#they have both talked about being good friends with bob crane

[overlyattachedto70s-sitcoms]

watched auto focus last night. why. did i do that to myself.

[nalgenewhore]

so maybe if it's all you wanted

elide x lorcan, modern/coworkers/lawyers (prosecution) au, nsfw, word count: 2731

part i of pushed you head over my heels

It doesn’t surprise Elide that she’s not the last one here. Someone is always shuffling around the slightly outdated office; she takes her turn more often than not.

The strap of her bag digs into her shoulder. She shifts it higher, off the softish part, blowing out a puff of air when it just slides back. With her keys in one hand, she shuts her door with the other. 

As she walks down the hallway, she idly hums a song stuck in her head. Elide can’t remember where she heard it last, but it’s been the background track to her whole day. Her eyes flick from one empty office to the next during her exit. 

When she sees his, and the light still on, she stops all of a sudden. She doubts herself for a second, though the notion is gone in a second. 

“Hey, Salvaterre,” she knocks her knuckles against the door jamb, then leans her weight against it. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

He spent six hours in court today. Elide didn’t even expect seeing him that morning, but he came by to collect one last file box. 

“Uh…” Lorcan looks around his desk. He scrubs his eyes. “Are we the last here?”

She nods. “It’s almost ten,” she supplies. 

They’re coworkers and sort-of-friends. They’ve gone out for frequent week’s end drinks, usually with other colleagues their age. Sometimes they have coffee and talk about cases.

Elide knows the case he’s working now. And she knows he didn’t have a good day in court. 

“Damn.” He sniffs and pushes himself back from his paper-littered desk. “I didn’t realise.”

She catches the way he looks at the pathetic couch. If she doesn’t offer, he will spend the night curled up on that.  “D’you want a ride home?”

He blinks out of surprise this time. Lorcan’s hands brace against the edge of his desk. “Oh, nah, I couldn’t, like, impose…“

“C’mon, man,” she cajoles. “Let me do something nice.” A rough laugh passes from his throat. She must be tired too since the sound makes her stare a little slack-jawed at him and miss his answer. “Uh, hum?”

“I said yeah.” By this point he’s stood up to grab his bag. Lorcan pauses as he puts a bound file in his bag. “Thanks, by the way.”

Elide bobs her head. 

He shuts the lights on his way out. Side by side they make their way to the elevator in silence. 

As they ride down to the parkade, he clears his throat and comments a little awkwardly. “So, you drove?” At her little smirk because the answer is so obvious, he adds, “It’s just- I mean, you usually take the metro, too. I didn’t even know you had a car.”

She grins, “It’s a new thing, actually. I was sick of being stuck in the city on the weekends. I like to get away, y’know?” He nods. “But I think I’ll stick with the metro for my commute.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets, and they’re back to the slightly too quiet elevator. 

In the garage, the click of her heels echoes off cement walls. Elide leads him to her car, a thirty-year SUV she bought second-hand from a nice old woman who hardly drove it but kept it tip-top.  

They’re silent in the car too, both dull-minded and thinking in circles around their own cases. She’s actually thinking about his case, though. She only heard snippets, hasn’t properly talked to him about it. What she’s heard is hard to swallow. 

Elide looks over at him and doesn’t know why he does it. Cases involving kids don’t ever sit right. It’s all he does, day in day out. 

Before she can think about it too much, the drive to his place ends. 

Lorcan cranes his head to look out the window. “Thanks. For the ride.”

“You’re welcome,” she quirks her lips into a smile. She asks when he’s halfway out the door, “Lorcan, are you alright?” 

He looks back at her. Strands of silky hair fall over his brow, into his eyes. “Everyone has bad days in court,” he says. 

“I know,” she replies defensively. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“I’ll be ok, ‘lide. Nothing’s done yet.” He leaves, and this time Elide doesn’t stop him. 

Tipping her head back, she sighs long into the charged space. Her eyes beg to be shut; if she gives in, she might spend the night here. She knows she should move, but the longer she sits the longer she wants to stay. 

She pats her cheeks to wake up and blinks several times. 

Elide scans the area around her car to pull away, but she realises that Lorcan left his employee ID on the passenger seat. It’ll be a hassle tomorrow if he doesn’t have it; she’ll just run it up to him.

She walks up the short flight upstairs to his front door and knocks, hoping he hasn’t gone to bed yet. She shuffles her weight from foot to foot - the heels are stunning but a not-so-surprising killer. After a bit, she knocks again.

Lorcan speaks from behind opaque glass. “Lochan?” She hears him slide back the chain and unlatch the heavy deadbolt. He looks confused when he opens the door. “Yeah?”

“Hey. You forgot this,” she holds out his ID.

He realises dully and opens the door wider to free a hand from the doorknob. A bottle of dark liquor glints from the streetlight. Elide’s brows arch a bit. He notices as he takes the card. “What?”

“Nothing, I just…” she shrugs. “Nothing.”

A tired and resentful look harshens his features. “I can’t have a drink after my day?”

“When did I say that?”

He sips right from the bottle; it’s antagonistic, defiant. She lets her eyes wander to his loosened tie and unbuttoned collar. When she looks lower, his belt is undone and feet bare. If he notices her ogling, he doesn’t mention it. He says something that surprises her. “D’you want one?”

“One what?”

“A drink. I don’t really like drinking alone,” he says.

She agrees readily. The moment he stands back to let her in and her foot passes the threshold, something irrevocable between them shifts. 

Her shoulders start to ease when she slips off her heels. Even with the extra three inches, next to Lorcan she only just reaches above his pectoral muscles. The difference becomes comical. Elide follows him through the living room to his kitchen island. 

He has minimal decor and everything is in dark natural tones. It’s neat, but lived-in. 

Lorcan pours them a couple fingers each in matching glasses. Elide doesn’t drink at first, just looks at the amber liquid. 

He watches her with heavy-lidded eyes and through thick lashes. 

Again, they fall into a silent lull. They exchange glances that are meaning-laden but don’t give away what is meant. 

She thinks she can tell, though, and before today, it’s not something that has crossed her mind. Maybe a passing fancy, never a thought she lingered on. A drunken lapse of judgement in her empty bed all alone with nothing but her mind and a skilled touch.

When their glasses are empty, he pours some more. 

He’s had enough to loosen his tongue. “’lide.”

“Mm?”

“What do you want?”

Elide flicks her eyes back to him and in her difficult manner echoes, “What do you want?”

Lorcan rolls his head to stretch out his neck; he lets it hang low. “I want to shut my brain off. I want to be distracted.” His gaze pins her where she sits. “I want a fuck.” The blunt words convey confidence like there isn’t a risk, but isn’t there?

“I can be that,” she answers. 

“Can you?” A challenge.

“Do you think you’re the only one who wants a distraction?”

He puts his glass down. 

Her heartbeat ticks up with every step he makes that brings him closer to her. She’s forced to turn on the stool to face him, her head tilted up. Lorcan puts himself in her space, whatever distance that existed before like a half-eroded dream.

Elide’s swallow is the only outward expression of any nerves. 

She melts a bit when his hands cup her neck. Due to their size, his fingers creep into her loose hair and his thumbs bracket her jaw.

The touch emboldens her to touch him back, her fingers grazing up his abs before pressing against them. 

He leans down, and at first his kiss is curious. It’s choppy because they don’t know how. She runs her hand up to his neck, insists him closer. Initial awkwardness gives way for a slow and thoughtful embrace. 

Lorcan sucks on her bottom lip. Before ten minutes ago, it never drove him crazy. He leans her back against the island. She responds by grabbing his collar and tugging again, but there’s no more space.

With a soft impatient mutter, he drops his hands to her waist so he can hoist her onto the surface. Lorcan pushes the stool out of the way; the loud clatter it makes goes unheard by them both. 

Elide lets him split her legs apart, the tight material of her skirt wrenching up her thighs. 

She slides the tip of her pink tongue over his mouth. His lips part on an exhale, and his tongue meets hers. A moan slips from her; the next thing she feels is the hard wood against her back, a hand cushioning her skull. It’s an oddly sweet gesture.

Elide wrestles with the knot of his tie till it comes free. The scrap of silk falls to the floor. She runs a hand down his shirt, popping buttons along the way. Lorcan sighs against her mouth.

Something blooms in her belly, something like heat and need. It urges movement, tilts her hips against the front of his slacks. 

He’s half-hard already.

Lorcan turns his head the other way. They part long enough for her to bite his full lower lip and whisper, “So soon?”

“Shut up,” he whispers with no venom. A hand slips between them, yanking her cashmere tank out of her skirt.

Elide hooks one leg around him as he slips free each little button. She shudders when his fingers push open the shirt and touch her soft skin. They tease, like she did at first, travelling up to her chest. Her next sound gets muffled by his mouth. His hand grasps one breast, thumb finding its peak through immodest black lace mesh. 

“Fuck,” he breathes. Lorcan pulls a way, a string of saliva connecting their lips, to mark needy, biting kisses down her jaw. 

Her throat bobs, it’s a swallow as he continues the pattern down her neck. “Your fuckin’ body…” 

She laughs into the air, delirious. His mouth replaces his hand, teeth dragging the soft cups of her bra down. Elide lets out some garbled noise, squirming to push against his erection.

