh...” Having been trained by Batman means that Tim is acutely aware of exactly where the exits are located in any room he walks into, but he lets his eyes dart around the ballroom anyway in the desperate hope that he’s missed one. He hasn’t—the corner he’s both physically and metaphorically backed into is about as far from the door as humanly possible. “B wants us for a picture?”

“Mh-hm, of all of us,” Jason hums affirmatively, scooping up a large spoonful of mousse and shoveling it into his mouth. “First I told him no way, I’m not smiling next to the demon bat, but he gave me that patented disappointed look and was like,”—he puts on a gruff, mocking voice—“‘This is for the children, Jason, charitable donations increase thirty percent at events where we are all seen interacting together positively in public,’ which was kinda below the belt, but what can you do.” He takes another bite of mousse.

Tim blinks at him dumbly. “I… can’t.”

Jason quirks an eyebrow. “What do you mean you can’t?”

“I just– don’t think it’s a good idea,” Tim moves another half-step backwards, his back now flesh with the wall. “At the moment.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Obviously we’ll fix your hair first, Timbo, don’t worry about it.”

Tim frowns, his hand immediately moving up to his head. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

“And I’m sure you can bum some concealer off Barbara to cover that giant zit on your chin.”

“Zit on my–?” Tim moves his fingers down to feel his face, then stops when he sees Jason’s smirk. “Fuck off, Jason,” he mutters darkly.

“C’mon, let’s get this over with, princess,” Jason says, and reaches out his hand like he’s going to grab Tim’s wrist to drag him over there but Tim swats it away irritably.

“I said no!” Tim snaps, his cheeks burning.

Jason’s expression changes to a scowl. “What’s the matter with you?”

Tim is acutely aware of how many pairs of eyes there are in the room, more than a few looking curiously in their direction. He can see flashes of cameras going off, the press circling around like vultures. He has no idea how he’s getting out of here.

“Why are you over here anyway?” Jason goes on.

“Just leave me alone.” Tim’s aiming for a sharp tone, but only manages to sound frazzled. “Tell B I’ll make it up to him next time.”

Jason’s eyes narrow as he takes a step forward, uncomfortably close now. “You’re being really fucking weird right now, can you jus–”

“I split my pants, alright?” Tim hisses in frustration.

Jason freezes mid-step, blinking. “Wait, really?”

Tim rolls his eyes. “No, I was joking,” he huffs. “Yes, really.”

Jason’s brows knit together. He steps to the side, craning his neck like he’s trying to see around Tim.

Tim shoves him back. “Well don’t look!”

“I wasn’t!” Jason hisses. “I just–” He blinks again. “You actually…?”

Tim squeezes his eyes shut and nods miserably, bracing himself for the absolute field day Jason is going to have with this information.

It doesn’t come.

“Ah. Right. Well.” Jason clears his throat and rubs a hand awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Let’s get you out of here then.”

Now it’s Tim’s turn to blink at his brother. “Wait, you’re… You’re helping me?”

“What, you think I’m gonna leave you to fend for yourself like this in a room full of reporters?” Jason looks almost offended at the idea. “I’m not fucking heartless, Timmy.”

(Speaking of heartless.)

“Tt. Hiding in the corner like children, I see.”

Tim glances up, revealing Damian standing there in his perfectly tailored three-piece-suit, glaring at them scornfully. “Come. Father says we must all be photographed immediately.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well tell the old man to take a selfie. Tim and I are peacing out.” He makes the sign, holding up two fingers.

Damian’s eyebrows knit into a frown as he moves a step closer. “Both of you? You are not going”—he lowers his voice further—“on patrol, are you? Because Father explicitly forbade–”

“So what if we are?” Jason cuts him off. “You gonna rat us out? Did your precious League fail to teach you the cardinal rule about snitches and stitches?”

Damian’s expression is scathing, but he merely crosses his arms over his chest. “Take me with you,” he demands. “I wish to patrol as well.”

“Dami.” Tim runs a hand over his face in utter frustration. “We’re not patrolling.”

“Tt. Then where are you going?”

“I– we’re not–” Tim stutters.

“None of your business, pipsqueak,” Jason interrupts. “Go run along back to Daddy.”

Damian’s gaze narrows. “You two are behaving strangely,” he says, and then sidesteps like he’s trying to see around Tim, but Jason grabs him by the wrist and jerks him backwards.

Damian lets out an indignant little noise and starts to twist away, but Jason just rolls his eyes, mutters a quick, “Oh for fuck’s sake...” and lowers his mouth to the boy’s ear, hand cupped in front to shield his lips from view.

There’s a beat. Then the little brat’s eyes go wide.

This is it. Tim’s life is officially over. The two people most likely to blackmail him from now until kingdom come have both just been made privy to the most embarrassing, compromising moment of Timothy Drake’s life and there’s no way in hell they’re not going to mercilessly–

“We will get you out of here, Drake.”

And for once, there’s not a hint of sarcasm or malice to the kid’s expression. He’s standing ram-rod straight, looking somehow equal parts sincere and uncomfortable.

(Maybe Tim should split his pants more often.)

Jason clears his throat, all business now. “So what’s our extraction plan here? Did you drive yourself?”

Tim shakes his head. “Alfie dropped me off. Was planning to get a ride home with B.”

“And I took my bike here,” Jason muses, chewing on his lower lip as he thinks, “so that’s not gonna work.”

“Father drove,” Damian pipes up, pointing across the room toward the bar where Bruce—in full Brucie Wayne mode—is chatting animatedly with a few older ladies. “We could–”

A little gasp of “No, don’t tell B!” slips out of Tim’s mouth before he can stop it.

Damian just stares at him as though he’s gone mad. “I had no intention of telling Father your plight, Drake.” He looks over to Jason. “If you can provide a suitable distraction, I am certain I can slip the keys off of him unnoticed.”

Jason snorts. “Who needs keys to borrow a car? I’ll just hotwire it.”

Damian frowns. “You know how to evade the anti-theft device?”

“Bitch, who do you think installed the anti-theft?”

Tim and Damian both respond by each making a small, satisfied little humming noise in the back of their throats. Jason does have a point there.

Damian turns and locks eyes with Tim. “How extensive is the damage?” he inquires, and Tim has to fight the urge to drop his own gaze in shame that he’s even having this conversation with an eleven-year-old.

Tim grits his teeth. “Very,” he answers honestly, aware once more of the draft on his backside.

“Can you escape to the lobby undetected?” Damian goes on. “If we flank you on either side?”

Tim shakes his head, cheeks burning again. “No. I– It’s really noticeable,” he admits.

Jason and Damian exchange a grimace.

“Alright, plan B,” Jason declares, gaze traveling around the room in full tactical mode now. He holds out his hand expectantly. “Dami, give me your jacket.”

“What, to conceal him?” Damian looks aghast. “This suit is a Boglioli.”

“Since when do you even know what a Boglioli is?” Jason says with a scoff. He makes a grabby motion with his hand. “C’mon. Chop-chop.”

Damian scowls. “Use yours.”

“That’s even more suspicious and you know it.”

Over their bickering, Tim heaves out a sigh. “Look, I appreciate you trying, but I don’t think it even matters,” he says, pointing around the room at the sea of paparazzi snapping photos. “No matter what we do, they’re gonna see and I’m gonna be on the cover of every stupid tabloid tomorrow morning.”

“Don’t be defeatist, Drake,” Damian chides, and to Tim’s great surprise, the kid shimmies out of his jacket.

“Yeah, chin up, Timmy,” Jason agrees, nodding, as Damian passes it to Tim. “That was only part one of my plan.”

Tim wraps the jacket around his waist—ignoring Damian’s shudder. The arms aren’t quite long enough to tie in a knot, so he just holds them together in his fist awkwardly. “And what exactly is part two?”

A grin spreads across Jason’s face. “Part two…” Keeping his back to the wall, Jason moves a few paces away. “Is run.”

Immediately, Jason slaps the whole row of light switches on the wall, plunging the gala into darkness. Gasps and little shrieks echo around the room, no doubt from concerned citizens expecting any number of Gotham's foes to attack, and Tim would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a little guilty about distressing them all. But then Damian grabs his arm and grits out a “Move, Drake!” the two of them are both bolting for the exit, Jason hot on their heels.

The lobby outside is a swarm of commotion as well, with an equal number of citizens trying to get into the ballroom as there is trying to get out. Jason signals them both through a side door—clearly meant for the staff—and then a moment later they’re racing toward the parking lot.

“Where’s he parked?” Jason calls over.

“I am not certain—a valet took it,” Damian replies as they run, and Tim groans internally. “But there might be a–”

“Wait!” Jason comes skidding to a stop in front of a familiar, rusty, old beater of a vehicle—the only type that can survive parked on the street in Blüdhaven more than twenty-four hours without getting stolen. A grin spreads across his face. “Dick’s here!”

“Tt,” Damian scoffs, though it sounds almost amused this time as Jason opens the drivers’ side door easily. “Grayson never bothers to lock it.”

“Probably because he’ll get more in insurance money for it than it’s worth,” Tim quips, opening the passenger door. He’s just about to climb in when Jason stops him with a yelp.

“Whoa, whoa, let me put something down first!” Jason says, shoving his arm back out of the car and reaching into the backseat to retrieve a plastic Walmart bag from the messy floor, much to Tim’s confusion. “Jesus Timbo, first rule of joyriding is you bring the car back as nice as you found it,” he says as he spreads the bag over the seat cushion.

“What are you talking about?” Tim frowns. “I’m just sitting on it.”

Damian—who’s paused midway into climbing into the backseat—gives him a strange look. “You are ill,” he says as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“What?” Tim’s head is swirling. “I’m not sick.”

Jason’s eyebrows raise. “That’s frankly more concerning then...”

“What are you talking about?”

“If you are not ill,” Damian says, still staring at him, “then do you simply make it a habit to defecate in public?”

“To do– what?!” Tim splutters in horror. “Who said anything about that?”

“You did!” Jason retorts, looking utterly confounded. “You told me you shit your pants!”

“I said I split my pants, you moron!” Tim bites back.

There’s a moment of utter silence, their panting breaths from having just sprinted to the parking lot the only sound between them.

It’s broken by a loud snort from Damian, followed instantly by Jason’s guffawing laughter. A second later, Tim is joining in, and then all three of them dissolve into a fit of giggles.

“F-Fuck, Timmy!” Jason spits out between laughs. “I thought–” He gasps for breath, “I thought you really shit yourself!”

“As did I,” Damian admits through giggles.

Tim’s laughing too hard to reply at the moment. They all climb into Dick’s car—though with far less urgency now—and shut the doors after them. Jason whips a multitool out of his inner jacket pocket and gets to work on removing the panel under the steering wheel, his shoulders still shaking slightly with mirth.

As Jason starts to strip the wires, Tim wipes a hand at his face to clear the moisture from his eyes. “You seriously thought I shit my pants and then asked you two—of all people—for help?”

“Hey,” Jason huffs out, pointing the end of his multitool at his brother. “Don’t knock us. We got you out, didn’t we?”

(And, well, Tim has to admit that they did.)

“Drake,” Damian says, and Tim turns around to look at the boy in the backseat. “There are fates even one trained by the League of Assassins does not wish upon their worst enemy,” he says solemnly.

“Damn straight,” Jason agrees. He touches the two exposed wires together, creating a spark, and the car revs to life. “Alright,” he says, pulling the car into gear, “who wants to get fro-yo?”

-----

[rohondra]

Firsts || Izuku Midoriya

a/n: this is for another bnharem discord collab!! the prompt was “Pen Pals”. I’m pretty content with how this came out and I’m super excited to write a bit more considering I got a computer!! I’m hoping to do a pt2 hehe. god bless the people in my haikyuu server who swooped in and saved the day every time I had a brain far. 

rating: n*fw 18+

word count: just over 2k

warnings: virgin!Reader, daddy kink yes again ok I have a problem, FaceTime sex, mutual masturbation, big buff Izuku

all characters are aged up when I write and I take no credit for the images I post w said writings unless stated otherwise.

PLEASE CHECK OUT EVERYONES AMAZING FICS FOR THIS COLLAB!!!

A notification from the S.H.I.E.L.D. Field Office Discord server you were a part of popped up on your phone. It was an announcement that they would be randomly selecting pen pals as an event to get people more connected during this pandemic, of course you had the option to opt out, but the idea of doing something so “risky” excited you. You held your breath and reacted with a thumbs up, butterflies instantly flooding your stomach.

Just under an hour later one of the admins sent you a pm;

-Hey! Thanks so much for joining our penpals event. Social distancing is a pain in the ass, but hopefully this will lighten your spirits! We paired you with @/izuku#2485. Xx

Being the nosy son of a bitch you were, you immediately typed his user into the server and checked his activity within it- specifically the “#pictures” channel, but found nothing. Just as you were about to send him a friend request, you got a notification of another pm.. Oddly enough from him;

-Hi, we got paired for the penpal event! It’s okay if you don’t want to send your address to a complete stranger, I get it haha.

The butterflies returned as you pressed the request button, and immediately saw it change from “pending” to “send message”.

~Hi! If I’m honest it’s just my college address lol, nothing too risky.

-College huh? Me too. I was afraid you were going to end up being a minor and then I’d feel kind of weird ha. What school?

~Do not fear, I am in fact legal. Even if it is by 8 months lol. ASU! Yourself?

-Arizona huh? Interesting, I’m actually finishing my senior year at Iowa State.

Your stomach flipped, anxiety coursing through your veins at the last message. Senior?! What if this guy was like, 40?? No, it couldn’t be. He wouldn’t be living on campus at that age.. But he never specified he was living in a dorm. You closed Discord and moved onto what seemed to be the never ending flood of assignments, two of which were due that night.

A notification popped up on your computer mid essay;

-Don’t wanna be pushy. Here’s my address if you decide to write me.(:

You chewed at your bottom lip, weighing the consequences. It couldn’t be that bad of an idea right? He seemed nice, not pervy at all.. Fuck it.

“Hello! It’s your good old pal from the Marvel server. If I'm honest I'm not that good at these things, haha. This letter will be pretty short, but tell me- who’s your favorite Marvel character? Feel free to gush! I’m looking forward to hearing back from you.

From,

Y/N”

-

Two weeks later your RA slipped the envelope under your door, “MAIL!!!” she yelled before hurrying to the next room to deliver. Your heart fluttered as you opened it, admiring his clean handwriting;

“Hi. Alls good, I’m pretty awkward myself ha. My name is Izuku Midoriya! My friends call me Deku. Y/N is a nice name.

Honestly, it’s kind of cliche but Captain America has to be my favorite. I’m a bit of a Marvel junkie. I’ve seen every movie, have the entire Captain America comic series, own a Marvel Encyclopedia, plus almost every Marvel funko pop they’ve released.. Now that I think of it I’m definitely more than “a bit” obsessed ha. How about you? If it’s easier for you, you could just message me on discord.

-Izuku”

You giggled as you opened the app on your phone.

~Hi! I just got your letter. Seems to me you’re DEFINITELY obsessed lol but that’s okay, me too. I’m obsessed with Captain America. Chris Evans? *cheff kiss*”

-Hey. That’s so funny! I aspire to look like him one day haha. Taking it one day at a time, but this pandemic is making it difficult rip. You wanna add me on snapchat? I probably came off as some creepy perv ha. @/deku_zuku.”

From that point on, you two became OBSESSED with each other. Deku was an extremely gorgeous, freckled man with colored, fluffy green hair. You thought your sleep schedule was already fucked because of the pandemic? Sike, now it really was. You were staying up until 5am snapchatting him, interacting with him on discord, texting him, etc. You just couldn’t get enough of each other.

Your favorite snapchats from him were his post workout selfies. You loved the way his skin glistened, his muscular body littered in scars and freckles. More often than not you screenshot them and definitely got off to them, but you could never tell him that. It was embarassing to think about how most nights you laid in bed pumping a dildo inside of yourself desperately calling his name, imagining it was him fucking your tight virgin pussy.

As you were getting lost in imagining scenarios your phone began ringing, oh fuck he was FaceTimeing you.

You quickly sat up, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and setting your phone against a book for support before answering.

“H-hi! Sorry I wasn’t expecting you to FaceTime me ha.”

Izuku grinned ear to ear, “No I’m sorry! I should’ve asked first, but you look great so I mean.. No complaints from me with how you look.”

Red tinted your cheeks, “A-ah thank you. You’re pretty good looking yourself.”

Izuku’s eyes narrowed, “Did I catch you at uh- a bad time?”

You tilted your head in confusion, “No? I mean I was trying to catch up on some stuff but other than I wasn’t doing anything important.”

“Ha, that looks pretty important. You also look a little flushed.”

When your eyes followed his on your screen your cheeks immediately lit on fire and you shifted to cover the dildo you carelessly left on the parallel night stand.

“So that’s why you’ve been screenshotting my pictures huh? I never would’ve taken Y/n to be such a slut.” he smirked.

He could feel his cock begin weep at the sight, he couldn’t help but palm himself. What if you got off to him? Thinking about how your little moans might sound when they slip out of your mouth made his cock pulse, he wanted to make you moan. He wanted to be the reason you came undone.

You tried to defend yourself, slightly annoyed by the derogatory term he referred to you as, “I- no. It isn’t like th-”

He cut you off, his voice having dropped an octave, “It’s okay baby, tell me what you think about.. I wanna hear what gets you off with those pictures.”

Hands came up to cover your face, you felt like you were going to puke- this was too embarrassing. His screen went to “paused” and you heard shuffling from his end. Within seconds you received a picture of Izuku in the mirror, his large hand barely covering his erect penis and his shirt between his teeth. He chuckled, “How about now princess? What makes that pretty pussy tighten around your toy?”

Slick slipped from your previously abused cunt, he sounded so delicious and looked even more delicious. When you spoke, your voice came out as a squeak, “I-I uh, I can’t tell you! It’s embarrassing.” If you could light on fire, it would’ve already happened. In fact, you wish you could. If you’re lucky the entire dorm might catch ablaze as well so all evidence is ruined.

A deep chuckle echoed from your phone speaker, “Embarrassed? It’s not like you’re a blushing virgin baby.”

There was a pause as you lowered your hands, your nose scrunched from the humility and one eye shut, “.. And if I told you I was?”

Izuku felt his member pulse yet again, precum gliding from his slit. That almost sent him over the edge, there was no way someone as breathtaking as you hadn’t been with anyone. Fuck, he could take your innocence and ruin you for any other man. He could make you his own and have you milking his thick cock every night, screaming his name and begging for more.

A meak sigh pulled him from his fantasies as you spoke up, “Sorry if that makes me less appealing.” He was quick to follow up, “N-no. God no. That,” he sighed,” fuck that’s honestly hot.”

Boldness coursed through him as his hand lazily pumped his shaft, “That just means I can be all your firsts.. Here, give me a minute.”

Your heart sank for a minute when the FaceTime ended, but fluttered once again when another call from him came through. This time though, it was from his laptop. He smirked before rolling back in his computer chair, his cock twitching against his stomach anxious for attention.

Desire burnt within him at the sight of you, eyebrows raised and eyes enlarged with pupils blown while you licked your lips. Izuku couldn’t help as his hand encircled his shaft once again, “What is it you think about baby? Me kissing and licking all over your body? My fingers pumping in and out of you while my tongue plays with your nipple?” He began a generous pace of pumping himself before his next taunt, “Maybe my tongue playing with your clit?”

A soft moan fell from your lips as you nodded, “A-all of that. ‘Zuku c-can I please touch myself?” You gasped as you watched precum flow from his tip at your words. He nodded, “Please do.”

You sat back, lifting your hips just enough to slip your panties off, nervously looking at him. All caution was thrown to the wind when Izuku groaned, “Ah, be a good girl for me baby.”

You made sure your full body was in view before grabbing the toy and lowering it between your thighs, which were now covered in a thin layer of your arousal. Squeezing your eyes shut you opened your legs and gently pushed until the dildo was fully sheathed inside of you.

Opening your eyes you were greeted with the most sinful sight, Izuku Midoriya quickly gliding his hand up and down his cock with his chest heaving, his body sheen with sweat.  You let a high pitched moan, your name resonating slowly from his chest. With every thrust your wrist made, a coil began to form inside your belly, it all seemed so familiar but was far more exhilarating knowing that someone else was watching.

“Just think about when that’ll be my cock splitting you in half. Shit- close your eyes for me, start playing with your clit and imagine it's me.” You nodded in response, unable to form words.

Obeying his command, it felt like electricity struck you when your finger made contact. The coil was now fully formed and threatened to burst with every movement.

“I need to cum, p-please.”

“Yeah? Only if you beg for daddy to let you.” He smirked as he watched your thighs tense for a moment.

“A-ah.. please! Please let me finish. Please d-daddy, need to so bad.”

Izuku felt his orgasm quickly approaching with each shaky word spilling from your beautiful lips, “Yeah baby, you can cum now. Let me see the pretty faces you make.”

SNAP

You were gone, your body lost to the ocean of ecstacy ripping through you as you rode the waves of your release.

He sat forward, studying the way your face contorted and how your cunt sucked the toy in as far as possible. The thought of you milking the absolute hell out of his cock sent him over the edge, head thrown back with spurts of cum covering his beautifully toned chest and stomach.

Eyes twitched trying to focus from the intensity of your orgasm as you came down from euphoria.

As Izuku  began cleaning himself off he spoke up, “So you’ve genuinely never done that kind of stuff before?” You shook your head before sitting up to sling a large t-shirt over your body, “Nope, when I said I was a virgin I mean like V I R G I N.”

He shook his head and chuckled, “Crazy. I have some assignments I need to do, if you want you could keep me company?”

You pulled a pillow under your chin and hugged it.  “I have some work to do too, so I guess that’ll work.” You giggled. He twirled a pen between his fingers before bringing it up to chew on, “And once we call it quits for the evening, how about we check off some more ‘firsts’ for you?”

[burnedbyshoto]

Four Times Dabi Wanted You; The One Time He Got You

Kinktober Day 2 ~ kink: sexual frustration

pairing: dabi x fem!reader

warnings: smut, cussing

word count: 6,514

a/n: day twoooo!!!!!! this one is by far my fav... again its only the second one Ive written so....yeAH LMAO!!!!!!! I am so hot for dabi its not even funny anymore!!! please enjoy >:)

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Four

Dabi pants as he pulls the lip of his water bottle away from him. He wipes his hand against his mouth. Cooling down his burning skin and drying his mouth. With the league’s increasing popularity, he had to start training with the others. Defeat was no longer allowed by Shigaraki, and defeat was not something they wished for.

Dabi's quirk was powerful, there was no denying that! The issue arose with the way it was burning him out from the inside out. So there was only so much he could do without turning into a crisp.

Dabi didn't mind that much as long as he could continue training with you. His eyes locked on you from a distance.

You pulled your arms over your head, and your head is rolling in circles. You’re cooling down.

