#the flippy curls out the back

[andy-clutterbuck]

photographed by MJ Kim in 2014

[oh-no-its-bird]

I asked for a trim and my hair dresser gave me a FUCKING PIXIE CUT I'm so genuinley distraught I ended up crying on the train home

Canceling all of my plans next month I can't let anyone I care about see me like this

[girlygguk]

WIT IT THIS CHRISTMAS ⋆ JJK

you’re done watching girls shoot their shot with your man. this time, you let them know. or, better yet, hear.

🦌⋆⁺₊❅. christmas & chill: instalment 2 of 6

pairing drummer!jk x secret situationship fem!reader

genre fwb2l, angst, fluff, smut 18+ mdni

content jk 25 | yn 22, bratty oc, jk knows how to handle her, jk is in an alt rock band with jinnie and yoongs, tae is jk's best friend & oc's confidant, vmin are bfs, jk spoils oc, babygirl just wants to be cuffed, ruined christmas plans, oc whines a bit, oc gives jk the cold shoulder for approx 7 mins before folding bc… idk dick too good i guess, jealousy (both parties, more so oc's side), neither of them entertain it tho, fwb but like exclusive ones because cmawn… it's me, kissing, grinding, groping, big tiddy reader, big tiddy sucking, sm dirty talk & praise, quick bj, cunnilingus, choking if u blink, oc gets fucked w his drumsticks, and then his cock, condomless p in v sex, oc is on birth control, clothed sex, sub dom dynamics, daddy kink, a little tiny bit of squirting i think, creampie, happy but very abrupt ending sorryyy

word count 8.9k

banner by the lovely @awrkive ⟡ ݁₊ .

North Star Pavilion, Seoul

Christmas lights twinkle across the city, their warm glow mocking the chill in your chest. Everything feels like too much—too cold, too noisy, too far from what you actually wanted today. What you were promised.

The van door slams shut behind you, the biting breeze nipping at your skin as your boots crunch against the icy gravel.

Jungkook follows close behind, his shoes scuffing against the ground as he jogs to catch up.

“Baby,” he calls softly, reaching for your hand. But you shrug him off, your arms folding tightly over your chest as you keep moving toward the back entrance of the venue.

Jungkook lets out a heavy sigh, his breath visible in the icy air. “Come on, baby,” he murmurs, his tone dipping into that pleading softness that always makes you want to fold. “Y/n, I had to—”

“I’ll see you after the show, J.”

Your voice comes clipped and cold as you cut him off, not bothering to look back. His soft footsteps falter, and you can feel his eyes fixed on you.

For a brief, brief moment, something in you threatens to crack.

But you don’t let it.

The angry stomp of your boots against frozen pebbles drowns out anything he might have said as you disappear through the back, weaving through the venue without so much as a glance in Jungkook’s direction.

The warmth of the building barely registers. It isn’t enough to thaw the stubborn frost clinging to your chest as you move down the hall, barely nodding at the familiar faces of the staff who greet you in passing.

Eventually, you find an empty corridor, the hum of the growing crowd muffled by the walls. Leaning back against the cool tile, you tip your head back and let out a bitter scoff.

This isn’t how today is supposed to fucking go.

Rolling your eyes, you dig your hand into your pocket and pull out your phone, desperate for a distraction. But the memory you’ve been avoiding all day slips in anyway—very vivid and very unwelcome.

Yesterday, you’d been curled up on your couch, your legs draped lazily over Jungkook’s lap as the soft glow of the tiny Christmas tree on your coffee table lit up the room. It had become a routine of sorts—the quiet calm after his shows, a pocket of peace that felt like yours and his alone.

Jungkook’s tattooed fingers traced idle patterns over your calf, the gentle pressure soothing against your bare skin. You were warm and sleepy from the shower you’d shared earlier, your body clad in a little sleep shirt and panties. Jungkook, in his sweats and no shirt, smelled faintly of your shampoo, his long, damp hair falling loose around his face.

It was all so soft, so cozy, so domestic.

So fucking stupid.

You caught him staring, his gaze steady and quiet, that intensity in his dark eyes making your stomach do that stupid flippy thing.

“Watcha lookin’ at, creepy?” you squinted, nudging his stomach with your foot.

Jungkook’s lips twitched as he shook his head, his fingers still lazily stroking your leg. “Nothing,” he hummed, but his gaze lingered a moment longer before he dropped it back to his phone.

You tossed your own phone to the side, crawling onto his lap with a light shove to his shoulder. He grunted softly as you shifted over him when he lay down, his hands instinctively finding your thighs as you flopped against his chest.

“You okay?” you murmured into his neck, your fingers brushing softly over his collarbone.

“Very,” he replied, his voice low, his big hand sliding up to smooth over and cup your ass.

You smiled into his skin, pressing a kiss to his neck. “I bought us Christmas pajamas,” you mumbled, your lips brushing against his pulse.

Jungkook paused for a moment, then let out a quiet laugh, his fingers stilling briefly before resuming their lazy path. “Did you?”

“Yup,” you said, smirking. “Try not to wear them, and your ass is spending Christmas alone.”

His laugh deepened, his hand slipping beneath the hem of your panties to rub slow, little circles over the curve of your skin. “I’ll wear them, baby,” he promised.

“Know you will,” you whispered, your teeth grazing lightly against his neck.

His head tilted, granting you more access as a low, soft grunt rumbled from his throat, the sound enough to make you press closer.

You were ready to tease him further, your tongue lazily flicking over his pulse, when his phone buzzed loudly on the couch beside you.

He shifted, reaching for it with one hand while his other stayed firmly on your thigh, absently stroking your skin. You pressed your cheek against his shoulder, eyes closed, soothed by the soft, lispy cadence of his voice.

Until you heard it.

“North Star fucking Pavilion, bro! On Christmas Day!” The Spine Breakers’ lead singer’s voice crackled through the speaker. “The check is insane, JK!”

Jungkook sighed heavily, his grip tightening slightly on your thigh. “I already have plans, Jin-hyung—”

“We need you, man,” Yoongi, his bass player, cut in. “You’re our drummer. We can’t do this without you, dude...”

The air shifted. You felt it before you even opened your eyes.

“Fuck,” Jungkook groaned. You could feel his gaze on you, hesitant, like he was waiting for you to intervene. But you didn’t. You stayed still, letting him make his choice.

“Fuckin—okay, okay, hyung,” he muttered into the phone, his voice resigned as he cut off Jin’s begging. “I’ll do it.”

The second the call ended, you climbed off him, ignoring the hand that reached for you, brushing off the way he called your name. The bedroom door slammed angrily behind you.

He followed, of course.

Jungkook dropped down on the bed beside you, his arm wrapping around your waist as he tried to apologize, his voice soft and pleading. But you didn’t respond. Didn’t even look at him. You fell asleep facing the wall, his hand still resting on your stomach.

And now, here you are.

Not curled up on the couch, watching a stupid Christmas movie like you had planned. Not eating takeout, because neither of you can cook for shit. Not sneaking up to the roof to get holiday high together.

No. Instead, you’re standing in a cold, empty hallway of one of Seoul’s biggest holiday locales, the muffled roar of the crowd growing louder behind the door to your left.

The hem of your winter dress shifts as you fidget, the festive vibe of your outfit doing little to match the storm in your chest. At least it’s black. That’s, like, emo, right?

Whatever.

Merry fucking Christmas. And fuck Jeon Jungkook.

The crowd thickens as you weave through, the bass of the background music vibrating under your boots with every step. People press in on all sides, the noise a tangled mess of cheers and shuffling feet. You don’t let it faze you, your eyes scanning the mass for a familiar figure.

The closer you get to the side stage, the more recognizable faces appear—crew members rushing around, regular staff you’ve seen countless times at past shows. But it’s not until your gaze catches on a mop of black hair that some of the tension in your shoulders finally lifts.

You spot your boy...friend’s best friend leaning against a speaker, his ear piercings glinting under the scattered lights. A plastic Christmas wreath headband sits snugly atop his neatly straightened curls, and the corner of your lips quirks up despite yourself.

He notices you before you reach him, a grin spreading across his face as he lifts the beer bottle in his hand in greeting.

By the time you push through the last cluster of people, your gaze flicking over his ripped jeans and the artful layering of his black shirts, he’s already stepping forward to wrap you in a hug.

“Ah,” Taehyung says, giving you a once-over, his brows wiggling as he pulls back. “We’re matching.”

You glance down at your black-on-black outfit, then at his. “I’m in a mood,” you roll your eyes, though a quiet laugh escapes.

Taehyung hums knowingly, offering you the spare beer in his other hand. You take it, cracking the cap before taking a long sip. Your gaze flicks toward the stage, where crew members scurry to finish sound checks and tune the equipment.

“It’s fucking packed,” he comments, nodding toward the crowd, which seems to grow thicker by the second. “J said tickets sold out in minutes.”

You hum noncommittally, your focus still fixed on the stage. “Of course they did. It’s Christmas, and these emos don’t have anything better to do.”

Taehyung snickers, leaning in to nudge your shoulder. “And your excuse? No Christmas plans…?”

You shoot him a glare, taking another sip of beer as he raises his hands in mock defense.

“Still haven’t made up yet?” he prods, his tone teasing, knowing.

“Nope,” you huff, the sound bratty as your gaze flicks around the venue. “I’m ignoring him until Valentine’s Day. And if I’m not cuffed by then, I’m castrating the motherfucker.”

He shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “Why not just ask him to go steady again?”

“Because,” you grumble, pointing the neck of your beer bottle at him, “he’s the one who doesn’t want me seeing other guys. So, he can ask me.”

Taehyung arches a brow, taking a slow sip of his drink. “Didn’t you also say you didn’t want him fucking with other chicks?”

“Shut up,” you huff, giving him a halfhearted shove as he laughs again.

The minutes pass as the venue comes alive, the energy thickening the air around you with heat. The chatter grows louder, the crowd swelling until it feels like the walls are pulsing. You and Taehyung stand shoulder to shoulder, unfazed by the chaos. You’ve done this too many times before—waiting at the edge of the stage, watching the lights dim as the band take their places.

You hadn’t met Jungkook through Taehyung, though. You’d met Taehyung first at one of their early performances, back when The Spine Breakers were barely on anyone’s radar.

It had been a little bar in the city, the kind of place where the beer was watered down and the sound system was a half-step away from blowing out. You’d gone with your friend Marcy, both of you already knowing a good chunk of TSB's songs before the first chord even played.

Most of the crowd back then hadn’t been as familiar, more there for the vibe than the band. You’d been a few rows back, swaying to the music, when Taehyung walked by and stumbled into you, spilling half his beer onto your skirt.

He’d been flustered, apologizing immediately and offering to buy you another drink as yours dropped on the ground. When you’d rolled your eyes and waved him off, turning back to Marcy without much more than a shrug, he hadn’t used it as an excuse to keep bothering you. Sad as it might sound, that had caught your attention—guys who actually took a hint were fucking rare.

He’d genuinely seemed sorry, even offering to hold your place if you wanted to head to the bathroom to clean up. You’d given him a once-over, told him it didn’t bother you, and pulled him into your little huddle instead.

By the end of the night, Taehyung was dancing to the music beside you and Marcy, and when the set ended, he asked if you wanted to come backstage to meet the band. You’d told him to shut the fuck up, convinced he was joking.

He wasn’t.

That was the first time you’d seen Jungkook up close. The first time you’d stared a little too long at the drummer with the intriguingly quiet intensity and ink-covered arms that you wanted to run your tongue along.

While Marcy hit it off immediately with Tae—bonding over their matching daith piercings or whatever—the pull between you and Jungkook had been something else entirely.

Maybe you’ve been to every single one of his shows since then. Maybe you took a gap year from college, picking up shifts at a club in town to cover your rent while Jungkook paid for everything else. Maybe you’ve only been with one other guy in the 449 days you’ve known him—and that was way back, in the early days, before it all started to feel like this.

Maybe.

Taehyung’s voice cuts through your thoughts, his tone casual but his smile teasing. “You’re doing it again,” he quips, nudging you lightly with his elbow.

“Sorry,” you say quickly, clearing your throat as your gaze flickers back to the stage. Jungkook’s seated behind his drum set now, a crew member leaning in close as she adjusts his mic stand.

“S’okay,” Taehyung replies with a quiet laugh, raising his bottle to his lips. He leans back against the speaker, his grin softening. “You guys wanna come over for drinks after the show? Jiminie made Christmas pudding.”

You blink, your focus still trained on Jungkook as the staff member smiles at him, her mouth moving—maybe asking if he was okay, if he needed anything else. His tongue flicks over his lip rings, his head tilting slightly as he shakes it in response.

She lingers.

He gives her a dismissive, doe-eyed look from under his lashes, his dimple peeking out as he shakes his head again. Finally, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, glances around quickly, and scurries backstage.

Slut. The both of them.

Your lips press into a line, your eyes narrowing as you take another sip of beer. “Sure, I’ll come,” you mutter half-heartedly to Taehyung without taking your eyes off Jungkook.

His gaze catches yours from the stage.

You look away.

The crowd roars as Jin takes the mic, yelling out a quick greeting before launching right into their set.

The music is electric, Yoongi's smooth, heavy bass and Jungkook’s crisp, pounding drumming vibrating through your chest as the band plays. You can’t help but let your body move with Jin's voice, nodding your head along as Taehyung sways beside you, the beer in his hand getting lower by the minute.

Halfway through the third song, a guy squeezes his way through the crowd toward you and Taehyung. At first, you don’t think much of it—packed shows like this always mean a little too much physical closeness. But when he stops right next to you, leaning in far closer than necessary, his intentions become annoyingly clear.

“Hey,” he shouts, his voice barely cutting through the music.

You glance at him briefly, tilting your head and pursing your lips before looking back at the stage.

The guy doesn’t get the message—or maybe he doesn’t care. “You here alone?”

You shake your head shortly, keeping your eyes fixed on the stage. “Nope.”

Taehyung notices the exchange but doesn’t intervene, his gaze flicking between you and the guy as he sips his drink.

The guy leans in again, louder this time, more insistent. “You want another drink?”