He yanks her down against his pelvis so she can feel all she wants. The breath she lets out shudders, wanting him everywhere. Electricity zaps her nerve endings.

“’lide,” he whispers. “D’you want me to fuck you?”

“Yeah, I want you. You want me, right?”

Lorcan nods. “Mmm, I want you.” He forces her skirt higher up so he can reach between her thighs. Even with the barrier of her panties, he feels how soaked he is. He looks down, mouth watering at the sight of light purple turned dark by her slick.

While he’s looking his fill, her hands move to his slacks. He bats them away and undoes her pout with a kiss. Lorcan frees himself, devoted to ridding them of the least amount of clothing possible.

She sucks his tongue as he slides her panties aside. He groans at the feeling of silky wet flesh, his fingers almost instantaneously covered. Next time, he thinks, he’ll get on his knees for her. 

Her hand pushes into his briefs to grasp his dick, pumping her hand as deeply as the space lets her. Elide twists her wrist, murmuring for him to get on with it. 

“Condom?” he suggests.

“Shit,” she puts her head back. “Um- well, I have an IUD. And I’m clean.”

“Me too. But I’ll get—“

She cuts him off. “I trust you.” They both use honesty like a currency. “Mean it.”

Lorcan lifts his head. The hand that played with her dislodges hers so he can pull his cock out. She fights to keep her eyes open; he slowly slides the head up and down her slit. He teases her, notching himself in her cunt. He gives it to her slowly and doesn’t know what to look at - the way her eyes roll back or the way her body opens for him.

Elide sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. She nods when he drags his hips back. Slow, at first. Lorcan watches her from above until he can’t stand how she looks. He’s discovered a new truth about the world in her, so he bows his forehead against her chest.

She moans and sighs his name.

“’lide,” he groans. Dizzy desire adds a rough edge that makes her centre throb.

Her manicured nails cut crescents into the muscle of his back. He relishes the sting they make, the lines etched into his flesh. Elide can’t believe how hot his skin is, like it’s heated. She can’t believe how full she is- that makes her giggle again because only a cock like that to go along with his size.

She rocks her hips up into his thrusts. It won’t be much longer now till she cums. Lorcan’s hand grasps her tit again, fingers trapping nipple as his teeth and tongue  return to the previously neglected peak. Elide arches her back into him, wanting more more more. 

They begin to fall at the same moment. He hits it deeper now, his pace less patterned. She pushes herself into more of him. Whatever he has to give her she’ll take. His hand leaves her chest; it finds its way to her ass and grabs tightly, yanking her tight against him so he can grind into her.

“Yes,” she hisses through her teeth. 

Her climax is there floating before her. Elide holds the back of his neck.

She’s almost silent when she cums; she’s holding her breath. It crashes into her almost by surprise, and her cunt pulses around him. She must say something when air rushes back into her lungs, but all she feels is Lorcan’s lips on her shoulder. He’s waiting to catch her after the fall. “Yeah, that’s it,” he slurs, “got you, ’lide.”

Elide cries out at the overstimulating sensation as he chases his own finish. He cums after a burst of short, hard thrusts, sweaty brow pushed into her neck. His deep groan vibrates out of his chest and against hers.

When it subsides, his arms almost give out. Lorcan braces his weight off of her, cock still throbbing inside her. 

They don’t kiss anymore, not even when they eventually part. Some of his spend drips out of her before he fixes her panties. He staggers back from her prone form and the island, his movements sluggish. 

“You good?”

She licks her lips. “Yeah. You?”

“Mm-hmm.”

No time is wasted after that. Elide stands herself up. She straightens out her shirt and skirt while he fills two glasses with water.

For being a person whose cum is still cooling inside her, it’s remarkable how distant she feels from him. She supposes it’s not the same emotion as before, but a hook-up has never felt so clinical to her, so efficient.

“It’s late,” she says, breaking the silence. She puts her empty cup on the counter.

“I’ll walk you out.”

There’s no closeness as he escorts her back the way she came. Elide puts her hand against the wall for support to slip her heels back on. If she were a bit more tired, she probably wouldn’t care about the short walk to her car.

She grimaces a bit as she stands up in her heels.

He notices it. “You good?”

“Heels.”

“Oh. Right.”

Elide flashes him a close-lipped smile. She reaches for the door, and just as it’s open, he stops her. “Elide. Thank you.”

She looks back at him. There’s only one thing he’s talking about. “You’re welcome, Lorcan.”

✵✵✵✵✵

an: so this is tentatively part i of a series i'll be calling "pushed you head over my heels" (title from solange's "lovers in the parking lot" and part i title from solange's "some things never seem to fucking work" - both songs from her 2011 album "true"). also i did lie in my last author's note saying that that fic would be my last modern au for a while....OOPS. anyway i have lots of ideas for this series and a solid plot too! theres drama, theres love, theres wounding denial + maybe some heartbreak. but when does it ever not work out?

tag list: @sassyhobbits @empress-ofbloodshed @celestialend @the-regal-warrior @shyvioletcat @icecream52 @elentiyawhitethorn @goddess-aelin @julemmaes @sunshinebingo (lmk if u want to be added/removed!)

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

dreaming in reality, m | myg, jjk

pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: The wrong guy shows up in your car – Jeon Jungkook. Again. He’s less drunk this time, but no less weird. Then the right guy shows up. Min Yoongi. You know, the guy you fucked in Jungkook’s bed that one time. Guess he can convince you to do anything. Like, say, take Jungkook’s virginity. Don’t worry, he’ll help.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, tiny bit of crack; alcohol consumption; violence? someone gets slapped lol; technically Jungkook’s first time; smut (fem reader, threesome, slightly degrading dirty talk, nipple play, fingering, f-receiving oral, penetrative sex, partial handjob); non-idol!AU - friends with benefits / lovers? with Yoongi; Yoongi is a very bad boy and he knows it; JK is blond and wearing his ‘ON’ and ‘Dynamite’ GDA 2021 outfits (except w/o the white blazer)

a–dick–ted au yes that’s what I’ve decided to call this this was supposed to be just more Yoongi smut but then Jungkook decided he’d like this to be about him, what can you do?

--

"Can you pick me up tonight?"

"Mhm. What are you wearing?"

A deep chuckle. "Eager to undress me?"

"I'm doing you a favor. There's no guarantee you'll get more than that."

"Hmmm." That low raspy voice did not believe you. "White dress shirt, black jeans. Can't miss me."

He hung up. 

White shirt, black jeans. You remembered to lock your car doors this time, so you turned around to press the button so he could get in. The door opened and the young man slid inside, reeking of alcohol. Wait. Some kind of belt harness around a thin waist. Ashy blond hair. Hand tattoos. Thick thighs. Chiseled jaw.

Fuck!

Again?

"I need to talk to you, noona."

"Get out."

Jeon Jungkook was not as drunk as before. He was definitely drunk, but not piss drunk like last time. His eyes were unfocused and he was nervously biting his pink lower lip. The mole underneath bounced up and down as he chewed it mercilessly. He swallowed and undid the first few buttons of his shirt, revealing his tan, muscular pecs. Oh, thank the Lord, Jungkook remembered to wear a shirt underneath, although it was a very low-cut white t-shirt. He kept running his hand through his currently blond hair tensely, revealing the shadow root. Well, it was well done at least. He had a good hairstylist. You hadn't realized Jungkook changed it, so he must have done it recently.

Probably to get attention and remind every human being that he was hot.

Blergh.

You still weren't convinced he wasn't a dirty little fuckboy.

"Why are you sitting in my car showing off your nervous ticks?" you said irritably.

"I gotta ask you something."

His black boots were a little dirty from the party. Outside, the drunks were as loud as ever, with the same seven girls on the porch craning their heads to gawk at Jungkook in your car. Different house, same scene, and drunk Jeon Jungkook sitting in your passenger's seat, once again being the wrong guy sauntering into your car. 

Where the fuck was the correct guy?

"Look, psycho, fucking spit it out or yeet. I'm not repeating what happened last time."

Jungkook's dark brown eyes flickered to you, turning his body to face yours. Running his tattooed right hand through his bleached hair over and over, spreading the golden strands, the ashy tone catching the low light of the lampposts. Jaw flexed, tiny pink tongue darting out and licking his lips. He was a little sweaty, cheeks hollowed in a little with how hard he was breathing. 

You raised an eyebrow. 

"You have ten seconds before I kick you out and believe me when I say I have leg strength."

"Are you and Yoongi-hyung dating?" Jungkook asked suddenly. 

What?

"What?"

You made a face at him.

He sucked in a breath, brows furrowing at your response. “Because I could have sworn…”

Your mind flickered back to that faithful night. Shit. You shouldn’t have let Min Yoongi convince you to sleep right there in Jungkook’s apartment. You remembered his wicked smirk, his deep, raspy voice in your ear, Jungkook’s not going to know and don’t you want to do bad things with me? Don’t you want to be bad with me? He could make you do anything at this point. You two fell asleep on Jungkook’s bed. Next to hungover Jungkook.

Naked.

You mentally slapped yourself.