Five weeks ago you had shown up, a new recruit found by none other than Sako. You had seemed innocent enough, someone Dabi definitely would have never recruited himself. You were so benign seeming, too bland. You had a vivacious smile and stargazing expression. Those traits further solidified the idea you were in over your head. That was until he observed you in action.

Your quirk was horrifying, to say the least. Called Fission and Fusion, you were able to split living cells apart and put them together. It was terrifying the way you had sent Spinners' arms and legs flying away. The single-action sent entire league ready to both to unite you onto their lineup, and of course, kill you. Your laughter was sweet, your head bowing in apology as you retrieved Spinner's limbs. You reattached it with a smile, soon pointing out the lack of blood everywhere.

There was also no denying that you were attractive, hell, the entire league had a thing for you. Dabi, however, was the most adamant in denying his attraction to you. Even as most of their feelings for you faded, Dabi’s remained strong. As if it was there with a vengeance. He obsessed over you but never once let you in on that secret.

The smug bastard, Sato, was the League’s hero--oh the irony. All because he found a recruit they could use as a healer and a fighter. It was soon discovered that there was a major limitation to your quirk. First, you couldn’t use it on yourself, and second, burns weren’t something you could quite fix.

For the most part, your quirk didn’t help much with Dabi’s overexertion of his own quirk. You would, of course, try your best. Your fingers trailing his purple scars as your fingertip glowed. Dabi always felt a bit better after those touches, but it didn’t ever stop the burning sensation under his skin. He was grateful, it still helped.

His eyes continued to gaze at your closed eyes. Your arms circling in front of you, and Dabi watched as your breasts squeeze because of those actions. He watches the sweat from your face roll down your neck and into your cleavage. The trail of sweat disappears, and he takes a few slow blinks. It was almost like it was teasing him, and he blinked again. He feels a strange arousal at the sight of your glistening cleavage. Shaking it off, his eyes travel back up to your face.

You were looking at him, an amused grin on your face as you saunter over.

“You need some help there?” You ask, a smirk on your face as Dabi shrugs his shoulders.

“Go wild.” He replies sticking out his arm for you. Dabi won't give you the satisfaction of your perverted question. You plop down on the floor beside him, your warm fingers touching his burnt skin.

You trail your fingers up and down his smoke smelling arms, and Dabi relishes in the warmth of your hands.

“What were you staring at earlier?” You tease as you grab his right arm. Although nowhere near as used as his left arm, his right arm was equal in burns.

Dabi shrugs, leaning onto his left arm, his eyes flicker over to the view he has of your cleavage. “I had zoned out.”

You clicked your tongue, but you drop it as your fingers heal over the few cuts he has on his chest.

“You’ve been improving though,” Dabi states, catching you off guard by the looks of it. “You’ve improved a lot over the last five weeks.”

A laugh vibrates through your throat, as you pull away, your hands pressing onto your lap. “I did go from sorta being able to kick your ass, to completely kicking your ass.” You agree and the smile on your face has never once withering.

“You only won the first time because I was caught off guard,” Dabi retorts. His blue eyes rolling as he runs a hand through his sweaty locks.

“You’re not the type to underestimate anyone, Dabi!” You cackle and Dabi once again looks you over. Were you always this damn hot?

“I wasn’t underestimating you,” Dabi disagrees, a smirk coming to his face. Dabi stares at you as he now craves a new expression on your face. He stares at you with hooded eyes and your smile waivers. “Do you want to know the truth?”

There’s a pregnant pause, but you soon nod, your eyes sealing over with the decision.

“It’s because you’re hot to look at,” Dabi admits. A victorious smirk comes over his features at the blush that stains your cheeks. Your mouth opens to respond, but Dabi’s closing in on you for some reason. His eyes hooded, and you find yourself compelled by some outside force as you try to meet him halfway.

Something knocks into you at full force, and you’re on the ground as Toga straddles you grinning atop of your waist.

“Y/l/n-chan!” Toga giggles as she hides her face behind the sleeves of her schoolgirl uniform. “I’ve been waiting for you to finish with Dabi for so long now! I have so many cute people I need to show you!”

Dabi exhales as he watches the two of you discuss the plans you had in store. Dabi can only watch as you flash an apologetic smile and leave.

He watches you run away with Toga, a bright smile back on your face, and an unknown feeling sits heavy in his gut.

Thinking about it, Dabi ponders as he tries to figure out what he is feeling right now. It takes a moment, but as he thinks back to the way your fingers touch his arm. The way he had tried to kiss you made his stomach squeeze. Oh, no.

Dabi wanted you.

This day was not the last one like this to happen, nor was it the first. Only now it happened to be the first time he had noticed how fucking hot you were.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Three

~ Two Months Later ~

Recruiting was the best and worst thing Dabi did for the league.

He wasn’t going to lie. There was something so glorious and wonderful about killing these men. Men who thought they were better than everyone else. He loved the way they would scream for mercy while dying in front of him.

What he didn’t like were the initial conversations. The begrudged talks he had to have before he decided to kill them. Only so that he could tell Shigaraki that he did his job “correct” and perfect. Yet lately, it seemed that no one believed Dabi when he said he talked to the groups of potential followers. They weren’t wrong to believe that, but it still annoyed Dabi to see that you were waiting for him this morning.

There you stood with your given upgrades to your costume. You played a game on your phone as Dabi walked down the hallway. Your eyes locked on his, and there was a smile on your face. Dabi hated you, or so that’s what he kept telling himself. He hated your smile especially because it made his stomach flip, and there was no reason for that. He walked right past you, his hands shoved in his pockets, and groaned under his breath when you followed him out.

So Dabi now stood by the entrance of an alleyway, and you were three steps to his right.

Your damn outfit was attention capturing. The fitted suit highlighted every single damn curve you had. You had garnered the attention of the masses of people waiting for the two of you, so Dabi wanted to kill them. Who the fuck did they think they were staring at his girl--no, you.

The look on your face was one of complacency. You flirted back with every single catcall, your eyes holding a mysterious glint as you did so. Hell, Dabi watched on as you stood next to one of the men, your lips by his ear, and his entire face flushed red. The man went to grab your waist to pull you closer, but you were three steps ahead. You were already walking back towards Dabi.

There was no doubt in Dabi’s mind that none of them deserved to join. They had an interest in you, not the group's movement! So when you pressed a hand to his shoulder, Dabi feared the worst as he bent down for you.

Your lips brushed against the shell of his ear stirred something from within him. The hot flow of air further increasing his heightened need for you. But it was the words that left your lips that sealed the last nail in his coffin.

“Kill them all.”

Dabi smirked his eyes locking on your bright eyes. The brightness was sadistic, very hidden under the brightness of your energy. He growled lowly, his lust increasing by tenfold, and all while staring into your eyes, he shot his left hand out.

Blue flames illuminated the alleyway in a blink of an eye. The shrieks and screams made the two of you gaze at the burning bodies in silence.

“I didn’t think you had it in you,” Dabi says after the last shrieks end. You glance up at him, a giggle leaving your lips.

“Because I’m super innocent?” You ask, your bottom lip captured between your teeth. Dabi wants nothing more than to slam his mouth on yours and bite down on that lip. To hear your pant his name while the bodies crumbled into dust beside you. “I’m not as innocent as you think me to be.”

The tone seems innocent enough, but the look on your face makes Dabi stop a groan from leaving his mouth. It’s sinister, yet overwhelming and hot, and he feels himself growing in his pants. So, he takes a step towards you, and he delights in the fact you stand your ground. “I would agree but you’re as innocent as I know you to be.” Dabi counters.

A lazy grin stapled onto his face. Your eyes swimming with a bunch of emotions Dabi can’t pinpoint. “You’re a great fighter, don’t get me wrong.” He takes another step, his eyes now blazing into yours. A triumphant smirk lacing his face as you step back. “But, you don’t seem like a killer.”

Another step backward. “After all, princess, you did command me to kill them all. You could’ve taken them without a sweat.”

He has you pressed against the alleyway walls. The cold brick digging into your backside, as you stare at Dabi, your mouth opened ever so slightly.

It seems, though, you may have guessed exactly what Dabi was feeling because your eyes sparkle. A smile graces your face against as you look at him through your heavy lashes. “I just think it’s hot when a man does my job for me.”

Dabi chuckles, his hands pressing on the sides of your head. “I think I can deal with that.” He whispers, leaning into your face wanting nothing more than to make you his right here, right now.

Your eyes don’t close even as he draws nearer, the look of defiance making his cock twitch in anticipation. But a phone rings in his pocket right before he can press his mouth to yours.

Dabi groans, the spell over the two of you broken as he takes out his phone. Putting it to his ear.

“What?” He almost growls.

“Did you find anyone? I sent y/n with you so that there could be one potential coming back.” Shigaraki’s voice questions, his tone annoyed and hopeful.

“They were all terrible, y/n thought so, too.” Dabi sighs rubbing his face, and he glances over at you, who merely shrugs.

Now Dabi had a boner to deal with, and a certain girl would not be readily available to help him.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Two

~ One Week Later ~

Dabi walked to the bathroom. He frowned when he figured out that it was not free, and he trained his ears a bit. The shower was on. Sighing, he turned and walked to the much further bathroom in their house.

He peed and went down to the living room. The living room is small, with only a couch and a few individual chairs. The floor was also more comfortable than some of these chairs! In fact, there were more people on that floor than in a seat. Everyone had gathered tonight because they decided they all wanted to “bond.” So Toga and you had suggested a movie night, and much to Dabi’s annoyance everyone agreed. He sat down on the couch, grateful that everyone else was on the floor or on chairs. Dabi scanned the room, looking to see who wasn’t there.

Everyone was there except--

“Where’s Y/n?” Sako asked, his eyes darting around. Dabi rolled his eyes as he slouched on the couch. Of course, it was you in the shower.

“In the shower!” Toga chirped. “She came back all bloody and cute, but she wanted to get it all off…”

“Ew blood is disgusting!” Twice yelled, “I LOVE IT!”

Dabi groaned as everyone began bickering. They argued if the blood of one’s enemies on you was hot. Dabi had to agree though, it was hot. He didn't join in on the conversation though.

“Sorry!” You chirped from the entranceway, and everyone cheered at finally being able to get the movie on the roll. Dabi felt the couch shift from beside him, and you hopped onto the stiff cushion beside him.

Dabi glances over at you and immediately regretted doing so. You were wearing an oversized sweater that fell to your mid-thigh. Dabi could not keep his eyes away from you, his eyes trailing down your shapely legs. Your animate arms moved as you explained what had happened. But Dabi wasn’t quite paying attention to what you were saying. He only knew that he was damn positive he could smell your citrus and berry shampoo from where he sat. It was not his favorite smell, but on you, it was quick to arouse him.

His eyes fell over the swell of your breast, and he glanced at the logo. He froze. The blood that was rushing through his body frozen as he realized who’s sweatshirt that was.

It was fucking Sako’s sweatshirt! Dabi felt his upper lip curl into a snarl as he shifted back towards the television. Now Dabi was uncaring for the conversation. As the movie finally began, the conversations stopped. Everyone invested in the scenes unfolding before their eyes. Toga had for dumb reason brought back the Lego Movie, and so that was what they were watching.

Why the fuck did you have Sako’s shit? Dabi’s thoughts trailed as he glanced over at you, and you were whispering to Shigaraki.

Rolling his eyes, he thought of you in his own clothes. He was definitely going to burn that sweatshirt off your body once he had you under his body. You would look so pretty with your mouth around his cock. Stunning when your back will arch off the bed. Dabi could see himself pounding into you until you couldn’t do anything but scream his name. Beautiful as you were on all fours, you back arched as he took you from behind, his name a prayer on your tongue.

Dabi inhaled sharply as you brush your hair to the side, and the waft of aroma from your hair hit him at full force. His pants felt tight as he sat there, trying his best not to grab you at this very moment and make you his. He would not care if the others looked or not! Hell, Dabi figured it would be better for them to look as he drilled into you. It would mean no one could question who you belonged to. You belonged to him.

Dabi stilled as you almost appeared at his side. Your hand on his shoulder as you pressed your mouth by his ear, “I wanted to let you know that I can handle myself just fine.”

It takes everything within Dabi to not turn you on your backside and drill you into the couch. Your words are teasing and taunting him. Instead, Dabi grips his thighs and he nods. “Is that what you were doing?”

“That among a few other things.” Your tone is teasing as you shift back to your original position, and Dabi stares at you. It was as if you were doing this on purpose.

The way you had dressed up? You knew that he was possessive of the things he wanted, and to be wearing a sweatshirt he didn’t know you had until now? The outfit was an entire tease. The way that he could only see your hands, neck, and legs. It was as if you wanted to rile him up. Especially with you tossing your hair every three seconds. It was getting harder and harder to ignore you.

So Dabi sat there, his nostrils flaring as the movie continued on. He couldn’t hear the movie anymore. Dabi was hyperaware of the delicious giggles that left your lips. Giggles that paralleled whenever something funny happened in the film. His ears picking up on your voice whenever you talked with Shigaraki. It was pissing him off.

The movie wrapped up without a hitch, and everyone quickly retreated back to their rooms. That is except Dabi and you. Dabi was trying to conceal his hard-on. He did anything to make sure you wouldn’t see because he wasn’t going to give you the benefit of a victory over him. You were cleaning up the few messes people had left behind. You hummed to yourself as you cleaned up the few pieces of popcorn that had hit the floor. Brushing past Dabi with an apology, you bent down in front of him. The action revealed a pair of navy blue booty shorts. Shorts that sent Dabi over the edge in the aspect of his mental strength.

Oblivious to his internal struggle, you walked to the kitchen. You tossed the trash away with a satisfied nod. You finished cleaning up, and you were now ready for bed.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” Dabi’s voice rustles against your neck, and you still. His chest pressed against your shoulders. You can feel his aroused dick pressed against your lower back, and a grin overcomes your features.

You delight in the way his fingers seize your waist, and you can’t keep yourself from rolling your hips. Your ass dragging pleasingly against his crotch. “I have no idea what you’re talking about?” You innocuously state, your hands gripping his pants to keep Dabi close.

“Now, now, love.” Dabi presses his lips to your neck. You groan slightly as the cool metal of his piercings conflict with your warm skin. “I know you’re not an idiot… don’t play dumb.”

You tilt your head to the side, giving him more room on your skin, and you once more roll your hips. He hisses softly against your neck. You laugh as the adrenaline courses through your veins making you giddy. This was something you wanted since day one after all. “I’m no idiot,” You agree, your hand trailing from his legs to clutch his black locks in your fingers. “I just can’t put together what I did to get myself into this situation.”

There’s an almost territorial grown from Dabi, and you've spun around. Your back is now pressed against the counter. You sigh as his warm hands slip underneath the sweatshirt. His fingers pausing at the waistband. “You wear this fucking sweatshirt. You talk to everyone but me all night long. You flip your hair in my direction as if I’m not already hard enough. And then you bend down right in front of me as if I hadn’t mused claiming you on that couch during the movie?”

You let out a moan, his words overwhelming you as he nips at your throat. Unable to keep yourself stagnant anymore, you clutch his face and bring his face to yours.

“Hey-- oh shit! Was I interrupting something?!” Spinners' face is blushing, and the two of you pull apart. Distance put between the two of you as you both stiffen.

“Nothing at all.” Dabi’s voice is too strained, and you watch as he storms off, his fists clenched at his side.

“It’s fine,” You say again with a laugh, Spinners face was almost beet red after all. “He was, what is it… checking up on me.”

“Are you… are you sure?” Spinner chokes his hand covering his eyes, and you walk over and press a kiss to his cheek.

“Don’t worry, honey!” You laugh as you pull away. “Nothing was happening!”

You cackle at his uncomfortable status and leave with a skip in your step. Oh yeah, Dabi was just about to be yours.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

One

~ The Following Day ~

Dabi was trying not to stare at you.

You were laying on your stomach on the opposite end of his bed. Your ankles crossed as you read the book in your hands.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him, all he knew is that since yesterday, you had been cold. Then again, you never seemed to be in his room ever. You wore a white tank top that showed off your stomach. Paired with black shorts that seemed to be the tiniest bit too tight. It was, to put it simply, too alluring for him. The outfit made Dabi want nothing more than to burn your clothes off and drill into you.

His eyes concentrated on you as you rolled over onto your back. Your hair fanning out around you in a way that Dabi could now envision himself between your legs. Your face flushed, screaming his name. He bit down hard on his tongue to keep himself from thinking about it any further. There was no stopping his thoughts when you shifted your weight. Your back arching as you stretched. A low moan resonating from your mouth as Dabi wheezes slightly.

Your eyes flicker over to him, and a confused look falls over your face as you scrunch your eyebrows. “You okay?” You ask placing the book to the bed.

“Yeah,” Dabi says an easy lie, his hands running through his hair. “Are you?”

“Never been better!” You respond sitting up, and you fix your hair so that it lays on your shoulders. “I do have some questions though?”

Dabi quirks an eyebrow as he nods, letting you know that he’s listening.

“It’s about yesterday,” You breeze, adjusting your top, and his eyes flicker down to the swell of your breasts. Dabi feels his mouth running dry, but he nods his head. “I wanted to know how you felt…”

There’s a questionable tone to your voice, but your eyes glimmer. It's that same glimmer from the meeting. It reminds him of a sadistic smile. Even so, Dabi shifts again, “About… about what?”

“The movie, silly!” You say as you fall onto your hands, and Dabi rolls his eyes. Of fucking course.

“It was stupid.”

You tut softly as you shrug, “We’re all entitled to an opinion, even if your opinion is dumb and stupid.”

“Shut up, you’re being annoying.”

“I’m only curious!” You grin and take your book in your hand. “My hands are cold…” You murmur looking at the book. Your eyes snapped up to Dabi, and he felt frozen under your gaze.

“Can I stick them down your pants?”

Dabi licks his lips, a smirk coming over his face as he sits up completely now. “No,” Dabi says with a mocking look.

The look on your face incites something within Dabi. The look is territorial, it's sultry, and it stirs something within him.

“Your belt looks really tight on you…” You lament, and Dabi watches with widening eyes as you’re on all fours now. His eyes struggling to keep themselves from falling to your displayed cleavage. Your teeth bite down onto your bottom lip, “Let me loosen it for you?”

You’re crawling slowly towards Dabi, and he forgets how to speak as your fingers come to graze at his ankles. Dabi’s breathing staggers as you crawl onto his lap, your hips straddling his own. He feels as if he’s choking when you press your breasts flat against his chest, your hot breath hitting his ear. “Can I confess something?” You whisper into his ear.

Dabi exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he nods his head. You’re completely and utterly overwhelming him.

“In my head, we’re already having sex, so my opinion is we should just get it on already.” You confess as your lips press against his neck.

Dabi struggles to breathe as you pull away, your eyes locking on his. “Can I kiss you?” You ask your face leaning in titillating close. “I really want to kiss you.”

Dabi forgets how to say yes as he feels your lips ghost against his own, and his eyes fall closed. He’s waiting for you to press yourself against him completely.

“Aw, you guys are so cute!” A voice interrupts the two of you, and you screech falling off Dabi. “Ugly and disgusting, please never do it again!”

Twice peered his face into the doorway. A smile is heavy in his tone as he giggled at the two of you blushing and heaving like horny teenagers.

“I’m going to leave…” You whisper the energy between the two of you ruined.

“Y/n!” Dabi calls after you. He's angry with the fact that you were leaving and furious at Twice’s giggling expression.

“Sounds like you’re in trouble!” Twice laughs. “Clean yourself up!”

Dabi groans as he falls back onto his bed, why the fuck could he never do what he wanted with you?

Dabi was through. He was sexually-frustrated and now that he knew you wanted him? He was not going to let you slip away again.

He was going to fuck you by the end of the night.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

One

~ One Hour Later ~

You were in your room. Your hands rummaging through your drawers trying to find a better set of PJs. To be honest, you were sure that you were going to get laid tonight, but Dabi didn’t seem to be all that into it.

After last night, you were sure he would spring at the chance! He had, after all, pressed a raging boner against your back. So, you figured that he would take the opportunity to bed you right then and there. Even when Twice had walked in, you thought he would have fought you to keep you there. That he would clash with Twice for walking in. That he would pin you to the mattress and had his way with your regardless of the fact that you were being watched.

Sighing, you stripped off your clothes. They were especially picked out to stir some sort of reaction from him. It was disappointing that all you got was a blank stare as you slipped under his arm. You slipped on a pair of sweatpants, frowning. You had even worn your favorite pair of black lacy lingerie! But you guessed that there was time for this another day.

You went to grab your shirt that was on your bed, but the door slams open, and you shriek. Your arms moving to cover yourself.

You watch as Dabi closes the door behind him, locking it, and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Are you--mmph?!”

His mouth is on yours the second you blink. The coolness of the staples in his chin press into your own chin and it sends chills down your spine. A gasp leaves your lips as you grip onto his sleeves, your head tilting to give a better angle for the two of you. His arms shift, and he grasps your ass tightly. You tear your lips away from his, panting heavily as he picks you up.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” Dabi growls into your neck. His hair tickles your cheek, and his smoky aroma fills your senses. You laugh carelessly. You shiver at the feeling of his cold staples pressing into your warm skin, but still, you crave more.

“I’ve been teasing you for months now,” You confess as he tosses you on the bed, his eyes scouring your body. “You’re just an idiot who needed me on your lap to solve that out!”

His tongue runs a circle around your neck, and you shudder, “I think you need to shut up.” Dabi warns.

“Make me, pussy!” You counter and Dabi rolls his eyes. His hands seize your bra covered breasts in his hands, and he chuckles lightly at your whimper.

“I had to suffer twice within the past twenty-four hours...” Dabi drawls out his lips peppering scattered kisses along your chest. “I’m going to fuck you until you cum so fucking hard around my dick...”

The promise in his voice sends your heart pounding, and you tremble as you gaze into his vehement eyes.

“You know, typically when someone says ‘make me,’ you’re supposed to--”

“Would you shut the fuck up?” Dabi snaps, his lips back on yours, and your eyes roll to the back of your eyes at the pressure.

He crawls on top of you, making you crawl backward, your head bumping the headboard of your bed. Dabi still on top of you as you pant. You sit up, your lips still dancing against his own, your hands locking into his thick hair. His lips are intoxicating. Pressing fully on yours. His hands gripping your waist and make you shudder from the strength of the hold.

Your thrust your hips upward, savoring in the fact that you were able to graze up against his pelvis.

“Stop fucking moving!” Dabi hisses against your lips, and you whine as his teeth bite down on your lower lip. You smile, your eyes watching at his lust-filled eyes. You wrap your legs around his waist and grind your hips into his crotch.

You yelp has his hands shove your hips back onto the bed, his mouth pulled back into a snarl, “Don’t fucking test me, baby girl.” He nearly seethes.