You roll your eyes, stepping closer to Taehyung. “I’m good,” you say flatly, your tone leaving no room for interpretation.

From the stage, you notice Jungkook’s playing start to shift. His drumming grows heavier, each strike more intense than usual. Your gaze flicks to him, catching the way his eyes keep darting toward your spot in the crowd.

Exhaling through your nose, you swap places with Taehyung in an attempt to move out of the guy’s line of sight. Taehyung’s grin fades into something firmer when he notices.

Taehyung lowers his beer, turning to the guy, his taller frame blocking the dude’s view of you entirely. “You good, man?”

The guy hesitates, visibly weighing his options. He looks like he wants to argue but ultimately decides against it, laughing under his breath before slipping back into the crowd.

Taehyung watches him walk off, shaking his head before leaning closer. “You alright, Y/n?”

You nod, offering a light rub on his arm in thanks, but your attention is already back on Jungkook. He’s still looking, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he watches you.

The last notes of the set fade into a wave of screams as the stage becomes a field of tossed roses and stray undergarments. Jin, as always, makes a show of it, crouching to pick up a red lace bra and biting down on the strap with a cheeky grin. His bandmates laugh as the crowd loses their shit, Yoongi shaking his head as Jin winks into the audience.

They bask in the chaos for a moment longer, waving to the crowd before the elder two begin to slip offstage. Jungkook lingers behind, his hands braced on his knees as he catches his breath. He drags a hand through his damp hair, pushing it back as he straightens to his full height, chest rising and falling in exertion.

Just before he steps off, his eyes find yours. His gaze drags, a quick once-over, a slow run of his tongue over his lip rings, a subtle sniff of his nose. Then he’s gone, following his bandmates backstage.

Taehyung nudges your arm lightly. “Ready?”

You hum, nodding as you start making your way through the crowd, the buzz of energy still heavy in the air. The hallway to the dressing rooms is dim, much quieter than the rest of the venue.

Up ahead, you spot Jin and Yoongi walking a few steps ahead of Jungkook. They’re laughing at something, their figures disappearing around the corner. Jungkook trails behind them, dragging his hand through his hair again, the motion automatic.

Then you see her.

The staff girl from earlier is struggling with a speaker, her grip tight on the handle as she drags it down the hallway. When she glances up and spots Jungkook, her face lights up instantly.

Your steps slow without thinking, your gaze locking on her as she stops beside him. There’s a shy tilt to her smile as she offers him the water bottle balanced on top of the speaker. Jungkook takes it with a murmured thank you, cracking the seal and tipping it back, like he’s barely aware of her lingering.

But she doesn’t move.

She starts talking instead, her pace quickening to match his as he walks. Her cheeks flush slightly as she speaks, her eyes flicking up at him now and then like she’s gauging his mood.

Taehyung shifts beside you, his gaze flickering between you and the scene unfolding a few feet ahead. You can feel his curiosity, but you don’t acknowledge it. Your eyes stay glued to Jungkook.

Jungkook, whose head tilts slightly as he glances back at the girl, then forward at his bandmates. You catch the faintest crease in his brow before he slows his steps and eventually stops altogether.

The girl stumbles slightly at his sudden halt, her grip on the speaker slipping. Jungkook’s hands dart out instinctively, but she catches herself before he touches her. He pulls back quickly, murmuring, “You okay?”

“Yeah, uh, yeah. Sorry, I’m such a klutz sometimes,” she replies, her voice flustered.

Your lips press into a thin line as you watch, something sharp curling in your stomach.

He’s not doing anything, you tell yourself. He didn’t even touch her.

But he would’ve if she hadn’t caught herself, a snide voice in the back of your head sneers, cutting through your logic.

You shake off the thought, ignoring the way your chest tightens as Jungkook shifts. His hand brushes over his jaw while she continues speaking, her words softer now.

You don’t hear much after that. It’s not because the hallway is loud—it’s not. It’s the pounding of your pulse in your ears, drowning out everything else.

Jungkook finishes the bottle of water, twisting the cap back on with a quick flick of his wrist. “I gotta go,” he says, lifting the empty bottle as a gesture of thanks before brushing past her.

She hesitates, her hand still on the speaker’s handle as she watches him walk away. Her face burns red, and she fidgets slightly, but eventually, she turns back to her task, dragging the speaker further down the hall.

Your eyes stay fixed on Jungkook as he reaches the dressing room door. His free hand lifts to wipe the sweat from his face with the bottom hem of his shirt, the toned lines of his stomach flashing briefly before the fabric falls back into place. The drumsticks clutched in his other hand tap lightly against the now-empty bottle as he disappears inside.

Taehyung pulls your attention back, rubbing your arm soothingly before nodding toward the door. “You coming?”

You nod quickly, shaking off the haze that lingers as you follow him down the hall.

The dressing room is warm and noisy, Jin and Yoongi sprawled out like they’ve been there for hours. Yoongi greets you with a rare smile, handing you a can of seltzer as you lean down to hug them both. Jin, already halfway through his beer, ruffles your hair affectionately before leaning back into the couch like he’s clocking out for the night.

You drop down beside Jungkook, your usual spot on his lap notably left empty. His brow furrows immediately, the arm around your waist tightening slightly as he tries to pull you closer to him.

“No, J,” you mutter, giving him a pointed look.

He grumbles under his breath, clearly displeased, but his hand slips down to link with yours instead. His thumb brushes idly over your knuckles, and for now, he settles.

The conversation flows around you as Taehyung throws out an invitation to his place. “Jimin’s been baking all day,” he says. “And we’ve still got drinks leftover from the other night.”

It’s an easy yes from everyone. The energy in the room shifts, a slow wind-down as cans and bottles are finished and the band starts getting ready to head out.

When you stand, Taehyung catches your arm, pulling you aside as Jungkook follows, his arm still firmly around your waist. “Hey, just wanna make sure you’re okay,” he says, his head tilted in slight concern.

Jungkook frowns, his gaze falling to your face. “Why wouldn’t she be? Did something happen?”

Taehyung glances at you, waiting for permission before answering. After you shrug and turn to Jungkook, Taehyung speaks. “Some dude wouldn’t leave her alone earlier,” he says simply.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, his grip around your waist firming. Your hand squeezes his as you tilt your head at Taehyung. “I’m really okay, Tae, but thank you for looking out for me.”

Taehyung studies you for a moment longer, then nods. “Always.” He pulls you into a quick hug before doing the same with Jungkook. “Jimin’s waiting outside. You guys need a ride back to our place?”

Your gaze shifts to Jungkook. He stays quiet, his tongue working the inside of his cheek, eyes unfocused.

“We’ll come together,” you answer after a beat.

Taehyung nods, flashing you both a smile before heading for the door. The room empties out slowly after that, the others trailing behind Taehyung until it’s just you and Jungkook left in the quiet.

You glance at Jungkook as you shift on your feet. “Do you want me to order an Ub—”

“What did he do?”

You look up, his jaw tight as he stares at you. “That guy,” he starts again, quieter now, his words laced with tension. “Did he do something to you? Are you okay? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“J,” you sigh, shaking your head. “It was nothing. Just some loser.”

He watches you carefully, his eyes searching for something you’re not sure he’ll find. “And you’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” you nod.

His frown doesn’t relent as he closes the space between you in a few slow steps. His voice dips lower as he murmurs, “Fucking hate seeing guys trying to get with you, Y/n… not knowing you’re mine—”

Your eyes roll before you can stop yourself. “Let’s not do this right now, J.”

His brows pinch. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” you bite back, your tone a little sharper. “Especially not when you’ve got bitches crawling all over you, and I can’t do anything about it.”

“Baby—”

“No, like this is so fucked, Jungkook. I’m tired of it. You promised me a cute night tonight, and I didn't get it. Fuck you.”

His teeth tug at his lip ring as he shakes his head, ready to apologize again, but you’re not done.

“And what about her? That slutty mic tech or whatever the fuck she is, leaning down with her tits all in your face? Or just so happening to have a fresh bottle of water ready for you backstage? God, don’t.”

“Fuck, you’re so hot when you’re jealous—”

“And then you do this!” you whine, throwing your hands up. “I’m tired of it, J. If I’m just another one of your groupies, what the fuck ever. But don’t be surprised when I go find someone who—”

His voice cuts through your rant with a hum. “Someone who what?”

He’s right in front of you now, so close that you have to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. His eyes flick between yours, waiting for an answer you don’t fucking have.

“You want someone else, baby?” he presses, his voice dropping even further.

Your lips twist, a bratty huff escaping as your frustration crumbles under his intensity. “No, you fucking asshole.”

His head tilts, his lips quirking into something between a smirk and a grin. “No?” he mocks lightly, his tone teasing, coaxing.

“No,” you mumble, quieter this time.

He hums, leaning closer, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger, grazing the side of your face as his gaze softens, his teasing edge dissolving into something heavier.

“And what do you want, baby?”

You blink, your eyes flicking to the thick line of his arm beside your face, his cologne and sweat mixing into something intoxicating. It fills your lungs, dizzying you more than you want to admit.

“You, idiot,” you mumble. “Want you.”

His lips twitch as he leans down, his voice a low hum against your mouth. “Y’wanna be mine, baby?”

Your eyes flutter shut, your body tilting toward him like it’s instinctual. His mouth grazes yours, soft and teasing, like he’s pretending to give you a choice.

But you know better.

There is no choice. It’s him. It’s always been him.

His lips press fully against yours, damp and plush from the way he’s been licking over them all night between backing vocals. You melt into the kiss, your hands slipping under the hem of his shirt to press against the warm, slightly sticky skin of his back. He leans in closer, jaw tilting as his tongue coaxes your mouth open. You keen softly, sucking the muscle between your lips and savoring the low groan he gives in return.

Then you pull back.

His eyes blink open slowly, a haze clouding his dark irises as he stares down at you.

“Do you want that?” you ask softly, tilting your head.

“Do I want you to be mine?” he echoes, his brows lifting slightly, his head shaking like the question is absurd.

You give him a pointed look, nodding just enough to make it bratty.

“I thought you were already mine,” he murmurs, his hands sliding down your dress. His touch is reverent, his gaze dipping over you as a satisfied grunt escapes his lips. “I’m already yours, baby..”

“Just mine,” you lean into his hold, your words brushing against his skin, “nobody else’s…”

“Just yours,” he nods firmly, leaning down to nudge his nose against yours, the softest smile tugging at his lips. “There’s been no one else since you, baby.”

The back of your neck tingles as his pretty nose drags along yours, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your pout before trailing down to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. His breath is warm, his lips brushing against your skin as he mumbles, “I just didn’t think you wanted the title…”

Your brows pull together, and your hands slide up to cup his face, tugging him back so you can look him in the eye. “I want the title.”

One corner of his mouth lifts into a crooked little smile, his head tilting just enough to press a kiss to your palm. “Okay,” he murmurs, his voice quiet but sure. “Then you can have it, angel.”

A hum of satisfaction escapes you, your hands squeezing his cheeks with a smile. He chuckles softly, leaning back down to steal another kiss, but you pull away before he can reach you.

“Oi,” he grumbles, the faintest pout forming on his lips. “Why? I want a kiss.”

Your hands drop from his face, crossing over your chest as you fix him with a look. “Ask me.”

His eyebrows shoot up, amusement flickering across his features. “What—? I thought we just—”

“No.” You huff, squinting at him as you take a step back, dodging his hands when he reaches for you. “I want the proper thing. I’ve been waiting so long for the girlfriend title. Ask me properly.”

Jungkook stares at you for a moment, his lips twitching as he fights back a groan at your cuteness. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Your squint sharpens, your stance firm despite the way your heart jumps when his lips curve into a grin.

“Aishh,” he chuckles under his breath, shaking his head slightly before stepping closer. “Y/n,” he starts, voice soft but teasing, “will you be my girlf—”

“Yes!”

You don’t let him finish, grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him down to meet your lips, cutting off the surprised huff he lets out. Your arms loop around his neck as you pull him in, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. His hands find your waist, steadying you, but you’re already slipping your tongue past his lips, swallowing the low groan he gives.

When you finally pull back for air, your breath is shaky, your lips humming. You stare at him, taking in his swollen mouth and the mess of his hair, his pupils blown wide they almost swallow the brown of his irises. He looks so good it’s almost fucking devastating.

“God, yes,” you murmur, your fingers brushing over his jaw before tugging him back down.

“You’re—okay with this—” Jungkook murmurs between heated kisses, his words coming in low breaths. “Your gap year’s almost over, baby—mmf—the distance… me being gone all the time?”

You pull back just enough to see his face, his dark eyes locking onto yours. His words hit you, and for a moment, all you can do is blink, your mind racing to keep up with the weight of what he’s asking.

“I can do my studies remotely,” you say finally, your voice soft but sure. Your hands slide up his shoulders as you tilt your head, searching his gaze for a hint of doubt. “I can…” You pause, swallowing as your heartbeat kicks up. “Like… travel with you, if you wanted—”

Jungkook surges forward, his lips claiming yours in a kiss that feels like he’s pouring every unspoken thought straight into your mouth. His hands grip your thighs, tugging you closer until your soft body’s pressed tight against him.

“Fuck,” Jungkook mutters, voice rough as his mouth moves against yours. The groan he lets out vibrates through you when you catch his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging lightly before letting it slip free. “I had no fucking idea, baby. I would’ve...”

You hum softly, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, your breath coming in quick. “Would’ve what?”

His fingers tighten on the curve of your ass, holding you steady as he leans in, his lips brushing yours. “Would’ve made you mine the first time I fucking took you, baby,” he murmurs, his tongue slipping back into your mouth.

A breathy laugh escapes as you lean into him, your hands threading through the damp strands of his hair. “So... the first night we met?” you tease, your voice swallowed by his eager mouth.

“Pretty much,” he chuckles against your lips, his tone low and sinful as his hands drop to the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up easily. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, and he carries you the few steps to the couch, dropping down with you prettily perched in his lap.

His lips find yours again, hungrier, wetter. His tongue pushes into your mouth, licking deep into you, chasing the tang of raspberry seltzer still lingering on your tongue. His hands roam higher, sliding over the fabric of your dress, fingertips pressing as they search for skin.