“What made you come to that conclusion?” you snapped, narrowing your eyes.

Jungkook tilted his head, sucking in his cheek. It made a sharp sound and his tongue flashed against his white teeth for a split second. You almost flinched. He pursed his lips and kept his gaze on you. You were wearing a tight white high-necked crop top, oversized black hoodie, and high-waisted black shorts. Dark pink and violent violet chunky sneakers. Almost no makeup. Hair tied back into low pigtails with one pink and one purple scrunchie to match your sneakers.

Oh shit. The hoodie wasn’t yours.

Hopefully Jungkook wasn’t perceptive enough to figure that out.

“Noona.”

He said it strangely, breathlessly. Almost sexually. You recoiled a little. Jungkook was leaning forward, giving you a clear view down his shirt, blond hair falling into his face, covering one eye. His alcoholic breath floating towards you, far too close for your liking.

“I…” Jungkook swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I want… to…”

The door to your passenger’s seat was roughly yanked open.

Jungkook jumped, throwing his back into the seat, brown eyes wide and staring at the newcomer. White dress shirt, two sizes too big, with ties at the wrists to cinch in the bishop-style sleeves. Black jeans, distressed with several mismatched patches. Silver chains on his black leather belt and around his pale neck. Black hair, pointed dark eyes like a cat.

A single, cocked eyebrow.

“Let me guess,” drawled Min Yoongi, the correct guy you were supposed to be picking up, looking from you to Jeon Jungkook, who was impossibly flat against the car seat. Yoongi sounded amused. “He just waltzed in.”

You narrowed your eyes. “No, I locked my doors this time.”

Yoongi’s gaze flickered to Jungkook, who still seemed mildly terrified, and then back to you. The glint in his dark brown eyes was far from innocent. His fair cheeks were a little pink.

“Ah, so you wanted Jungkook in your car?” There was an edge to his voice, almost dangerous, but to you it was Yoongi’s usual teasing. Jungkook looked like he was preparing for his own death. Both of you ignored him for the moment.

“You said white dress shirt and black jeans,” you scowled. You gestured Jungkook up and down. “Hello?”

Jungkook’s thighs tensed and bulged against his tight jeans. Eyes still as wide as saucers. He hadn’t blinked in a good thirty seconds.

“We have the same excellent taste and style. How fortunate for you,” Yoongi purred. Then he finally patted Jungkook’s thigh, making him start and let out a panicked squeak. “You want noona to drop you off, Jungkookie? She’d be happy to.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” you gritted out.

“Yes, she would,” Yoongi said cheerfully. He slammed the front car door and opened the backseat. You rolled your eyes and stared straight ahead. Even from here you could smell the whiskey. Yoongi hummed and you snuck a glance at him through the rearview mirror.

He looked positively beside himself with glee.

Hmph. Fine.

His loss.

“You bleached your hair, Jungkook?” Yoongi said absentmindedly as you started up the car.

Jungkook ran a hand through it once again. “Uh, yeah. What do you think, hyung?”

“Hm, looks good. Too much upkeep for me, personally. Seatbelt.”

Jungkook hastily went to grab his seatbelt and put it on. Too bad. You were ready to brake hard and send him flying out the windshield. Just kidding. Maybe. Well, you would have to be going real fucking fast for that to happen. Maybe over ninety or some shit. You pulled out of the neighborhood of houses, already knowing what direction to go in to the correct apartment complex. Yoongi and Jungkook lived in the same building.

So convenient.

You thinned your lips into a line, ignoring their conversation, until Yoongi snapped his fingers and called your name to get your attention. You glared at him through the rearview mirror. Yoongi’s legs were wide open, flopped in your backseat. He grinned at you and placed his hands on the inside of his jean-covered thighs.

Fucking tease.

“What?”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to dye your hair at some point?”

You shrugged. “Yeah.”

Jungkook sat up, looking at you. You didn’t look at him. “Oh? You’re going blond too?”

You snorted. “I said I wanted to dye my hair, which means a color.”

“What color?” Yoongi asked lazily.

Your eyes flickered to him in the rearview mirror again. He flexed his long fingers and pressed them against his jeans. You tucked your tongue in your cheek. Yoongi was aware Jungkook couldn’t see him and he was also aware you were watching him. Your eyes went back to the road.

Yoongi was also aware that because of Jungkook’s presence, neither of you were getting any tonight, so he resorted to teasing you like the bad boy he was.

“I dunno. Pick one for me,” you said impassively.

Yoongi chuckled, a deep, husky sound, revealing his pink gums and straight white teeth.

“Red.”

-

“N-noona?”

You curled your lip, looking around you. Ugh. You hated parties like this. So loud, so annoying, so many idiots. You didn’t understand why Yoongi came to these things. It was probably because of his lively friends. Being social like this was probably a great thing, but this was not your scene.

“No time to chat, Jungkook. Have you seen Yoongi?”

Jungkook was flapping his gums at you. He was still blond. He must be keeping up with his hair care because it still looked soft and ashy. It was swept to one side this night. Powder blue dress shirt, tight against his muscular pecs and white slacks that seemed to be choking his thighs. Brave man, wearing white around this much alcohol and lunacy.

You had to admit, Jeon Jungkook had guts looking like a prince to a peasant’s party.

“Where is he?” you muttered. “Kim Seokjin called and told me to get him because he was asleep.”

“U-uh…” Jungkook looked around as you stepped into the party house, your heavy black boots thudding against the hardwood floor. Short black skirt with silver chains and a black hoodie that said ‘WHATCHU MEAN?’ in neon lime green across your chest. Phone and keys in your hoodie pocket. Other than that, you weren’t wearing anything as of note. Oh.

Except.

Your usual ‘fuck off’ mentality.

“I haven’t s-seen him in the past hour,” Jungkook stammered.

“Fat lot of help you are.” You clicked your tongue and moved past him.

“You dyed your hair,” Jungkook blurted suddenly.

You turned your head and looked back at him. “Yeah, so?”

Your hair was now a gradient from a long black shadow root, to dark purple berry, to bright neon red. It was half-tied up with a black scrunchie, a few strands hanging around your face. Jungkook kept staring at it. You raised an eyebrow and turned away from him. Eh, you had no time for this. You needed to grab Yoongi and get the fuck out of here.

“I-I’ll look you help.”

You raised your eyebrows as Jungkook squeezed past you, his hard back pressing against your arm.

“You can’t even speak, you drunkard,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“I mean, I’ll help y-you look, noona,” Jungkook corrected himself, licking his lips nervously, running his right hand through his hair.

He’s hopeless.

Well, better than going alone.

Wordlessly, you followed him throughout the party, opening doors and craning your head over the bodies. So many topless people. Ugh, it was pretty late. By the time you two reached the back of the house, you never wanted to see another nipple ever again. You saw Kim Seokjin at the karaoke machine, blasting eardrums with what you assumed were supposed to be high notes, but, in reality, was simply screaming.

You didn’t even want to walk up to him to ask.

“He might be upstairs,” Jungkook said, swallowing hard.

“Lead the way,” you sighed, annoyed this was taking longer than it needed to.

You made your way up the stairs, pressing yourself against the railing to avoid touching people. Kept your hands in your kangaroo pocket and a scowl on your face. Jungkook suddenly stopped and you collided into him. Fuck. Why did he feel like he was made out of rocks? Stupid muscles.

“Hold on.”

Some guy was sprawled all over the middle of the hallway, unconscious.

“I’ll just step over him.”

Jungkook growled. “No. What if he wakes up and looks up your skirt?” He bent over and picked him up, propping him against the wall. You raised an eyebrow. Like anyone cared what was up your skirt besides Min Yoongi. Whatever. If he wanted to play the part of noble prince, you weren’t going stop him. You waited as Jungkook pushed the guy’s chin down to his chest and motioned you to the hall, towards the many doors. Probably mostly bedrooms. You winced. Probably going to see more nipples. And dicks. And pussy.

Sigh.

And, yep, you were right.

Jungkook tried to shield your eyes, but to be honest, he looked way more scarred than you. You merely shook your head and moved on, door to door. Opened one and saw a girl in a tight black dress crawling on a bed, over a guy in a black biker jacket and acid wash jeans. The hole in the knee was so big you could see half of his pale leg. Hmph. Why bother even wearing pants?

You were about to close the door when you paused. Wait. You’ve seen that black mop of hair before. The girl was kissing down his neck, yanking down the white t-shirt and ripping it. You recognized the grunt of sleepy annoyance.

“Get off him.”

The girl shot up; red lipstick smeared from making out with his neck. You stepped inside and jerked your head towards the door. Voice cold and unrelenting.

“Out.”

She furrowed her brows at you. “Who the fuck are you?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Doesn’t matter. Dude’s asleep. You shouldn’t take advantage of someone who’s asleep.”

“He’s my boyfriend,” she shot back defiantly.

You snorted inelegantly. “No, he’s not. Don’t be stupid.”

The girl shoved herself off the bed, advancing on you, nasty snarl on her lips. “How would you know? Who do you think you are?”