“You’re not giving me a reason to not test you!” You groan. You shift restlessly, your arousal getting to you, and yet you were now unable to do anything about it. Dabi’s scarred hand grabs your bra and he chuckles.

“Such a pretty bra,” He utters as your chest heaves. Your mind driving yourself crazy as you longed for him to do something, anything. “Were you wearing it all this time?”

“Nah,” You gasp as his fingers skillfully trace over your hardened nipples. “It was for Sako, I was waiting for him to reply to my ‘are you uP--’!!!” Your banter is harshly stopped as he burns the bra to a crisp. The snarl on his face turning sadistic as you look at him.

Before you could open your mouth to tell him off, the heated cavern of his mouth latches onto your left breast. His tongue lashing out to swipe out your nipples. “Yes,” You crave his touch, even more, and you tug on his on hair. “That feels--aah oh fuck--that feels so good!”

You arch into his mouth, wordless gasps pouring out of your mouth as you clench his thick hair in your hands. His left-hand pinch your free nipple, and you thrash against his hold, his name cried from your lips. His mouth and fingers were unrelenting. His teeth biting down harshly on your perked nipple, and his fingers rolled your other nipple. Pulling on it on occasion until your hips began to buck, desperate for some sort of friction.

His mouth leaves your breast with a fulfilling pop, and you tremble against the mattress. You pant while looking down at your flushed stained breasts. They shone with his saliva, and the cool air intensifying the sensitivity. “You’re pretty when you’re laying underneath me,” Dabi grins, a gleam in his eyes. You gaze at him with heavy-lidded eyes and he looks down, a smirk on his face. “But, you’re terrible at following directions,” Dabi states, victory lacing his eyes as you moan. You’ve never felt needier, and you were hoping he would just get to the point where he was railing you into the mattress.

“Fuck me, please!” You cry as you push his hands down to your needy sex, and you shiver against his fingers.

“I think I’m going to have to teach you a lesson on following rules.” Dabi teases as he slides his hands to your waistband.

“Don’t you dare fucking burn my pants and panties!” You warn as your head tilts backward, Dabi’s mouth pressing open mouth kisses down your neck. The coolness of the staples on his face almost steaming against your scorched skin.

“I’ll get you a new pair.” Dabi snickers as your remaining materials get burned off.

Your eyes widen, words unable to form as he pulls his shirt off his head. The smell of the burning material intermingling with the scent of your arousal, and his own aroma. You sit up and grab his belt, unbuckling it as his thrown shirt reaches the floor. You ignore his movements to get you to lean down as you manage to get his pants down to his knees.

"What are you doing?" Dabi pants. You ignore him as you lick your lips, staring at his awaiting cock.

You grasp his hard dick, and you smirk at his hiss. His dick was large, three large veins bulging out from the side, and your hand almost wrapped around it. You push him onto his ass and lean down, your tongue flicking out to touch the tip of his head. His smell is musty, the pre-cum leaking out of his tip salty and he moans. Your mouth envelopes around him, and he tugs your hair roughly. Your hands run up and down the parts of his cock that weren’t in your mouth. You stared at him, smiling as you slowly took him in until your lips touched the base of his dick. Your head is roughly pulled off, and you don’t know how, but your back's pressed back into the mattress. “I don’t fucking want your damn mouth around me right now,” Dabi grunts, the tip of his cock teasing your own entrance.

“Well fuck me, before I fuck myself and kick you out!” You cry out, your hands grasping onto his shoulders as he grinds further into you.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Dabi admits, his teeth nipping at your earlobe, and you dig your nails into his hips. “God, you’re fucking wet…”

“Fuck me, already!” You sob and with a satisfied snort, he picks up your leg and rams into you at full length.

Your head throws back, and a soundless scream emerges your lip. Gasps escape your mouth as you clench around his cock. Your breathing unleveled as you adjusted to his size. His damn girth was too much for you to handle, but his hips snapped back and slammed back into you.

“Dabi!” You shriek as your nails scrape down his back. His face buried into your neck, and the hot puffs of air send goosebumps down your body. You’re heaving as his speed increases steadily, your body not entirely adjusted. Despite the pain, you start rolling your hips against his. His hips are merciless, slamming into you over and over. The pained look on your face quickly dissolving into pleasure.

Sharp pants escape his mouth as he places his hands onto the pillow by your head. Your legs wrapping against his hips as you meet his with every thrust. Your arousal intensifies as a burning pressure erupts within you. Your head falling backward as you lacked the energy to keep your head up. “Look at me,” Dabi growls. The pleasure burns through your veins. It almost prohibits you from staring into his cerulean eyes. Your core felt as if it was on fire.

Dabi pushes himself off the mattress, grasping your hips as he continues to slam into you. The new angle is overwhelming, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your nails dig into his back. Tingles reaching your toes, and you find yourself curling your toes, as he slams into your g-spot.

“DABI!” You screech as he grunts, he angles himself into you in the same way. Ragged groans tumble out of your voice as he slams into your over, and over, and over. The tip of his dick never once missing. “Harder, please! Fuck!”

You choke as his left-hand clutches your throat, and you arch your back off the mattress again. “Fucking shit, you’re so damn tight.” Dabi gasps as his hips circle and slams back into you. The pressure in your core was only increasing as you felt his cock spasm from within you, and you cry. Your neck pushing up against his hand. “Do you need to come?” He asks, a desperate tone to his voice.

The build-up of the pressure was sending you over the edge, and you shoved his hand off your neck as you sit up. Your arms wrap around his neck, your lips pressing tightly against his own as you come hard around his dick. Ragged moans pour out of your mouth as his hips chase your orgasm, approaching his own.

Your pussy continues to spasm around his thrusting cock, your eyes clenched. Dabi’s mouth presses open kisses against you, and he curses your name. You moan as you feel his seed expelling within you, and he gasps. His hips stutter as they try to finish his final movements. Dabi collapses with you in his arms, the two of you panting for air as you lay there. Sweating, panting and kissing each other softly.

You pull away brushing his sweaty hair off his forehead. “I seriously underestimated you,” You chuckle.

“I wanted to do that since day one…” Dabi sighs as he presses a kiss to your mouth.

“You didn’t have it in you!”

“You’re fucking annoying.”

“And yet,” You shift in his arms burying your nose into the crook of his neck. “You still fucked me.”

[ragewerthers]

Imperfectly Perfect

Summary: As Prompto grows disheartened at trying to learn some of Ignis' fighting moves, the Adviser reassures him that even he needed to work hard to get to where he was.

He wasn't perfect.

And there are at least five things that Ignis can name that he wasn't perfect at when he started.  But if Prompto works hard enough, perhaps he'll learn all of his Ignis' perfect imperfections?

A/n: Hello there!

This is another fun F3S prompt from my friend @bgn846​!  She asked for:

'Who taught Prompto how to flip and jump around during battle?  I've seen him do hand stands etc so he had to learn that somewhere.  Could be shippy or not depending on who helps him. I leave that up to you.'

This was super fun to write and I hope that you enjoy it!

You can also read on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23400796

Enjoy! :D

Word Count: 2739

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

“Okay… and again.  Remember to put all your weight on the ball of your left foot and use the momentum of your right leg to complete the maneuver back and onto your palms.”

“R-right… yeah… use the… and then it’ll push me into the… um… which foot was it again?”

Ignis only just held back a sigh as he heard his darlings question, bringing his hands up to rub over his face as he pushed his glasses up his forehead.

“Left, love.  It’s left,” he said with as much patience as he could muster, lowering his hands and adjusting his glasses back on his nose.

The sun was finally starting to rise over their campsite at the Oathe Haven.  The early morning light filtering through the trees speckled the surrounding area in a mix of light greens and golden hues.  Currently his other two partners were still asleep as this had become something of a private lesson as of late.

After seeing the way Ignis handled himself in battle, Prompto had asked the Adviser if he would be willing to teach him a few things.  Mostly because he was getting tired of tripping over his own two feet or a stray rock while they were in the midst of battle!  If he could recover from his own clumsiness quicker with the help of some of the gymnastic moves Ignis could pull he would be a greater asset to the team!

Ignis had definitely seen the merits of teaching the gunner a few moves that would help when they were all locked in the heat of battle and so had agreed to it.

Now, however, was one of those times where he debated if it really was such a good idea to teach his clumsy sweetheart such moves.

As he glanced back over to Prompto he could see the normally upbeat blond was looking down at the rocky floor of the haven, his shoulders slumped in early defeat.

“Sorry, Ignis,” he heard the man whisper.  “I know this has to be annoying to you.  I-I… I’m not the most… coordinated person so I have a lot of questions and… I’m sorry.”

Ignis’s earlier annoyance quickly dissolved as  he saw that familiar expression and he waved his hand dismissively.  “You have nothing to apologize for, Prompto.  Everyone learns at their own pace and I myself had many missteps trying to master the more gymnastic moves of my own fighting style.”

Whatever Ignis was expecting it wasn’t for Prompto to snort and cross his arms over his chest, still refusing to meet Ignis’s eyes.  “Yeah.  And I’m the King of the Chocobo’s,” he mumbled.  “There is absolutely no way Mr. ‘I’m-perfect-at-everything-I-do-the-first-time-I-do-it’ Scientia had any problems doing this!”

Ignis had to bring a hand up to stifle a poorly timed chuckle, seeing just how perturbed Prompto was over the whole thing.

“I can assure you, love,  that I am most certainly not perfect at everything I do the first time.  I can name five things right off the bat and I’m sure Gladio and Noctis would add to the list if they weren’t still being a couple of lazy bones this morning,” he said lightly, getting Prompto to finally look at him, a small smile threatening the edges of his mouth.

“Really?” the younger man inquired, his defensive position slowly relaxing as curiosity started to take over.

Ignis did chuckle then and nodded.  “Really.”

“I don’t know if I believe you,” Prompto shot back, though his tone was definitely more playful now.

“I used to be atrocious at sewing.  I once managed to put a button on the back of one of Noct’s shirts,” he began, starting to list things off on his fingers.  “Not to mention that when I first started baking I burnt half of all my creations.  I also had to put in extra practice when I started driving the Regalia.  And I can assure you from the bottom of my heart that when it came to this particular fighting style I had to put far more hours into it then simple dagger training.”

As Prompto listened to him list off all the things he’d tried and failed at the first time, Ignis didn’t feel embarrassed about divulging such information.  Rather, he felt like if Prompto could see his own shortcomings, perhaps he wouldn’t be so disheartened about his progress in this gymnastic style fighting.

Glancing up he saw Prompto now looking at him with a little bit of awe and he could feel his cheeks heating up slightly.

Perhaps there was a bit of embarrassment underneath all of his good intentions.

Prompto seemed to read whatever he was feeling on his face as a playful little smile appeared.  “You only listed four, Igster.  You promised me five,” he said lightly, and Ignis chuckled despite himself.

“If you can manage to land a back handspring by the end of training today I’ll tell you,” Ignis promised.

“Oh…. Oh it’s gonna happen, Iggy!  I need to know what else you’re hiding under that perfectness!” Prompto teased as he took up his starting position once more.

“Mm.  We’ll see.  I should warn you this particular maneuver took me at least a week to get down.  Ask Gladio.  He was my spotter and as such the recipient of a misplaced kick to the head… his stomach… and on one particularly bad flip… to his groin.”

Prompto had just crouched to try and get ready for the flip when he heard that comment and instantly buckled into a giggle fit.

“St-stop!  You can’t make me laugh when I’m trying to learn your secrets!” he laughed, Ignis smiling more at the rather endearing sound.

“What’s goin’ on out here, Giggles,” a deep voice rumbled from behind them as Gladio made his way out of the tent, his hair tied up in a messy bun and looking for all the world like he’d just slept for seventy-five years.  His rather rumpled state managed to tickle Prompto’s funny bone even more and the gunner tried to cover his mouth as he continued to giggle.

“Just regaling Prompto of my endeavors in gymnastic combat,” Ignis answered honestly with a little smile as Prompto continued to fail and recover himself.  Gladio actually flinched in front of the small camp stove where he was pouring himself a cup of coffee at the mention of those dark, dark times.

“I can still feel it,” he grumbled, not helping Prompto to calm down in the slightest as the poor gunner literally started to squeak through his laughter.  Ignis found himself unable to keep from joining in, soon having to cover his mouth as his own laughter began to bubble up in his chest.

The unimpressed look he received from the Shield made him snort and have to look away as Gladio took a seat in front of the smoldering fire.

“I’m glad it’s amusing to you.  Just hope that blondie doesn’t follow his teachers suit,” he mumbled into his mug.

“A-Apologies, Gladio,” Ignis said as he finally started to calm down, hearing Prompto slowly catching his breath between giggles as well.  “I was merely trying to reassure him that I have had my own struggles.  That I’m not perfect.”

“Pff.  I coulda told him that,” Gladio smirked over his mug, making Ignis narrow his eyes.

In a flash he called a dagger to his hand, tossing it into the air before quickly spinning on his right heel and delivering a kick to the hilt, sending the blade hurtling past Gladio���s head and embedding into a tree behind him.

Gladio sat there motionless for a moment, cup of coffee still held to his lips and eyes wide.

“..... Astrals you’re hot,” the Shield breathed, making Ignis snort as he adjusted his glasses.

“None of that.  And if all you have better to do is tease, then perhaps you can start trying to wake his Highness?”

Gladio groaned like a child asked to take out the garbage.  “But, Iggy!  I want to watch you and Prompto!  Besides… Noct is literally curled up into a little Prince burrito.  I’m not about to try and get between him and his greatest love… his pillow.”

Prompto giggled again and Ignis couldn’t help shaking his head at his ridiculous boyfriends.  “Fine.  We’ll let him sleep a bit longer, but no more sass from you or there will be hell to pay.  Understood?” he asked, watching as Gladio looked back at him, his smile softer now as he resettled himself in his seat.

“Yes, Sir,” he murmured, giving the man a little wink and salute as he took another sip of coffee.

Ignis actually felt his ears tinge red as he turned back to Prompto, the poor gunner looking just as flustered from the easy flirting of their larger lover.  “Alright then, Prompto.  Think you’re ready to try again?” he asked after clearing his throat, causing Prompto to startle and turn his attention back to him with a darker blush.

“Y-yeah.  Yeah I got this,” the blond offered with a little smile as he ran a hand over his face and tried to refocus himself.

“I know you do, love,” Ignis offered gently, watching Prompto relax at the reassurance.

The morning progressed on, Prompto working to land the back handspring with Ignis’s help.  Soon finding Gladio entering the fray as another spotter only for him to receive another ill placed kick.

“OH MY GODS!  I’M SO SORRY!” Prompto cried, hovering over Gladio where he lay collapsed on the ground, his hands covering poor mini-Gladio.

“Why?  Why... would you… do this?” the Shield wheezed out, Ignis soon returning to his side after a quick trip to their ice chest.

“You know he didn’t mean it and I warned you not to stand there.  It’s just like what happened when you were helping me train.  Here.  this should help, love,” Ignis both chided and soothed as he handed over an ice pack.  Gladio sat up slightly, his hand shakily reaching for it before holding it against his crotch with a hiss and a sigh of relief.

“He’ll never be the same again,” Gladio lamented.

“You’ll be fine.  If anyone can bounce back from this it’s you,” Ignis murmured, pressing a little kiss to the side of Gladio’s head.  Turning to look at Prompto, he saw him watching them both nervously.  Gladio also noticed the other's expression and his own softened.

“Hey.  I’m fine, blondie,” he said softly, though there was still a little strain to his voice.  Prompto seemed unconvinced and Gladio shifted, reaching forward to cup the man’s freckled cheek with his free hand.  “If I’m honest, this was nothing compared to when Iggy got me.  We literally had to get Cor and I had to take a potion.”

Ignis’s cheeks flushed up at that, though it did seem to calm Prompto a little as he let out a slightly shaky breath.  “Really?” the gunner asked and Gladio gave a little chuckle.

“Oh yeah.  So don’t worry, alright?  I’ll get my revenge later,” he teased softly, giving Prompto’s ear a gentle tug and making the younger man giggle as he batted his hand away.

After helping Gladio to stand and get situated back in his camp chair, Ignis decided that perhaps that was enough practice for the day.

“I think you’ve definitely improved from this morning, Gladio’s… mini shield not withstanding,” Ignis said, making Prompto blush and Gladio groan.  “I’m afraid I still can’t reveal my fifth imperfection, but… I have no doubt in my mind that you will find out before the end of the week.”

Though Prompto’s cheeks were still pink he offered a little smile and nodded.  “Okay.  I’m gonna hold you to that.  I’m still sorry, big guy,” he murmured, looking back to Gladio who was still icing himself.

“It’s okay, Prom.  Like I said… I’ll have my vengeance later,” he chuckled and Prompto smiled more, moving over to press a soft kiss to the man’s cheek in apology.

Sadly he wasn’t expecting the larger man to quickly wrap his arm around his waist and pull him into his lap.

“H-Hey!  Gladio!  What about you-NO!  Stahahap it, stahp!” Prompto cackled, finding Gladio’s fingers teasing along his sides as he held him in a bearhug.

“Like I said, I’ve been hit much worse before.  It’ll take more than that to keep me down for the count!” Gladio growled against Prompto’s neck making the man scrunch up as a new wave of giggles overtook him.

“Ihihiggy!  Iggy help!  Hehehelp!” Prompto squealed, crying out as Gladio somehow managed to slip the ice pack under Prompto’s shirt to rest against his poor stomach while he nuzzled his scruffy cheek against the blonds neck.

Ignis chuckled at the sight before him and shook his head fondly.  “Sorry, Prompto.  I’m afraid Gladio won’t be content til he gets his revenge,” he joked playfully as his lovers continued to tussle with one another.

Somehow Prompto did finally manage to wiggle his way free of Gladio’s hold and took off, trying to find something to hide behind.  Gladio was quick to give chase, Ignis unable to keep himself from watching the ridiculous and endearing spectacle before him.   However, at one particular turn, Gladio lunged for their smaller darling and before he could nab him the gunner surprised them both.  In what looked like the most well practiced move, Prompto crouched low before propelling himself to the side, pushing off of his left hand and landing back on his feet with a look of complete and utter shock.

All three men stood there in a moment of shock before the biggest smile appeared over Prompto’s face.

“I… did it.  I did it!” he shouted in absolute glee, Gladio soon swooping in to envelope their boyfriend in another bear hug.

“That was awesome, Sunshine!” Gladio cheered, pressing a kiss to Prompto’s cheeks as the gunner flushed.

“That really was remarkable, Prompto.  I knew you could do it,” Ignis said softly, feeling incredibly proud of what his darling had accomplished.  Moving forward he waited for Gladio to set their younger darling down before ducking down to steal a kiss of his own.

As he leaned back, Prompto’s smile only grew though it began to shift into something a bit more playful and teasing.  “So… does this mean I get to learn your final secret of imperfection?” he asked and Ignis felt his cheeks color as he stood up.

“I… suppose a deal is a deal,” he said, clearing his throat a little as Prompto looked up at him expectantly.

“Oh?  I need to know what’s getting Iggy to blush like that,” Gladio teased as he moved closer and wrapped an arm around Prompto’s shoulder.

“Well… as I’ve stated the first time, I was not proficient when I first started sewing, cooking, driving and fighting.  But… I fear the thing I was the absolute worst at when I started… was…,” Ignis shifted a little as he tried to find the right way to admit to his own previous faults.

“... styling my hair.”

Ignis could feel his cheeks absolutely burning as he admitted that he may have made a few less than wonderful styling choices and as the silence drug on he glanced up to find Gladio and Prompto both looking at him curiously.

“What?” Ignis asked, feeling slightly unnerved by the looks, but before he could press further both men were on him, hugging him in a standing sort of cuddle pile as they laughed.

“Oh my gods!  You are adorable!  You literally think a few bad hair choices were worse than not being perfect at driving and cooking?!” Prompto laughed, pressing a few kisses to the man's cheek as Ignis blushed more and a shy smile appeared. “I mean… they were definitely something, I’ll give you that,” Gladio teased, getting a small glare from Ignis until he got a few kisses from his larger darling.  “But they were adorable all the same.”

“Well… I’m glad that you all don’t seem to mind me being imperfect sometimes,” Ignis chuckled, and getting two warm smiles in return.

“Of course, Iggy,” Prompto said softly.

“Somehow you’re the only one who can make imperfection perfect,” Gladio teased.

“Yeah!  You’re imperfectly perfect,” Prompto giggled and Ignis chuckled as well.

While this wasn’t exactly how he had expected the morning to go he was absolutely content with its outcome.

Imperfectly perfect as it was.

[morganbritton132]

You don't have to write this, but consider an AU where Abigail lives and ends up staying with the Freds.

When your father kills your mother, and your father kills girls that look like you, and when your father tries to kill you and the guy that shoots your father dead also kills you, and when Hannibal Lecter tries to kill everybody but especially tries to kill you, people will tell you how lucky you are.

You’re lucky to be alive. You’re lucky to still be able to talk and that Alana Bloom isn’t pressing charges. You’re lucky that you’re not dead, or jailed, or disfigured in a way that makes you ugly. You poor little thing.

They tell you this.

They press their cough drop sticky lips together and smile hospital brittle lies, pushing sighs out of their fat faces as they redress her bandages, you’re so lucky, Abigail.

Somebody in the equations that is her life is most definitely a cannibal and honestly, she doesn’t remember if it was the father, the cop, the therapist, herself, or all four, but she’s lucky. She’s alive. She’s lucky.

Her hospital room was guarded by FBI agents and her wrists were in restraints, and she was so lucky that there was a psychiatrist on duty that could visit her room every day for a week. It was what the nurses said. It was what Kade Prurnell said when she told her that the FBI was not planning on pressing any charges against her.

She’s lucky.

It was all anybody said. Nothing else. Nothing at all.

Most people didn’t look her in the eyes and the nurses weren’t quiet enough when they pull straws to see who has to come into her room, and even the psychiatrist that is no Hannibal Lecter stares at the floor when he talks to her.

Everybody treats her like a funeral.

Abigail is her own haunting, she should not be surprised when she attracts a ghost.

There is a ghost in her doorway, step, step, stepping into the room with red soles and needle-point high heels. There is an inferno under a big hat, a spiraling blaze, but this ghost is sharp corners and red lips. This ghost is pale skin, not scorched, not burnt. And this ghost smiles.

“I knew he didn’t kill you.”

Three days in a row, the ghost of a dead woman talks to her, a ghost of a dead girl. She tlls her of Jack Crawford and his dying wife, of Alana Bloom and how she dragged her broken bones behind the iron gate of the Verger Estate. She told her of Will Graham, who did not visit dead girls anymore, and how he carried his guts to the edge of the sea and set sail to settle a score.

She is a ghost, a brighter fiery version of the Freddie Lounds that had once upon a time ago offered Abigail a platform to tell a story. There’s still a haunting of that offer left.