Without breaking the kiss, your fingers fumble with the little zip at the front of your jacket, the metallic sound making him pause. Jungkook leans back just slightly, his gaze dropping to your hands as you slide the zipper down. His tongue darts over his lip as the fabric falls away, leaving your corset-top barely holding your tits in place.

“Fuck,” he breathes, the word guttural. His eyes trail over your exposed skin, his hands moving on instinct to pull the hem of your dress down. The fabric drops, and your breasts spill free into his waiting hands, his thumbs eagerly brushing over your hardened nipples.

His mouth surges forward, latching onto your left nipple with a deep groan. He exhales through his nose, the sound almost a sigh, like his whole body just relaxed the second he had you in his mouth.

“God,” you whimper, your hips rolling against the bulge in his jeans, your hands gripping the back of his neck as you tilt your head back in pleasure.

“Fuck,” he grunts around your nipple, his wide tongue swirling over the peak before sucking gently. “These fucking tits,” he mutters, his voice thick as his hands knead the soft flesh. “Big, juicy fucking tits. All fucking mine, yeah?”

“Mmmh,” you whine, grinding harder as your fingers tug at the ends of his long hair, your thighs tightening around his hips. “All yours, Jungkookie. Always been yours.”

His cock twitches beneath you at the nickname, and his eyes flick up to your face. He coos through his mouthful before gently switching to your other bud.

“All mine,” he mumbles, the words muffled as he chews softly on your hard nipple, pulling a breathy moan from your lips. His big hands press your tits together, bringing them closer to his face, and he pulls back slightly to hum. “All daddy’s, isn’t that right, angel?”

“Nnnm,” you whine, your hips stuttering against him as the teasing tone has you clenching around nothing. “Yes, daddy. All yours. No one else’s.”

“Mm, that’s my girl.” His tongue flicks over your nipple one last time, pulling a soft gasp from your lips before his hand slides up to the front of your throat.

He brings you back down to his mouth, your tongues meeting immediately, wet and eager. His grip stays steady on your neck, thumb brushing softly along the sides as your hands bury deeper into his hair. The roll of your hips against his lap matches the rhythm of the kiss, each grind pulling a quiet groan from his throat that vibrates into your mouth.

The room is silent save for the wet, slick sounds of your lips and the rustle of your dampening panties against his jeans. Jungkook’s fingers tighten slightly around your neck, and you lean into it, moaning lowly when he catches your tongue between his teeth.

You pull back, your breaths uneven as you take hold of the wrist still resting at your throat, guiding it away. Your eyes meet his as you bring his hand to your lips, your tongue flicking over the tips of his middle fingers before sucking them into your mouth. No reason, really. Because you want to. Becaue you can.

Jungkook’s gaze stays heavy on you, his lids low as his tongue drags over his lip. You release his fingers with a soft pop, and he licks the remnants of your saliva from his hand when you let go.

Sliding off his lap, you reach for the zipper of his jeans, pulling it down with haste. You shimmy the denim over his hips, just far enough to bare his briefs. His cock presses against the black fabric, hard and thick, the sight alone making your stomach rumble.

Leaning down, you brush your lips over the length of him, the heat of his cock radiating through the cotton. A soft, hungry hum slips from you, and Jungkook groans quietly, his head tipping back against the couch.

One of his hands moves to the cushion beside him, the other slipping into your hair, brushing it back as you mouth over his covered cock.

Your hand slides under the waistband of his briefs, your lip catching between your teeth as his warm, hard length pulses against your palm. You pull him free, savoring the low curse that slips from his lips when you guide it to your lips and take the thick tip into your mouth.

“Shit, baby,” he huffs, his hips lifting slightly as your tongue swirls over the head.

“That’s it,” he mutters, his voice rough and breathy. “Get it nice and wet for daddy. Go on, baby.”

Your eyelids feel heavy as you obey, pushing spit to the front of your mouth and soaking his tip in it. The slick sound fill the quiet room, mixing with Jungkook’s sharp breaths and the low grunts slipping from his lips.

Your tongue moves slowly, wetting him nice and thoroughly, and his fingers twitch where they hold your hair out of your face. His head tips back further, a deep groan escaping as his hips up rock into your mouth on instinct.

Your lips work sloppily over his length as you take him deeper, your hand pumping the base as he groans low in his chest. “Good girl, baby,” he mutters, his fingers brushing the curve of your jaw as he watches you, his lashes heavy. “Such a good fucking girl.”

The praise makes you ache, the wetness pooling between your legs unbearable. Jungkook seems to sense it, his hand wrapping around your arm to pull you off him with a wet pop. His lips are on yours the moment you’re upright, licking into your mouth like he’s chasing his own taste on your tongue.

You melt against him, humming softly as his hands cup your waist, guiding you back until your spine presses into the couch. He hovers over you, his bigger frame warm between your parted thighs. Your boots dig into the cushions on either side of him, but he doesn’t care. Neither do you.

Jungkook’s hands are hasty as he pushes the fabric of your dress up your thighs, exposing the black lace stretched over your dripping core. His adam’s apple bobs as he hums, his thumb brushing over the darkened patch where your slick has seeped through.

“So pretty, baby,” he murmurs, pressing his tattooed thumb firmly against you. The friction makes you gasp, your hips jerking toward his hand.

The lace doesn’t last long. He hooks his fingers into the waistband and pulls it down just enough to expose you, wasting no time before dipping down. His mouth latches onto your pussy in one go, his wide tongue licking a slow, filthy stripe over your slit.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your hands flying to his hair. The heat of his mouth is overwhelming, his tongue teasing your swollen clit before dragging down to press at your entrance. He groans as he tastes you, sucking your folds into his mouth like a greedy fuck.

You whimper when his teeth graze your clit, his tongue circling the bud before flicking over it repeatedly. The wet, sloppy sounds of his lips and tongue working against your pussy fills the room, and your hips buck against his face—

“Uh… J-Jungkook?”

You freeze, your eyes snapping to the door as your blood runs cold.

There is no fucking way.

Jungkook doesn’t stop. If anything, his movements grow greedier, his mouth slurping noisily at your cunt as though he didn’t hear a thing.

You bite back a moan when the bitch's voice comes again, shaky and hesitant. “Sorry, uh… your friends got you a driver, and it’s—uh—can you hear me? Should I come in?”

Your hand tightens in Jungkook’s hair as his tongue presses deep into your dripping hole. “Tell her to fuck off,” you gasp, your voice pitching higher when his lips close around your clit. “Jung- fuck- Jungkook.”

He hums into your pussy, the vibration shooting through you as his tongue drags lower. “You do it, baby,” he murmurs, the words muffled by your slick folds. His lips press deeper you as he mumbles. “Tell her your boyfriend’s busy, hm?”

Jungkook’s mouth doesn’t falter, his jaw working as he fits as much of you into his mouth as he can, lips wrapping around your folds while his tongue drags over your clit. His jaw moves, sucking and licking, pulling sinful sounds from your throat like it’s his final fucking mission.

His hand fumbles to the side of the couch, searching for something, but you barely register it through the haze of pleasure. “Jungkook, seriously—”

The girl’s voice cuts through again, louder this time. “Uh, I don’t know if you can hear me, so I’m going to come in—”

Before the words fully register, you feel it. The slick, cool tip of a drumstick sliding into your cunt.

“Fuck!” The cry rips from your throat, loud and uncontrollable as your back arches off the couch. The stretch is sharp, sudden, but it has your toes curling, pleasure overtaking every thought as your grip tightens on his hair.

The sound outside the door ceases instantly, but you couldn’t give a fuck less.

Jungkook doesn’t stop, his tongue relentless as it flicks over your clit, fast and precise, his lips drenched as they lap at your soaked pussy. He glances up, watching you through his lashes, his big eyes dark as he gauges your reaction.

He’s slipped plenty of things inside you before—his fingers, his cock, even the handle of a vibrator… but never this. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a fantasy of his, something he’d thought about during one too many late-night practices when you were at home and he was missing you.

“That okay, baby?” he murmurs with a mouth full of pussy. His long fingers grip the drumstick firmly, holding it still, not pushing deeper until you give the green light. His thumb brushes the edge of your clit, adding another layer of friction as his tongue continues its work. “Gonna let daddy fuck you with it, baby?”

“Yesss,” you whine, your head lolling against the couch. Your thighs tremble around his head as you pant, the word spilling from your lips like a fucking prayer. “Yes, please, daddy. God, I fucking want it, baby, please.”

Jungkook groans into your cunt as he presses the drumstick deeper, the slick glide making your legs quake. His tongue continues it's soft, wet work against your clit, a little slower as he eases the stick into your hole.

He works it in deeper, his pace quickening with every breathy moan that falls from your lips. The smooth wood glides in and out of your pussy with ease, covered in your juices everytime it pulls out, and the angle he’s hitting has your back arching into his mouth, your thighs trembling around his head.

“Fuckk,” you gasp, your nails scratching into the couch, desperate for something to hold onto as the thin stick brushes your g-spot. “Fuck, daddy—”

He groans against you, his lips dragging over your clit before his tongue flicks faster and faster. “That good, baby?” He hums, “daddy making you feel good, hm?”

“So fucking gooodd,” you cry, your chest heaving, your hips chasing the movements of his hand as he thrusts the drumstick faster. Your walls clamp around it as your head spins, tears welling in your eyes.

Jungkook gives one more slurp before pulling back just enough to catch your fucked-out expression. His lips glisten with your slick, hair messy from your tugging. “Want the other one, baby?” he asks, voice honeyed with mockery as his thumb brushes over your clit.

You whimper without hesitation, your thighs clenching around his head. “Fuck, please, daddy. Please.”

“Mmm,” he hums in satisfaction, his tongue dragging a long, wet stripe over your clit as he reaches for the second stick.

You barely have a moment to prepare before the second one presses into you, your toes curling as he works it in beside the first. “Oh my fuck,” you choke, your head falling back against the couch.

Jungkook’s jaw clenches as he watches you, his hands tight around the sticks as he thrusts them together, slow at first, then faster. And faster.

His greedy mouth is back on you, his tongue lapping at your clit, wet and messy, the dirty, soppy sounds of his lips and the squelch of your pussy taking the drumsticks echoing in the room.

“Fuck,” you moan, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as your hips buck into his mouth. “Gonna fucking cum, daddy. So—fuck, uhhhhh!”

“That’s it, baby,” he growls, his lips wrapping around your swollen bud, sucking hard as he thrusts the drumsticks relentlessly into you. “Show that bitch who’s daddy’s girl, huh? Gonna cum on my tongue? On my drumsticks? ‘Cause only you can, huh baby? My fucking baby.”

Your whole body seizes at his words, your head snapping back as a strangled cry rips from your throat. Your vision blacks out, your body trembling violently as the orgasm rips through you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you sob, your walls clenching hard around the sticks as wetness gushes out, soaking his hand, his mouth, the couch beneath you. Jungkook groans loudly, his lips glued to your clit as he sucks you through it, his tongue flicking over the nub as you writhe beneath him.

“That’s my fucking girl,” Jungkook groans, his voice thick as he leans in for one last lick, dragging his tongue slowly up your pretty slit. He pulls back just enough to watch your pussy twitch, glistening and flushed, clenching around the sticks as you whimper weakly.

“Jungkookie,” you manage through trembling breaths, your body trembling under his heavy gaze. “Th-thank you, fuck.”

He hums against you, his big eyes darting up to meet yours as his lips curl into a satisfied smirk. “Any fucking time, baby, shitt.”

You shudder as he finally eases the drumsticks out of you, slick dripping from the tips as your thighs twitch. You watch through hooded eyes as he raises them to his lips, sucking your wetness off, the hollow of his throat bobbing at the sweet taste. Once clean, he tosses them carelessly to the side, licking over his lips as his gaze drops back down to your wrecked cunt.

“Messy girl,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing as his fingers trace over the sticky mess between your thighs.

Your eyes fall lower, catching the tip of his cock peeking out from the waistband of his briefs, red and dripping. Your breath catches, your hands instinctively sliding up his arms, tracing the ink there as your gaze stays locked on it.

Jungkook notices, his tongue running over his swollen lips as he chuckles. “You want it, baby?”

You swallow hard, your eyes flicking up to meet his through your lashes. “Please, daddy.”

He groans softly at the way you look at him, nodding before leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. It’s so wet, everything is wet as your lips part to welcome his tongue when he licks into your mouth, giving you every bit of the taste of yourself. You suck greedily on his tongue, and he groans low in his chest, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer.

Your hands slide up to wrap around his neck, holding him as he reaches down between you, adjusting his briefs and pulling himself free. He pulls back slightly to look down as he drags the tip of his cock through your soaking folds, catching on your clit.

“Need to fuck you so bad, baby,” he mutters, his voice rasping with need. “Need you to feel how much I fucking love you.”

Your breath hitches, your hands tightening around his neck as his words hang between you. His cock stills against your entrance once he realizes what he just said, his head snapping up.

“You love me?” you whisper, your voice quiet as your gaze flicks between his eyes.

He blinks, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. Then, with a soft nod, he admits it. "So much, baby."

You beam, your face breaking into the brightest smile, and it’s enough to make his chest swell. You tug him down to you, pressing your lips to his in a wet, giddy kiss.

His lips are soft against yours, but the way he kisses you is anything but. It’s raw as his tongue slides against yours, his hands tightening around your waist, pouring himself into you.“I love you, J. Holy shittt, baby!!”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes scanning your face as he smiles, his lips red and swollen. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, so fucking giddy, your hands cradling his face as you lean up to kiss him again. “Now fuck me, please.”

He chuckles, the sound low and sweet before leaning down to press a kiss to your neck. His lips brush against your skin as he shifts, lining himself back up with your entrance.

The moment he pushes in, your breath catches. The stretch burns so good as he sinks into you slowly, his cock thick and pulsing, the loud, slick sound of your arousal filling the room as he bottoms out.

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans, his head falling forward as his hands grip your thighs. “So fucking wet, baby. You fucking feel that?”