“Not an idiot,” you barked sharply, completely forgetting Jungkook was behind you, gawking at this entire exchange. You looked her up and down and took a step towards her, the aggravation of the past hour reaching breaking point. All that time spent getting here, not being able to find Yoongi, and then discovering some bitch crawling all over him was pissing you off. Like everyone else, alcohol clung to her like the plague. She was furious, ready to catfight you, although you were pretty sure you were going to win this one because you were sober and your boots were a lot more stable than her tall heels.

“Look here, bitch, leave me and my boyfriend alo–”

You slapped her.

Hard.

Not holding back, not making a sound, just straight up slapped her across the face. The sound was so loud it could be heard over the bass of the music. She nearly crumpled at the force, gasping and choking at air as she stumbled, eyes wide in disbelief, slim hand cradling her face.

“He’s not your boyfriend,” you growled. Your voice was absolute zero with how cold it was. “He will never be your boyfriend. Now get the fuck out of my face before I rearrange yours into the next century.”

She squeaked at you.

Your eyes narrowed and you raised your hand again. She bolted, stumbling on her heels, seeing Jungkook staring, opening her mouth to say something, but you made an inhuman, grating noise deep in your throat. Her shaking eyes connected with yours and you cocked your head in the direction of the door, popping your neck loudly.

She scrambled out of there like her life depended on it.

It did, because you had enough at this point.

“Dumb bitch,” you spat, before releasing the tension from your shoulders. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jungkook’s mouth wide open, deer-in-headlights look on his face. “What?”

“W… Why do you look so hot when you’re angry?”

You scoffed. “What are you talking about?”

“Fuck, you are damn hot when you’re angry.”

Deep, raspy voice that made your spine tingle. You turned your head to see Min Yoongi on his elbows, licking his pink lips. He was definitely drunker this time, cheeks flushed. His fair skin on his neck and cheeks were covered in red lipstick marks. You clicked your tongue at him.

“When did you wake up?”

Yoongi smirked.

You frowned.

“Maybe when you slapped her.” His dark eyes glittered in the low light of the bedroom, lips curving higher and revealing his teeth. “Maybe when you got her attention.” Full-on, open-mouthed smirk now, devilish and wicked. “Maybe when you opened the door.”

A muscle in your forehead twitched. You strode over, looking down. Yoongi slowly lifted his head, pink tongue sliding out and tracing his teeth, cocking an eyebrow. You clenched your jaw.

“I like your hair,” Yoongi purred softly. “You took my advice.”

“I didn’t care what color it was,” you responded evenly. “I left the hairstylist do what she wanted.”

Yoongi arched an eyebrow. “She made your hair match your body. Hot and sexy.”

You matched his raised brow. “You saying my hair wasn’t attractive before?”

Crafty dark brown eyes on yours, intoxicating you like whiskey.

“It always needed me to mess it up before it was truly as sexy as you.”

“Are you guys sure you’re not dating?”

Oh right.

Jungkook was still here.

You turned your head to face him. You hadn’t even noticed that he had walked all the way up to the bed, standing next to you. The door was closed. Who closed it? It was also locked. Your brows furrowed and your eyes flickered back to Jungkook. He was watching you, blond hair covering one chocolate orb, pink lips wet and slightly parted. Tan skin radiant in the low light.

“What are you still doing here?”

His visible eye shifted down your body, pausing at your legs and then shifting to Yoongi. Yoongi gave him a neutral expression. The eyes shifted back to you.

“I was going to help you carry him if hyung was still asleep.” His voice had dropped several octaves.

“Well, he’s obviously awake,” you said dismissively.

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed, more blond hair sliding down, shadowing his face.

“You want me to leave so you can fuck him? Or so he can fuck you?” Jungkook accused.

You raised your eyebrows.

“I told you he liked you.”

You exhaled, shifting your gaze to Yoongi. He was wiping the lipstick off his neck with the collar of his ruined shirt. He looked displeased, nose scrunching as he did so.

“Wanting me to desire him is not the same as liking someone.” You swung your head back to Jungkook, ticking your chin at him. “Isn’t that so, Jungkook?”

There was a moment of silence.

If silence could be bass-boosted music, screaming downstairs, and a bottle smashing somewhere nearby. But in this random bedroom, it was as if time stopped, you staring at Jungkook, Yoongi looking up to witness what was about to unfold, and your slow realization that Jungkook was not answering fast enough.

The younger man shook his blond bushel of hair very, very slowly.

“No, noona.”

His other eye was revealed, both of them trained on you.

“I want you to take my virginity.”

Silence.

He must be joking.

“And there it is, out in the open,” Yoongi mused.

Jungkook continued, hands in his pockets, chest sticking out from under the tight blue dress shirt.

“Hyung knows this. I told him.”

You let out a soft breath. “You know, Jungkook, you could get any bitch in this house.”

“Don’t want a bitch,” Jungkook retorted, dangerous edge to his voice, slipping into his Busan satoori. “Want you, noona.”

He was way too serious to not mean it. You tucked your hands into your hoodie pocket and flicked your head to remove red strands from your face. 

"Kinda out of left field, kid," you muttered.

You heard Yoongi sit up on the bed and looked at him out of the corner of your eye. He shook his shoulders out and hooked his legs over the edge of the bed, sandwiching one of your thighs between his own. His shirt hung down, ruined and covered with red lipstick from where he tried to wipe it off his neck and cheeks. His neck was pink with irritation.

"Not really," Yoongi chuckled. "He's been eyeing you for a while now. You never noticed because you're too busy being crabby."

He wasn't touching you with his hands and insulting your character instead.

"Speak for yourself, grump."

Yoongi squeezed your thigh with his and you involuntarily shuddered at the slight skin on skin contact due to the giant hole in his pants. Shit. Yoongi snickered. 

"Are you guys dating?" Jungkook snapped irritably.

"No."

Both Yoongi and you said it at the same time, glaring at each other. Jungkook might as well have been a lamp. You stared deep into those mischievous brown orbs, black hair messy and covering his brows, teasing smile on his lips. Dating wasn’t the word for it. You weren’t sure there was a word for what Yoongi and you were doing. You could tell he didn’t know either.

It wasn’t dating, that’s for sure.

"Did you guys fuck on my bed or not?"

Before you could respond, Yoongi broke your gaze and looked straight at Jungkook. Jungkook's jaw was clenched tight, dark eyes flashing. Yoongi's voice was slipping into his Daegu satoori as well, deepening and slightly slurred from whiskey. 

"We did."

You clicked your tongue.

Great. Just great. 

"Ate her out and fucked her hard, all over your sheets. Right next to you. She even touched you."

"An accident," you hissed. 

Yoongi ignored you. "Her hand slid up your abs and chest." He chuckled. "It was sexy. You have a nice body, Jungkookie."

"Stop telling him this shit." You raised your hand to smack Yoongi in the arm but he whipped his head back to you, grabbing your wrist out of the air. You stiffened at the touch. He turned your palm to face Jungkook and directed his attention back to him. 

"This hand, in fact."

Were you surprised? No. That was the game. Push the limits, up the ante. You just didn’t think Yoongi would tell Jungkook something like that. Maybe he wouldn’t if he was fully sober. But Yoongi wouldn’t regret it either. He would roll with the wave, as usual.

You were a little irked that you weren’t the one who took the plunge first.

You finally snuck a glance at Jungkook. His jaw was no longer tense and his cheeks were flushed pink. He raised his head to look at you, blond locks swinging, and you looked away. Fucking Yoongi. Always trying to cause trouble. But that's why you kept fucking him. Because he was always finding ways to make your life interesting. 

Maybe you were addicted to the adrenaline he gave you.

Maybe you were just addicted to Yoongi. 

You sensed movement. You tried to pull your wrist out of Yoongi's grasp but he held it tightly. You finally looked back to glare at him, only to be greeted by the sight of Jungkook's blue shirt mostly unbuttoned, his sculpted abs and chest fully on display. Your eyes widened, taking a step back, realizing how close he was. Yoongi yanked you back, grin on his lips. 

A beat passed. 

Your gaze locked with his. 

Don't you dare, Min Yoongi. 

He planted your hand on Jungkook's torso. 

You tried to twist away, but Yoongi held you there, pressing your palm into Jungkook's hard muscles. The younger man sucked in a breath, surveying you through his lashes. A strange shiver traveled from your hand to your spine, pooling down to your core, setting it aflame. Yoongi slid your hand up to Jungkook's pecs. You could feel how hot and heavy Jungkook's breathing was on the back of your hand. His heartbeat raced under your fingers. 

You gulped. 

"Yoongi." Your eyes were on Jungkook and his blown-out pupils, blond bangs all over his forehead. Your pulse roared in your ears. "You said he was sappy. That it had to be the love of his life."

Yoongi chuckled. 

"Noona," Jungkook replied for him in his husky voice. "I’ve been planning for it to be you."

Your eyes flickered back to Yoongi. His other arm slid around your legs, pulling you to him. He made you breathless, looking down into those devilish eyes, pink lips parting a little. You could feel his hand on your thigh, stroking your skin, making you tremble with his touch.

"He asked you to take it," Yoongi purred softly. 

You inhaled deeply. Whiskey. Leather. Yoongi. Your hand was still on Jungkook's chest. You dug your nails into his skin a little. Jungkook moaned, breathy and deep. 