“The chips have already fallen,” Freddie tells her. “The only thing that you got to do now is decide if you want to leave them where they lay or if you’re going to pick them up and cash them in.”

“You have a story that people want to hear,” She tells her. She has a story that Freddie wants to exploit is what she meant. “Do you know how power that is?”

Abigail knows power in the dying light of Nicholas Boyle’s eyes. She knows power in pressed suits and a kitchen knife. She knows power in the words written all over the home she grew up in, and she knows Freddie Lounds.

She did not plan on staying with Freddie, but that is where she ended up. She has no money, no parents. Hannibal is not here anymore, and Will is gone.

Freddie is a lending hand when there was none, and Abigail knows how to make the best of a bad situation. So, she nods.

And she decides, I’ll make the best of it.

She decides, I’ll make them come back for me.

She decides, I am going to kill Freddie Lounds.

She is going to do what Hannibal and Will couldn’t, what they didn’t do even though they wanted to. She is going to make something so beautiful and so big from Freddie’s tiny bones so that they – so that they’d have no choice but to come back and witness her.

So, Abigail follows Freddie inside of her small, overcrowded apartment. She follows her into the closet-sized guest room that Freddie offers her. She follows her into Target and TJ Maxx, into Home Goods and thrift shops, and watchs wordlessly as Freddie buys stuff to decorate her room. And she thinks, I’m going to kill you.

She watches Freddie hang up curtains and string together lights. She watches her order takeout and watch tv, write articles and argue with the big men who pound on her door and demand retractions. She watches her meticulously put together every edition, every outfight, and talk to Abigail like she is flesh and blood, and alive even though she isn’t. Even though Abigail is going to kill Freddie, you’re not even going to see it coming.

Freddie doesn’t push for the story that she was promised, but she prods. She pokes around and jiggles the handles just to see if she can get inside, and then she backs off. She tells jokes that aren’t funny and makes comments that are only funny because they’re mean, and she suggests selling t-shirts that say, I was held captive by a cannibal for over a year and all I lost was my ears.

Freddie photocopies the death threat nailed on the door and says, “I don’t blame you. I’ve wanted to push Alana out a window for years.”

Abigail doesn’t really talk anymore.

She just watches and she listens, and she thinks about snapping Freddie’s neck every chance she gets. She smiles and huffs wordless sounds at crass comments, and she shrugs her shoulders to the suggestion that they get Chinese food. She eats it in her room with the door closed between them.

She does that a lot, closes the door.

She keeps Freddie on the other side and sharps wood torn from the baseboards into daggers, and she wonders how much ink it takes to fill a human body. She makes promises to herself, to them, that they’ll be proud of her, that they’ll come back and say they missed her.

Abigail keeps scissors under her pillow and Freddie keeps secrets.

There are three toothbrushes in the bathroom and concealer that’s too dark to be either of theirs. There is a new passcode on her computer and a lock on Freddie’s bedroom door.

The first time Abigail meets Frederick Chilton, he’s not wearing shoes.

Abigail doesn’t really have a frame of reference for Chilton.

She’s only knows what Hannibal has told her about him, but he is smaller than even that. He is nasally and prideful in how he talks, but it’s a thin veneer. He is a shell of a man that he wanted to be, and he is cracking.

Frederick seems startled by her presences in the kitchen even though it was morning. His voice breaks, slurring at the ends, and he blushes through the pound of makeup on his face, “Oh, hello.”

She blinks at him.

She looks between Freddie in her bathroom and Frederick without his shoes, and she speaks for the first time in a very long time, “You don’t look like a man who had his face blown off.”

Originally, she thinks that Freddie is helping Chilton write a book and that is why he keeps existing in the same place as her, but she was wrong about that.

Frederick Chilton is afraid of his own house. He make lame excuses to justify his reason to be there and chides Freddie when he doesn’t think that Abigail could hear him about her having that – that girl in here.

One day, Abigail skips therapy and sneak back into her room through the fire escape. She lay in her bed and stares at the ceiling until she hears Freddie tell someone to stop worrying, “She’s at therapy for the next hour and a half, babe.”

Abigail presses the side of her head against the door and she listens to Frederick huff, and the uncorking of a wine bottle, and how two people laugh when they were in love, “The romans used to kill flamingos just to eat their tongues.”

“Does that pick-up line work on all the ladies?” Freddie asks and laughs. And Frederick laughs. And Abigail decides, I’ll kill them both.

Her chance comes at midnight.

It’s not her intention but the chips were on the floor, Abigail is just doing what Freddie told her to. She is picking them up. She is cashing in, big.

She carries a sharpened piece of wood in her hand so tight that it cut into the palm of her hand and she is going to – she was is to do something drastic, something big.

All she wants is to turn the tv off, but her hand is bleeding and she’s going to commit a murder, because she has to, or Hannibal won’t come back for her.

Frederick is asleep on the couch, his hands tucked under his armpits and his feet on the table. His head is tilted back, and he is snoring. It’d be so easy to slit his throat, but…

But she hesitates.

He’s so small and fragile, so frail and defenseless, and she could end him now. All she needs to do is strike. Strike. Strike, goddamn it.

She drops the piece of wood.

She lets it thump soft against the carpet and she gets close. She presses one knee into the couch cushions next to him, and towers over him, and when she tucks her hair behind her ear, it falls into her face.

Frederick is asleep.

Abigail presses the tip of her fingers to Frederick’s bottom lip and she pushes pass it into a mouth that’s only half there. She touches cold porcelain teeth, brushes her fingertips against the twisted angry scar on the inside of his cheek, and she pulls.

She curls her fingers in, digs them beneath the prosthetic, and she pulls it out, slowly.

Frederick’s eyes open frightened and wide, and he does not move. He stares at her like a man who has faced death twice and did not deserve it, jaw stretching as she pulls the prosthetic from his mouth.

His face sags. His whole face just – melts, and she does not feel good, or powerful, or brave. She felt – she felt so fucking hollow.

She stares at him.

She just stares and her eyes burn, and she askes him in a voice that was shattered from unused, and knives, and people leaving her when they said they wouldn’t, “Do you feel lucky like this?”

“None of us are lucky,” Freddie said, a ghost to a dead girl and a melted man. “But we survived. That’s good enough.”  

[noisilyeclecticmilkshake]

The Consequence of Friends

I gasp at the page titled “Ivelle District Leaders” as I see my name listed for repair. That’s so close to the bottom I almost faint from the injustice, but instead of arguing I head to pick up my boots and repair toolkit. Afterward, I head to lunch, I really shouldn’t have to waste time waiting for everyone else in the breakfast line, but it does gives Zavian, my best friend, a chance to catch up to me. There was a lot of complaining about her cutting in line, but I can’t blame them, I’d want to be next to me too.

“I am so annoyed, they put me on repair again. It’s insane this is the fifth time, I work harder than anyone else, I can’t believe I’m not a commander.” When she doesn’t confirm this I ask “Well, don’t you think so?”

“Yeah, definitely.” She says distractedly playing with her food.

“So, where are you working?” Usually I wouldn’t ask, but today she’s acting weird.

“Ah, it doesn’t matter. How’s your food? Mine tastes like mush.” She pushes her plate away.

I look down at my plate which consists of noodles with a side of rice. “It tastes fine.” I find it odd she avoided the topic so much. “So where did Kalina put you?”

She gives me a frustrated sigh “Oh my gosh, it doesn’t matter. Stop asking.” she grabs her plate and gets up. “You haven’t cared before, so why do you care now?” She throws her food in the trash like it insulted her mom and rushes off to somewhere. I can’t believe she could just walk away from someone as awesome as me, she must be working janitorial. I sigh, finish my food, and head to my room to get ready for my job.

Half an hour later I have on a bulky suit built so we don’t die from exposure to the hurricane level winds. Lucky me, though because the worst outfit ever comes with the heaviest shoes known to mankind, supposedly it’s to keep everyone from flying away but I think it’s so people can’t run away from this windy hell. It’s 4506 if they were for anything else they would be lighter by now. I put on my nametag and head to repair the mills.

Ivelle is the wind district, although “district” isn’t really a good name for it, since there are multiple wind districts around the world. We learned about this stuff in history, climate change caused things to go awry, it was small at first, but it escalated quickly with fires 15 miles wide and 50 stories high. The number of homes and families destroyed by volcanoes, hurricanes, and tsunamis reached record breaking highs. Earthquakes got rid of half of California and practically made another continent. Populations dropped and everyone worked together so future generations could exist. The world leaders wrote a treaty, splitting countries into five districts. Calor, geothermal, Suri, solar, Udens, hydropower, Ledus, this district gets and makes ice and ensure the world temperatures don’t get extreme. And of course, Ivelle District, windy energy.

I start repairing the mills closest to the building and work my way to the outer perimeter where there’s more trees, flowers and life in general due to it being near one of the Udens Districts. The water makes it easier for trees and plants to grow. While I’m working on a repair I see something out of the corner of my eye. I hope to see a bunny or fox, although it’s more likely to see a deer. The bunnies, with their huge feet and unproportionately small ears are my favorite animal, I’ve seen them more times than most since they gravitate towards my greatness. I go back to work after nothing shows up. It happens a couple more times before I head over to see if there is a trapped animal. I almost jump out of my skin when I see a box of matches. Matches stopped being made centuries ago, but getting caught with one was like a death sentence, it was like ignoring all the work that went into fixing the world, I grab the matches anyway

I skip lunch and head straight to my room, stepping inside my closet only taking out the matchbox after I change my outfit completely. I don’t know why, but something about the matches makes me feel like I need to change, like nothing will ever be the same. I turn the box around in my hand, examining it. Its old, or it should be, matchboxes went out of commission centuries ago, yet the box looks new, like it was made yesterday. I turn it over and see the words “Strike Anywhere”, despite this the box has a sandpaper side. I open the box, there’s a lot of matches in it and my hands shake as I reach to take one out. I drag the match along the side of the box but nothing happens. I try against the floor, maybe the side is misleading and it means to strike anywhere but there, nothing happens. I try scratching the side of the box, shaking the box, shaking the match, nothing works. Out of frustration I push the match as hard as I can against the box and pull down faster than wind on a bad day. Apparently that was also the wrong thing to do because it snapped in half and I stared, as best I could in my pitch black closet, at the bottom half of a match. I did see a spark before it broke so I tried it again, this time with less pressure, dropping it as it explodes. I yell as the fire reaches my fingers. The makeshift light burns out and the smell hits me with full force, but I keep lighting match after match until it gets hard to breathe. I turn on the light and look down to see burnt matches have smudged the floor. It only gets worse as I try to pick them up, crumbling into microscopic pieces and staining my hands. I walk to the hallway leaving my closet and room door open, hopefully it’ll air out. For now, though, I am heading to talk to Zavian.

“Hey,” I say knocking on her already open door. “I see you got that job I always wanted.”

“Yeah and I’m proud of it.” Her words were coming through bared teeth as if she didn’t want to apologize to me. “And if you worked harder and were less self-centered you would-”

“I found matches!” There is a silence as I realize what I said.

“What?” She turned around at that, although she didn’t seem surprised.

Too late to lie “I said I found matches, a whole box of them actually.”

“What did you do with them?” She sends me a questioning glance that turns to a mixture of worry and something I can’t quite recognize as she sees my soot covered hands. “You lit them didn’t you?” I didn’t have a chance to confirm this as she rushed past me.

“Where are you going?” I asked although I knew the answer . She was going to my room to get the matches so she could protect me. “Wait!” I reached out to stop her but she slipped out of my grasp easily, and I lost sight as she rushed ahead. When I finally caught up with her she was standing in my closet looking down at the black smudges and covering her mouth with her arm, I guess the smell hadn’t completely dissipated yet. Jeez, I just wanted her to know I’m better.

“Where?” Is all she said when she turned to look at me through the light fog left over from my impulsive match-lighting episode.

“You don’t need to know that.” Before I had even finished my sentence she was looking through my drawers. I felt a spark of anger in my chest, I didn’t have to explain anything to her. She’s the one that hid something from me in the first place and she had no right to just rummage through my stuff, still, I didn’t stop her. Instead, I leaned on the door frame “You’re never gonna find it. I hid it-”

“Really?” She pulled out a smug smile along with the matchbox. “I know you Kova, and I know where you hide things just because you’re so sure no one's  gonna look in the compartment in your dresser that I helped you make, by the way. And now, like the good friend I am, I’m going to turn these in before you get in trouble.”

Damn, I forgot she helped me build that. “You can’t,” I didn’t know what that would do because she could, and would but I had to try. “You can’t turn them in because... ” I looked around my room for a reason, but couldn’t find one. I sigh “Look, I know they were the cause of a lot of destruction, but there just so warm and bright.” I get an idea and step inside the closet, snatching the matches from her hands and closing the door behind us.

“What are y-”

“Just watch.” I lit the match illuminating both of our faces and enjoying the warmth on my face and hand. It was short lived as Zavian blew it out making more smoke fill the room.

“You’re insane.” She turned on the light in the closet, grabbed the matches and headed out faster than I could react.

“Wait! There’s something you’re not taking into consideration.”

“And what’s that?”

“I love him.” I thought it was funny, but she gave me a frustrated look and continued heading down the hall, taking away the only warm thing in my life.

Five days pass with no incident except not seeing Zavian, this is odd but I assume she’s hiding from me since she still hasn’t apologized for rushing away from me. On the fifth day I see the same bush shaking and don’t hesitate to head over. I gasp as I’m pulled into the bush and fall farther than I should. The next thing I see is a too-close-for-comfort face.

“What did you do with the matches?”

“What?” I ask back, confused.

“You picked up the matches didn’t you?” The dude looks way too annoyed that a person he dragged under a bush is confused.

“Um, no.” I don’t know this person or why he knows that I had matches but it surely isn’t his business what I did with them.

“Damn, wrong person.” he stands up and points what looks like a pistol at my face. I would be worried except that those went out with the matches. “You didn’t take the matches, so you can’t know we exist.” That’s when I put things together, and realize the gun does work, just like the matches.

“Wait!” I yell, putting my hands up as if the suit I’m wearing will stop a bullet. “I did take the matches.” I figure I said the right thing when I don’t hear the gun go off.

His face lights up as he replaces the gun with his hand. “Well, why didn’t you just say that? Did you light them?”

I give him a look “A strange person grabbed my arm and pulled me under a bush, yeah my first thought is to tell him something that could get me killed, and yes I lit the matches.” I get up accepting the help.

“Well, we’re the Past Resurgence Organization. The matches are a test and you passed. Using the matches shows initiative and curiosity, traits we look for in a leader. Don’t you think you’re better suited to be running a district than working in one?” He held his arm out again “I’m Ulric by the way.”

I shake his hand, glad that someone finally get it. “Yes, I’ve been telling people that for years. I’m glad someone sees it.”

A couple of hours later I am back in my room with a mission, it would take months to years, but I agreed since the path I am on right now isn’t getting me anywhere. I am to work my way up the ladder and find blueprints from the Old World. I told them that shouldn’t be too hard except no one appreciates my talent and work. Luckily they knew the tricks to move up through command. Following these steps still took five years, I worry about Zavian though, I haven’t seen her once in five years, she could be dead and it would be my fault. I told myself that I shouldn’t worry about her there’s nothing I can do now.

I found the blueprints for coal plants while sneaking in Kalani’s office. I headed to the Tunnels, stopped at my door; taking a minute to look at the picture of Zavian on my wall, I won’t forget her. I put a sign on my door that I would be too sick to answer. When everything was set I put the blueprints in my shoulder bag, grab my old wind suit, and head back to the bush, stomping on the ground to let them know I was here. The ground gave way beneath my feet and I landed in the same spot I did five years ago. I triumphantly held up my shoulder bag “I got them.”

“Good, now we need to take out the leader so we can control this district.” He took the blueprints out of the bag and used a thumbtack to stick them to the wall. “You’re going to have the main role in that so, you got an ideas?”

I knew this day was coming and I had thought of a lot of ideas, any of them would work but the most recent one would be the most viable. “Yeah, I’m thinking we get someone to kill her, let everyone grieve for a few days, then I show up with the killer. Everyone will see me as their hero, which, let’s face it, I am.” There were a few chuckles and some nods of agreement, we know this will lead to a better future for everyone. “Because I’m so high in the chain of command the people will already have put me on the ballet, and bringing Kalani’s killer to justice will ensure my spot as leader.” I look at Ulric, who has his hand on his chin like he’s mulling over my plan, looking up after a minute or two.

“Yeah, that should work.” With that, we get to work, working out the details in our plan. Ulric says he already has the killer, but won’t tell anyone since he wants it to be a surprise. I am going to wait three days before I “find” the killer and bring them back, humbly accepting the leadership position I was always meant to have. I take the sign off my door, collecting the fruit basket someone left outside.

A week passes before our plan goes into motion so as not to raise suspicion, and my heart is pumping with anticipation as I sit with the other commanders and wait for the news that Kalani has been killed. Jack runs into the lunchroom, right before the shift change, and yells “HELP! Kalani’s dead!” I act surprised, running with everyone else to her office, seeing her pale face that matches her white hair. After a bit, I walk toward the center of the room, standing on a chair so everyone can see me.

“A terrible thing has happened today, and I swear I will find Kalani’s killer.” I get off the chair and for my room. When I walk in I see a file, it has the killer’s information inside. I feel the floor beneath me sway as I open the file, and grab my dresser to steady myself. I stare in disbelief at the name and picture I didn’t think I would ever see again.

Mayla, Zavian. I have to kill my best friend.

The next few days are hell, and I’m not eager to leave. I’m not heading back until lunchtime, so I spend most of my time making sure everything is in place. I head straight to the main room when lunchtimes comes around. When Ulric walks in, I see Zavian behind him and feel guilt rise up. She wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t told her about the matches.

“Is this where you’ve been?” She looks really bad, her hair is messy and her clothes are dirty and roughed up.

“Yeah, I didn’t think you noticed.” There’s a pause, and she must see the way I’m looking at her. “Don’t worry I only look this way for the part of ‘been on the run for a couple of days’.” That does make me feel better.

“Of course I noticed. I’ve known you almost my whole life.” There was a silence. “Hey, why didn’t you just tell me where you were working all those years ago?”

She sighs “Because I knew how you’d react. Talking about how is isn’t fair and you deserve it more than anyone else.”

“Oh…” Looking back I guess I really was that stuck-up “sorry.”

“Yeah, well it’s all in the past now.” She smiles and I feel like I’m the one dying. She just had to be nice.

We climb the ladder and before I know it we are across the field, walking into the building. I declare that I’ve found the killer. I point the gun at Zavian; it feels like a hundred pounds to pull the trigger, and I hear a gunshot but it’s not mine. I see something red on my shirt, and a smile on Zavian’s face as she catches me, apparently I was falling. “I’m glad you picked up the matches all those years ago. It gave me the chance to get rid of you.”

[exothermic-filth]

Drinks On Me

 Uni and research has kicked up a FUCK ton for me, so I apologize for going AWOL on everyone, especially to those I’ve promised stories/updates on. But thank you for sticking through and I hope you enjoy this as much as I did while writing it! (I had the utter, horrified realization I basically was gone for roughly a year. I am... so sorry OTL....)

Junker-Adventurer!Reader x Junkrat mini-fic. NB reader, SFW (except for a bit of swearing). To celebrate having 45+ followers <3 Never thought I’d make it this far, so cheers!

It’s been a long day. 

The sun is beginning to set above the horizon and you thank the heavens for small mercies. The heat dissipates from the air as fast as the scorching sun rays fade. You see a scraggy outcrop of rocks ahead in the distance: perfect place for a break. With a bit of encouragement, you urge your battered motorbike onward. 

By the time you reach the rocks, the air is cool and downright delicious. With a flick of your foot, the stand pops out and you’re letting your bike lean and rest. A quick circling reassures you that you’re alone and you finally relax, stretching out the stiff joints from sitting and riding all day. 

You unpack and settle down. A bit of foraging yields just enough twisted branches and bone-dry sticks for a nice small fire. You double-check the crate you’ve got strapped onto the back of your motorcycle: nice and tight, not going anywhere. Visions of gold dance in your head as you think about the profit these babies are gonna’ bring you. Junkers will pay coin for booze, but rumor has it the Queen herself would paid handsomely for specialty liquor imported (stolen) from the outside. 

Usually, you’d never risk building a fire but you’re feeling confident. There’s something about tonight that feels different: the air is (marginally) crisper and the stars feel brighter. Despite being a ragtag outsider, you’ve always enjoyed Junkertown. The Junkers made for vivacious, if not interesting company. And the thought of refreshing your rations and supplies definitely put an extra pep in your step. 

You rustle through your pack and produce a battered tin pot and a depressingly light sack. Normally, this would warrant a “tsk” but tonight, you’ll feast. Within minutes, you’ve got a nice little gruel going. Some precise rigging and you’ve got a few lizards to roast as an entree. 

You stare out into the distance, listening to the gentle snap and crackle of the fire, the sweet corn meal gruel bubbling away softly. Life is good.

Before your muscles could truly relax, you feel the skin on the back of your neck tingle. Before your mind could even register, you’ve got your shot gun in your hands, pumped and ready to shoot at the intruder. 

“Evenin’?” Came a nervous giggle. 

You blink, “Do I... do I know you?”

A tall man stands before you, looking a bit worst for wear. Despite the impressive amount of bombs and ammo strapped to his chest, he’s bruised and cut up all over. His left eye bulged out in a black and blue mess. 

Despite all this, the man puffs his chest out and looks insulted, “Do you... Do you know me? How do you NOT know me?”

You scowl, “Because I’ve never met you before?”

“Darl’,” he says, rather condescendingly, “I am a man whose reputation proceeds him. I am THE-”

You stand up aggressively, “I don’t care WHO you are or who you THINK you are. What do you want?”

He scowls back, “How the FUCK do you NOT know who I am?”

You feel a sharp pang of fear in your chest; this man isn’t fucking around. The bandoliers on his chest glint dangerously in the fire light. 

You raise the gun but take a step back, “Alright... who are you then?”

The man looks like he’s been waiting for this question his entire life. He throws his arms out in a grand, theatrical gesture and declares, “I am the INFAMOUS JUNKRAT!” 

“...who?” You raise a brow. 

He drops his arms to his side and balls his fist, “Oh come on! I didn’t get fuckin’ kicked outta’ Junkertown for nothin’!”

You struggle to keep the chuckle down, “You got kicked out of Junkertown?”

“Oh? You think that’s funny do you?” He snarls. 

“Well.... yeah, you got kicked out of the most lax city on earth,” you laugh, incredulously. “You can literally do almost anything there.”

“Lax?” He sputters, “LAX?! I couldn’t get a bomb in edgewise anywhere with ol’ Queenie up my arse about it!” 

You lower your gun, giving him your most disarming smile, “She’s got a point there... Junkrat? You said?”

“The one and only,” he grins back, matching your charm with his. 