“Y-yeah,” you stammer, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you adjust to the fullness. “So full, Jungkookie.”

He groans at the sound of his name, his hips pulling back before thrusting forward, a little harder this time. You gasp, your back arching into him as he sets a slow, deep pace, every thrust hitting you delicious and deep.

“So fucking good, baby,” he mutters, his voice thick with praise. “So perfect for me. Take me so well, always.”

Your hands find his hair, tugging at the strands as your head falls back, exposing your neck to him. He takes the opportunity, his lips finding your skin, sucking at the flesh as his thrusts grow faster.

The wet sounds of your bodies moving together, the squelch of your pussy soaking him, his breathy groans and your desperate moans— they drown out every other thought.

“Fuck, Jungkookie,” you cry out, your legs locking tighter around his waist, pulling him deeper. “Y-yes, yes, oh my goddd.”

He grunts low in his chest, his pace quickening as he chases your high, each thrust hitting your g-spot with reckless precision. “That’s it, baby,” he rasps, his voice rough and wrecked, eyes glued to the way your tits bounce with every snap of his hips. “Cum for your boyfriend. C'mon. Show me how much you fucking love me.”

“Fuck, baby—fuck!” your voice breaks into a high-pitched whine, the sound desperate as your nails dig into the sweaty shirt stretched over his back. “Gonna fuckingg cummm, baby. God, fuck—fuck—”

You shatter around him, your orgasm crashing over you in a sore wave, your body shaking as your pussy clamps down on his cock. Jungkook groans, his lips finding yours to swallow your cries as his thrusts don’t relent, driving you through every pulse.

“Gonna take my cum, baby?” he grits out against your lips, your head tipping back as his breath fans over your sweaty skin. His hands tighten their hold on your thighs, keeping you locked in place. “Huh? Gonna take it all ‘cause you love me so fucking much, yeah?”

“Y-yes, baby,” you sob, your body jerking from the oversensitivity as he keeps pushing deeper and deeper. “I fucking love you, Jungkookie—please, give it to me. Give it, baby. Fucking give it!”

A deep, guttural curse spills from his lips as he stills, his cock buried deep as his release hits. Warmth floods your hole as he fills you, every drop making you whimper, your legs trembling around him. His forehead drops to your neck, his damp hair sticking to your skin as he pants heavily.

“God, I fucking love you,” he mutters, his voice thick as he presses his lips to your collarbone. “Never gonna get over saying that.”

“My sappy boyfriend,” you tease, your fingers threading through his sweaty hair, scratching softly at his scalp as he groans into your skin. “Who would’ve thought?”

Jungkook lifts his head, his dark eyes narrowing as he gives you a look. You smile sweetly, dragging a finger across his swollen lips as you snicker. “I love you too, daddy.”

sorry for the delay, i was having a mental breakdown bites lips

[netherfeildren]

Idk if u saw the airport pic but I’m going insane bc of buff Pedro…. Like I need a minute

bitch did i ever ……..

i’m taking a twitter break bc that place has been annoying tf out of me so let’s DISCUSS !!!!!

he’s so strong he’s so masculine he’s so SKJDKSLSKSKSKWK his skin looks so smooth and soft also ????? i need to know what he moisturizes with, does he exfoliate in the shower ????? which leads me to my next point the wet fucking hair the little flippy curl at the back what’s his shower routine what body wash does he use i need to be in there with him and experience a live viewing on that like really

ALSO ALSO the tight pants 😩😋 his thigh is so thick i bet if you poked it it’d be rock solid hard (iwonderwhatelsegoesrockhard) also what the hell is he so smiley for 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨 he’s only allowed to smile at me like that guys it’s the law 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔

begging praying he gets tf out of engl🤢nd and comes home pedro baby the kids MISS YOU

[maccreadysbaby]

A Hundred Days to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: sickness, vague emeto, delirium, all that fun stuff

wanna start from chapter one or read more? here’s the table of contents!

OH MY GOD WERE GETTING SO CLOSE YOU GUYS, THREE MORE CHAPTERS AHAJEMDN

part twenty-three

❝ BAD TIMING ❞

FRIDAY — 12:02AM — DAY 97

AFTER HIS MELTDOWN AT THE STORE, BENTLEY DECIDED HE NEEDED TO DO SOMETHING, AND FAST. Days had been passing like lightning, and he was growing anxious. The type of anxious that made his stomach hurt. He skipped dinner on day ninety-six by saying he was tired, and went off to his room to make a plan. Patrol had gone back to normal, which meant he had from about midnight to three to properly brood about it.

But the plan never came. He stared at his ceiling for hours and he kept landing on nothing. If he told them, the Waynes might hate him. If he did it, the Waynes would definitely hate him. If he failed, they’d still find out he was a double agent and probably hate him. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it, thinking about that hurt.

Jason came to the Manor on purpose during bad weather so he could be there for him. Dick had been the one to pull him off the street and take him home. Damian trusted him enough to sleep beside him when he was sick, and take him to an art show. Heck, Tim stayed by his side through an entire anxiety attack. Bruce stayed with him through the night after a bad dream. Was he really willing to leave all of that behind? All of the care the Waynes showed him, the lengths they’d gone for him? He’d been given a room, a wardrobe, a stocking, food, and a semblance of family life. All because they cared enough to do it. All for a kid they hardly knew.

Bentley ended up just going to bed, because all the thinking was giving him a headache. He’d make a plan tomorrow, he told himself, a real one.

And then, four hours later, only two hours into day ninety-seven, he woke up. The dim bathroom light and clock that read 2:11am were his only sources of vision. 

And he was so hot.

He kicked his blankets off in a feeble attempt at warding off the heat, but it seemed to be coming from inside of him. His stomach was doing flips and he suddenly regretted not eating dinner, even though he’d gone much longer than this without food and it never got all flippy like that. Although he supposed it was probably his intense anxiety making it angry. He also assumed anxiety was the reason his head was throbbing.

He wished he could just make up his mind. No way seemed right, and any direction he chose, he lost. He never got the happy ending.

And he wouldn’t even be having a happy sleep, because apparently Bruce had turned the thermostat from sixty-nine up to the sun. He was too tired to get out of bed, but he spread out on his sheets like a starfish and took off his socks to try and cool down. It didn’t work.

That’s about when he realized he’d been pouring sweat. His pajamas and hair were soaked, and if he cared, he might’ve even changed into different pjs. Some shorts, maybe.

But it didn’t matter. Not much mattered anymore, did it? Not when he was just going to end up losing.

He laid all starfish-ed on his bed for a while until his stomach changed from uncomfortable territory to swallowed an electric eel territory.

He wondered how hard karma was laughing as he curled in a ball on his mattress with a small grumble of discomfort. His skin was burning. His eyes were burning. His brain was burning. His insides felt like they were full of churning lava and when he sat up, the walls swirled and teetered around him, so he laid back down.

Was this really what was going to happen on one of his last days in the manor? Really? Just when he was about to make some kind of decision?

He faded in and out of sleep for a while, and each time he re-emerged, his brain felt more and more foggy. Like it was stuffed with cotton. Each time he was ripped from the depths of slumber, his muscles were more achy, the eel in his stomach was practicing more vigorously for a circus, and any type of movement got difficult and slow like he was underwater. And he kept getting hotter.

He only found the willpower to get up and move when the eel promptly decided it wanted out. 

Bentley’s bare feet padded across the hardwood and into the tiled bathroom, his eyes bleary from attempted sleep, and he didn’t even have time to as much as glance at his own reflection before he threw up in the sink. Once, twice, three times.

By the time his body decided it was done revolting against him (for now), he had hot reflex tears streaming down his face and a terrible smelling bathroom. He couldn’t think much between the cotton in his brain and the eel in his stomach, but with the one little coherent part of his brain he managed to grab ahold of, he determined that he wanted Dick. He wanted Dick so bad.

But Nightwing was on patrol, that stupid part of his brain said, and Duke was home but he had SATs this week. Bentley couldn’t get him sick and make him miss them. He’d been studying forever.

You’re more important than all of that stuff, Bentley, Tim’s voice echoed in his head.

But would he be more important than all of that when they realized he was a traitor?

So the ten-year-old sat down against the bathroom sink, tear-streaks and all, and wrapped his arms around his screaming body. Maybe he deserved this for thinking about betraying the Waynes. Or maybe he deserved it for disobeying his father. Or both.

The hours drug on like they were crawling through molasses, and Bentley threw up until there was nothing left. By the time his stomach was void, the sun was peeking into his bedroom, and he was reduced to nothing more than a pitiful little heap on the bath-mat.

Now he was cold. Really cold, but too tired to get up. He felt like his arms and legs were tied to cinder blocks. His throat was completely raw and all he could really do was shiver there, and curl up tighter.

He heard Damian’s door close.

Then heard his door open a little, and a cat meowed.

And after a couple seconds, his door opened further.

“Bentley?”

It was Damian.

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out but a weird rasp. Thankfully, Damian was observant enough to glance in the bathroom.

He was in his school uniform, but he looked more like Robin somehow. Or maybe it was just Bentley’s fever talking. He heard Damian mutter something not in English — what did he speak, Aramaic? No, wait… it was Arabic. Right? It started with an A, Bentley knew that. Why couldn’t he think straight?

He felt little hands scouring him, checking his back, his torso. He didn’t even find it in himself to do anything but curl up more when Damian pressed lightly on his stomach. He did manage to whine lowly when his ice cold hand (seriously, did he put it in a blast chillier?) landed on his forehead. There was a tt.

“I’m afraid this is my fault, although I assumed enough time had passed that you would not fall ill,” Damian stated, and Bentley vaguely saw him pull out his phone. He was crouching now, in front of him. He really looked like Robin. “I will message my father. I apologize that you contracted my illness, but… I did appreciate the company.”

If Bentley had it in him to respond, he didn’t know it.

“He will come upstairs post-haste,” Damian stated. His hand hadn’t left Bentley’s head, but it was okay, he liked it there. “I am sorry.”

Bentley hummed in response, and the comfort of having at least one Wayne within touching distance was enough to lull him into a deeper sleep than he’d gotten all night.

—

When he woke up enough to look around, it was dark outside again, and the lights were dim but harsh enough to make him close his eyes.

He was laying on his bed in what felt like different pajamas. The sterile smell of cleaner wafted from his bathroom, and something cold and terrible was resting on his forehead.

He felt like he’d been run over by a train and scraped off the ground. His stomach still hurt despite being so utterly empty it was probably disintegrating, and his head only felt weirder, floaty. His arms and legs felt like they were tied down. He turned his head to the side just enough to make the cold thing flop off onto the sheets.

“Hey, kiddo. You awake?”

Bentley squirmed in protest, and a small whine fell past his lips when the cold and terrible thing was returned to his head.

“I know, I’m sorry. You have a fever. One-oh-three point two.”

He couldn’t even comprehend the words he was hearing, but he did manage to peel his eyes open. A pair of familiar, ocean-ey blue eyes were staring back at him. He knew whose eyes those were, but he couldn’t think of their name. He whispered the first one that came to mind.

“Nightwing?”

The blue-eyed man frowned. “No, kiddo, it’s Dick.”

Bentley nearly said ‘same thing,’ but apparently he still had some kind of filter online that kept it from slipping out.

“Don’t feel good,” Is what he mumbled instead. Nightwing ran his hand through the kid’s hair, and he leaned into it like some kind of feverish cat.

“I know you don’t. You’re going to be all better soon, I promise,”

About half of him believed that.

His brain kicked on just enough for him to realize it was dark, which meant another day had been wasted, and he only felt worse, which meant he’d probably waste another day, too. What was he supposed to do?

For right now, he started crying.

It wasn’t very hard. Thanks to the fever, he’d have been crying at the drop of a hat anyhow. He always got emotional when he had a fever. He remembered countless hours spent crying in the downstairs bathroom of Whittaker Estate when he was sick.

“It’s okay, kiddo. I’m right here,” Nightwing’s voice came, and the hand kept moving through Bentley’s disgustingly sweaty hair.

He wanted so badly to tell him everything right then. To tell him about his father, about the plan, about how it was day ninety-something and his father would be coming to extract him or whatever soon, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop crying enough to talk about it. He couldn’t make his thoughts coherent enough, he knew he wouldn’t make any sense.

Instead of his entire life’s story tumbling from his lips, what really came out between gaspy, body-shaking sobs was a desperate: “Please don’t hate me.”

He thought he heard Nightwing take a deep breath — he didn’t know, between his foggy brain and crying he wasn’t hearing much of anything right. 

He didn’t even open his eyes when the mattress dipped next to him and he was pulled into somebody’s arms. Somebody’s arms that were so warm, and he was so cold, somebody’s arms that were so comforting, and he felt so terrible-

There was still a hand moving through his hair, and he was against someone’s shirt. “I would never hate you. None of us would ever hate you.”

Maybe if they learned he was a traitor, they would.

He said nothing, but grabbed onto whatever was closest, and he wasn’t sure if it was a blanket or a shirt that was balled up in his fists. He didn’t open his eyes. He just laid there (sat there? He couldn’t tell if he was sitting up or not.) and cried about all the things he hadn’t cried about yet until his weak body had had enough, and he faded back into blackness.

—

He woke up in the closet.

Wait, no, someone was touching him. He opened his eyes and saw his nice bedroom at Wayne Manor but it suddenly looked a lot like his bedroom at home. He felt like he was on fire and someone kept touching him. He saw the white door at the end of the hall.

“Don’t take me in there,” He murmured to his father, who was touching him, who was right next to him. “Don’t… Don’t put me in there. It’s scary.”

“You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying right here,”

The voice was distant, like someone on a microphone a football field away. It sounded like it was floating. That was his father’s voice, wasn’t it? What was he saying? The white door was still there.

“Don’t… don’t… please, don’t. Please… please don’t put me in there. It’s dark. Please,”

“No one is putting you anywhere, Bentley. You’re in your bed, at the Manor,”

Was the closet door talking? Was Nightwing locked in the closet?

“I’ll be good. I’ll be good, I promise… I promise. Please don’t close the door,”

“God, Dick, he’s delirious,”

“He threw up the last two times Bruce and I tried to give him medicine,”

“What’s his fever?”