"I'm not taking anything," you whispered. 

Yoongi's hand released your wrist and slid up the back of your hand, each of his long fingers sliding between yours, pressing your joined touch into Jungkook’s chest. Fingers spread over his skin, his breathing vibrating though your palm. All Jungkook had to do was take a step back. 

Why wasn't he taking a step back?

Yoongi squeezed your fingers with his. You could feel the heat building inside you. Desire. His voice became smokey. Lustful. Purring your name softly. 

He could make you do anything when his voice became like that. 

"I'm telling you to take it."

Your mouth went dry.

"Why?"

Yoongi leaned forward, resting his chin right between your covered breasts. So close. Your heartbeat fluttered. Fuck, you wanted to kiss him so very much. You wanted to kiss that naughty mouth, the mouth suggesting sinful and treacherous ideas. Whenever you were with Yoongi, danger always seemed like a good thing.

"Because you feel good when you do bad things."

God, Min Yoongi was a bad boy. 

"And I love watching you do bad things."

Dark orbs glittering with trouble. 

"I’m here with you."

I’m here with you.

His arm around your legs tightened. Your panties were absolutely soaked. Yoongi had you right where he wanted you. He knew it too, even as you pursed your lips. Yoongi finally looked away from you.

"You don't mind that, right, Jungkookie?"

Jungkook shook his head quickly. "No, hyung. Whatever..." He paused, knowing what he was about to say was wrong. His eyes flickered to you. You didn’t look at him. You just stared at the black pile of hair that was Min Yoongi.

Wondering what was going on in that head of his.

"Whatever it takes."

Yoongi removed his hand from Jungkook’s chest. You pulled yours back quickly, still not looking at Jungkook. Yoongi placed his large hands on your hips. Raised his head. Fuck. Trapping you in his devious eyes. He mouthed words at you. So sexy. So fuckable. You mouthed words back. You’re bad. Yoongi grinned, licking his teeth.

“Stand in front of us, Jungkook.”

And Yoongi spun you around to face him, pushing you into his arms. Jungkook’s hands gripped your upper arms, holding you in place. And, for once, Jungkook wasn’t drunk. He wasn’t stumbling into your car by mistake, he wasn’t reeking of alcohol and nervous ticks. If anything.

Jungkook smelled good.

You were staring into his tan chest. Slowly, you looked up. Up his pecs, up his prominent collarbones, up his shapely neck. You could smell the cologne, fresh like clean laundry mixed with the sharpness of the sea. Your eyes continued up, up his sharp jaw, up to the tiny mole under his lower lip, up to his high cheekbones, up into those chocolate orbs. His blond hair hovered over his eyes, shrouding them with gold. Jungkook sucked in a breath as you made eye contact. You cocked an eyebrow.

“I still don’t see why it has to be me.”

Jungkook licked his lips, leaning in.

“Has to be you, noona,” he whispered, breath hot against your lips.

For some reason your heart was beating fast now. Was it Yoongi’s hands sliding down to your thighs, squeezing them? Or was it Jeon Jungkook, pupils dilated and grip tight on your arms, nearly shirtless in front of you?

“I dream about you,” Jungkook breathed. “All the time. The only woman I’ve ever dreamed about touching me, teasing me, feeling all of me.” He frowned a little, tilting his head. “I had sex dreams before, but none of them felt real. None of them were like the ones I had with you. The ones with you were always extremely detailed. It was like all the things you did were really happening. I could finish with them.”

You didn’t have to guess what that meant.

“I could feel everything.”

Jungkook pressed his forehead against yours, ash blond strands mixing with dark red.

“Your nails digging into my skin, you moaning above me.”

His eyes burned with determination. Yoongi’s hands slid up your legs, fingertips sliding under your soaking panties. You were so distracted by Jungkook’s words that you barely felt it. But your body remembered. Your body remembered that orgasm right above Jungkook, Yoongi’s tongue inside you, your hand on his abs, nails curling into them as you came. Jungkook’s voice was so low that it felt as if your heartbeat was resonating with it.

“Make my dreams real.”

Yoongi circled your clit with his index finger, not touching it, making you gasp.

“Taint me, noona,” Jungkook murmured.

You pressed your lips against his and Yoongi pressed his finger against your clit. You whimpered into Jungkook’s mouth, hand slipping inside his shirt to hold his waist, kissing him deeper. Jungkook’s hand came up to cup your face, holding you close as you moaned, feeling Yoongi stroke your sensitive bundle of nerves slowly, working you up. His other hand was holding your ass, squeezing it hard. In comparison, Jungkook’s lips were soft, tongue hesitantly sliding into your lips. You latched around it, sucking on it roughly. Jungkook squeaked, trying to pull away, but you held on, tugging as you bobbed your head back and forth, eyes cracking open as you moaned deep in your throat.

Jungkook was staring at you, fascinated.

You released his tongue and snaked yours into his mouth. Pushing it in, sliding it back out, steadily and deliberately. Jungkook’s eyelashes fluttered, pressing his body into yours, needy cries in his chest, trying to get more. Pleasure spread throughout your hips, spurred upward by Yoongi’s touch. You felt heady and tense, increasing the force you were using to fuck Jungkook’s mouth, breathing in shallow gasps, closing your eyes again, so close, so close. So wrong, making out with Jungkook as Yoongi stimulated your clit to orgasm.

So wrong, but so, so fucking good.

You sucked your tongue back and moaned directly into Jungkook’s mouth as you came, legs shaking, clit throbbing against Yoongi’s fingers as your panties soaked even more, the scent of sex suddenly prominent in this random bedroom. Jungkook gasped, body shuddering and shaking at your exhale, roughly shoving you into his hard chest. Your crotch hit his and you could feel his erection through his tight pants.

The party kept thriving, bass booming the walls, blind to the events about to unfold.

Jungkook drew back, panting. You felt Yoongi withdraw his hand, heard him lick it off. But you were staring at Jungkook, at his swollen lips, at his blue shirt half-pulled off from your touch, revealing his right shoulder covered in black tattoos, blond hair covering half his face.

Beautiful and dangerous, like an angelic incubus.

You felt Yoongi’s hands on your hips again, unzipping your skirt. Slipping it down. Your body reacted, kicking it away. Jungkook’s eyes were fixated on your black panties, pushed to one side from Yoongi’s touch, soaked with your juices.

“Take off your shirt, Jungkook,” Yoongi said as he reached down to unzip your boots.  

Jungkook yanked his shirt out of his pants and tossed it aside, watching Yoongi slowly strip you. Taking your boots and setting them next to the bed, gripping your hoodie and yanking it over your head. You made a disgruntled noise, but he dumped it next to him, showing you the phone and keys were still in the center pocket. You frowned at him, but Yoongi shrugged, unhooking your black bra. You held onto it, covering yourself. Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

“Let him see the tits.”

You clicked your tongue. Then you turned back to face Jungkook, challenging him.

“Jungkook can come and see for himself.”

Jungkook swallowed, taking a step towards you. Chewing on his lip, eyes fixated on your hands holding up your bra. You felt Yoongi’s fingers hook around the sides of your panties. Jungkook stopped right in front of you. Reached forward and gripped one of the bra cups. You held tight, not letting go. Jungkook’s jaw tensed and he yanked at it, pulling it out of your grasp.

You lowered your hands.

“Fuck…” Jungkook breathed. “They’re prettier than I thought.” His hand raised, but then he stopped, looking at you hesitantly. “Can I… touch them?”

You arched a brow. “Never touched tits before?”

“I want to ask you,” Jungkook replied softly. “I want to know you want it too.”

Chocolate eyes framed in gold, enchanting you.

You reached up and took his wrist, guiding his hand to your chest. You were breathing hard, making them bounce a little. Pressed his palm into your hard nipple, shivering at the different hand, the different feeling. You felt Yoongi slide your panties down, down. You slid Jungkook’s hand down, wrapping his fingers around your nipple. He gasped, rolling the nub between his fingers, watching your face as you moaned, Yoongi’s fingers crawling between your legs once again.

You pointed to your other nipple.

“Mouth, here.” Stared into Jungkook’s ravenous eyes. “Please.”

Jungkook bent down and licked your nipple, coating it with saliva. Your hand slid up the back of his head, tangling in the soft blond locks, pulling him closer.

“More, Jungkook…”

He whimpered your name, pinching your nipple as you said his. You gasped softly as his lips closed around your nipple, sucking lightly, tongue pressed against the tip and moving it around, rubbing the other at the same time. You sank your teeth into your lower lip as you felt Yoongi slide two fingers into you, so easy because he had made you cum beforehand, fucking you as Jungkook made out with your tits. You stared down Jungkook’s muscular back, admiring the way his muscles rippled as he moved. Your hips bucked in Yoongi’s hand, leaning forward so he could finger you deeper, shoving your nipple into Jungkook’s mouth. He sucked hard, nipping lightly, and you threw your head back, pleasure flowing all over. Jungkook switched sides and hands, rubbing your wet nipple with his thumb as he teased the other, flicking the hardened nub with his tongue. Rougher, matching Yoongi’s pace in your pussy, shoving his fingers so far into your pussy that you felt his knuckles.