You take the time to look at him: underneath the soot and dirt, and despite the nasty shiner he’s sporting, he’s not bad to look at. Even though he’s a few meters from you, you can smell the smoke on him, that burnt charred smell... of... lizards?

You jump, “SHIT!”

He starts back, shocked, then realizes why you freaked out. 

You toss the gun aside and rescue the lizards from the fire and throw them on your pack to save them from completely scorching. 

You stand back up, dusting your hands, “Alright. So. We can stand around all day and you can be insulted with me not knowing who you are...” 

He crosses his arms, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, “Or?”

“We can sit down and enjoy some charred lizard and corn gruel,” you gesture openly. 

The tall man slouches a bit and smiles sheepishly, “Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

You plop down onto the dirt and offer him a blackened lizard on a stick.

He takes it and plops down by you, “Thanks, mate.”

You watch him tackle the meat with ferocity, “You always do this? Stumble into people’s camps and get insulted when they don’t know who you are?”

He pauses mid-bite, “Only when I’m particularly hungry.”

You give him a friendly kick, “You could’ve just fucking asked!”  

He laughs and goes back to ripping another mouthful off the lizard. You observe him and his injuries: all the mottled bruises, the nicks and scratches all over his body. They’re fresh. 

“Got yourself in a fight recently?” You ask casually, but quietly your ears are perked. A knot of regret begins forming in the lower pits of your stomach: what kind of trouble could this one potentially bring?

He makes an awkward gasping noise, trying to talk and swallow lizard at the same time, “Sure did. Showed those drongos what for!”

You smile, eyes casually flitting around and behind his hunched figure, “What was the fight about?”

“Oh the usual,” he straightens up and takes a deep breath, “‘Oh Junkrat you can’t mod the mech with that!’ or��‘Junkrat you can’t throw that at the Queen!’”

You blink, “You’re a mech fighter?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, “As if I’d be any of those hot-headed ego maniacs!”

You scoff back and raise a brow, leaning towards the fire to grab the bubbling corn gruel off the embers, “Alright, then what is it that you do, Junkrat?”

“I’m a mech mechanic,” he puffs out his chest and crosses his arms. “I’m trying to work me way up through the ranks right now.”

“There’s ranks?” You give a bemused smile. 

“Oh sure,” he nods emphatically, “You start off as a complete bottom of the bucket mechanic, doing stupid shit like polishing the weapons then you work your way up before they trust you enough to start unscrewing shit and putting shit back together.”

“And where are you right now?” You blow on the corn gruel and tuck in. 

Junkrat looks particularly proud of himself, hooking his two grenade straps with his thumbs, “I craft the explosives.” 

“Impressive,” you rummage through your coat’s inner pockets, before finally finding your flask.

He flicks his eyes up, interested, “Now, what do you have there, mate?”

You pause, meeting his eyes. You didn’t want to admit it. But the way he said it was slow, and low, like he was asking a dangerous question. And it made you...feel. 

You clear your throat and unscrew the flask’s top, continuing to give your best disarming smile, “I never told you what I do for a living, did I?”

“You certainly didn’t,” he finished his lizard and tossed it behind him with a laugh. “So, who do I owe the pleasure of meeting this evenin’?”

“Well,” you gently shake the flask, gauging how much is left, “My name is *Y/N* and I am you local, friendly booze supplier to Junkertown.” 

“Oh my,” he grins, leaning forward, “So I can thank many a wild nights and shitty mornings to you, huh love?”

You find yourself chuckling, almost missing the fact that he just slipped a pet name into that interaction.

“Partially,” you take a sip, “Lord knows Junkertown must use more than just me considering how much you Junkers drink like it’s your lifeblood.”

He holds a hand out. It’s a familiar gesture for you, a bonding ritual really with any stranger you’ve met. And honestly, it’s just good manners out here. You pass the flask to him, your fingers grazing his during the hand-off and you find yourself lingering a bit longer than you wanted.

You clear your throat again but he doesn’t seem to notice. He takes an appreciative sip and smacks his lips, a confused expression forming. 

Taking advantage of the situation, you lean in and whisper conspiratorially, “Not what you expect?”

“It’s... light, and uhm, what’s the word,” he’s scrunching his face in thought. “Delectable? No... delicate! It’s delicate tasting.”

Keeping the hushed tone, you grin, “Between you and me, I hate the way most liquor tastes. This is just my own personal brew.”

“I’ve... I’ve never tasted anything like this,” he’s taking another swig, trying to parse out the flavors and notes. 

“Yeah, you get bored on the road, you start mixing and blending your own brews,” you jerk a thumb towards your bike. 

“You travel alone or is this a group venture?” he gestures generally. 

“I work alone,” you shrug, turning your gaze towards the fire. You feel yourself drifting a bit. 

“Do you like it?” 

“I do,” you murmur.

“Wasn’t a very enthusiastic ‘I do,’“ he elbows you in the ribs gently and you’re suddenly pulled back, very aware of how close he is to you. 

You blink for a moment and put on another amiable grin, “Haha, I do, I really do! It’s quite fun and it’s a decent adventure most of the times.”

“And the other times?” He asks, softly, in that same dangerous, low tone from before.

“It’s... quiet. You’re by yourself a lot on the road. So it’s... quiet,” you reply, a bit more morose than you intended. 

“Well then,” he stretches his arms above his head, “Good thing I inconvenienced you and stumbled onto your camp, huh?”

You laugh, “Yeah, I didn’t think I’d have any dinner guests but this was a nice change of pace.”

He smiles then his frame shifts a bit awkwardly and his voice lowers, “Uhm, truth be told *Y/N* I wasn’t feelin’ too great when I did run into you. But this was fun. I needed it.”

“I think I needed this too.”

He takes a deeper swig from the flask before handing it back to you, “I’ll confess, I’m on my second strike with the Queen. One more mess-up and I’m not allowed back into Junkertown.”

“Ah,” your eyes flick once again to his bruises and cuts, “She can be a real hardass, huh?”

“And then some,” he scoffs mirthlessly, “But thanks, I mean it.”

“Of course,” you don’t really know what to do so you give him a gentle pat on his knee.

He flinches at first but relaxes under your touch. 

He clears his throat, a clear flush growing on his cheeks under all that dirt and grime, “So, uhm, *Y/N*?”

“Yes, Junkrat?” You smile. And it’s your real smile. You don’t feel the need to put up disarming pretenses. 

“Call me Jamie,” he grins sheepishly, “My real name’s Jamison but no one calls me that.” 

“Alright,” you nod, “Yes, Jamie?”

“Were you just going to camp out here until tomorrow then head into Junkertown?”

“Yeah, that is the plan. Why?”

“Well, uhm, not that I’m shittin’ on your choice of accommodations but there are better places than outside at night in the Outback. It gets freezin’ cold,” he says seriously. 

You hold back a snort and solemnly nod back, “Ah yes, I hadn’t considered that. In all my years of camping and trekking through here, the freezing cold!” 

“So, I have a proposition for you,” Jamie opens his palms outwards like a salesman getting ready for his pitch. 

“Alright, I’m listening.”

“You should come into Junkertown tonight. Stay at my place, and come tomorrow morning you’ll be right there in town, ready to do business,” he says with a final, dramatic flourish of his fingers. 

“You’ll be alright with that? A stranger crashing at your place?” You raise a brow, still smiling ear to ear.

“Least I could do to pay you back for dinner and drinks,” he stands up and dusts himself off, before offering a hand to hoist you up. 

You take it, bringing yourself up to your feet, “Oh, my pleasure, really.”

He starts kicking sand into the fire and turns to you with a glint in his eyes, “Oh, I should warn you there’s only one bed back at my place.”

A shiver runs from the nape of your neck down your spine, “Well. You did say it gets freezin’ cold out here. We should make the most use of it.”

He stops, your matched boldness surprising him. He laughs a bit and says, “After a long work day tomorrow, will you have dinner with me again?”

“Of course,” you start packing up some of your gear. You flick your eyes towards him and with a leisurely softness in your voice, you reply, “Drinks’ on me.” 

[miss-pearlescent]

Search Through the Universe (2/6)

Rating: M

Read Chapter 1 here

This guy—alien? Dude with a cool car? Astronaut?—didn’t talk much. But it didn’t matter because one, you didn’t share the same language; and two, his leg was really bleeding out.

It was already at an odd angle and you suspected something had broken or dislocated, but you had to treat the bleeding first before he passed out.

Then you would call the ambulance and the police... right?

You shook your head and concentrated on setting the man gently down on the closed toilet seat and propping his injured leg on the edge of the bath tub.

“Off,” you said, pointing at his shiny aluminum boots. You had never seen this kind of fashion except in space movies so he had to be an alien or an astronaut.

One of his eyebrows rose up as you climbed into the tub and rolled up your pajama bottoms before turning on the water.

“Take this off,” you repeated, tugging at material.

Then he started unzipping from the top of his shirt collar. Your eyes widened. Oh no, this was a one-piece space suit.

You looked away as he took off his entire aluminum suit, working it carefully over his leg, and then tossing it to the side. He definitely didn’t have any qualms about being naked in front of strangers.

Making sure there was still warm water, you splashed it over the gashes on his calf. “I meant just the bottom of your suit, but I guess this is fine too,” you muttered as you stared intently at his knee and nowhere higher.

Though the man made no sound or expression as he watched you, you were still gentle in washing his leg, soaping up the skin around the cuts, and then rinsing everything with warm water again before patting it dry with a towel.

You could’ve sworn the cuts were already looking better after just a quick wash, but you were only going by the light of the flashlight so you couldn’t be sure.

“What’s your name, by the way?” you asked and stood up, trying to be nonchalant while placing the towel over his groin.

Not surprisingly, he ignored you and went to examine his leg instead.

Well, maybe it was time for the next logical step and call 9-1-1.

You were just about to walk away to grab your phone when you felt his fingers reaching for your hand. Turning back, you found him giving you a smile of some sort, one that just tugged on the corner of his mouth as if he were laughing at an inside joke.

Then he rested his forehead against your fingers and said something under his breath.

You weren’t exactly sure what he had said. Maybe he was laughing at you or calling you a fool. But you decided to take it as a sign of thanks.

Lightly, you patted his shoulder and said, “You’re welcome.”

---

The suit had cleaned itself before Kai pulled it on. The human had left the room and was stumbling around somewhere because she had left her only light source with him.

Humans were odd creatures. They were surprised by a simple ship and had no light besides the sun. Kai knew they weren’t a species that had developed night vision, so how did they survive with tiny torches every night?

They were also cute, if he had to admit. The human had washed his lacerations, cleaning them with more care than he could ask from any medic back home. They would’ve probably rubbed a burning antiseptic, but this gentle wash would do for now.

The human came back with a bundle of furs in her arms, so high that she had to peek around them. She said something in her smooth, tongue-twisting language and stopped when she saw him zipping up his suit again.

Her brows rose as she inspected the material on his left leg, bringing the light torch up close. Humans didn’t have self-cleaning suits either? How primitive was this race?

The human shrugged before she stood straight again, said a few more words, and then threw the furs around his shoulders.

Kai froze for a second, wondering if this was a trapping mechanism. But then she tugged the ends of the fur close to his neck and brought his hand up to hold it in place. His other hand was pulled forward and she was leading him slowly down the steps, the light torch in hand.

The human made him sit on a large cushioned seat, and he wondered what beast would need this much space for their ass. Then the human held out her hand in front of his face as if telling him to wait there.

She was cute in a funny way, commanding a voyager of the universe to just wait in his seat. He watched her slowly make her way into another section of the building with her torch in hand.

He had had enough. Taking out the tube of light orbs from his pocket, he turned them on with a click and threw them at the ceiling of the building.

With just three, the room he was in lit up beautifully.

A gasp came from the other room and he found his little human staring up in awe yet again.

He was really enjoying how easy she was to impress, especially with the light casting sparkles in her eyes.

She clasped her hands together and exclaimed something in glee. Thinking she was thanking him, he gave her a nod of acknowledgement.

She made the exclamation again, this time taking a step forward, and he realized she was asking him something.

Kai made the same gesture she had done earlier, tilting his head to the side out of confusion.

The human blew out a harsh breath from her lips and rubbed her arms. He tried to listen closely. “Faiyer?” she asked. “Kenyumekfaiyer?”

He didn’t know what she was saying.

And he saw the moment she realized that he couldn’t answer her question. Her shoulders sagged and her lips pressed together in sadness. She turned around and headed back into the other room again.

Kai never knew a scene could tug so much on his heart.

He stood, dropping the blanket on the cushions, and walked over to the other room. He threw his light orbs at the ceiling here as well, lighting it up.

The human turned around and there was a smile on her lips, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes like before.

She was saying something long and rushed again as she grabbed the bowl beside her and began stirring it. Maybe she was talking to herself, but Kai liked hearing her voice anyway.

She stopped stirring at stared at her spoon.

Looked up at him through her lashes.

Stared at her spoon again.

Her pink tongue poked out and licked a bit of the brown substance from the spoon. She smacked her lips together and made a “Mmm!” sound in approval.

Now he wanted to taste it, too.

He opened his mouth and she seemed surprised for only a second before she giggled and placed the spoon with his reach.

He held her hand to steady the spoon before putting it on his tongue.

A burst of sweetness came through along with something rich and spicy that made him salivate like a mutt. He had been taught that Earth was a place full of bland foods, a place of grains, roots, and burnt prey. But this was unlike anything he had ever tasted before.

“Kookee,” she said.

Kai took a step back in surprise. The word she had just said...it sounded so much like his language with its hard consonants. That must’ve been her given name.

She advanced on him. “Kooookeeeee,” she repeated.

“Kai,” he said, pointing to himself. Maybe she did know some parts of his language. Maybe her brain just needed time to adjust and learn it. He could teach her. He smacked his chest and said his name again. “Kai.”

“Kai?” she asked him back.

He nodded fervently. She was getting it.

He pointed at himself again. “Kai.” Then he pointed at her fuzzy white chest. “Kookee.”

She said another flurry of words that he couldn’t catch. He could only watch her lips work as he tried to understand. He needed a solution.

Finally, she gave a sigh and pointed at him. “Kai?” she asked with a raised brow.

He nodded.

Then she pointed at herself. “Kookee?”

He cracked a smile. Finally, she got it. She knew they were talking about names. “Kookee,” he said, “wait here.”

Pulling out the ship capsule, he summoned it into the room with the big soft seat. It was still smoking a little, but all the fuses had been turned off. He just needed to do a system reset and it should auto-fix itself soon.

“Kai?” Kookee asked behind him.

He climbed into the ship, rummaging around for what he needed. “Give me a few minutes. I should have one or two left here.”

It was illegal to give away translator chips to foreign species without a permit, but he needed a comrade on this planet. And Kookee was the perfect candidate.

---

Hi, I am writing to you asking for an explanation from SM regarding tHE LACK OF TEMPO PROMOTIONS!!!!! What the heeeeck, kokobop promos were sooo long how dare thee

Anyway, I hope you guys liked that chapter :) Will you and Kai ever be able to communicate through speech? We’ll find out!

[hollyjollyhobiofthepast]

talon of the hawk ranked worst to best

12. au revior - most definitely one of their worst songs of all time. i fucking hate this song. it gives the front bottoms a bad name. techinically, i hate the next song EVEN MORE, but because i have to hear a whole fucking crowd of ugly idiots sing along to this song at the top of their lungs at least once a year, it deserves to be here. it's mean-spirited and down right nasty, and just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. like brian, please, never date a girl again. i'm begging you.

11. lone star - the lyrics to this make me fucking shudder, and it doesn't even sound nice to make up for that. i don't fucking care if it's "fictional," it still grosses me out and reads weirdly anti-abortion. like no, i don't believe brian is pro-life or anything like that, i just think that in the wrong hands (christian hillbillies with less than one brain cell) this song could easily be read that way. and considering there is absolutely no way in hell to read this song as gay, nor would i WANT to, i am completely and totally un-fucking-interested. you ARE the straightest link, goodbye!

10. funny you should ask - while it's fun to sing along to and some of the lyrics are Okay, the overall sickeningly straight lyrics kill it for me. like there's basically no way for me to twist brian talking about chelsea's polka dot bikini into something gay. i do fucking love this line though, i'm not gonna lie

While I was stuck in Jersey trying to save some money I guess I'm just another thing you left behind

even the whiny ass way he sings it is fucking iconic

9. santa monica - it's just so goddamn whiny and paints him in such an annoying light. there's only one line i like from this song and it's "being the superior couple / loving who I am 'cause what we are" because it reminds me of mike talking about being with sam. other than this, i would never choose to listen to this song. it's pointless and fucking annoying

8. everything i own - i always confuse this song and the last song because to me the tone is about the same. i don't hate it, i don't love it, it's just.... there.

7. peach - i liked this song, played it to death, got burnt out on it so avoided listening to it, then actively hated it, and now i think it's okay. i like so many of the lyrics, i just wish it was slightly less sachrine. but it's been long enough since i've overplayed it that i could probably listen to it again without getting instantly annoyed.

6. backflip - this used to be my favorite song off the album. why????????? i have no fucking idea. reading the lyrics i'm just like wow, even the structure of this song is irritating. but for some reason, i'll alway love this part.

I'll move to Florida, and I'll buy a brand new pick-up truck And I'll tint all the windows including the driver's side Now you can't see me, so you can't touch me When I sit at the red light and watch your boyfriend Wonder if I'm inside, if I am dead inside

without that, the song has virtually no reason to exist. plus it just reminds me that they have met and hungout with the impractical jokers crew and the older i get the more i just fucking hate those guys. i'm like brian please tell me you are nothing like them because they are disgusting creeps.................

5. skeleton - like................. the lyrics are hot as hell but i genuinely never need to hear this song again in my life. it's kind of like they perfected playing this song live better than any other song so they said hey, let's ONLY open ALL of our shows for the REST OF TIME with this one song! yay! and to read they might use it as an encore song now? gag

4. the feud - i like this song because i can't not read it as gay but it's a lil shallow. like it's fun and easy to sing along to and i like the lyrics and the sound, but there's just something lacking, you know? like where's the emotional depth? nowhere to be fucking found

3. swear to god the devil made me do it - i can't explain why exactly, but i fucking love this song. something about the tone is like........... slightly haunting and i love it. i know i probably sound crazy, but whatever, it is what it is. and i fucking love this lyric

But I am full of shit, I'm a plagiarist As a liar, I'm a ten

2. tattooed tears - to be honest i forgot this song existed and i STILL like it better than 98% of this album. the lyrics are good, just change "she" to "he" and it's perfect. it helps that it will always remind me of mario and vega 0:) and i'm sure now if i cared to i could apply it to other ships (maybe jakota) but my head hurts and i don't feel like reading the lyrics to confirm that lol

1. twin size mattress - here's the thing. even though objectively this song is better than every other song off the album, it's been overplayed. to death. i literally never need to hear it again in my life. but i can still admit that it's the best song. it has the most depth and emotion and is the only thing that even slightly resembles anything from self-titled, which is their best music they have ever (and probably will ever) made.

[sparxwrites]

(so, the best time to write 3.5k of fic for a new fandom is when you’ve just dislocated your shoulder, right? anyways, have some pre-ittd-ep fic about teens being teens, and thinking about the future. i’m a monster, so it’s as angsty-with-hindsight as i could possibly make it. enjoy!)

cw mentioned homophobia / homophobic slurs, (‘jokey’) suicide mention, drug use, underage drinking

[ao3]

“What do you wanna be when you grow up?” Raina asked, curiously, drifting starfish-like on her back over the dark, glassy surface of her parents’ pool. “Like, when you leave high school, I mean. we’ve only got a year left, so…”

It was October, the schools long since back after the lazy summer holidays – but with the weather hovering in the high seventies, it was still plenty warm for a pool party. Or, rather, a mildly-illicit pool gathering, since Raina’s parents had expressly forbidden any parties when they’d left for a long weekend in the city. Not particularly averse to breaking rules when it suited her – an inevitable consequence of being friends with Kayden and Sat for any length of time – Raina had decided to stick to the letter of the law, rather than the spirit. Five people were hardly a party, she reasoned, and what her parents didn’t know couldn’t hurt them.

Which was how she’d ended up with five people in her pool, and enough booze for ten stacked over various pieces of garden furniture, having a definitely-not-party in the dying light of an early-autumn evening.

“What does who want to be?” asked Sat, from her place on the side of the pool, pressed thigh to thigh with Kayden and sharing a joint with him. He was shirtless, with knee-length cargo shorts rolled up to mid-thigh – whether through laziness, or because he genuinely didn’t own swimwear, was anyone’s guess – and she was in a high-cut black bikini, a scrap of a thing that left little to the imagination.

None of the others had been able to stop staring at her since she undressed.

Raina came to a stop at the edge of the pool by Sat’s legs, clinging to the side like a bedraggled limpet and looking up at her friend. “I don’t know,” she said. “Anyone! Any of you. Hmm… Kayden! What do you wanna be?”

Kayden made a thoughtful noise around the joint pressed to his lips, pulling it away to blow a thin stream of smoke up towards the sky. “I dunno,” he said, words already a little weed-slow, wrinkling his nose. “Dead?”

He laughed – and then stopped, abruptly, when Sat elbowed him hard enough in the side to nearly make him drop the smouldering joint into the pool below. “Not funny, Kayden,” she snapped, though Raina was giggling a little beside her. “Not fucking funny.”

“Fine, fine.” He rolled his eyes, passed the joint over at her beckoning, and rubbing at his ribs as though more pressure would somehow stop it bruising. “High-school dropout, I guess. What?” he asked, when Sat scowled at him through the cloud of smoke between. “Look, I come from a long and prestigious line of alcoholic, trailer-trash addicts who couldn’t even get their fucking GED. It’d be a shame to break tradition.”

“What about marijuana farmer?” called Tanner from half-way across the pool, where he was swimming steady but determined laps. There was, surprisingly, only the slightest hint of mockery to his words.

Kayden grinned, and laughed along with the others, nodding in agreement and ignoring Tanner’s faintly smug smile “Now that’s a career I could get behind,” he agreed, and then sighed at Sat’s crossed-arms scowl beside him.

“Fine, Miss High-and-Mighty,” he said, plucking the joint from her fingers again, and pushing her easily into the pool with a hand between the shoulders. “What to you wanna do, then?”

Sat squealed as she hit the water, flailing desperately in an attempt to avoid going under, and failing dismally. When she resurfaced, it was to squirt a mouthful of water at Kayden, makeup streaming darkly down her cheeks, and with Tanner trying to haul her up out of the water as though he was afraid of her drowning. “Asshole,” she informed him, scrubbing at the running mascara and batting away Tanner’s ‘helpful’ hands.

“Guilty as charged,” agreed Kayden, smirking, lips curling to blow smoke up towards his now sopping wet and pancake-flat mohawk. “Question stands, though. What do you wanna be?”