“Edging on one-oh-four,”

Bentley started squirming, trying to get away from his father, away from the door.

“N-no! Please don’t close the door, please don’t close the door!”

“Bentley. Bentley, hey, it’s okay. You’re not locked anywhere. Look at me,”

He didn’t look, he only looked at the white door.

“Don’t close the door… don’t close the door… don’t put me in there,”

“Go open the door, Jay,”

Some big black blob opened the closet door.

“The door is open,” The floating voice came. “The door is open. No one’s putting you anywhere.”

His father had opened the door for him? His father wasn’t going to lock him in there anymore? His father was stroking his hair?

He settled back down in the bed as he watched the black blob drift away.

“M’ love you,”

There was a pause, a quiet beat, the closet door stayed open.

“I love you, too, kiddo,”

Bentley floated away on a fluffy cloud of something happy, knowing that his father loved him.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld💛

—

tag list!

@fleur-alise @cademygod @sarcopterygiian

[dagger-n-ravvi]

Chapter Five: Small and Needy

Azul needs an even more simple favour from Floyd. Surely there is no possible way he can mess this up.

Chapter contains no warnings, but Riddle IS a tragic, deprived bby who needs cuddles and would probably accept them from literally anyone at this point.

Previous | Next Chapter | Fic Index

A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46007587?view_full_work=true

Floyd tosses a stack of cardboard boxes into the walk-in freezer, then grumpily leans against the wall to let the chill soak into his skin. Azul wants him to move a pallet of perishable ingredients from the loading dock into the freezer before they get icky, but he seriously isn’t into it. Sooooooo BORED. Azul is acting like a stupid clam, burying himself in the sand and texting him instructions without even showing his face. He HATES it when he does that.

Floyd places both hands in the small of his back and arches, looking at the profile of his reflection in the stainless steel freezer wall. He doesn’t have a bump or anything, but he swears he can feel the extra weight from his new hitchhikers.

‘Doesn’t matter. They’ll get absorbed anyway. Gotta go before Azul yells at me... uuuugh... this sucks.' Floyd kicks the freezer door closed and walks down the hall, rubbing his eyes. The loading dock is just past the VIP room. He has half a mind to sneak inside and see if he can persuade Azul to have sex on the desk~

“…and I thought we agreed that you would tone down your predatory contracts.”

An evil smile spreads across Floyd’s face. Goldfishie! Lil Goldfishie came to visit Azul! Heh heh heh, yesssss. This is EXACTLY what he needs. Dropping all the dumb, perishable boxes, Floyd lurks in a doorway just outside the room, listening in on the conversation. 

“…hearing that one of my freshmen is about to drop out five days before finals because he is convinced that your henchmen are going to EAT him?!”

Floyd winces. Oopsie, sounds like Riddle’s mad he licked that freshman. Sheesh, he hadn’t even taken a bite, it wasn’t that bad…

“A misunderstanding,” Azul soothes. “I negated the rest of his contract. There’s no need for hostility, Riddle…”

“Good. Because I assumed we had a mutually agreed upon set of rules regarding this matter. If I hear one more time that your consultations are doing more harm than good, then I will HAPPILY forbid my dorm from seeking them at all.”

“Your dormmate will pass his finals with flying colours,” Azul replies softly. “As I said before, it was a misunderstanding. And frankly, it’s one that I believe he got the better deal out of.”

“Good. I’m happy to hear it.” 

The imperious tap of Riddle’s high-heeled boots walking across the floor approaches the door of the VIP room, and he steps outside with a grumpy sigh. Floyd freezes, hit with a wave of... smells. He can smell Azul's sweat, and while that is both delicious and tempting... it’s barely half of what he’s picking up on. Sweet tarts, strawberry, old books… His insides churn for a moment, and now he feels... bashful? His tummy is doing flippy flips. Why is it doing flips?? THAT IS SO INTERESTING~!

He curls both hands in front of his eye as though holding an invisible spyglass, smiling down at the Riddle’s approaching form. "Hiiiiii Goldfishie~"

An expression rolls over Riddle’s face. It could mean many things, but in this situation, the best translation is most likely ‘why me.’

“Floyd.” He stares straight ahead and walks past him.

“Hmm~” Floyd follows after Riddle. His long legs have no trouble keeping pace as he follows that intriguing smell. “You came all this way to visit, and you're not gonna say hi? Ruuuuuude.”

Riddle’s face is beginning to simmer from peeled-potato pale, to carnation pink. He takes larger steps to try and get away, but it’s a hopeless attempt when Floyd towers head and shoulders over him. His efforts just make him start to limp slightly, which makes Floyd frown. Are his feet in pain?

“Hi,” Riddle finally grumbles.

“Hiiiiii~” Floyd smiles, feeling those butterflies again. He wants Riddle to stay! He wants to keep him here, and get a little closer, and let him find out why his feet are hurting! “Where are you going in such a hurry?”

“Back to Heartslabul. It’s finals week and I need to study. Why are you following me?” Riddle glances back suspiciously. “I don’t have time to entertain your nonsense, if that’s what you’re after.”

“I just spy, with my little eye, that somebody’s limping.” Floyd hums, slipping in front of Riddle to cut him off. “Goldfishie’s feet are hurting.”

“I…” Riddle’s eyes widen in surprise. He limps to a stop, grumpily crossing his arms and looking up at Floyd. “It’s just a blister. Don’t you get those?” 

“Ehhhh. Only when I first started walking. Since then, I make sure I wear custom made shoes that fit me just right.” Floyd frowns as the smell becomes laced with something coppery. Blood? That’s one heck of a blister if he can smell blood…

“YOU wear custom shoes?” Riddle sounds incredulous.

“I sure do! These shoes are made for more than walking.” Floyd proudly lifts up his foot to show off his comfy shoes. “They gave us these suuuuper cheap sneakers to wear when we were first going through land boot camp. They were all too small for me, but I didn’t know any better at the time so I wore ‘em anyway. Blisters are the WORST.”

 “I suppose that makes sense. It must have been difficult, to transition from swimming to walking,” Riddle muses. 

“Yeah it does! So that’s why you should sit down! Give your feet a break,” Floyd grins. Riddle sighs and looks up at him with a tired expression. 

“There’s no point in sitting down if I don’t have bandages with me. My feet can have a break while I’m studying. Aren’t YOU worried about your finals?”

“Finals…” Floyd muses. “Goldfishie is such a hard worker… you're very admirable. That is what I think right now. But Goldfishie is also silly to keep walking on feet that need a break. You know I could give you stuff for blisters, right? Mostro Lounge has a first aid kit.”

Riddle hesitates, biting his lip. His heel REALLY hurts. He doesn’t want to walk on this all the way back to the mirror room… 

“I guess… If it isn’t any trouble,” he finally sighs. “I will bring you new supplies tomorrow, if you can accommodate me.”

“Ok! Come to my room!” Floyd takes Riddle by the arm, and leads him to his dorm room. Jade is out, so they’ll be all alone. He’s so excited, his heart is jumping up into his throat. “I’ll clear a space for you!”

A little reluctantly, Riddle limps after him. He pauses at the threshold of his room, looking around with raised eyebrows. 

“How on earth do you find anything when your room is such a mess?” He sounds a little disdainful, but also legitimately curious, as though the idea of NOT keeping his space in strict order at all times had simply never occurred to him before.

“Whenever I want something I guess.” Floyd shrugs as he shoves a pile of books off his bed and onto the floor. He smooths out the sheets and comforter before kicking his pajamas to the side. “My room has its own order. Clothes on the bottom. Snacks on the top.” He pats the newly cleared space, offering it for Riddle to sit on. “It’s not hard for me to grab something on the fly. Your room must be like Jade’s, all straight and tidy.” 

“Probably more like that, yes.” He sits gingerly on the edge of the bed and pulls his boot off with a wince. “I was always told that an orderly space made for an orderly mind. Ugh, this got worse than I thought…”  

There’s a raw blister the size of Floyd’s thumb in the back of his heel. It’s broken open, scabbed, and looks extremely painful.

“Does an orderly mind also mean, ‘ignore my pain ’? Cause OUCH Goldfishie.” Floyd hisses in empathy. He grabs onto Riddle’s foot to examine it more closely.

“AGHHH?!” Riddle falls backward onto the mattress at the unexpected grab, face turning bright red and arms flailing to push himself back upright. 

“Your feet are so small!!!” Floys lightly squeezes the teeny toes out of adoration, even though they’re trying to hop out of his hands. “For such small feet you sure got big blisters! Maybe Goldfishie shouldn’t wear heels anymore.”

“They’re not small! And high heels are TRADITIONAL DRESS FOR MY DORM. Let me go this instant!” 

Floyd tsks at Riddle, kneading his arch and heel to calm him down. As he does, he picks up Riddle’s boot and holds it up for a size comparison. Yeesh! Goldfishie has teeny feet, but this shoe is even teenier! 

“Does Goldfishie like getting into tight spaces? I do too! But these shoes are waaaaaay too small. Betcha I’d find another blister on your other foot if I look.” Floyd sets the boot back down, then rolls his thumbs over the ball of Riddle’s foot to spread out his toes. He smiles down at him, thoroughly enjoying his reddened face. “Is Goldfishie embarrassed?”

“NO. I want my foot back,” Riddle grumbles, even though he isn’t trying to pull away anymore. “And the store clerk told me that high heels must be tight! Otherwise they are harder to walk in.”

“Whoever told ya that scammed ya HARD… heels don’t need to be tight to walk in.” Floyd winces as he rolls his palm over the tops of Riddle’s toes and the ligaments pop audibly. Riddle shivers. A guilty, but relieved expression flickers over his face, even though his cheeks are still blazing a five-alarm red. Floyd recognizes it as the same one Azul gets when he’s been running himself ragged for weeks, and then someone finally tricks him into taking a moment to relax. Sheesh, no wonder Goldfishie isn’t kicking up a fuss anymore. This massage probably feels REALLY good after all that self-inflicted torture.

“Your poor feet… you’ve been treating yourself bad when you're supposed to be treated like a queen.” Floyd sets his foot down, and slides himself between Riddle’s legs. He looms over the blushing beauty and looks him dead in the eye with a promising grin. 

“I can massage more than just your feet, you know. ‘Cause now that I look at ya… everything looks wound up WAY too tight. So? Want the royal treatment?” 

Riddle blinks up at him, looking mostly confused. “More than…? You mean you can show me the right size shoe to order?”

It’s suddenly adorably clear that UNLIKE Azul, Riddle has completely missed the sexual overtone of Floyd’s offer.

“Oooh… ahahaha… Goldfishie is cute.” Floyd snickers, cracking a wider smile. “Yeah I can help ya with that. And more.” 

Floyd gets off him and casually takes off his other boot. There is a layer of medical tape over his other heel, showing he must have treated an identical blister on that foot as well. 

“Ha! Called it!” Floyd tosses the ill-fitting shoe next to its buddy. 

“Hey-! Hn-mmmm…”A surprised little squeak escapes Riddle’s mouth. It dissolves into a stifled moan when Floyd starts to massage his arch.

“You're so tight… Isn’t there anything else I can help loosen up?  Think bigger, Goldfishie.” Floyd asks huskily. He rolls his thumbs over Riddle’s ankle and calf.

“T-think bigger?” Riddle seems to be having trouble thinking at all. “Vil told me about putting cushions in the heel to pad them, but that just made it worse.” 

“Cushions in shoes that are ALREADY too small? Nahhh… that’s not what you need. Hmmmm… let me help ya. Just tell me if you want to go lower, or higher…” Floyd picks up Riddle’s other foot and rolls his knuckles along his calf, trying to convince his muscles to stop being one giant knot. He does feel a little sorry for him, but mostly he’s curious… How far will Riddle let him go? Poor, sweet virgin that he most likely is…

“Well? Higher? Or lower?” Floyd prompts.

“W-which way is higher…?” Riddle is literally melting under Floyd’s hands. It’s blatantly obvious that he’s touch starved, on top of his leg muscles being all balled up and tight. Too bad he can’t make a rule for his legs to follow to force ‘em to relax.

“Here…” Floyd whispers. “This is higher.” He smoothly rolls both thumbs along the top of Riddle’s thigh, growing more and more excited. He wants to spread Riddle out, and split him in half - He wants to see this uptight, virgin queen lose it all and turn into a fucked-out, silly, needy little thing~

“O-oh…” Riddle stifles another moan, and Floyd can see that goosebumps are running up his arms. “That’s…mmmm…I…” 

Riddle’s body very much wants to go limp against Floyd’s mattress, even as a strange tightness flutters through the pit of his stomach. Higher…higher feels good…

“W-wait, what do…ohhhhhh” Riddle moans aloud, weakly trying to focus past the large, strong fingers squeezing upward along his thigh muscles. “You always want something…in exchange…?”

Floyd giggles as he works up higher. Much further and he’ll practically have both hands in Riddle’s crotch~ 

“Hmm…I want… you! Just you. Deal?”

Riddle pants lightly. “What? ME? I don’t…I’m not…” He knows FULLY…haaahhh…f-fully well to be wary of contracts and schemes from Azul and Jade. But Floyd is a wild card. He only seems to follow their rules when it suits him, but what does that mean in this situation…? All of Riddle’s awareness has been narrowed down to the kneading touches squeezing their way up his trembling legs, evoking longing memories of watching other people be hugged…

Even more faintly, of someone hugging HIM…

Floyd tilts his head with a crooked grin. "Yes you! Doesn't have to be now but...in the future sometime? Mmkay?" Floyd giggles as Riddle leans into his touches, as though silently pleading for more. His Goldfishie is so needy! Small and needy. He lets go of Riddle's thigh, and crawls on top of him, straddling his legs with his own. He lightly brushes away Riddle's bangs, tempted for more. More skin contact. More blushing Riddle. More... everything. 