Yoongi against your back, purring your name.

“Cum for me,” he murmured, low and raspy. “Cum all over my hand as Jungkook abuses your nipples.”

Fuck, his satoori, his words.

Yoongi had you wrapped around his fingers in all senses.

“Mm, fuck, fuck…”

You moaned loudly as you came, legs shuddering, rutting your breasts into Jungkook’s face as your hand pressed him into your tits, grinding your hips into Yoongi’s hand as your pussy clenched around his fingers, drenching them with your orgasm once again. Jungkook moaned into your chest, burying his nose into your tits, tongue pressed against your skin.

“Ah, fuck, you taste so good, noona…”

Yoongi chuckled, slowly pulling his fingers out of you.

“You haven’t tasted anything, Jungkook.”

And then Yoongi fell back against the bed, taking you with him. You had to release Jungkook’s head, whining at the loss of his warmth. Yoongi dipped his knees down and shoved them between your thighs, spreading them wide. He slid you down his body, forcing you to expose your wet pussy to Jungkook’s wide, voracious eyes.

“Have a taste.”

Jungkook’s eyes flickered to you. At this point, it was doomed. You wanted Jungkook’s tongue and your needed it now. Your voice was grating, tainted with lust.

“Get on your knees and taste me, Jungkook,” you growled.

Jungkook obeyed immediately, kneeling before you and crawling up to your thighs, extending his pink tongue, nearly drooling. Chocolate eyes watching your face.

Yoongi shoved his wet fingers into your lips.

You grunted in protest, but then Jungkook’s tongue touched your wet slit, lapping greedily as he watched Yoongi’s fingers slide in and out of your mouth. You moaned around them, licking off your taste as Jungkook moaned into your pussy, coating his tongue with your sweet, thick juices.

“O-oh, fuck, hyung, noona…” he panted hotly into your core. “Tastes so fucking good.”

“Told you,” Yoongi chuckled triumphantly, slowly fucking your mouth.

“Wanna be in here so bad, hyung…”

You make a gargled noise around his fingers and he pulled them out, humming in his chest so your head vibrated with the sound.

“I’m not taking him raw,” you gasped out as Jungkook’s tongue swiped over your clit. Your breathing hitched as he lapped at it experimentally and he continued after witnessing your reaction. Your hand slid down and gripped Yoongi’s wrist, moan torn out of you as Jungkook’s licking intensified. Almost too much, forcing you to tighten your core, juices leaking out of your slit and onto his chin.

“Don’t worry. I came prepared.”

Your jaw tightened as you neared orgasm. Of course, Yoongi came prepared.

“You planned this.”

“Did I?”

Far too amused and teasing to be innocent. Your back arched as Jungkook increased the suction, your head tipped back against Yoongi’s chest, barely being able to see him upside down, mouth open as you panted. Yoongi smirked at you.

“Or did I simply assist little Jungkookie in convincing noona to take his virginity?”

His words and your orgasm hit you like a truck, hands flying up to grip Yoongi’s shoulders as you nearly screamed Jungkook’s name, thighs threatening to clamp his head if it wasn’t for Yoongi’s strong legs spreading them out. Your body fell limp onto Yoongi’s chest, flooding Jungkook’s mouth with your orgasm. Jungkook groaned, drinking it up, hands coming up to hold your hips down as he sucked it out of you.

“Not all of it, Jungkook,” Yoongi warned. “Keep her wet for you.”

Jungkook whined, drawing back, lips shiny and glossy with your cum. His pink tongue snaked out, swiped over his lips, scooping it all into his mouth, the action obscene and arousing all at once.

“Fuck, noona’s pussy tastes so good…”

Yoongi lifted your limp body and dragged you up the bed, placing his head on the pillows and positioning you on top of him. You scoffed, back and ass pressed against Yoongi’s still fully clothed body.

“You want him to fuck me on top of you?”

“Of course,” Yoongi answered smugly. “I can help him get into position and he can get back at me for fucking you on top of him.”

“You didn–”

Yoongi pinched your nipples, cutting you off as he flicked the sensitive nubs, turning you into a moaning mess in seconds. Your legs tried to close, but once again Yoongi hooked his around yours and spread them out for Jungkook, who was stripping off his pants. Your eyes widened seeing Jungkook’s cock straining against his boxer briefs. Yoongi had a great dick. The best dick. But Jungkook had never been in a woman before and he was impossibly hard because of it, gasping as he pushed his underwear down, leaking pre-cum everywhere. Either that or he really was very, very turned on by you.

For the first time throughout this entire night, it really hit you that Jungkook actually liked you. That he was not a fuckboy and he genuinely wanted you to take his virginity, so much so that, somehow, he convinced Yoongi, your partner-in-crime, your other half in this long-winded sexual escapade of pushing each other closer and closer to the edge, until one of you fell.

Yoongi clasped his hands around your upper arms, sucking in an excited breath.

Your breathing caught in your throat.

Or maybe.

Maybe both of you had already fallen.

And both of you were twisted enough to be ridiculously turned on by Jungkook crawling onto the bed, eyes glazed with desire, desperate to fuck you. Yoongi tapped your arm and pressed a condom into your palm.

“Put it on him.”

You motioned Jungkook forward and he scooted up, sucking in his lower lip. The tiny mole underneath quivered as you ripped open the condom, reaching awkwardly to roll it down his thick cock. You inhaled sharply, feeling his warmth against your fingers. Your eyes flickered up to him and he swallowed, chest rattling nervously.

“H… How do I…?”

“Hands on the bed,” Yoongi said behind you. Jungkook placed his hands on the bed, on either side of Yoongi’s arms, next to your head. He stared into your eyes. You placed your hands on his hips and scooted him down so he was positioned above you.

“Give me one of my legs, Yoongi,” you said softly, still keeping eye contact. Yoongi let go of your right leg and you raised it, Jungkook moving his hand so you could place your calf on his shoulder.

“Do I just…?”

“Down.”

He missed.

“Try again,” Yoongi whispered gently. “Hyung will help you.”

Jungkook chewed on his lip and lowered his hips again, gasping as Yoongi’s fingers wrapped around his cock and led him to your pussy. You lifted your hips so Yoongi could see better. The head pressed against your entrance.

“A-ah…” you breathed. “There.”

“Push,” Yoongi instructed.

Jungkook slowly slid in. He winced. “She’s too tight.”

“Relax,” Yoongi chided you. “He’s not me. He can’t handle all that yet.”

“I am,” you shot back. “He’s not pushing hard enough.”

Yoongi huffed. “Fine. Shove it all in there, Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “Won’t that hurt you?”

Instead of waiting for Yoongi to answer, your hands came up and grabbed Jungkook’s hips, forcing his cock deep into you. He yelped at the sudden rush of pleasure, eyes rolling back into his head. You held him down, not letting him move, trying very hard not to tighten around his dick because, holy fuck, Jeon Jungkook had a nice cock, filling you up and stretching you out with his hardness, unforgiving and wonderful, reminding you of Yoongi’s.

Except, well, Yoongi usually didn’t look like he was going to pass out.

You had to bite your tongue so you wouldn’t laugh. Yoongi pinched your arm, already knowing your reaction. You hissed, pulsing around Jungkook’s cock. The younger man moaned, lowering his head, blond hair falling like a curtain. His eyes found yours. Jungkook’s gaze so intense it made your shiver, nails digging into his hips.

Outside the locked bedroom door, someone was yelling at someone else about cheating or something frivolous like that.

“You can move whenever you’re ready, Jungkook,” Yoongi finally said.

“Excuse me, I’m right here,” you interjected.

“Shh, don’t complain.” Yoongi’s hand stroked your red hair, flaring it out on his chest. “Let Jungkookie use you.”

Your chest tightened.

You felt yourself get wetter around Jungkook’s cock.

“What did you say to me?” you breathed. One of your hands lowered from Jungkook’s hip and gripped Yoongi’s wrist tightly. The tone of your voice changed, not quite so harsh anymore, turning needy and thin, breathless. Jungkook was watching you curiously. You felt your ears heat.

Yoongi’s free hand slid around your waist. You couldn’t see his face, but you saw Jungkook’s eyes slide upwards, observing his hyung. A mischievous spark suddenly appeared in those dark brown eyes. Yoongi cupped your breast, stroking your nipple lightly. Shallow, tight breaths, waiting for Yoongi’s response.

“I said,” Yoongi drawled. “Let Jungkookie use you.”

Oh no.

Oh shit.

Why were you suddenly so horny? It suddenly got so hot, suddenly so aware you were sandwiched between Jeon Jungkook’s hard dick and Min Yoongi’s fully clothed body, and Jungkook was going to fuck you into this random bed and into Yoongi himself. So very wrong. So very bad.

And you wanted it.

Jungkook raised his hips and pushed back into you, clenching his jaw. You were so wet that it was easy, not enough for your sudden hunger.

“Not too far,” Yoongi instructed. “You’re going to fall out if you pull out too far.” Yoongi nudged your hip. “Up.” You raised your hips and pressed your thigh against your chest. “Jungkook, angle yourself higher.”