“Porn star,” she snapped back at him without missing a beat, hauling herself out of the pool to find a towel and clean off her face. She missed the way both Darby and Tanner turn pink and flushed in the low, late-evening light, but Kayden’s gleeful cackle was unmistakeable.

Raina sighed, kicking off from the edge of the pool and setting herself drifting on her back, eyes to the moon. “Oh, come on,” she said, a little sulkily. “It was a genuine question! I wanted real answers, guys.”

Clearing her throat slightly, Darby tore her eyes away from Satine’s hourglass figure in the low light, and nodded. “Yeah, real answers,” she agreed, trailing her tongue across her lower lip in an almost unconscious motion. “We never talk about… college, or work, but Raina’s right. We’re going to be graduating in a year, we need to think about this seriously. About how it’s going to affect all of us.”

Kayden waggled his eyebrows at her, smirking, and she studiously ignored him.

“Fine, fine,” said Sat, returning to the pool edge and settling a safe distance away from Kayden – though not before judiciously poking him in the side with her toes, hard enough to make him jump. “Um. Actress, I guess? Like, a movie star or something.” She looked almost self-conscious, her eyes softer and more open without their usual thick, dark lining. “I dunno. I can’t see myself going to college, and like hell am I gonna work some shitty minimum wage job for the rest of my life, so…”

“Oh, that’s so cool, Sat?” Raina gushed enthusiastically, grinning as she flipped herself upright to tread water. “I can totally see you as an actress, you’re so- so glamorous, and you’re gorgeous, and confident, and-”

“Yeah,” Tanner said, as he stopped his lengths to tread water next to Raina. “You’ll be a great actress, Sat.”

Though it was hard to make out in the low light and with her slightly darker skin, they all saw the way Sat blushed. “Really?” she asked, oddly vulnerable for a moment before her usual wickedly confident smile slid into place. “That’s really sweet of you, Raina, Tanner. …I mean, of course, I’m incredible, but it’s nice to know you guys think so too.”

“Of course you’re incredible,” agreed Tanner, softly, an odd sort of smile on his face as he stared at Sat – and did his best to ignore the barf motions Kayden was making mere feet from her, entirely unsubtly.

Raina ignored all three of them, though whether deliberately or through cheerful obliviousness was anyone’s guess. “So, Darby!” she said, turning in the water to face where Darby was sat on the pool steps – water halfway up her chest in a poor attempt to hide the rather old-fashioned and unflattering swimming costume she was wearing, and a rapidly-emptying wine bottle in her hand. “Last but not least. What do you wanna do?”

“Hey!” objected Tanner, waving a hand in front of Raina’s face unexpectedly enough to make her shriek in surprise and recoil. Darby, across the pool, snorted in amusement. “Hello? What do you mean last but not least? What about me?”

“Everyone knows what you want to be, Tanner,” drawled Kayden, splashing at the water with his feet and tossing the burnt-out roach of the joint behind him. “Let the lady take her turn.”

“Oh yeah?” Tanner snapped back, taking the bait with his usual ease and speed. “What do I wanna be, then?”

The other four look at one another, and then back at Tanner. “Professional photographer,” they all said, in unison – and Sat took advantage of the brief moment of unity to shove Kayden into the pool.

“Ha, ha, ha,” droned Tanner, over Kayden’s howls of indignation, though he did take the opportunity to splash water at the flailing form of his friend. “Very funny. No, I don’t want to be a professional photographer. I want to be an accountant.”

“You assholes,” hissed Kayden, clinging to the edge of the pool and glaring at them all through narrowed eyes, looking for all the world like a pissy cat who’d just taken an unexpected bath. “You know I can’t swim, fuck all of you.”

He was summarily ignored by absolutely everyone on the basis that – swimming skills or no – he didn’t appear to be drowning. Or, at least, didn’t appear to be imminently drowning. A little bit of water and humiliation in front of friends never hurt anyone, after all, though Kayden was doing a good job of sounding like he’d been mortally wounded.

Raina frowned at her friend next to her, though, lower lip sticking out. “Aww, Tanner,” she said, a little sadly, putting her feet down and standing on tiptoes on the pool bottom to rest a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “You don’t want to be an accountant, your dad wants you to be an accountant. That’s not the same thing.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Tanner, biting sarcasm laced through his voice as he swept his overlong hair back from where it was plastered to his forehead. “I’m pretty keen on not being disowned and disinherited, so. Y’know.” He shrugged. “Besides, you guys know what my family thinks about photography. Pretty sure most other people feel the same way. I’m not gonna find much business if I’m that one weird kid with the camera, am I?”

“Yeah, well, your dad’s a fucking prick,” growled Kayden, hauling himself dripping out of the pool and slumping on the tiled edge, breathing heavily and glowering in the general direction of Sat. She stuck her tongue out at him in return, grinning. “So he can go fuck himself, frankly.”

Raina gasped. “Kayden!” she said, eyes wide and bright with shock. “You can’t just-”

“Oh, I absolutely can ‘just’.” He pushed himself up into sitting position, crossing his legs underneath him rather than sticking them back in the water. “The guy called me a fucking faggot last time I saw him. Right to my fucking face. He deserves that, and worse, the shit-mouthed bastard.”

Tanner, though he hadn’t responded to the insults, frowned. “Well, I mean. It’s not like he’s wrong? You are…” he started, quietly, trailing off only when Darby kicked water at him from across the pool and made frantic don’t gestures with a hand across her throat.

“Oh, fuck you, asshole,” snarled Kayden, flipping him the bird with one hand and combing fingers shaking faintly with anger through his ‘hawk with the other. The heavily hair-sprayed hair had gotten tangled with the water, sticking out in all directions against his scalp. “Jesus shit, you’re gonna try and defend that crap? Five fucking years we’ve been friends, and you still have no fucking- god. Fucking hell.”

“It’s… that’s not the point, Tanner,” said Raina to him, quietly, as Kayden’s cursing slowly tapered off into unintelligible mumbling. “That’s a shitty word, and your dad knows it. I’m not saying Kayden should have called him- all that stuff, but…”

“Oh,” said Tanner, quietly. “Yeah. Right. Uh… I didn’t mean it like that, Kayden. Just that you… uh. Forget it. Sorry.” He got only a grunt, and Kayden’s middle finger again, in response.

An awkward silence settled over the five of them, broken only by the soft splashes as Tanner went back to his laps – his strokes a little more aggressive than before – and the paper-crinkle of Kayden rolling another joint.

“…I want to be a teacher,” said Darby, finally, when the quiet started to feel like a physical itch and it became clear no one else was going to speak first. “When I leave high school, I mean. Or, when I leave college, I guess, since you’d need to study for that sort of thing.” She smiled at Raina as the other girl doggy-paddled over to her, shifting sideways where she was sat half-immersed on the pool steps to make room for her friend. “I’m not sure, really, but I guess college is plenty of time to decide, right?”

Raina settled next to her, leaning her head on Darby’s shoulder. “But you hate kids, though!” she said. “Or, well, not hate, I guess, but you always talk about how annoying the elementary and middle-school kids are…”

“Oh, god no, I don’t want to teach kids.” Darby shuddered, and took another sip from the wine bottle, staining her tongue and lips an even deeper purple-red. “No, I mean I want to teach college students. Be a lecturer, I guess? I’m not sure what I’d want to lecture in, but maybe geography, or geology…”

She trailed off, tracing patterns in the water with her free hand and tapping fingers against the wine bottle in the other.

“I can totally see you doing that,” said Raina, thoughtfully, shifting to rest her chin on Darby’s shoulder and peer at her friend’s profile in the late evening darkness. “You could do pretty much anything you set your mind to, though. You’re so stubborn when it comes to stuff like that. You’ll do great, teacher or not.”

Darby merely shrugged, and smiled a little shyly – but as close to Darby’s cheeks as she was, Raina could see the pleased blush that coloured them at the compliment.

Slipping back into the pool, Sat swan away from the awkward tension still bubbling between the boys to join the other girls on the steps, and to steal the wine from Darby. The effort was slightly ruined by the fact that Tanner immediately swam after her to settle on the steps too, but she ignored him in favour of taking a large gulp of wine.

“And what do you want to do, Raina?” she asked, once she’d swallowed the cheap alcohol, pulling a face at the vinegar-sharp taste of it. “C’mon, we’ve all aired our dreams for your amusement. Spill.”

Raina actually blushed, plucking the wine bottle from Sat’s unresisting hand and taking a long gulp. “I, uh… I’ve actually already applied to some art schools,” she said, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand and playing nervously with her hair. “My mom and dad encouraged me to, over the summer, and I thought- well, the worst that can happen is they turn me down, right?”

“Fuck off,” called Kayden from across the pool, in a friendly sort of way. He sounded almost impressed. “Really?”

“Yeah!” said Raina, enthusiastically. “All you gotta do is write a letter, and have a portfolio to send them – I photocopied a bunch of my artwork at the library – and pay the application fee…” She shrugged, looking down at her lap, apparently embarrassed. “I mean, it wasn’t like, super hard or anything? I already had the art, and…”

Sat hummed thoughtfully. “Well, look at you, little Miss Organised!” she teased gently. “You’re gonna have a college offer before any of us even have a plan.” She smiled, and nudged Raina with her shoulder companionably, before squinting through the growing darkness at where Kayden was still sat on the other side of the pool. “Hey! Kayden! Get over here and help me give Raina shit for how smart and organised she is!”

Across the pool, Kayden blew a cloud of smoke in their general direction and stuck his tongue out. “What part of can’t fucking swim are you guys not getting?” he called back. “Jesus. I don’t even know why I agreed to come to this thing, I fucking hate pools. No way you’re getting me in one.”

“You’ve already been in, asshole,” said Tanner. He sounded exasperated, but he was smiling, a soft, crooked quirk-up of one corner of his lips. “You’re already damp. May as well come and at least sit with us, huh?”

“Only if I can sit on your lap, sweetheart,” Kayden taunted – but he was already padding his way round the edge of the pool to squeeze into the space left between Tanner and Sat, handing off the half-smoked joint to whomever’s fingers were grabbing at it. He leaned back against Sat, the line of his spine pressed into her upper arm, and swung his legs up over Tanner’s lap to prod at Raina’s thighs with his toes.

Tanner sighed, rolling his eyes, but didn’t object, especially when Sat shifted her arm from behind Kayden to drape over his shoulder. “Asshole,” he repeated, but there was no bite to it. Not even when Kayden smirked, and blew a weed-laced kiss directly into his face.

For a long moment, a companionable sort of silence passed over the group, as they sat in the shallows of the slowly-cooling pool and watched the stars come out, one by one. The joint was passed around until it burnt down to a stub, and the quiet was interrupted only by Darby disentangling herself from Raina to go and get another bottle of alcohol, given Raina had finished off the previous one.

“We’re… we’re gonna stay friends, though, right, guys?” asked Raina, eventually, as Darby settled back in at her side with a bottle of Jack Daniels, no doubt stolen from some unfortunate off-license by Kayden’s wandering fingers. “After this year. I mean… if we all go off and do different things, we’ll still stay in touch?”

“Of course,” said Darby, immediately, fierce and more than a little wine-drunk. She grabbed at Raina, as though concerned the other girl was planning on leaving there and then, and dragged her close in a wonky, one-armed hug.

Nodding, Tanner, looked at all of them, a soft sort of smile at the corners of his eyes. “We’ll stay friends,” he said, quietly. “You guys are real important to me, you know that? I’m not gonna let us just drift apart, not if I’ve got a say in it.”

“Aww! Tanner’s gone all sappy,” teased Sat, leaning over to pinch his cheek hard enough to turn it pink. “But yeah, what he said.” She raised an eyebrow at Kayden, where he was slumped against her. “What about you, Kayden?”

Kayden shrugged, making a seesawing motion with one hand, and then grinned as he grabbed for the bottle of whiskey. “Nah, I’m just fucking with you. You lot are the only assholes I’ve found so far that’ll put up with me.” He took a long drink, and handed it back towards Darby’s grasping fingers, stealing the joint back from Raina to replace it. “I’d be dumb to let you just run off. You’re stuck with me for life, now.”

“Oh, joy of joys,” intoned Tanner, but he was grinning too as he flicked at Kayden’s toes where they were settled on his lap.

Raina grinned, bright and radiant, and hugged Darby right back, even as she beamed at the rest of them. “Well, I’ll drink to that!” she said, stealing the bottle of Jack from Darby just as she had with the wine. “Uh… not, like, to that bit about being stuck with Kayden for life. No offence Kayden. But- to friendship! To sticking together.”

“To friendship,” the others echoed after her, as the Jack was passed around like communion wine.

The liquor burned as it went down, settling warm in their stomachs – and though, theoretically, only a single sip was needed to toast the toast, seal the deal, they were high schoolers. One sip turned to two, to three, until the bottle was empty and they were onto the next. As the night spread dark and star-specked high above them, they huddled together in the shallows of the pool steps, drunk and laughing and confident in the knowledge that nothing – nothing – would ever tear their little group apart.

[h-ilsae]

of friction and bone

(summer writing experiments = rough drafts and monotone narration !! woopdy fucking doo)

prologue

words : 1520 | genre : angst, i guess?? a bit of gore later | pairing : reader / Jeon Jeongguk

An exhibition of worsts in an alleyway, where most bad deals are struck. That's how most pathetic stories start. Cursed by all-knowing eyes, Y/N finds herself deeper into a whirlpool of deceit and uncertainty, both concepts too familiar and foreign. Blessed by slaughter hands and the inane desire to protect, Jeongguk never knew he'd start playing fair for a girl fumbling for her bloodied tarot cards. Her words can shape tragedies, and his shape rhapsodies. 

Nothing pleasant comes out of alleyways, especially a deal struck for symbiosis. A warning beforehand would've sufficed. It just so happens that ending up dealing with your own swindled cards was a definite feasibility. 

The heart of foul play started with a defect in the sunlight, still asleep even when colors already stirred in the sky. The sun was nowhere to be seen among silhouettes of the structured rotting that was the town, as if afraid to be cursed at by its locals when it takes too early a peek. 

Fringes ordinarily cater to troubled life and remorseless mischief, and this town was no different. The streets a nervous system, it shoots rapids, stretches truths, silent in activity but very much inclined to prodding til others bleed, til there's fun out of it.

Though an ungodly hour, comfort drew near. People are squinting themselves farther from sainthood. In other words, they're good for nothings in their primes, all looking for a bad time to make things worthwhile. Farther from peace, banter close to butchery ensues at the witching hour stalls. Watching the early unrest are the scattered patches of kindling fire on cold asphalt, and you walk through it all, inhaling the mandatory gray sea mist that shrouds the overall worship of offense. Such sight has grown on you, selfishly cradling the definition of home and laying it next to you when it shouldn’t.  

Accompanying your light footsteps are the songs of dirty work, proving the art of turbulence to be made solely in disdain. 

You are part of this human exhibition of worsts – the normalcy of your bloodied cape and tarot cards, grime smeared limbs, hands' fidgeting in impatience for a spectacle, and the general chaos that is your outfit, are nothing to be proud of nor worried about. The only thing worthwhile is your mouth's weariness from feigning detachment, keeping you annoyed and awake despite the lack of proper sleep.

The game has been playing you by its strings for weeks, but never had it reached this dangerous point. One ultimatum grew out of proportion after another, and none of them did you satisfy. None of your clients heard what they wanted, which was a shit of an ordeal, taking into account that your gift is indeed looking into the hypothetical future. 

What they don't know is besides foreseeing, there's another polarity to your gift, which is diagnosing. The moment your lips weave a destiny, the future stops being just simple notions – like every banal ability in fiction, whatever you say becomes reality. Whether you asked permission from the gods or not, there's a platter of futures to choose from, and you personally see to it that you handpick adversity.

It's only a matter of time and a problem in readiness. You were a lesser monster to them, because fate is served in rows of possibility even before your resolve wakes the fortune-sucking leeches in them. Suppose it made you sick of stringing life on a bait for the others to dig into. Still, you're passionate about the idea of clairvoyance, yet have a distaste for the act of putting it into illustration, and that says something.

Hiding from daylight could be the price to intruding on fate's craft, of fucking up everyone it can. Or the price to making good use of deceit for a living. At this point, anything could take a bite out of you as recompense. Anyone could scrape their dignity and money back from your skin.

* * * trust is a word you believe in, and you now hold onto a boy with a knife under his petticoat, a product of trust mocking you. * * *

Yoongi advised that the boy was the best to take up, considering the risky affairs you brought yourself into and the reluctance of his unit to be of service to a small girl. You needed a goddamn escort to go through the night without getting unnecessary attention from the disheartened and enraged yesterdays. 

A single package needs to be delivered safely. As simple as that. The worst best must've been dared say as a conjecture to steer clear of you, because his description of a loyal menace seems far from yours. Yoongi should have bigger problems to deal with, or else he's gonna get a healthy dose of jinx to look forward to.

The bloke must've reached a rock bottom of some sorts to accept Yoongi's recommendation and to seriously judge your offer. He hasn't spoken a word since he showed up with his burnt insignia of a placid crow on the sleeve of his coat, which could've been mistaken for a mere dark blotch from afar. If you weren't acutely aware of the 3 am scene showing a boy walking with coolheaded grace – you'd be out in the open gamble, ready for taking.

His fingers swiftly brushed over the crow patch, the mark of Yoongi's crew - the Dregs, in a natural gesture to confirm. Then his hands retreated almost instantly. You took a quick assessment: his other movements were oddly casual. Tongue in cheek, distant gaze, head cocked to the side, but arms stiff with hands reinstated at his back. He had an acceptable build and a passable height. Should there be a need to hound, he'd accomplish.

After a raise of brows, he said no more and followed you head into the dark, keeping a respectable distance that didn't scream "I'm her bodyguard and she's most likely a person of value, come on, attack us!"

If he accepted the job without having reservations. he could be unaware of your tales, that, or he paid no heed to the silly, middle-school superstitious gossip.

When you turn to an empty street, you slow your movement so he'd catch up.

"Hey, um, we've been walking for half an hour now. Care to tell me your name?"

You already knew his name, but if he were to join you in your entanglement of misadventres, it ought to be that you earn his name rightfully.

"Jeongguk." A single word is spared, then he resumes to surveying the area nonchalantly.

Your lips purse with his condensed answer. It wouldn't hurt to speak more than a word. It wouldn't hurt to answer questions that insist a single word for an answer, either.

He - now you could freely call Jeongguk, fixed his adamant eyes on studying the empty street, another glance towards you unafforded. Possibly a polite suggestion that you shut up, because he's working.

The street was like any other, only less alive. A long bar of asphalt, an orchestra of crickets with the faint hustle and bustle, an array of absent houses with roofs cooked red, and a flickering streetlight at the end.

* * * an interval : quietude. * * *

Not that the night was free of scattered vermin, only tonight was relatively lacking in interference. Even passing through the cloak and dagger market, none of the sellers shoved their merchandise in your face. All of which could be a good thing, that the probabilities seem to be in your favor today. Though later on you push that inkling out of your thoughts, not wanting to drive away the luck. Your own words don't work on you anyway, but it would be nice if he did talk a bit to ease your nerves.

A side job is a side job, one that you promised to fulfill. The package is an unadorned box sitting heavily in your left pocket, its weight creating a reputation for itself. It stirs something creeping in your chest, like a slow burn anticipating the undisclosed. Two things are unknown : the contents of the package and the next five minutes.

There are reasons for why things happen. A superior principle - none of it matters. The package implies otherwise, and the quiet dread says so. So does your fingers. They wound up fiddling with the edges of the tarot cards in the other pocket, sure to leave the impression of blood.

The tension is of your own doing and an independent burden. Everyone else are calmly entertaining their sins, while you're a quarter pissy, a quarter bored, a quarter nervous, and a quarter unsure.

Funny how you're a wuss when the talk is of your own the future; you can see it laid out in front of you. In just a hundred couple of to-be-sifted-through chapters though, unfortunately.

"I'm Y/N, but you probably already know that." He nods in reply.

* * * one thing certain about this tight-lipped obscurity : he's better in feigning detachment, more than you ever were. ***

Unbeknownst to you, a wraith closely watches the awkward exchange. Muted shallow breaths play somewhere above you, and Jeongguk alone catches its rhythm.

Someone smiles in knowing – there's a new participant to the game. Out of politeness, of course, the acceptance of the rookie comes a new ploy, made suited to their needs. Slaughter hands to undergo pruning heartstrings should be an interesting notion. A start to the well-known sickness that would do one well to know to never catch it - actually giving a fuck.

[fictionalrat]

let it happen | chapter 6

read on ao3

lance: i busted a nut

keith: oh joy

lance: [sends pic of an actual busted nut]

lance: #lewd #nsfw

keith: blocked

Lance wakes up with the worst stomach ache he’s had in like forever. A motherfucker of a stomach ache. The Worst™. The stomach ache to end all stomach aches. The stomach ache to put all stomach aches to rest in shame. Life is hell, he’s in hell.

He presses his face into his pillow and groans. He’s so fucking miserable it hurts his pride. 

Okay, you wanna know the truth? This has happened way more often than he cares to admit. Way too often, honestly, one too many times, it’s happened so many fucking times he’s lost count cause he’s a shit who wouldn’t know healthy even if it fucked him in the ass, is why. 

Yeah, you’re right, a guy who claims his skin is his most important feature and has an entire, and very thorough, I might add, skin care routine should be eating healthy. Or, at least, healthier on a daily basis, less takeout and more, dunno, vegetables? Homemade meals, whatever. 

If he could care he wouldn’t, though, cause he can’t cook for shit. 

What about Keith, you ask. Well, if Lance’s bad, and Lance is pretty bad, Keith’s fucking hopeless. 

Get this, he almost blew up their entire apartment trying to nuke fucking tekitos, can you believe that? How hard can that be? Seriously? And to top all that, they’re both lazy as fuck. 

The math is easy, put shitty eating habits, shitty cooking skills and shitty disposition together and what do you get? Yup, shitty intestines. See? It’s not rocket science. 

Real talk: you can only live on takeout for too long before your intestines start giving you shit. I’m serious. That’s just how it is, my dudes, I don’t make the rules. It’s a real fucking pity, honestly. 

Look at the bright side, though, at least Lance can safely nuke some fucking tekitos without putting anything - other than his own hands and pride, but that’s secondary and nobody needs to know about that one incident, least of all Keith - in jeopardy, thank you very much. 

God, he misses Hunk’s cooking. He should give him a call, see how he’s doing, maybe ask him if he’s up for cooking some alt vegan shit for Lance. Some tasty detox grub. Fucking anything. Probably not, but let a man dream. 

He shifts in his bed and his stomach screams at him. It feels like, dunno, sharks? Yeah, sharks. It feels like sharks are getting a real good kick at chewing Lance’s stomach until there’s only a void, a very, very painful fucking void left. This is bad, it’s so bad, so bad he thinks he might die. He might be dying, what if he’s dying? Oh my god, he’s dying, he’s gonna die. 