Riddle stiffens underneath him for just for a second, eyes widening in uncertainty. But then the fingers brush back his hair, and the touching…the closeness…

Something inside Riddle wants to break down and cry, it feels so nice. Tingles roll down the side of his face and he simply stares back up at Floyd with a faintly terrified expression. He’s sweating, and shaking ever-so-slightly. He’s also holding his breath, though judging from his expression he’s probably just forgotten to breathe instead of doing it on purpose.

‘So cute.’ Floyd brushes his thumb across Riddle’s check before lightly tracing his lips. “Do you like this?” He asks quietly. This is fun, but he doesn’t want to continue unless Riddle says yes. He wanted his Goldfishie to come to him in the end, and beg him to turn him into mush…

The inside of Riddle’s brain best resembles a highway intersection with sixty cars all piled up in a massive, panicked trainwreck. On one side of the pileup is a voice screaming that this has to be breaking half a dozen rules, though unhelpfully, it isn’t coming up with a specific example. On the other is a growing sense of existential panic at something he refuses to even let himself think about-

And then a fingertip brushes over his lower lip and he gasps, chest burning and heart pounding as the most important rule of all simply asks that he answer honestly…

And he nods.

Floyd smiles, “Do you want more?” He grinds ever-so-lightly against Riddle’s crotch with his own. He wants Riddle to feel him. Feel his size…

Riddle does feel Floyd’s size, and it’s comforting in spite of everything he knows about him. There’s something about being curled beneath him that feels instinctively like he’s been given permission to be small, and for once, not responsible for every tiny thing around him. He nods again, half thinking Floyd is going to keep massaging his legs…even as a very quiet part of him is finally starting to catch onto what Floyd ACTUALLY wants to do…

Floyd trills happily at the confirmation. “I’ll keep you safe, like I do Azul and Jade. We’ll have fun!” 

"Haahhh..." Riddle pants, tilting his head back and closing his eyes as Floyd nuzzles into his neck. Ha ha...fun...he remembers someone else once coming up to his window and stealing him away for a few, blissful hours for fun…

Floyd smothers Riddle in his sweet, musky, ocean scent, marking him all over so that everyone will know who he belongs to~  “My Goldfishie.” He whispers in Riddle’s ear as he rubs his little pet up and down. “Say it out loud… that you want this?” Floyd asks as he squeezes Riddle to him, lifting him off the mattress to grind longingly into his hips.

"Hnnnnn…I want this," Riddle whispers, feeling small and protected again as Floyd's hands wrap completely around his hips, nearly meeting around the back.

“Me too… ” Floyd whispers back. Perfect. This is perfect. Floyd kisses Riddle’s forehead, protectively curling over him like a giant, living blanket. Riddle sighs and melts into the hug, tentatively reaching up to return it after just a moment's hesitation. Encouraged, Floyd covers Riddle’s neck in kisses and tiny love bites. He needs to make it known that Riddle is spoken for, that he is claimed-

Riddle gasps, feeling little flashes of heat and tingles wherever the kisses touche him. The heady feeling of being cared for and wanted is so powerful that he wants to soak into it like a flower opening into a sunbeam. He closes his eyes, letting Floyd explore where he wants. Is this...how it's supposed to feel...? He’s so warm…

“Floyd? Are you here? I need… Riddle?” Jade trails off, incredulously staring down at the mop of red hair underneath Floyd’s arms. Floyd growls at his brother, caging Riddle underneath him. DAMMIT-

“NNGH?!” Riddle panics, squirming out from under Floyd and falling gracelessly to the floor. Floyd lets him escape, grabbing a pillow and throwing it irritably at Jade. “Healing in progress?! Goldfishie has blisters.”

“On his face?”

“JADE!”

Panting and chest tight with far too many emotions, Riddle snatches up his boots, viciously kicking himself for letting his guard down. So furious that his eyes are burning with unspilled tears, he jams them back onto his feet and pulls the laces tight, ignoring the flash of pain from his blistered heel.

“I apologize. I knocked, but no one answered.  I thought Floyd was alone, and sleeping.“ Jade says softly. Riddle hurries out of the room without a word, feeling too ashamed to make eye contact as he ducks past him. Jade WILL use this as blackmail against him later, and so be it. Riddle deserves it for being so. Blatantly.  STUPID.

“Riddle stop!” Floyd calls out, “You're still hurt!”

“…did you just use his real name?” Jade raises his eyebrows as Riddle walks around a corner and out of sight.

“What? No, I said Goldfishie…” Floyd watches him disappear with a disappointed sigh. “Jaaaaade…”

“My my, I wouldn’t have thought he had it in him,” Jade smiles. “Or you, come to think of it. Floyd, have you been feeling unusually flirtatious today?”

“Oh, you too?” Floyd grumbles, glaring up at Jade. “Yee. Why, who did you try to jump on? Sea Lion?”

“Oh Seven, perish the thought…”

“Mmmmm~ What about Sea Slug? Let’s go find him. If we’re lucky he’s packing one for each of us-” Jade throws the pillow into his face, and Floyd giggles as he’s tackled onto the bed.

[yourbestpalpercy]

If I had any art motivation, I’d draw Chaos in ToonTown. Before we start, chaos’s reference sheet is at the end

“Wh…What are you…?”

Chaos curls up into her true form for a second before spreading out her limbs as wide as they would go, “I’m CHAOS!” She cheered proudly, “The embodiment of Chaos itself has arrived in ToonTown! Isn’t that lovely???” She gets close to one of the toons who flinch back from her.

“I bring the fun wherever I go though! Soooo,” Fireworks! She shoots fireworks high into the sky, still frightening some of the toons. Upon seeing how silent everyone was, Chaos slowly landed, studying their appearance. “...What I’m trying to say is I’m friendly. Usually people associate me with death and destruction but I promise I won’t hurt a fur on your heads!” Chaos grins again.

When met with even more silence, Chaos starts humming. “Woooould you all feel better if I took on a toon form? I have been known to change my form a lot. It’s how Harmony can rarely find me. I just blend in^^!”

“...So…you’re like…a god?”

“Oh-! Uhm…kiiiiiiinda? I definitely am, legally buuuut, the thing is that The Clouds are awful! Suuuper mean. Would not recommend,” She shakes her head as she crosses her arms while sticking her tongue out of her mouth.

“Anyways-! BOOM!!” With a poof, Chaos dropped onto the ground as a fox toon that looked eerily like a toon. Her sharpened snout and big hands, resembling the claws she used to have, being some of the few things that tipped off folks to her not being a natural toon.

“In case you were wondering why I sooooo very directly approached you, it’s simple^^! Wackiness is expected in this world, I felt comfortable to show my real self and make a full introduction! Personally, I think that should be something of an honor (hhh-onor).”

“...That’s…some serious uncanny valley, right…?” One of the horse toons said as they turned to a pudgy, purple cat. “Y-Yeah! Y-Your eyes need to be a tiny bit bigger…your snout’s a little too long, a-and you should wear shoes to hide the sharp points in your feet,” The cat gestured to each part, including how Chaos’s feet ended in spikes. “Oh!” Chaos shook her body out, applying the features, including antlers to her head, making her look a little more like a deer.

“Uhh…foxes don’t…” “I know, I just really like antlers. I can’t believe I forgot them. Anyways, whatcha think? Pretty toony, right?” The cat paused before talking to the yellow horse beside him.

“You look great, welcome to ToonTown, Chaos. If you need anything, my name’s Buttercup Plums, this is my friend, Lunarbug Cheers and we’re always around to help! If you need BIG help, you can go talk to Flippy!” Buttercup smiled, pointing off to the side.

[biographygen]

Winter Hair Trends Stylist says Everywhere This Season

Discover the latest winter hair trends as stylists reveal the must-try looks for this season. Elevate your style with expert tips and inspiration. The holidays mark the beginning of winter, which is the ideal time to change up your favorite hair color or style. Choose one of the hottest winter hairstyles of 2024 for a change of pace rather than starting the season with a do you've done a lot already. Some of the leading voices in the hair industry claim that layered bobs, deep side parts, clavicuts, dramatic layers, and curtain bangs are the most popular hairstyles. Warm brondes and cool blondes, meanwhile, set the tone in the color world.

The top 8 Winter Hair Trends Stylist

1. Dramatic Layers of Curtain Bangs

Celebrity hairstylists curtain bangs and voluminous dramatic layers are possibly the most popular winter haircut hair trends. Carpenter is currently taking over our feed. According to Lordet, owner of the voluminous blowouts will be a popular look for parties because people tend to want to go more glam for holiday parties than any other time of year. Updos work well with curtain bangs for dramatic, glam looks." Lordet advises bringing in a few photos of Sabrina to get ideas for your desired style, and be ready to spend more time styling your hair every day. 2. The Hot Side Part The side section is back! Garren, a stylist and co-founder of R+Co, says that Eiza González is the best source of inspiration. He remarks, This is a gorgeous, seductive side part over the eye with a dipped, flippy style. For girls who are embracing shorter hair, this is for you. Garren advises using a light-hold hair tonic and a root-boosting volume spray to spritz damp hair, then blowing it out with a round brush to replicate the look at home. Apply a flexible hairspray last. 3. The Clavicut, also known as the Clavicle Cut

A new name and a new 15 minutes of fame have been given to the lob. According to Lordet, long bobs are being dubbed 'clavicuts' they are simply a shoulder-length cut that is popular as people grow out their bobs. People prefer hair long enough to show under hats for winter hair accessories, and this intermediate length provides just enough. Lordet advises asking your stylist to cut to your clavicle in order to get the desired effect. He tells us, "This can be tailored to any hair texture." 4. The Bob with Layers

You have been swooning over Gigi Hadid's hair trends lately, if you're like us. Whether she wears her layered, tousled bob blown out, sleek, or wavy, it always looks so effortlessly stylish. Hairstylist and IGK co-founder Franck Izquierdo says, This cut is great because it's versatile and easy to maintain, which makes it perfect with static that comes from the cold weather and the layers will give hair movement and volume. Izquierdo advises starting with a body-building spray on damp hair in order to style the popular cut at home. The IGK Body Language Rice Water Plumping and Thickening Mist is what he recommends. To smooth out ends and prevent static after blowing out your hair, use Crybaby Smoothing and Finishing Serum, he continues. 5. The Victoria's Secret Blowout

Although we did love seeing a little more body representation, this year's Victoria's Secret Fashion Show may not have been as iconic as it once was. However, the hair continued to grow. The Victoria's Secret bombshell blowout will always be hair goals, according to Snyder and Russell. Big, bouncy waves with tons of volume, shine, and movement are the hallmark of the Victoria's Secret-inspired blowout. This glitzy look gives hair a rich, runway-ready finish with its lifted roots, silky lengths, and loose, voluminous curls. It's ideal for the winter months when you want to give your appearance a little more glitz and coziness. 6. Slicked-Back Fashions

A slicked-back look is a fantastic choice for the holidays and beyond, regardless of whether you have freshly washed hair trends or a day-two do. While celebrity hairstylist prefers a traditional fully slicked updo, Snyder prefers a half-up look with a faux slicked-back headband. According to Russell, a UNITE brand ambassador, to achieve a slicked-back updo, rake the UNITE SMOOTH&SHINE Styling Cream through roots to ends and secure the hair in a sleek bun or ponytail. After the hair has been smoothed back, secure any loose hairs with a flexible hold hairspray. 7. Winter Blonde

Celebrity hairstylist hair trends winter blonde shade if you want to switch up your hair color this winter. Both Gigi Hadid and La La Anthony have worn stunning variations of the hue. According to Snyder, a UNITE ambassador, Winter blonde shades give blonde hair a cooler, more neutral tone, creating an icy, high-shine look perfect for the season. Ashy or platinum colors are popular right now, and they go well with winter outfits and suit a variety of skin tones. 8. Warm Balayage Bronde

Winter hair trends colors can also benefit from warm tones! Rich, warm hues like bronde this season add dimension and warmth, making them ideal for enhancing winter complexions, according to Izquierdo. He advises asking your colorist for a balayage that blends warm blondes and rich browns to get the look. Incorporate a color-depositing mask into your hair care regimen to preserve your color, or use purple shampoo or toning drops if brassiness is a concern. Video Credit - Hair Trends Stylist FAQ Q1. What is the winter 2024 hair trend?Ans. While short hairstyles in general are popular, long bobs are among the most requested lengths.Q2. What is the hair trend in 2025?Ans. Get a bob cut if you're looking for a new hairstyle for 2025.Q3. Is long hair better for winter?Ans. For most people, getting a little longer hair is ideal during colder months.Q4. What are butterfly haircuts?Ans. Short and long layers are combined in a butterfly haircut to give your hair body, movement, and dimension.Q5. Which hairstyles hair trends are popular right now?Ans. The Most Common Women's Hairstyles Ponytails will be among the most popular hairstyles for women in 2024.Q6. What is the new hairstyle hair trends for 2024?Ans. The blunt bob is a must-have haircut for 2024 because of its more contemporary and edgy look. Read the full article

[happy-tori-friends]

Could i get a 'defending lover' prompt for Splendid and Fliqpy with the prompt 'say that again,I don't think I heard you the first time',please?

on it! always a treat to write fliqpy (i have written him twice, and neither of those times were prompts but the point still stands)

‘Huh. Okay. This is happening,’ Fliqpy thought as he glanced around, trying to figure out where Splendid had gone. 

Flippy had invited Splendid to a festival. Said festival was quite crowded, and when one wasn't holding hands with their companion, it was easier to get separated. Then, a switch was triggered and he stopped to seal with that. Splendid had totally been in the zone talking about something while Flippy listened, so he probably hadn't noticed Flippy wasn't next to him anymore.

Well, if he found him, he'd get to have his own date with him, which was always nice. Plus, Splendid's excitement when he talked about things he was interested in was always cute. And the cherry on top was that Fliqpy always loved to surprise him, just because he found it funny. All in all, he'd been dealt a pretty good hand of cards, so it was time to get looking.

They were headed to get a snack, so wherever the food stands were was probably his best bet. Was there a specific snack though, and which way were the vendors? It was probably in the direction he'd been facing, but he couldn't think of anything specific.