Jungkook shifted and got more on his knees. “Like this?”

“Mhm. Go harder.”

Jungkook slapped his hips into you and you gasped, pressing your head into Yoongi’s chest. He stopped, looking worried.

“She’s fine.”

“Are you su–?”

“Jungkook,” you snarled. “Listen to him and just fuck my damn hole so I can get off.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened at your dirty words. Yoongi chuckled.

“She’ll be fine, Jungkook. Focus on yourself for now. Don’t go faster or you’ll cum too fast,” Yoongi cautioned. “At least for the first time. Go harder so you can feel it all.”

Jungkook bit his lip and began to slowly, but roughly, fuck you. Smacking your hips together with force, gasping at every descent, your pussy squeezing the full length when it was inside you. His gasps turned into moans, your breathy name, eyes closing as he thrust into you.

“Oh, fuck,” Jungkook groaned. “Fuck, she’s so wet, so tight…”

“Like your dreams?” Yoongi teased.

Jungkook seemed not to notice. “Better. Fuck, so much better, hyung, oh my God…”

“Harder,” Yoongi commanded. “I know you can go harder, Jungkookie.”

You moaned deeply as Jungkook rammed his hips into you, the wet squelch loud and lewd, so obvious if someone was listening outside, even through the music. But none of you cared, none of you noticed the bed squeaking as Yoongi spurred Jungkook on gently, having him increase the pace, making your body shudder with pleasure, mouth opening and tongue hanging out as you gasped for breath.

“You wanna cum, Jungkook?” Yoongi asked breathlessly, becoming hard under you as you cried out in pleasure, the base of Jungkook’s cock splattered with your juices.

“Not yet,” Jungkook whined.

“Alright, stop for a second.”

Yoongi placed a hand on Jungkook’s waist and pushed him all the way into you. You whimpered, so close to orgasm but cut off by Jungkook stopping, clenching around his cock as the head hit you deep inside.

Yoongi dropped his voice, speaking to you.

“Give him a hug.”

You gripped Jungkook’s cock and pulsated around it. Jungkook groaned, throwing his head back as his cock throbbed against your walls, roughly massaged by your pussy.

“Oh, fuck me…”

Jungkook began to move again, harder and faster now, lost in his lust, chasing his pleasure.

“Doesn’t it feel nice?” Yoongi purred to you. Your heartbeat skipped as Jungkook pounded you into Yoongi, biting your lip hard and whimpering as he fucked you mercilessly, lack of practice making it an erratic rhythm, watching his thick cock pump in and out of you, so good, so rough, using you.

Your name drifted from Yoongi’s lips, smokey and devious, driving you insane. Your head tipped back, staring at the ceiling, gasping as Yoongi’s words worked into you.

“You love it, don’t you?” Yoongi drawled. “You love Jungkook using you, fucking you like his own personal gloryhole, hm?”

Oh, fuck.

You whined pathetically, liquid gushing down Jungkook’s cock as you came, core tightening, Jungkook fucking you harder, grunting as he clenched his jaw, feeling you massage his length harshly. Yoongi pinched your nipples, lengthening your orgasm, and you squeezed your eyes shut, pleasure overwhelming your senses, consuming you, feeling nothing but Jungkook’s cock, Yoongi’s hands, and Yoongi’s words corrupting you.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy letting Jungkook use you like this,” Yoongi growled. “So generous, letting Jungkook fuck your tight little hole with his big cock, hm?” He rolled your nipples in his fingers and rubbed them hard.

“A-ah, Yoongi!”

“No, no,” Yoongi scolded, pinching them firmly and making your squeal. “Tell Jungkook how good he’s doing. Tell him how good he feels inside you, naughty girl.”

You opened your eyes to see Jungkook’s sweaty face, brows furrowed, jaw tight as he smacked your hips together over and over, veins popping in his neck and forehead. His cock was jerking inside you, close. So close.

“F-fuck, Jungkook,” you gritted out, feeling Yoongi release your nipples and bounce your tits in time with Jungkook’s thrusts. “Fuck, you’ve doing so good, can’t believe this is your first time, you’re so fucking strong and so fucking big, fuck…”

Jungkook’s dark eyes fixated on you, your bouncing tits, your open mouth, your glazed eyes, hips fucking him back as he fucked you.

“It’s because you have the perfect pussy, noona,” he growled, leaning down, pressing you into Yoongi, getting a deeper angle, nearly hitting your cervix. His breath was hot and erotic against your face, eyes flickering up to Yoongi before boring into yours, capturing you, dragging into his pace and his cock slamming into your hips.

“The perfectly tight little gloryhole for me to use.”

You cried out, something inside you snapping, cumming again all over Jungkook’s cock, your juices sliding down your thighs and his thighs, smearing into Yoongi’s jeans, dripping everywhere, so much, oh, God, so fucking intense that your pussy clamped around Jungkook’s cock. He moaned your name right into your face, thrusting one last time, pumping the condom full, stretching it out against your walls, so much you could feel it and his cock throbbing against your walls, trying to get it all out.

Yoongi didn’t even bother to ask. He simply reached down and pushed Jungkook back a little, feeling for the bottom of the condom and pushing him out of you. Jungkook whined, but Yoongi pulled you away from him.

“It’s too much,” Yoongi mumbled. “How long have you been holding out? Fuck…”

He pulled the condom off him and it was still dribbling out. Yoongi grabbed your hand and wrapped it around Jungkook’s cock, holding you in place with his. You were too tired to focus, too exhausted to realize what was going on.

Yoongi began to pump Jungkook with your hand, slowly. He was still so hard, veins imprinting into your palm, cum dripping all over your and Yoongi’s fingers. Jungkook whined, wincing at the sensitivity, but Yoongi was careful, sliding your palm up to the head and squeezing it firmly but not too tightly. Slowly, slowly, bringing Jungkook back down.

“Party’s dying,” Yoongi breathed. “We gotta get out of here.”

You were naked. Jungkook was naked. Your lower back was killing you. Yoongi’s blood alcohol level was far too high to drive even if he sounded sober. You sucked in a breath and shoved your face into the unknown sheets, groaning.

“Give me a minute, fuck.”

Shit, you just wanted to sleep.

-

third act. was it a dream a–dick–ted au

--

masterpost

[wonderwomanfantasy]

Kinktober day 6

Threesome w/ Mirio and Tamaki 

masterlist

I am so glad that the fandom has gotten on board with the whole Mirio is a big flirt thing. Flirty Mirio is such good content.

warnings: oral, threesome, little bit of a Daddy Kink, tit job, ass play, cum play

word count: 1,000 (about)

Summary: You’ve always been close to Tamaki, after all he was your boyfriend’s best friend, but you had no clue the dirty little fantasies Tamaki had been dreaming up of you since the two of you had met.

When Mirio asked you if you would have a threesome with his best friend you didn’t really think it would happen. surely Tamaki was just too shy to do something like that. You weren’t even sure if the indigo haired boy had ever had sex, so even though you had agreed to a threesome, you weren’t going to hold your breath.

Yet here you were, leaning against Mirio’s muscular chest with Tamaki nestled between your legs. Mirio snaked his hand down and buried his hand in the other boy’s hair and pushed him closer to your sex.

“Does it feel good baby?” he asked calmly, almost in awe at the sight of your pussy being devoured by another.

“Y-yes,” you managed. Tamaki’s tongue was long and practiced. the dexterous muscle danced along your insides while he thumbed your clit.

“Tell Amajiki how good he’s doing,” Mirio purred

“y-you’re doing such a good job Tamaki,” you moaned. He nuzzled closer to your cunt and moaned in appreciation.  

“Amajiki has been wanting to eat this pussy for a long time, haven’t you?” Mirio teased. even though Tamaki was buried between your thighs you could see the blush that overtook his face. Mirio just laughed, no anger or jealousy in his voice.

Tamaki’s dark eyes flicked up to meet yours, If it had been up to him, Tamaki would have taken those dirty fantasies of his to the grave, but he was an honest drunk and it had all just sorta slipped out when he was drinking with Mirio.

He still couldn’t belive that he had admitted to thinking about how your pussy might taste, or feel wrapped around his cock. Or the fact that he would kill to see how Mirio fucked you and made you cream around his cock.

“It’s okay, I know my girl is the prettiest in the world,” Mirio purred kissing his way up your neck.

“I’m going to cum,” you warned both boys, a tight knot of pleasure building up in your stoumach.

“Go on sweetie make a mess on Tamaki’s face,” Mirio purred once again pushing his friend's head deeper into your folds. you couldn’t hold back and ended up bucking your hips against Tamaki’s mouth as you came. He didn’t stop sucking on your clit until Mirio pulled you off of your cunt. slick coated his face and mouth.  

“Now I can have a bit fun as well,” Mirio said flipping you on your front your face landing in the pillows.

“where do you want her?” Mirio asked spreading your folds. showing off your glistening pussy.  you looked over your shoulder and watched as Tamaki fidgeted uncomfortably.

“D-Do you think I could uh u-use your mouth (y/n)?” he asked.

“Seems fair,” you giggled pulling Tamaki to your front.