His life flashes before his eyes. He can see the light. 

He comes to a simple conclusion: he fucking regrets all his life decisions with a vengeance. 

Okay, okay. Pause. Enough drama, he needs to fucking shit. Priorities.

Resume: He’s not smooth, or maybe he is, like a goose or something, in his haste to get to the bathroom, so he trips on his own feet and comes impossibly close to busting his fucking nose on the sink, so close he could almost hear it cracking if not for him bracing himself on the doorframe with both hands.

Plot twist: He can’t avoid hitting his pinky toe on Keith’s poop stool when he plops down carelessly on the toilet seat, though. 

Fuck this shit.

“FUCK THIS HUGE PILE OF SHIT!” Lance battle cries and kicks Keith’s fucking useless poop stool with so much feeling he tears up a little bit.

Slow motion: It hits the wall, the wall sends it right back to him, he sees it coming but is too baffled at his own shit luck to do much of anything, so the stool ends up hitting him in the shin.

Back to normal: IT DEAD ASS HITS HIM IN THE SHIN, because why the fuck not, right? Break his fucking tibia already, why don’t you, you bitter bag of dildos. It’s not like he needs his leg, right. Bitch.

It sends a jolt up his entire fucking leg, so violent it leaves his hipbone tingling, his fucking hipbone , his fucking hipbone is tingling.

He doubles over screaming, vocal cords malfunctioning and stuttering in pure, unadulterated agony.

That’s gonna leave a nasty bruise, for sure. His life is just amazing, isn’t it? Awe inspiring, he’s flabbergasted.

He bites down on his bottom lip, eyes welling up with tears. His hipbone still fucking tingles.

Why did it have to be his shin? Goddamnit. THIS FUCKING!

This is all Keith’s fault, Keith and his fucking poop stool, swear to god. Why? Why a fucking poop stool, Keith, why .

He’s so fucking weird, Jesus Christ Almighty.

Who in fucking hell takes their shit with their feet propped on a damn stool? Weirdo losers, that’s who. That’s right, Keith is a fucking weirdo loser and Lance hates his guts.

Flashback time: Lance had side-eyed Keith so hard the first time he saw him doing that, because seriously, what the fuck, right? Again, WHO does that?

Answer: Keith Kogane, because he’s a fucking wEiRdO LoSeR.

“You know, shitting with both feet on the ground makes your rectum fold like a water hose,” Keith had told him, ugly ass feet propped on his ugly ass stool.

“Bullshit. Who the fuck says rectum anyway?”

Keith had rolled his eyes, leaning back on the toilet seat and crossing his arms,  “Well hoe, believe it or not, it does, that’s why you get half a shit stuck up your ass sometimes, or can’t even shit at all.”

Shit, I got sidetracked. Where was I?

Ah yes, Lance and his need to shit.

Present time: Lance rubs at his chin, takes a deep breath and goes to work. Except it doesn’t work.

He looks up at the ceiling to send a little prayer before he starts pushing again. One, two, three, seven, except it doesn’t work.

He’s struggling hard, veins are popping out, his face is turning purple, the whole shebang, which would’ve been funny if his poor ass wasn’t suffering like a cat in heat.

Seriously, he would be laughing right now, if it weren’t him in this position, but unfortunately he is, and his asshole is crying. Well, not really cause it’s too fucking dry, so dry he can’t shit. Lance is definitely crying, though.

What a day to be alive.

Lance startles out of his struggles when Keith barges in, pillow creases stamped on his soft, sleepy cheek, eyelids swollen, a slight blush up his cheeks. He looks warm, like really fucking warm. Also, cosy.

Lance sighs and sags against the toilet lid.

God, he misses his bed.

He also misses shitting regularly like a normal human being.

Keith looks at him and frowns, squints, then scowls, “Great, my bladder’ll explode.”

Fuck him.

Lance’s hate for Keith’s guts intensifies, he’s almost boiling with hatred, he hates him so much he’s gonna scream. Not to mention… “EX CU SE ME????” Lance’s voice cracks but he doesn’t give a shit, ha fucking ha, jokes on him, “Some fucking damn privacy, the fuck?” Keith blinks blearily at him, unfazed. “Your tongue was up my ass two days ago, Lance,” he quips around a yawn wide enough to wrinkle his nose up, rubbing the sleep off one eye, “this is - pause for another yawn. there. resume - fucking nothing.”

That’s… that’s a good point. Damn it.

Lance glares ugly at his profile, mouth slacking around a yawn reflexively, as the weirdo bends down to wash his face. “Okay Lance, finish up, I need to fucking pee.” “HOLD A DAMN MINUTE, WILL YA, SHITFUCK.” Lance cringes at how constipated he sounds, he can feel the strain in his neck.

Keith examines his face, his mouth twitches up into a lazy, lopsided, demonic little thing, “Your intestines giving you shit again, Lance? Do you want me to make you some coffee?” He teases, reaching for his toothbrush.

Lance fucking hates his fucking guts.

“FUCK YOU TOO, YOU SHITTY ANUS!” He shoots back, kicking Keith’s fucking useless poop stool again for emphasis. He’s angry, let him kick shit. He’s venting. It’s cathartic, okay, fuck you.

The stool topples over and finally, FINALLY,  to Lance’s utter fucking relief, hits the tiles like a miserable burnt waffle, instead of his shin. Blessed be. Fuck you, Murphy’s law, see your ass in hell. He kicks the stool again for good measure.

“Now, now,” keith admonishes, voice muffled by his toothbrush, he takes it out of his mouth to spit in the sink, then looks back at Lance, “Don’t need to throw a tantrum about it, it’s your own fault your eating habits suck.” “EAT MY SHIT.” “Well,” Keith points his toothbrush at him smugly, “You gotta actually shit first.” “I CAN’T FUCKING BELIEVE, FUCK OFF! GO PISS IN THE KITCHEN SINK OR AT SHIRO’S, I DON’T FUCKING CARE! JUST GO! I DON’T WANNA SEE YOUR SHITTY FACE RIGHT NOW!”

“Tough shit, boo,” Keith blows him a kiss before sticking his toothbrush back in his mouth, a little bit of foam dribbles down his chin and it’s so adorable Lance forces himself to grimace.

“Would you fuck off if I told you your mullet’s pretty?” He gripes.

“What was that?” he turns to Lance with one brow raised, toothbrush hanging between his slightly parted and foamy lips.

“I SAID, WOULD YOU KINDLY FUCK THE FUCK OFF IF I TOLD YOU YOUR MULLET’S FUCKING PRETTY? FUCK! SHITTY!!!! I MEAN SHITTY, FUCKING AUTO CORRECT.”

“Don’t use that meme on me, you absolute shit, and stop screaming, we’re having an actual real life face-to-face interaction right now,” he throws water at Lance.

“The FUCK, you heathen. HUMANS MAKE MISTAKES NOW KINDLY, GO PISS AT SHIRO’S.”

“Well, I’m not human, so.”

“OH MY GOD, GET OUT OF THIS BATHROOM BEFORE I THROW THIS FUCKING STOOL IN UR SHITTY FACE!”

Keith throws his head back to gargle some water, his eyes glinting with amusement before spitting it in the sink. He washes his toothbrush, shakes the excess water and rubs his mouth dry with the back of his hand while putting his toothbrush back in its holder. He turns to Lance and winks, sauntering off the bathroom like he’s not almost pissing his pants. That guy, swear.

“I KNOW WHAT I SAID BUT DON’T FUCKING PISS IN THE KITCHEN SINK, MAN, GO PISS AT SHIRO’S!!!”

He can hear Keith cackle fading into the background.

Lance rolls his eyes and sighs, his ass is starting to hurt.

Oh well, what can you do.

Back to work, then, guess.

He’s once again startled out of his struggles when someone barges in the bathroom.

This time it’s not Keith, but Pidge.

Lance stares at her in utter confusion but she just shrugs and hops on the counter, feet dangling, “Keith’s got a new tattoo and Shiro’s freaking out about it, I’m on my period and ain’t got no time for that shit, swear.”

Lance winces, “Fuck, I’m sor- WAIT, KEITH’S GOT A NEW TATTOO????” He jumps to his feet, sweatpants falling to his ankles. Pidge’s face contorts in disgust, “Wipe your fucking ass, Lance, the fuck.” “I DON’T HAVE TO, I CAN’T SHIT.” He throws his arms up and his dick wobbles.

Pidge covers her eyes, “WOAH THERE DUDE, HAKUNA YOUR TATAS. And yes, he did? I thought you knew? You guys are fucking, aren’t you?”

“I mean yes, but…” Realisation hits. His eyes bug out. “OH MY GOD.”

Cue: Lance almost rips his sweatpants in his haste to pull them up and sprint like a fucking lunatic out the door.

Glance: Pidge spies through her fingers and rolls her eyes so hard at Lance’s frantic retreating back, she thinks, just for a split second, they might get stuck in the back of her head permanently like that. What a load of crap.

“What the fuck?” Pidge stares at the ceiling with wide, incredulous eyes, “I’m surrounded by fucking weirdos.”

“Okay, what the fuck is happening in this damn household,” Lance goes through the door.

Shiro’s head whips around and he… doesn’t look too happy. He looks downright disappointed, to be honest.

Matt comes into view with a mug of coffee in hand, hair a mess and glasses slightly off kilter. He sighs. “Shiro’s acting all weird cause grumpy cat here,” he points his mug at Keith, who’s sitting on the couch with his feet up the coffee table with a mug of his own between his hands, “got a tattoo without consulting him first.”

“I’m not-”

Keith rolls his eyes, taking a sip off his coffee.

“Which is stupid,” Matt looks pointedly at Shiro, cutting him off, “and I already told him to quit being a baby about it.”

“But babe,” Shiro’s voice is exasperated, he flails his arms around, “It’s his first! I should’ve been his first!”

Keith chokes.

Matt raises an eyebrow and takes a sip, clearly amused.

“That didn’t sound weird at all,” Lance snickers behind his hand.

“Jesus fuck, Takashi,” Keith heaves, wiping his face, “way to make things weird.”

“Shut up Keith,” Shiro huffs, “you promised me you’d let me tattoo you first and then you go and stab me in the back like this. A fucking betrayal. My own fucking family!” He exclaims, “I have feelings, you know!”

“How old are you? Six?”

“Six years older than you, kid .”

Keith narrows his eyes, “Oh, real mature.”

“Okay children, enough,” Matt places his mug on the coffee table, “Shiro, stop being a baby and Keith, stop provoking him. I can’t believe this shit, honestly, this family’s gonna be the death of me.”

“I feel you, man,” Lance salutes.

“Shut up, Lance,” Keith and Shiro say in unison.

“Yikes, good to see you’re back in synch, my guys. Welcome back,” He deadpans.

Keith stick his tongue out and flips him off.

Matt disappears into the kitchen.

Shiro rolls his eyes and reaches for Matt’s mug, taking a sip and grimacing, “Way too fucking sweet.” He shrugs and takes another sip, following after his boyfriend.

Lance chuckles, “Now that that’s settled,” He clicks his tongue and turns to Keith, “WHAT THE FUCK.”

Keith jumps and splashes coffee on himself with a yelp, “LANCE! SHIT!” He puts the mug down and shakes his hand, stray droplets catching on the couch, “Someone get me a towel, shit.”

“I gotchu, fam,” Matt throws him the dishrag from the kitchen entrance.

“Thanks,” Keith grunts as he catches it and starts wiping himself off, he looks up at Lance with wide eyes, “What the fuck.”

“That’s what I just said, you idiot. You got a fucking tattoo and didn’t care to fucking tell? Brutal man, I thought we bonded.”

“Fuck no, not you too, not in my damn house, Martínez,” Matt reappears with a plate stacked with pancakes, voice muffled around a bite. He holds the plate to Lance, “Shove this in your mouth and shut up. Jesus .”

Lance eyes the pancakes warily, “Did you make those?”

Matt laughs, “Fuck no, it was Shiro.”

Lance hums and takes one from the stack, he rolls it up and takes a bite, he hums again, “It’s good.”

“Only thing I can make without burning the whole place.” Shiro says proudly, coming behind Matt to steal one pancake from the stack. Matt rolls his eyes but smiles fondly when Shiro plants a loud kiss on his neck.

“Gross,” Keith says from the couch, which gets him a pancake slap on the face from Shiro. He chuckles and shoves the whole thing in his mouth, cheeks puffing up.

“Now who’s gross,” Shiro teases.

“Nhow whosh grosh,” Keith mocks around a mouthful.

Matt cackles, throwing his head back, “Goddamn it, you two.”

Keith grins and redirects his eyes back to Lance, “Sit Lance, you’re making me awkward.”

“You don’t need my help for that.”

“Shove it up your ass, smartfuck.”

Lance smirks, throwing himself on the couch, “Don’t need to ask twice, sweetheart.” He winks and sends finger guns Keith’s way.

“God, what a fucking loser.”

“Whatever, you still owe me a peak of your tattoo.”

“Do I now?”

“ASSHOLE, THERE’S PANCAKES!” Matt hollers from the kitchen.

Keith and Lance grin at each other as Pidge comes running like crazy through the open door.

“Where’s he?” She looks at them with crazy eyes.

“Kitchen,” Lance points and she’s running.

A moment later they can hear Matt’s voice.

“Holy shit Pidge, the fuck, calm down, you’re gonna- Ah shit.”

Lance hears choking sounds coming from the kitchen and he snickers.

“We’re a bunch of weirdos,” Keith shakes his head.

Lance hums, “You gonna show me your tattoo or I’ll have to wait till I get you naked?”

“Wow, you’re so romantic, did anyone ever tell you that?”

“Quit stalling, sassmaster.”

Keith rolls his eyes but pulls his shirt up to reveal his tattoo anyway, and Lance… Lance’s having a fucking heart attack. Cardiac arrest. A stroke. He’s fucking dying. His heart is suffocating.

“Oh my god, is that-” He comes closer, sitting on his knees, “Keith, KEITH! Oh my god, what the fuck.”

Keith shrugs, “I told you I loved it.”

Lance doesn’t know how to react, it’s his fucking alien head. He did that, he drew that, now it’s fucking permanent, it’s branded on Keith. A part of Lance is stamped on Keith’s fucking skin and it’s permanent. His alien head is there, sitting proudly on Keith’s hipbone. This is… this is… he has no words. He’s gonna fucking cry, swear. He’s gonna fucking faint. Jesus Christ Almighty.

He slides down to the floor and scooches closer to Keith’s legs, almost shoving his face into Keith’s crotch to take a better look.

It’s fucking beautiful, it’s so beautiful he’s getting kinda hard, honestly. What the fuck.

“You’re doing amazing, sweetie,” he hears Pidge say in a mocking tone, but he’s too fucking distracted looking at the fine piece of art that is Keith’s tattooed hipbone to realize the true meaning behind those words. Then it clicks, and it clicks hard, so hard it has him whipping his head around so fast he hears a pop.

Pidges grin is wicked when he fixed his glare on her, she waves at him with her phone. He’s gonna dead ass strangle her. “Pidge,” he warns.

Her smile only widens, turns even more wicked. She looks fucking manic.

“I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU POST THAT, YOU’RE DEAD! SO DEAD I’LL TURN YOU INTO CHICKEN WINGS, I FUCKING SWEAR, KATHERINE ELIZA HOLT.”

She bites her bottom lip to stifle her laughter, but the phone is still trained on him.

“DO NOT FUCKING TEST ME, GIRL.”

Keith snorts and Lance socks him dead ass on the chest, “You shut it, mullet.” 

Keith raises his eyebrows and hits Lance upside the head. 

“Keith!” 

“What!” Keith raises his arms innocently, “You started it.” 

“It’s true,” Pidge points out, her voice wavering with suppressed laughter, “I caught it on video. You can’t run away from digital evidence, pal. The People vs. Lance Martínez.” 

“I’ve been set up, the fucking betrayal!” 

Keith hits him again, with a pillow this time, “Shut up, you fucking loser.” 

Like a flip is switched the three of them bust out laughing. 

Lance still gotta shit, though.

He’ll do it later, guess, his stomach doesn’t hurt that much, anyway.

[ourshineeshrine]

My Number One Fan

Chapter: 20/? Pairing: JongKey Word Count: 4,138 Summary: Kibum goes to the same, run-down bar every week to watch the man of his affections sing his heart out with a mere guitar for company. He wasn’t expecting the coffee, nor the beautiful personality within the singer. And he definitely wasn’t expecting to fall in love.

A/N: Woohoo more drama I love teasing you guys with cliffhangers <3 Another update will be coming either tomorrow or the next day so look forward to it!! Please enjoy ~

Pulling apart roughly, Kibum and Jonghyun regarded each other with wide, desperate eyes. The ticking of the clock seemed to sound in slow motion, and Kibum didn’t think that he’d ever moved so quickly in his entire life. Practically diving off the couch and landing sprawled on the packet of chips below, Kibum’s hands shook frantically in an attempt to redo the buttons on his shirt. His breathing ran heavy, and when he looked up at Jonghyun to see the older male smoothing down his hair and clothes with haste, his eyes seemed to scream death.

Crushed chips were splattered wildly over the floorboard, and it was as Kibum attempted to clear the mess with unsteady hands when Kibum’s mother walked into the room, a few bags of groceries in her grasp as she surveyed the scene before her. First, her gaze landed on Jonghyun, hair rustled slightly and shirt marginally askew, but otherwise looking perfectly average. She offered him a kind smile and he returned it almost immediately, unconsciously fixing his hair so that every strand was perfectly in place. And that was when the woman’s gaze fell to Kibum, face screwing up strangely as she noticed her son with his buttons uneven, mussed hair, red cheeks and salt and vinegar chips spilt wildly over the floor.

“Kibum?” she questioned, strict lines harrowing her face as it lifted again to examine Jonghyun. Now that she peered closer, she began to notice that he too had a pinkish hue to his cheekbones and was awfully aware of how he seemed to appear, tugging and pulling at his shirt as though it burnt his skin.

Kibum looked up and smiled tightly. “Hi, mother. Sorry about the mess…I accidentally slipped on this packet of chips.”

His mother nodded slowly, unconvinced. “What about your buttons, Kibum?”

Immediately, his head flew down to survey his shirt, cheeks reddening even more so at the state they were in. But Kibum, being the excellent actor he was, played along with his embarrassment and lied smoothly. “What the heck, have these been like this all day?! Jonghyun, why didn’t you tell me? That’s so embarrassing…”

Jonghyun chuckled good-naturedly, and although his mother wouldn’t have, Kibum took note of how his laughter seemed slightly forced. “I thought it would be funny. Sorry.”

“You don’t seem very sorry,” Kibum scowled, redoing his buttons so that they were even and neat.

Scepticism still laced the woman’s features, and then as though a lightbulb had gone off, her head shot to face Jonghyun once more. “Then why aren’t you in your school uniform, Jonghyun?”

Fear trickled down Kibum’s spine, and he regarded Jonghyun with desperation screaming in his eyes. Jonghyun met Kibum’s gaze and his eyes softened as though reassuring Kibum that everything would be fine, and looked back up to smile dazzlingly in Mrs Kim’s direction. “I have gym last, so instead of changing back into my school uniform I usually just wear casual clothes.” he explained with a smile. “My school clothes are in the car.”

“Oh. Okay” the woman responded with a frown, looking in between the two boys a few times with uncertainty before turning away to head to the kitchen.

Both Jonghyun and Kibum let out deep breaths of relief upon her departure, and Kibum finished cleaning the mess on the floor before collapsing onto the couch beside his boyfriend. “Your mum is kind of scary.” whispered Jonghyun, eliciting Kibum to giggle loudly in agreement.

“Yeah, I guess.” the younger male responded, dimples poking softly into his pink cheeks. “She sure asks a lot of questions.”

Jonghyun grinned impishly and leant forward slightly to fix Kibum’s hair, whispering in his ear softly as he did so. “True, but considering how much you lie, I wouldn’t blame her.”

With a pout, Kibum pushed Jonghyun away and instead went to grab a handful of chips, clutching the packet tightly to his chest.

“Hey…” Jonghyun whined. “Let me have some too.”

“Not if you’re gonna be rude.” refused Kibum playfully, grabbing another handful and shoving the whole lot in his mouth, humming softly in delight. “Mmm, delicious.”

A mischievous glint shone in Jonghyun’s eyes, and as his boyfriend closed his eyes in pretend euphoria, Jonghyun took his chance and dived forward, fingers tickling every expanse of skin he could lay his hands on. Kibum gasped, packet dropping out of his grasp as they moved desperately to protect himself, and although he really struggled not to, the loud bouts of laughter which escaped Kibum’s lips really were inevitable.

“S-Stop!” he breathed loudly in the midst of wild laughter, kicking at Jonghyun’s relentless arms as though his life depended on it.

Jonghyun grinned. “You never told me you were ticklish.”

“B-Because I knew…This would h-happen.” Kibum squeaked out, kicking one of his legs instinctively hard when Jonghyun’s hand brushed over a particularly sensitive patch of skin. Jonghyun’s eyes practically bulged out of his head, and before Kibum had even known what he’d done, Jonghyun was rolling around on the floor in pain, hands laying protectively over his groin.

“Oh. My. God.” Kibum spoke, watching Jonghyun’s pained form with an astonished expression. “Did I..?” he paused, surveying Jonghyun’s figure for a few moments in silence (bar the groans of pain emitting from the elder’s mouth.) And then Kibum was howling even louder than before in laughter, clutching his stomach as the chuckles shook his lithe frame. It sounded unattractive, but Kibum couldn’t help but wheeze in a struggle for breath, finding all too much amusement in what he’d caused his boyfriend. “Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it Jjong?”

Jonghyun grumbled in pain. “H-How is it karma when you didn’t let me eat any chips in the first place? Please…My family is starving.”

Voice reaching another octave higher, Kibum was laughing once more, clambering over to tickle Jonghyun’s exposed ribs.

Kibum’s mother stood in the kitchen, leisurely unpacking her groceries as she thought about the scene she had stumbled upon just moments ago. Uneven buttons and a rustled appearance certainly wasn’t something Kibum would usually leave the house with. Sure, the middle aged woman wasn’t home much, but she knew for a fact that fashion had a big influence on her son’s life and would be damned if Kibum had genuinely left the house looking like that. Perhaps he’d been in a rush? Or maybe he had a secret girlfriend he wasn’t telling her about. Kibum’s mother shook her head. It just didn’t make sense.