“Damn it,” Fliqpy growled, narrowing his eyes and scanning the area as he marched forward. He could yell for him, but that'd attract way too much attention. Splendid would hear it though. To be perceived and make it easier, or to just walk and continue the challenge? The triumph would be all that much sweeter if he just kept walking, wouldn't it?

Fliqpy didn't have to contemplate long. It wasn't too hard to notice a tall man with cyan hair and squirrel features that just so happened to hide his face behind a big pair of glasses. A wide grin spread across his face as he prepared to charge ahead and surprise him, but then he noticed someone bump into Splendid.

“Watch where you're going, four-eyes!” the perpetrator spat, “Don't just stand around, people are walking!”

Splendid frowned, an apologetic look on his face. “Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you or realize I-”

The stranger's face was red with rage and he snarled. “How do you come to a festival and not realize people are going to be walking? You have glasses, how could you not see me? Are you stupid? Is there something wrong with your brain? Or was it so small that it fell out when I bumped into you? Seriously, people like you should just drop dead - you'd be less of a waste of space that way.”

Fliqpy didn't like that. Instead of charging in to surprise Splendid, he marched to the duo, reaching for the knife that Flippy tended to carry around in case he needed to defend himself.

“I'm sorry. I didn't hear you the first time. Can you repeat that? Can you repeat what you just said to my boyfriend?” He sneered, staring straight into the bastard's eyes. “Or do I have to teach you how to walk around obstacles like you're a little baby? I know a toddler that can do it better than you. Funny, huh? I could check and see if your brain is working too, if you want me too…”

With wide eyes, the perpetrator gulped. “Er… sorry, I… guess I was a little… harsh there… Please don't hurt me…” He stepped back, seeing the glint of the knife's blade, but relaxed as Fliqpy put it away. “I'll… leave you to things, then. Sorry again!”

Fliqpy laughed, watching the coward run with his tail between his legs. “There we go! Teaches him not to mess with my boyfriend!” He then threw an arm around Splendid's shoulders. “So where were we headed?”

With a sigh and shake of his head, though the corners of his lips threatening to curl into a smile, Splendid removed Fliqpy's arm and instead took his hand. “Thank you for the assistance Fliq. I really do appreciate it, but I'm sure there might've been a less… threatening way to do so.”

“Eh, it's who I am. And you love me for it, dont'cha?” Fliqpy grinned. “Now I'm hungry, so let's get the snacks.”

This made Splendid smile fully, a chuckle escaping him. “You're right, I do love you for it. Let's go get my hero a soft pretzel.”

The slightest hint of a pout formed on Fliqpy's face, and he put in the tiniest bit of effort to look cute to beg. “Two. Two soft pretzels, ‘cause I saved you.”

Splendid chuckled, nodding. “Two soft pretzels for my hero it is.”

[iraheinichen]

Day 3,440: Fuzz

Looking at Coops’ fuzzy back right now. It’s so…flippy. Like, his hair curls at the very end, giving it this swoop on the tips. It’s very handsome. Of course. Oh wow. Had a nice sleep-in. A nice nap. And between that, Liz and I went out to a wine shop/restaurant, had a flight of their featured wines, ate some pretty dang good food, and then walked around Santa Monica. It was really, really nice.…

[wetslug]

if in 3 years (bc yea ill still be on here) i say i wanna cut my hair short again PLEASE come to canada and stop me. The Pain I Am Currently In Is Unimaginable 

[happy-tree-huggers]

imagine the Reader helping Flippy get over his trauma. The reader being a calm and caring person just trying to help a traumatized war veteran recover as they sit on a couch together with a warm blanket wrapped around Flippy.

Flippy - Calm, Caring Reader Comforting Him During an Episode

Note: Decided to add a bit to the scenario, hope that's okay! Here you go!~ Congrats on being first request! Word Count: 0.7k Warnings: PTSD, panic attack episode

♡ Whether you have known about Flippy in the town for months, or merely a few weeks, you're well aware of his mental struggles as a veteran soldier. His somewhat frequent "episodes" are quite infamous in Happy Tree Town, but with your compassion (and knowledge of self defense,) you've learned to see past that side of him. Once you have the chance to truly speak with him, you can't help but talk with him every time you cross paths. Flippy himself is astounded that someone is now so openly comfortable to be around him, despite that unwanted side of him, and the two of you become fast friends. He often invites you over for tea or other simple activities, and you oblige with open arms.

♡ Over time, Flippy realizes that he's fallen for you—and it appears to be obvious to some degree for others, too. The frequent, seemingly platonic hand-holding in public does seem to catch the eye of many onlookers on the streets. He isn't surprised, either; your calming personality certainly puts him at ease whenever he starts to feel stressed... and, in the rarer circumstance that he starts to 'flip out' while near you, you've been able to eventually pacify him; which was a relief in his eyes, as he couldn't imagine what he'd do if he had hurt you.

♡ One morning, as a kind gesture, you decide to bake some muffins for him, as he's recently taught you his favorite recipe and you had wanted to try it out soon. Finally finishing them and filled with pride over your success, you pack them up and head to Flippy's place. Knocking thrice as you usually do at his door, you wait for a response, but none comes. Which is strange, you thought, because he's usually up at this hour by now. You knock again and call out for him, to no avail.

♡ Out of curiosity, you place your ear up to the door. When you hear the sound of infrequent, muffled whimpering, you immediately place the tin of muffins by the door and call out once more that you're coming in. You hope it doesn't seem rude to him, as you creak open the door cautiously.

♡ The first thing you see is Flippy curled up on his sofa, knees tight to his chest and a paw clamped over his mouth as he hyperventilates. Upon you entering, he peers over at you while fighting back piercing yellow eyes. You were swamped with worry as you shut the door behind yourself and stepped into his home. Flippy, alarmed that he could flip out any minute, among uneven breaths, warned you to leave while you still could. Deep down, you knew you couldn't abandon him like this to struggle by himself.

♡ Insisting that you're going to help him through this, you rush to the closet and grab the fluffiest blanket you could find. (Having a surplus of them was unsurprising for him, as he knitted frequently as a pastime.) You approach Flippy, who was trembling, and lightly laid the blanket over his shoulders, encouraging him that he'll be okay in the process. He clutches the blanket desperately to himself and looks away from your direction.

♡ Noticing his eyes were still a bright yellow, you sit on the sofa next to him at a distance, unsure whether or not it was alright to be too near him yet. You didn't want to make him feel trapped, or worse. You continue to reassure him that you're here for him, telling him to take deep breaths.

♡ After a while of quiet comforting, Flippy has finally stopped hyperventilating, while hiding his face into his paws. He was crying, you realize. In desperation to make him feel better, you ask if it's okay to hug him. He freezes, then nods quietly. Scooting over to him, you wrap your arms around his shivering body tenderly. Shockingly quickly, he reciprocates, claws digging into your back. You don't mind, however, as you feel him slowly stop shaking in your arms.

♡ Once Flippy recovers enough to be able to speak, he apologizes profusely, but you cut him off and tell him that you would do anything to help him. And, gladly enough, his eyes were now back to those large happy ones that you grew to love.

♡ You both end the morning with a movie (Unfortunately, popcorn wasn't an option, as the sounds it made in the microwave were quite triggering for Flippy), sitting next to each other with the blanket around you both.

♡ ...may include a confession.

♡ Then you realize you forgot the muffins by the front door.

[frostbitebakery]

that sketch of cody with his head resting on his hand...he's fondly watching obi-wan try to cook and obi-wan keeps telling him everything is fine and he doesn't need any help

"Uh huh," Cody says, holding out the oven mittens Obi-Wan is frantically looking for while a gentle line of smoke curls out of the closed oven door.

"Everything is under control," Obi-Wan responds, mouth slightly turned down into a not-pout-Cody-I-fail-to-see-what-about-my-expression-could-be-considered-a-pout-pout.

The smoke alarm goes off.

"Uh huh," Cody says again, typing in the code so half of the Temple Guard won't show up with the fire suppression foam. Again.

Obi-Wan is all grace, flowing lines of tunic, dancer steps around the kitchen table, as he grabs the smoking casserole. Fumbling it on the hob with a strained, muttered "hot hot hot goes to the Force".

Cody might really love this man.

He steps back. He looks upon his creation. He folds his arms. "Something seems off."

In Cody's humble opinion, the charred bits don't add to the charm of the octopus gratin. One octopus arm hanging over the dish side twitches in charcoaly post-mortem. "Uh huh."

Obi-Wan turns to him, a calculating look in his eyes. He flaps a hand at Cody. "Commander, combat plan, please."

Cody holds out the data pad with the recipe. He watches the octopus arm twitch again. Something crackles. It might've been a groan from hell.

"Right," Obi-Wan nods to himself, tapping a finger on one part of the recipe. "After cooling, proceed to mix with gelatine."

Lovely.

He nods again. "Just like I remember from childhood."

"Was that during the age where natborn children typically eat dirt and adhesives?"

Cody gets a look for that one. "May I remind you with the most gentle intentions that it was you who were curious about my favorite dishes?"

No need to get flippy about it. Cody suppresses a grin. "I didn't know my curiosity came with threats to my physical well-being."

"You know what they say about curiosity and loth cats," Obi-Wan sniffs and turns back to the casserole. The arm twitches again. "Is it supposed to do that?"

[spaghett-onaplate]

!!YOUNG ROYALS SEASON 2 SPOILERS!! (from the screencaps specifically) warning: extremely long-winded post

Okay, so, many thoughts. First of all, HOLY SHIT! Second of all, I'd like to preface this by saying that I'm sure plenty of much more talented Young Royals blogs will do better analyses on the pictures, but here's my half-drunk-on-giddiness take on them.

First, this lovely pic of Sara, Felice and the gang. I love Felice's hair oh my GODD!! I was hoping for some natural curls in season 2 but I fear the drastic hair changes in both Felice and Wilhelm possibly hint at a massive time skip. Apart from that, Fredericka and Stella are off to the side, looking almost dejected. This could be interpreted as them being jealous of Sara's newfound closeness with Felice but honestly, I doubt it. In Season 1, the catty girl group trope was stomped on so I can't imagine they'd take that route in Season 2, at least not as anything more than a minor plot point. That aside, this could mean Sara is now boarding at the school, but not necessarily. It is hard to see the time of day in this photo, it could be morning or afternoon.

Now, Wilhelm and Simon. Wille's hair looks great - I expected it to but I was still nervous I'd miss the flippy bangs. I'm sure I will but we'll see ahah. So this looks like Wilhelm is getting the personal entourage again. See that badge on his blazer, and the badges of the people behind him? I wonder if that means they are in a position of leadership - e.g. rowing captain, prefect, etc. And if Simon is lined up along with the captains, does that mean he now has a position such as that? Also, I think that might be Felice's (straightened) hair just off behind Simon.

Now onto the most obvious part of the photo - Wilhelm's expression. Very intense. I love the way Edvin portrays his characters' emotions, he does a great job. Now Wille has his mouth pressed in a line, and he's staring very obviously at Simon. If this is their first day back, it means they haven't seen each other in ages, and they've both had time to think things through.

Next, this screencap of Wilhelm and his parents. A different dining room to last time, and standing above them is who I assume to be the chef. Is that snow I see through the window? This is probably the Christmas dinner at the palace, as I imagine that will be an important scene. Such a shot would not be possible with another person at the table... it's the first Christmas without Erik :(

Wilhelm doesn't look happy, but that's understandable. Kristina is looking at him, and the king is (once again) a wallflower. I wonder if we'll learn more about his character? Who knows.

Next, Simon and Wilhelm together again. I'll start with the background. A few returning characters, a few new ones (unless my facial memory is just that bad, lol.) The classroom is unfamiliar as far as I remember, potentially for history judging by the pinned-up portraits on the wall in the back.

Simon is reading, Wilhelm is neglecting his work to stare at him - as such is a recurring theme. It's hard to read their expressions. Are they smiling slightly? At what point in the season does this scene take place? Towards the start could mean they are sitting together in an attempt to maintain a friendship. Towards the end could mean Wilhelm has decided to follow his heart, rather than the monarchy.

Aside from that - new wardrobes! Very interesting. Simon's seems to stay quite similar, Wilhelm's jumper is rather new. The cut seems kind of fancy, but bear in mind I know nothing about clothes. Henry is wearing a surprisingly bright and casual outfit in front of them, with a graphic on the hoodie, which was previously unseen from most of the Hillerska elite. Someone analysed the clothing in all of Season 1 (please tag their blog if you remember who!) and they paraphrased RWRB in that "graphic prints make a statement." Now I'm probably over-analysing the shit out of this but that could possibly hint to a friendship with Simon - they have grounds to interact, after all.

Next, this scene. I was immediately reminded of the choir scenes, and I think it quite likely that they are in the audience listening to a song. It could also be a speech of some sort. I'm going to assume this is toward the start if it is the choir. Wilhelm is looking at Simon with a rather sad yet veiled expression. I think Henry is sitting next to him - you can see the gingerish hair just behind August. This might not mean anything as Wilhelm sits next to a few of the other boys in Season 1 with no further friendship.

And August is in front of him, looking horrendously smug/happy. I hope someone takes it upon themselves to knock him down a peg in Season 2. I'm not going to speculate why he's so cheery - he's August, after all.

Now, the rowing team around Wilhelm. Matching uniforms, potentially meaning there is a rowing competition that they enter. The boys are all encouraging him. Please correct me if I'm wrong (once again, terrible facial memory) but it seems that the boys behind them are Walter and Vincent, plus a new character (?). I have nothing to back this up on but if there's going to be a Love Triangle in Season 2, I think it's going to be with HIM.

Now, my favourite part of this picture - Simon's hand's on Wille. A casual one on his hip from the front, but if you look in the mirror you can see his other hand is on his back. Is Simon using this as an excuse to touch Wille, or are they together(-ish) and comfortable being intimate in front of the rowing team? And apart from that, there is a boy hunched over by the door behind August in a maroon top, a colour we frequently see on August.

Now, the Bjarstad trio. Simon is looking understandably dejected. He's wearing the same clothes that appear in Season 1, so I would wager this is toward the start, after school. Ayub and Rosh are clearly concerned for him - the conversation probably has to do with his relationship with Wille. They've already had the talk about the sextape. Now, Simon's backpack indicates he came home from school. He potentially saw Wilhelm for the first time in ages, and now they need to console him about it.

I was reminded of the woodsy place outside Hillerska at first, but I am fairly sure this takes place in Bjarstad. It would make sense, plus there's a telephone pole and (Linda's?) car vaguely visible through the trees.

Felice and Wilhelm friendship? Let's fucking GOOOOOO! Wille needs someone now that he's lost Erik, August and Simon (seriously, almost the entirety of Season 1 is Wilhelm taking a fat L. give the poor boy a rest in Season 2 please), and Felice is the perfect person for it. I'm fairly sure they're in Wille's room. Also, I am living for the casual clothing (Felice is in a Hillerska hoodie!) and Nikita's natural hair, omg.

I can see the parallel to that shot of Simon on his bed alone and I can already smell the edits. As for when this takes place in the series, I can't guess. Possibly toward the start, if Wille needs consoling about the situation in general. Either way, I'm excited to see their friendship in Season 2.

And last but not least, this shot between Sara and August. Sara is wearing the same purple coat as in the first image and has the same pink bag (you can justtt see it in the first pic behind her left elbow). Sara's expression seems to be inquisitive, pleading or disbelieving. August is looking down at her with what looks like a sneer. The clipboard is what I assume the Hillerska boarding application, and the lake behind them tells me this must take place at the school.

So, I hope you enjoyed my over-the-top analysis of these pictures. I can't wait to hear all of your opinions! I can't wait to be completely wrong about all of this, but hopefully I'll get some stuff right. I can't wait to see all of your analyses, and I am SO excited for Season 2. Now I'll give my fingers a rest from this rapid typing (it's so loud and has been going on for about an hour straight. I have 90 new things on my dashboard, wish me luck.)

[nagdabbit]

MY GIRLFRIEND'S COMMENTARY WHILE WATCHING HER FIRST AEW PPV

"my entire fitness goal is hook's shoulder-waist ratio, but with taz's extremely dense neck."

"the funniest thing about wrestling is that this fucking company is trying to make something called a stadium stampede sound both cool, AND serious."

gf: "if you cry listening to a crowd sing judas again, im divorcing you." me: "so that means youre gonna marry me." gf: "i've been bamboozled."

about brian cage: "this man is a huge dork. like, literally, i could fit me in him."

"i dunno what it is, but i would die to protect mr. hangman. he hunk, but he also baby."

thoughtfully, "i bet i could just catch you out of the air like that. i mean, i can squat you, i could probably even curl you like that, too."

because she is deeply in wrestling twitter now: "HOOK! babe, look, its hook! hook hive, rise up!"

"what i love about this feud is that all these men are fuckin' idiots. no brain cells, just shoes and fwiendship."

"what do you mean their tag team isn't just the wild boys, wtf? missed opportunity."

"those kicks are ugly, but i would steal them, too, honestly." *thirty seconds of silence layer* "for you, babe. i'd steal them for you, i mean."

"jon, no, the germs, jon, jesus christ, please dont drink that jon you dumbass."

"i love eddie, but i'm pretty sure we should never hang out. too much extremely new york energy, we would get arrested in like ten minutes. possibly less."

"diorsday device is the funniest shit ive ever fucking heard, how goddamn sad is that."

"max caster is gonna get murdered, but i love him."

"i wish bowens and his extremely attractive boyfriend the best in life."

"colt cabana and tay conti are tied for best smile in wrestling, but tay wins because i dont want colt to kick me in the face."

"penta is the only joker i formally recognize."

"today i found out that some people don't like stu and uno, and to them i say get entirely fucked."

after rush came out and i lost my entire shit: "i don't fully understand yet, but i support you." *one minute later* "oooooooooooohh. okay, yeah."

gf: "i enjoy that cody is pushing ogogo by being a dumb bitch with this america schtick." me: "you gonna say that when cody wins?" gf: "...fuck."

"ogogo got that guy ritchie movie ass music you love to see it."

"you were right about cody and i fuckin' hate it."

"aw yeah, its big boi season."

about miro: "i'm very gay, but the thing is, men with extremely jacked traps just do something to me."

"lance changed changed the color of his extensions and i appreciate that." *thirty seconds later* "are those... three crosses? tattooed on his back? jesus doesnt like murder, i don't think he likes murderhawks, either."

"britt baker is the only dentist i want in my mouth. no, wait, don't type that one!"

"oh, fuck, shidas getting teary i'm gonna fuckin cry, oh fuck, i get it now, i'm so sorry i made fun of you, i love her."

"oh fuck, shida knee me directly in the face."

"britt scares me. like the blood drip details on her gear are really cool, but i would legit believe its real blood from her."

"are you really crying about britt and the nice announcer man hugging?"

"hey, quick question, just real quick while ive got you here... why is the emo twink... like this?"

"darby's dad looks like my dad, and i'll never be okay with that."

"i like that darby just yeets himself around like that. he came in like a wrecking ball. a tiny, tiny wrecking ball."

"sting just tossing his son around the ring like that is very good, but, sir, that's bad parenting."

"the thing about sky and page is that these are the suburb guys i beat up at the beach on summer vacation. they have big "i robbed these guys at the pier" energy."

"damn, darby just feels his emotion with his entire face, doesnt he."

"okay explain the gambling thing and WHY it's a thing."

"orange rolling into the ring is so fucking good, that man is national treasure."

after me showing her the video of younger orange cassidy shitfaced and holding a fish for no reason: "i am shocked and appalled that you're only showing me this now."

after explaining the history of the jansport: "the range of this dumbass."

"i get that kenny is good and all, but his hair really fucks me up. it's upsettingly bad and i hope he knows that."

"pac is just. so much muscle. flippy beef man. a meateor." she did specify how to spell it for the joke because it was important.

"that man is a weeb, isnt he."

"something about a man breaking a hold by putting his hands in his pockets really gets me hype."

"fuck just murder omega and be done i hate this, put it on the beef man or the juicey boy already."

"babe, ill be right back i gotta murder this callis bitch."

screaming, "THAT'S MY FAVORITE REF, YOU UGLY FUCK!"

after kenny won: "i fucking hate wrestling, this is bullshit."

"holy fuck, babe, i forgot mark henry was a wrestle boy! i know him from the olympics!"

"hey, is mark henry bigger than large paul?"

"mjf is a dumb bitch and i love him."

"hey, quick question, who thought repelling down the stadium would look cool, they're so far away."

"there's wardlow, my sweet boy. this is cool now."

she laughed for a solid two minutes at tony schiavone saying, "here comes the little guy."

"i fuckin hate hager. kill him wardlow, kill that crispy maga ass bitch."

"okay what's with the chairs." *after a brief explanation of the chairshot heard round the world* "and, like, he can't just pick a new gimmick? it's been two years, bro. move on, shes not coming back."

"okay, i admit that this is great and i love it, kill that old man on the dancefloor."

upon learning this is technically the main event: "you mean it's over after this? theyre ending the show on THIS? not the triple threat match, this?"

"i just noticed mjf's bedazzled jeans, i'm not angry anymore, this is perfect."

"no, more wardlow. gimme the beef."

"christ, sammy guevara is kinda incredible and i'm fuckin angry about it. why cant inner circle be just sammy and santana and ortiz, fuck the other two."

"no, shut up! i refuse to sing along to this! whats wrong with you?! this is a bad song!"

[sharperthewriter]

Chapter 5 of Roneo and Kimliet

Chapter 5

Ron was curled in a fetal position.

"Flying monkeys are just sick and wrong!" he exclaimed.

Tara and Monique groaned at his behavior.

"Ron, can you please stand up?" Kim asked of her best friend.

Ron stood up.

"I had to hide behind the dumpster at Bueno Nacho for an hour just to get away from them!" he exclaimed.

"After that, he swore off all starting roles in any plays." Kim said, "So he had to...reluctantly...play the tree in the next play."

"But for this play, Romeo and Juliet, I'd rather be behind the assistant director's table rather than be on the stage..." she added, gritting her teeth at the word assistant due to Barkin's announcement of the Glee Three as directors.

"Okay, so we understand Ron's reluctance on the stage comes from his monkey fears." Monique clarified before looking at Kim. "But what about you, girl? What's the buzz about your feud with the stage?"

Kim began, "It all began that October in Freshman year. I was about to go on stage for another Shakespeare play of his...the Scottish Play that begins with the letter M"

Ron gasped, recalling the name of the play.

"You mean MacBeth?"

And then he heard his pants rip from behind, showing off a part of his Flippies boxers.

"Oh man...not again with the pants!" Ron complained.

"Ron..." Kim groaned, "...you're not supposed to say the name of the play or else you would suffer years of bad luck!"

"Oh, come on, Kim! It's not like I say the name of MacBeth every time and something bad happens!" Ron said while leaning on a nearby tree. All of a sudden, a bird pooped in his hair, a stray dog urinated on his right shoe and something stung him in his behind.

"YYEEEEOOWWWW!" he exclaimed. A wasp had stung Ron in his posterior.

"Like I said, Ron...years of bad luck!"

"Okay, KP! I'll officially stop saying MacBeth from here on out!" Ron exclaimed while trying to rub his behind. A thunderstorm hovered above Middleton, including the high school. A flash of lightning followed by a loud boom of thunder was heard.

Rufus squeaked in fear and ducked in Ron's pants pocket, for he did not like thunderstorms.

It them began to pour buckets of rain onto the four teenagers.

Tara's jumpsuit and Kim and Monique's overalls were starting to get soaked from the rain.

"We're gonna head under the awning of the gym, since most of the students had gone for the day, excluding those in detention.

The group headed under the awning to protect themselves from the wet elements.

"So yeah...as I was saying..." Kim said while her red hair was sopping wet. "...flash back to freshman year...October...that Scottish Play."

A flash of lightning followed by a rumble of thunder as she flashed back.

(October 18, 2003, 7pm)

Kim was dressed in the costume of Lady MacBeth in the area to the back of the stage. She kinda felt nervous going on stage for the first time since the whole 'Silent-Night' high-note incident from last year in eighth grade.

"I'm getting butterflies in my stomach." she complained to the drama teacher, Miss Tudor.

Miss Tudor replied, "Don't worry. You'll do great out there!"

"You really think so, Miss Tudor?" Kim wondered.

"Trust me on it!" the drama teacher said with a wink of he eye.

Kim gulped as she walked out on stage, not prepared to face a crowd of people. She prayed that they didn't come with an extra set of earplugs.

She was unaware that Amanda, one of Bonnie's hench-girls, came up to Miss Tudor's side.

"In case if Miss Possible falters on stage, you'll take her place." the teacher said with a whisper.

"I know all my lines and studied them." Amanda replied.

"Very thoroughly?" Miss Tudor asked, "This play counts for 20% of your final grade, you know that."

"Inside and out!" came the reply from the vile cheerleader, rubbing her hands in glee, anticipating even the slightest of mistakes from Kim.

Kim was now in act 1, scene 5 of MacBeth. This was the scene in which she is reading the letter from MacBeth, played by fellow freshman, Alan Platt.

"The witches met me on the day of my victory in battle, and I have since learned that they have supernatural knowledge. When I tried desperately to question them further, they vanished into thin air. While I stood spellbound, messengers from the king arrived and greeted me and the thane of Cawdor..."

Sheer determination filled her lungs as she performed those lines without a script. Kim felt like that she was born for this part.

"So what happened then?" Tara asked.

Kim sighed, "Then...came Act 1, Scene 6..."

(the flashback continues)

Russ Niedelmeyer, as Duncan, and Kim, as Lady MacBeth were saying their lines.

"Look, here comes our honored hostess! Sometime the love my subjects bring me is inconvenient, but I still accept it as love. In doing so, I'm teaching you to thank me for the inconvenience I'm causing you by being here, because it comes from my love to you." Russ said while in-character.

And now came Kim's infamous turn.

"Everything we're doing for you, even if it were doubled and then...and...then..."

Kim then saw the guy who was playing Banquo, and stuttered on her line. It was none other than Josh Mankey, whom was talking on the role of Banquo because the student who was going to play him got sick on the day of that frosted tip spiked hair was present, attracting Kim like a moth to an electric zapper.

She never saw such a cute hottie guy in her life before and struggled to memorize the next line with a shaky voice.

"We...we...we...gladly welcome you...you as...um...ermmm...our guests..."

The full effects of stage fright came at her at possibly the worst time because of only the mere appearance of Josh. She was trembling and blushing at his cute hair, his cute spikey frost-tipped hair.

"Ooooooh! Ahhhhh!

Kim was so smitten by his looks...that she completely forgot her lines! And the audience was staring at her, seeing if she was going to say anything.

Not even a peep uttered from her mouth. The audience started to boo and hiss at her.

Miss Tudor, panicking that her job was on the line, ran onto the stage and made an announcement.

"Um...we are going to hold a brief 15-minute intermission! Yeah...yeah! Snacks and refreshments are located in the cafeteria to your right!"

While the audience filed out for the intermission period, the teacher went backstage to talk with Kim.

"What happened out there? Why didn't you recite your Lady MacBeth Lines?" Miss Tudor asked.

Kim told her the truth while eyeing Josh, smitten by him.

"I'm crushing...like a sheep!"

Miss Tudor looked at her and said, "I knew this would happen. Amanda, take the role of Lady Macbeth for the rest of the play!"

Kim was stunned out of her Mankey-like trance.

"Wait...what?!"

Amanda grinned evilly at Kim, "Yes, Miss Tudor! It would be such an honor!"

Miss Tudor then looed at Kim and said, "Miss Possible...for your lack of attentiveness and your...teenager-like 'crushes' on boys...if you call it that...I am giving you a F on MacBeth!"

Kim was beyond mortified to receive such a low grade. She had no choice but to accept it.

The redheaded cheerleader sighed and said, "Fine...Miss Tudor...I'll accept the grade as is.."

Amanda cackled and added salt to the wound.

"As Shakespeare would say so himself to you...to better to not thine be seen rather than choke during thine play of the Immortal Bard."

Kim hung her head low in defeat.