She knew her son. He was a smart, quiet and often moody boy who didn’t have many friends, and despite his asocial habits, Kibum definitely wasn’t awkward. The possibility of him having a girlfriend wasn’t completely off limits, but the thought in itself just didn’t settle right with Kibum’s mother. She didn’t know why, but for some odd reason, deep down she knew that wasn’t why his buttons were uneven that day. Maybe, just maybe, there was a lingering thought in the back of her head that had been growing even steadier over the past few weeks. Something she didn’t dare mutter aloud for anyone to hear. With the strong influence of her husband, Kibum’s mother didn’t even want to acknowledge it, and instead pushed down the instinctive feeling to the bottom of her gut where it would remain for what she hoped would be forever.

And then, breaking through the silence of her own wild mind, came the sound of loud, pure and genuine laughter which rang melodiously through the air like joy. It spread around the kitchen and engulfed the middle aged woman in a feeling mixed with surprise and warmth, and upon hearing the sound of her only son boisterously laughing with upmost happiness, she realized something that in one whole motion broke her heart and taped it back together again.

Perhaps…She didn’t really know her son at all. And while that feeling should have been a horrible one for a mother of 19 years like herself, instead she found her mouth tilting up at the edges in contemplation. So maybe she didn’t know her son very well. It would do no good to deny that fact. But, if that beautiful sound of mirth and love escaping his mouth at that very moment was even a fragment of what he had to behold, then Kibum’s mother was more than ready to get to know her son wholeheartedly. She grinned, her dimples reflecting the ones that were being showcased on Kibum’s beautiful face as he chuckled.

Yes, she concluded mentally to herself. I want to get to know my son.

It was around an hour later when the front door creaked open once again, this time announcing the return of Kibum’s father. Jonghyun noticed it immediately. The way Kibum’s shoulders suddenly tensed, the hitch of his breath and the constant desire to look and appear immaculate. Unconsciously he frowned, and although he wanted to loop an arm around Kibum in reassurance, he knew that around Kibum’s father, it was well off limits. The man looked marginally surprised to see Jonghyun there watching a movie with Kibum, however brushed it off within seconds and didn’t even acknowledge the boys again until dinner.

Sitting at the dining room table, Jonghyun was more cautious and aware than ever. Every single movement Kibum’s father took was watched by him closely, and he couldn’t help the anger from clouding his features every time Kibum flinched or tensed at something the middle aged man had said or done. The words that Luna had texted him were practically echoing in his brain, and even though he knew they were just assumptions, that certainly didn’t make them any less important or concerning.

He had witnessed the man’s harsh nature for himself. Calling his own son those abhorrent names for simply wearing eyeliner…Constantly filling his head with prejudiced thoughts on the homosexual community. People didn’t choose their parents, and Jonghyun understood that. But, considering Kibum’s own sexuality and personality, it was safe to say that his parents (or perhaps just his father), were the worst a boy like him could have ended up with.

Dinner, he noted, was delicious. The different types of food to choose from were vast and diverse, although it was clear to tell that somehow, it just wasn’t cooked with the same sort of love his food at home was. Jonghyun didn’t dislike Kibum’s house. In fact, he thought it was grand, beautiful and magnificent. But something about it just felt cold, and Jonghyun finally found himself understanding why Kibum enjoyed the company of his sister and mother so much.

Maybe it wasn’t a matter of love. After all, family were meant to love each other unconditionally, right? Kibum had just been brought up without as much attention and affection as Jonghyun, and so his family functioned in different ways. That would have been perfectly fine with Jonghyun, had the younger boy not looked so uncomfortable around his own father. Jonghyun himself hadn’t really grown up with a father figure around the house – his own had left them at an early age. But even if Jonghyun didn’t know a lot about how they were meant to act, he knew for a fact that children were not meant to fear their own fathers. They were meant to admire them. Look up to them.

Kibum didn’t admire his father. He seemed to sneer his name whenever they spoke about family, and now, looking to his left, Jonghyun saw that he was quivering in his boots.

‘Just what type of man is Kibum’s dad?’ Jonghyun thought to himself, brows furrowing even more so as he did.

His expression of deep thought and anger, along with his slow pace when consuming dinner didn’t go unnoticed by Mrs Kim. She saw the way that Jonghyun was glaring at their husband, and unconsciously, felt herself gulping in discomfort. Had Kibum told Jonghyun what had happened? It wasn’t as though she could ask aloud. And so instead she simply remained quiet for the remainder of the meal and observed Kibum and the mysterious Jonghyun with curiosity swimming in her brown orbs.

Protectiveness seemed to aura around Jonghyun in small waves, and another drop of that strange, instinctive feeling fell into the pit of her stomach. The woman tried to brush off the feeling, after all, it would do not good to dwell on her probably false inklings. But no matter how hard she tried to concentrate on other matters, it didn’t seem to budge, slowly but surely taking over every corner of her intelligent mind.

“Sorry dinner was so quiet,” apologized Kibum later that evening, head bowed. “Father and I had a disagreement the other day so…He was a little cold.”

Jonghyun snorted. “Yeah, I could tell something was a bit off. Are you sure you’re okay to stay here?”

Surprised at how serious Jonghyun sounded, Kibum could only offer a nod of the head in response. A small grin made its way onto the older boy’s face, and Kibum suddenly felt better at the tender, warm expression in Jonghyun’s chocolate brown eyes. “Good,” he commented, lifting his hand to gently ruffle Kibum’s hair. The height difference made it seem a little awkward, however neither boy could really bring it within themselves to care – after all, that was probably the only physical contact they could make with Kibum’s parents being so close nearby. “And Kibum?”

The singer’s voice was softer than usual. Gentle, delicate, as though Kibum might break at any moment. Kibum didn’t quite understand – he was perfectly fine, wasn’t he? “Hm?” he responded, tilting his head slightly to the side.

“If you ever, y’know, feel unsafe or like something’s wrong…Just know that you’re welcome at my house whenever you want. Early in the morning, during school, for dinner, in the middle of the night. Any time’s fine.”

Kibum blinked. “Oh…kay? This is a bit random, don’t you think?”

Awkwardly, Jonghyun licked his lips. “I know, I know…The offer’s just always there, alright?” Cupping Kibum’s shoulder warmly, Jonghyun offered him one last bright smile before opening the front door. “I’ll catch you later, Kibum!”

“See you, Jonghyun.” responded Kibum softly, closing the door behind his boyfriend and staring at the wooden frame wistfully. No, he thought to himself. This wouldn’t do.

“I left something in Jonghyun’s car mum, I’ll be right back!” Kibum was out of the door before he could even hear the woman’s response.

“Jjong, wait!”

Jonghyun turned around in shock, surprised to see Kibum running towards him. Cheeks flushed from both the chilly air and embarrassment, Kibum paused before Jonghyun, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry…I-I forgot something.”

And before Jonghyun even had time to comprehend what Kibum had said, the younger’s slim, cool fingers were holding his face firmly and his lips were pressed against his own. It was sweet and short lived, but Kibum’s expression was immediately brighter when they separated. He bit his lip shyly and stared at his shoes. “Forgot my goodbye kiss.”

Jonghyun’s ears were painted pink, and a smile larger than the moon adorned his rouging face. “R-Right. Of course.”

“I…” Kibum paused, and the mixture of light provided by both the streetlamps and the moon’s rays shone down to illuminate his flawless face. It took all of Jonghyun’s willpower in that moment not to grasp Kibum and kiss him once more, but he resisted, and simply stared at Kibum awaiting his words. “I um…really loved that song, by the way. Thanks, Jjong.”

Jonghyun smiled, half disappointed that he had to leave so soon. “I’m glad…But I really best be off now. See ya, Kibum.”

“Bye, Jonghyun! Take care.”

‘I should be saying that to you’, thought Jonghyun mentally, opting to keep his thoughts to himself. Instead he simply waved, blowing Kibum a sly kiss out the window as he drove away.

The week seemed to elapse slower than ever, and it was with hunched shoulders and a grim expression that Thursday when Kibum was pulled to sit with Amber’s group of friends for the nth time over the past few days. It wasn’t horrible. Kibum had someone to sit with at least, and every now and then Amber would make sure to include Kibum in the conversation as best as she possibly could. It consisted of mostly girls, and although they didn’t speak to him, Kibum figured it was better to have nothing said in contrast to something horrible. He ate his lunch in silence, and the only time it really made him uncomfortable to sit there was when a few of the guys would seemingly glare into his soul, not budging until Kibum looked up from his lunch to halt them with a scowl.

“You’re not going to make any friends if you don’t make civilized conversation with them.” Amber had told him one day before school.

“Do I look like I want to be friends with them?” Kibum had retorted. Amber had shrugged casually, but both of them knew that the answer was a solid no.

Kibum felt a little guilty that he’d been invading Amber’s friend group every day despite his obvious dislike for them, but when he had told Amber that he was fine to sit alone, the tomboy had vehemently refused and practically pushed Kibum all the way to their sitting place at lunchtime. He found that despite their catch up on Tuesday, Kibum was missing Jonghyun more than ever, and they’d only been separated for a measly two days. It wasn’t as though he was desperate. Really, Kibum wasn’t the clingy type of boyfriend. It was just that the idea of sitting in the company of someone who genuinely wanted you to be there really was quite pleasant.

But although the concept of being with Jonghyun at that moment was pleasant, it was awfully unrealistic, and so Kibum remained sitting with the group of loudly chattering boys and girls who, bar Amber, couldn’t really give a crap about what he had pressing at his mind. It wasn’t great. And it certainly wasn’t very fun. But, Kibum concluded, it wasn’t horrible.

This was getting ridiculous, Minho noted as he poked his head inside the dance room only to land upon Kibum’s lack of presence once again. Taemin, unsurprisingly, was still there, eating his lunch contentedly without an ounce of concern painting his face. “Hey, Taem.” Minho greeted with a soft frown, slipping inside and taking a seat on the floor across from Taemin.

He unwrapped the foil around his sandwich, taking note of the fact that its sound was clearly distinguishable from the otherwise silent room. The two ate in silence for a few minutes, but as the ticking of the clock blared pressingly in Minho’s ears, he found his mouth moving before he even had time to comprehend his thoughts. “Where’s Kibum been lately?” he questioned curiously, mostly to himself. “I’m kind of worried about him…”

Looking up from his container of rice, Taemin’s eyes were darker than usual, and Minho faltered in surprise. Licking his lips awkwardly, Minho cleared his throat before trying again. “Did something happen?”

Taemin scowled, and once again, astonishment and disbelief shrouded Minho’s veins. The Taemin he knew…The Taemin that he’d befriended was nothing like the boy sitting before him.

“Who cares about Kibum?” Taemin muttered, diverting his gaze back to his food before adding under his breath, “He’s disgusting anyway.”

Minho blinked. “Excuse me?”

Lifting his eyes, Taemin repeated in a low tone. “I said,” he gritted out. “That he’s disgusting anyway.”

Anger boiled in Minho’s veins, furious at his best friend’s words. “You don’t mean that, Taemin. What’s gotten into you?”

“I meant every word. Common sense has gotten into me and nothing else.” His gaze locked on Minho’s, but the older male didn’t miss the way Taemin’s gaze flickered away from his. He couldn’t keep eye contact.

Minho shook his head. “I can’t believe you. You know what it’s like to be targeted because of people’s prejudice, and now you’re doing the exact same thing just because Kibum and Jonghyun are dating. You’ve talked to Kibum…And you’ve enjoyed talking to Kibum! So tell me, god damn it, what’s gotten into you?”

‘Just because Kibum and Jonghyun are dating…’ The words echoed in Taemin’s head, and instinctively his mouth dropped in surprise. He’d known that Kibum had a crush on the older male, but the information about their newly established relationship came as a surprise to Taemin. Taemin’s voice stuttered, trying to form some kind of response, but Minho stood up and talked for him instead.

“Kibum was there for you when you were cornered by those bullies, and now you’re bullying him…Seriously, it seems like I’m the only one in this god damn school other than Amber who actually gives a shit about the kid! Even his own dad—“ Minho paused suddenly, deciding that he’d said too much.

All the newly acquired information was swimming around Taemin’s head at such a fast pace, and with red cheeks he tried stuttering out an apology. He knew he’d said something wrong…He knew he was wrong but somehow, the apology still wasn’t genuine. “I’m sorry…”

“Save it.” Minho spoke, shaking his head in disappointment as he made move to leave the room. “I hope, Taemin…That you’ll have come to your senses the next time we speak.”

And then he was gone, slamming the door shut behind him and leaving Taemin once again, alone in that white, white room. Taemin stared at the walls, a blank abyss that perfectly portrayed his numb mind. Kibum had been such a good friend. He’d helped him when there was no one else there to help, he’d made Taemin laugh, he’d invited him to parties and yet still…Taemin had discarded Kibum just like all of his first year peers had done to him. His eyes burnt and tears blurred his vision, but Taemin refused to let them fall.

‘It’s fine.’ He told himself. ‘I’m doing this because of Minho. Minho is more important than Kibum.’

Taemin paused with horrible realization sinking into his skin. Minho had left him. Just minutes ago, Minho had stormed out of that door with disgust shrouding his handsome features because of the things Taemin had done. In pursuit to keep his best (and possibly only) friend, Taemin had only pushed him further away. The first year felt physically ill.

“What am I going to do?” he mumbled softly to himself, clenching his fists so harshly that half-moon marks were left on the palms of his hands. “What am I going to do?”

Humming in contemplation, Kibum’s mother considered the two items in her grasp once again before placing one delicately back on the shelf and carelessly letting the other fall into her shopping basket. There were only three of them at home of course, but with her husband and her being out so often for work, the middle aged woman felt as though the cupboard needed to be fully stocked at all times in case her son felt peckish. But recently, she thought to herself, Kibum hadn’t been home much at all to even eat all the food she’d been buying. With a shrug, the mother kept the snacks in her basket nonetheless and continued down the aisle, pausing in her tracks once she’d reached the other side.

Perhaps her eyes were fooling her…She hadn’t seen the boy much for herself anyway, but—

It was fruitless to deny that the male standing a small distance away from Kibum’s mother was indeed Jonghyun. With a light frown adorning her aging features, the woman pulled up her sleeve to check the time on her watch, the creases around her brows increasing even more so at the presented 1:42pm. School hours were still running, and last time Kibum’s mother had checked, lunch time finished at 1:30pm. Her footsteps quickened towards her son’s friend, waving slightly as his gaze met hers.

Panic seemed to illuminate his eyes for a mere millisecond before they returned to their previously neutral state, and with what seemed like a forced grin, he waved shyly back. “Hi, Mrs Kim!” he greeted politely, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck.

“Hi, Jonghyun.” she responded with a nod of the head, briefly taking note of the woman by Jonghyun’s side. Her stare returned to Jonghyun and paused, allowing her head to tilt in confusion. “If you don’t mind me asking, dear…Why aren’t you at school? Are you ill?”

The woman beside Jonghyun looked terribly lost now, looking from Jonghyun to Kibum’s mom in an attempt to figure out the scene before her. Jonghyun opened his mouth marginally to respond, however was halted as the woman interrupted him, light humour lacing her voice. “School?” she snorted. “I know he looks pretty young, ma’am, but Jonghyun here is twenty one.”

next

[therecoveringcatho-holic]

mannn.. life is just getting so much better!!! i just have to share where i'm at y'all bc ive been pretty excited about who i'm becoming bc i'm actively working on my spirit and who i am thru Christ.

first off - i'm fortunate for past, current and future *pain* bc it's brought me many blessings and will continue to bring me more.. just watch. it's just all about perspective and mines slowly but surely turning around! 💕 pain is a blessing bc without it we wouldn't know joy & we wouldn't be able to help others with similar problems!! i def struggle with my own share of health issues, a lot more at 31 than i ever wanted to have but i gotta be realistic about it: i treated my mind, body and spirit like a trash can off and on for the better part of a decade, i have trauma that i wouldn't dive into - like for real, for real - until 2 years ago or so bc i kept wanting to mask it. all that did was make it fester and then i projected it on others so what should i expect you know?? i used to complain constantly that 'life is not fair' and until very recently, i couldn't turn that around in my head and look at it positively .. like I AM ACTUALLY GLAD it's not bc if it was fair then i should have died yearssss ago.. one way or another esp if you look at it from a scientific standpoint. i may not know what my purpose is in life y'all but it's not my job to figure that out, it's my job to trust The Lord and His plan for me even if it doesn't always make sense to me. He is a God beyond my understanding and letting Him run the show makes life a lot better. we're not meant to have it easy but we weren't designed to make it so hard on ourselves or others either. He provides us the tools, it's just a matter of if we choose to use them or not. we all struggle so let's help each other out but the right thing is usually not the easy one so be proud of yourself when you make good decisions, no matter how small. the small things become big things; choices become habits -- that can be good or bad so make it a good thing 😘

one main problem i've always struggled with is consistency, esp when it comes to obeying The Lord. i am finally aware that my behavior does NOT affect Gods love for me bc He's an unconditional, loving God but my behavior dictates how much easier or harder life becomes for me.. and it's a daily thing y'all but it is for a lot of people, not just me. i just know that when i impulsively react to somebody or something, my

m o u t h is the first to go 😬😏SOOOO now im pretty good at waiting it out and if i think the same thing 2 mins later or so, you bet i'm gonna say it bc i'm blunt like that and i don't care to sugarcoat my thoughts BUT i also don't have to be hateful/disrespectful about it.. so that's been a turn around, for sure! 🙏 most people have a filter and i seem to lack one so i'm trying to develop one.. haha, it's funny but it's not at the same time.. actually it's been quite debilitating, really. my impulsivity and my mouth have burnt a lot of bridges in my life. not everybody or everything deserves a reaction and i don't need to waste my energy on things that arent my business -- and huge surprise here guys -- there is a LOT of stuff that is not my business so i take my nose out of it now 😜. i thrived off the drama and chaos for so long bc i didn't wanna look inward at myself and work on what was actually wrong -- which was me and my spirit. i am blessed for awareness and personal perspective.. it is everything.

ive been going back to AA and someone mentioned that theyve been praying for people that they have issues with, don't like or whatever the case may be and it's been helping them change their reaction/perspective towards that individual. at the end of the day, people are gonna do what they're gonna do but the way i choose to respond to it says everything about me, not them. that's why i love "The Four Agreements" book so much -- seriously life changing bc it's helped me realized that like i had so much displaced anger for so long and made it about everybody else and "what they did to me" , how "i'm not like everybody else", "why do they have a career / family / house and i don't?" WHATEVERRRR blah blah blah 😑 when at the end of the day, it had nothing to do with them. i was unhappy with myself, pissed that i got "cursed" with alcoholism and depression, sleep issues, etc. so instead of looking at it my difficulties as strengths and blessings, i had my own definition of what successful, happy people looked like or what they had and i was straight up mad and jealous of y'all. like how dare y'all have it so easy, right?! 🙄 omg hahaha how delusional is that!!! NOBODY has it easy!!! we all have something man and just because others may not see it doesn't mean it's not there!!!

"be kind.. for we are all fighting a battle others know nothing about." amen!!

my life has turned out to be nothinggggg of what i thought it was gonna be .. and i'm at a place of acceptance about it now and what a blessing it is to feel at peace more often than not. i think the real definition of serenity is when you stop wishing you had a different past and appreciate what God trusted you to go thru bc He knew Y O U could handle it 🥰

my alcoholism has about damn killed me but i'm resilient and ive been able to help others who battle my demon too; my depression has helped me understand deep sadness and how not running away or being scared of somebody bc of that can really change another persons life for the better.. one conversation can literally save somebody's life so don't underestimate what it means when someone disabled from depresssion reaches out to you bc you could be a life changer to them, i know this from experience. sleep issues suck but i've had a lot of deep, thought provoking conversations at 3a, ill tell ya that! but lately i sleep better bc i'm getting the garbage out of my soul and giving myself some grace. i'm blessed to not hold on to people who left me during my darkest hour bc they weren't meant to see me grow and to take part in my joy now.. it's all how you look at it!! i tried holding on to soooo many people for so long and now i just feel free of that negativity .. and i'm sure some people feel the same about me these last few years.. i was very toxic to some people so they were right to let me go as well. there's always two sides to everything y'all -- like be blessed for those who have let you down!! now you have room for people who are loyal and worth your damn time!! but as i just mentioned, i had to look in the mirror though and humble myself bc at one point or another, i was "that person" on more than one occasion that let somebody down and perspective on that is key to moving forward and not hurting somebody like that again. hurt people hurt people and i was the queen of that. when i get what i feel is a proper amount of time under my belt, i have so many amends to make that its quite.. sick, really. in the 5 years i've been in and out of AA, ive only been told to F off and/or burn in hell twice after trying to make an amends so that's better than i deserve lol most have been receptive of my amends but this will be the second round for some of those same people and i don't expect the same forgiveness i got the first time bc i don't deserve it. i'll also be frank with you .. some people i don't want to make amends to bc i don't feel they deserve it so clearly i still have work to do on my heart and hopefully thru the program and in time, i will feel differently but right now that's honestly how i feel.

to sum it all up, here are some things that help me:

-if you have to hide it, don't do it. -chaos always proceeds change.

-people will treat you with as much respect as you show yourself (thank you Lord for helping me with this one!!)

-validation may come from other people but that's just temporary. if you ain't happy in YOUR heart, with who YOU are.. check your morals and standards my dear! it doesn't matter if the entire world thinks you're great -- you need to KNOW & BELIEVE you are and that begins with the belief system you set for yourself!

- the saying "one foot in front of the other" goes a long way.. act blessed and you'll become blessed; no matter how stupid it sounds in your head, talk kindly to yourself until you believe it -- affirmations work, i swear!!! most importantly, show others grace so you'll eventually show yourself some 💕

i am a sinner but i am not my mistakes. my alcoholic demon is strong but God is stronger.. and thru Him, so am i. without my community from TN to NC to GA, my friends, my family of choice, my medical team and The Lord God, id be an empty shell of a person still at the bottom of a bottle at all hours of the day wanting to die every second i was breathing.. yes, it got that bad more times than i can count so THANK YOU to everyone who has given a shit about me and this crazy life i've had!!! once i realized that roughly 10% of my life is whats happened to me and came to accept that 90% of my life were problems that i created myself, was when i was able to become grateful for all the problems i DONT have & blessed that although some bridges are forever burned, there are many that are not!!! if i continue to act right, i have beautiful opportunities to improve myself and my relationships, the most important one being with God.

i know ive got some haters but i don't view them as enemies anymore bc i don't like harboring anger in my heart anymore .. it doesn't feel good and it only speaks to my own personal insecurity when i've talked poorly of somebody in the past. ive never quoted tupac in my life but there's a first time for everything 🤣 "i want you to eat, just not at my table." to the people i don't like and to those that don't like me, let's pray for each other. everybody deserves happiness and to thrive in their own way.. i'm not gonna be apart of some people's lives and BOTH of us are better because of it! God, i loveeee acceptance!!!! 🙌

above all.. do & be YOU, boo boo!

if it matters any, i think you're pretty great! 😋😙

as alwaysss, much love from knox & prayers to friends in mid tenn!! hope everyone is safe!! 🙏

xoxo

kels