“guess that leaves me to tend with this pretty pussy,”  Mirio agreed happily. even as he talked about claiming your pussy his thick fingers were pressing against your puckered asshole, and you knew all three of your holes would be filled.

You focused on Tamaki’s cock, it was thin and long curved slightly upwards. Not as intimidating as Mirio’s cock, but pretty. You wrapped your hand around his length feeling the heat and weight of it before slowly bringing your mouth to the shaft. you started with small kisses and kitten licks up and down the side, paying close attention to the purple veins that went up the bottom. Tamaki shuddered under your touch his face bright red.

Mirio pushed into you slowly making you groan against Tamaki’s length. your walls throbbed around the blonde’s cock as he bottomed out inside of you.

“You’re always such a tease (y/n) just suck his cock like a good girl,” Mirio purred. even though his voice was as light and happy as always, you could feel the threat behind it. Be a good girl or Daddy would have to punish you.

You latched your lips around the pink head sucking lightly as Mirio began thrusting into you from behind. you started slowly bobbing your head up and down his length hallowing your cheeks out around Tamaki’s cock. He moaned and began moving his own hips pushing his cock deeper into your throat.

Suddenly Miro pushed his fingers inside of your ass making you gag around Tamaki's cock as you tried to gasp. Tamaki winced and quickly asked if he had hurt you.

“I-I’m fine you just supprised me Togata,” you assured both of them. Then you were back at it. all three of your holes stuffed full each thrusting at different speeds, the pleasure was dizzying and you couldn’t help but moan around Tamaki’s cock. it felt good having two sets of hands roaming your body and threading through your hair.

“Are you going to cum princess? I can feel you clamping down around me like that,” Miro grunted. His hips snapping against yours harder than before. You moaned in agreement. Tamaki was also starting to falter his thrusts becoming sloppy. you wondered who would cum first.

You would, it turned out. Mirio flipped you on your back and went back to fucking you his fingers twisting your clit in fast circles. Tamaki moved to straddle your chest rutting his cock between your tits, squishing your breasts around his length. you craned your neck to lick the head of his cock with each thrust.

“Such a good girl taking both of these cocks, Go on and cum for Daddy,” Mirio grunted his cock hitting that deep spot inside of you. You cried out as the tight knot inside of you snapping. Mirio praised you as you creamed around his cock.

Tamaki was next to go, his hot cum splattering across your chest and face. Finally, Mirio who spilled his seed over your stoumach and thighs, leaving you completely covered in cum. Both boys took a minute to admire you shaking and covered in their release.

“Wow,” Tamaki breathed unsure of what else to say.

“Wow is right, You did such a good job baby girl!” Mirio praised with a wide smile then asked:

“you think you can take another round princess?”

[sunjaesol]

and in the haze you see colours

juke | human soulmate au | title: 5 am // amber run

The first colour she ever saw was purple.

When someone was born, they got to see one colour. To each it was different and often a reflection of one's aura. Julie's aura was purple and, naturally, it was the colour she could see. Which was unfortunate, as there weren't many purple things in life - not naturally, at least.

And so, her entire bedroom was purple. Purple walls and purple sheets and purple stationary. The rest were varying shades of grey. Often times, she asked her parents why some were lighter than others, and they told her about green and blue and red. It sounded like a fairy tale. Red was warm, apparently, and blue was flexible and green was fresh. Despite their best attempts, she couldn't visualise it.

It didn't matter. Once she met her soulmate, she would see all the colours imaginable.

Befriending Flynn was easy. The girl had purple ribbons in her hair and that instantly attracted Julie. Vice versa, Julie's orange dress was a plus for Flynn. Through their deep bond, oranges slowly infused itself in her cornea. Orange, like a child's laughter.

With Carrie came pink. Pink, like the fiery moves of a dancer. It was close to purple, so it wasn't a huge shock to see a bouquet of roses suddenly come alive with colour.

In retrospect, gaining orange and pink wasn't that amazing. Not when she lost her mother while doing so. Placing pink dahlias on her grave was just another punch in the gut.

Years passed and people around her found their soulmates. In freshmen year, so many students gasped and fainted as they crossed eyes with their One. She went to parties and someone would start randomly kissing the other. She went to open mics and watched as her soprano voice accompanied two people finding love. It was as beautiful as it was tragic.

Julie was seventeen and she still hadn't found her soulmate. Statistically, most had by now. Had she not gone to The Orpheum that night, she might’ve waited even longer.

Flynn urged her to go to this new and upcoming band, Sunset Curve, as their sound was someone she’d vibe with. Julie wasn’t really feeling it, drowning in homework and song ideas, but her friend was persistent. They needed a breather from everything and a concert was the perfect remedy. After a quick Google search, she realised they were her age. Curiosity swelled in her chest, wondering how they moved up from open mics or school assemblies to the iconic stage of The Orpheum. The only thing she could note about the band was the drummer’s pink hoodie. That was it.

The venue was packed when they arrived. Boisterous chatter, antsy for the band to come on stage and fill the spaces between the instruments. Glasses chiming of sodas and beers being filled and passed around, the soft hum of pop music blaring from a speaker. Most of the crowd were kids from neighbouring schools and all dressed more alternatively. Though she didn’t see most colours, it was clear as day the band tees were vintage and the trousers were ripped or checkered or both.

She shot Flynn a look. “Are you sure this is our thing?”

“Yes!” Propelling them to the front of the stage and consequently shouldering kids in the ribs, she added: “Their biggest hit is, like, insane. And you’ve been in a funk all week, so you need some insanity. To like, counteract it. I don’t know.”

Julie withheld a pout. She’s been ‘in a funk’, because while she was at Eats & Beats grabbing a coffee, two strangers fawned at the sight of each other. RIght in front of her nose, another couple found. It normally didn’t affect her that much, but it did this time. The girl was sick of hearing about romantical love instead of experiencing it herself. Sure, she had Flynn and Carrie and her family, but…

But she wanted that. She wanted more. And with each ticking hour, it felt less and less viable. Where was the One for her?  

The lights dimmed and the pop music stopped, smoke drifting across the stage as the audience began hollering and whistling. Egging the band to get on and give a performance worth watching. The hyped-up teens pushed everyone to the front, now Julie and Flynn forced to crane their necks to watch.

The drummer came on first, all applauding for him as he took his seat and started a drum beat that quickly upped in tempo. It swept them up in an atmosphere, heads bobbing and feeling that rise in anticipation.

Then the bassist came. His dark jacket glittered in the overhead lights, the flannel peaking beneath almost hinting at orange but remaining grey. He added to the beat, bringing in a bassline that had feet bouncing and more people cheering. The mic at the front remained empty, teasing its explosion of lyrics and electricity.

Finally, at the crescendo of sound, the frontman stormed on. He was all charm and smirks and cut-offs and blazing purple shoes. That caught her off guard, eyes dropping to the ultraviolet sneakers. A shock of colour amidst the grey.

His raspy voice belted out lyrics, a grin pulling on Julie’s face at the musicality. Grabbing Flynn’s hand, they jumped around with the other people. Their music was insane. It was fast and clashing and aggressive and raw.

With her neck in its odd position, she observed the singer for a beat. He was… hot. That was all Julie could think. He was hot. His hair falling perfectly right, big eyes, the smile breaking all lines in his face like a beautiful mosaic. Humming like an undercurrent was a buzz right beneath her ribs. Snug and warm, which could’ve been the vibrations from the amps, but it felt different. A good different.

They were in their fourth song when it happened. The band was kicking and jumping around, singing about making it big and not looking down, skyrocketing to stardom, when it happened.

The lead singer dropped to his knees and let the guitar riff bleed to the front row. The audience hollered, Julie laughing in delight at the expert playing, when her and the guy’s gazes met.

He yelped, music stopping short as he careened over the edge and crashed to the floor. Simultaneously, Julie felt the air knocked out of her lungs, losing balance and falling into Flynn. Her eyes were shrivelling with heat, as if hit with the embers of a campfire. A hammer slammed down on the buzz in her chest, electrifying the feeling till it was nearly unbearable.

Her eyes shot open. And then there was colour.  

The crowd dispersed in fright. Gasps and gawks echoed to the back, curious murmurs carefully watching the guy and the girl come to their senses.

“Flynn,” she exclaimed, grabbing for her friend. “Flynn, I can-”

Except she wasn’t there, joining the rest of the crowd further back. The bassist and drummer were watching on, baffled.

Oh. Her stare drifted to the squirming boy on the floor. Oh.

Luke scrambled upright, instantly coming face to face with Front Row Girl and all the colours he has wished to see forever. His eyes were burning from shock and euphoria, greys and whites bleeding out of his bloodstream.

Her hands grasped for his face, worried, lips forming words he hardly registered but vaguely processed as ‘asking if he was okay.’

“Y-yeah, yeah,” he stuttered, his gaze racing across her features to wholly take her in.

Warm skin and wide, brown eyes and dark lashes and curled, pink lips and a pointed chin and glossy, long curls dancing against her cheeks and soft hands and red - she was wearing red. His colour. His soulmate.

He laughed. “Hi.”

She matched it, giggling. “Hey.”

“Hi,” he sighed, still in disbelief that she was his soulmate. His soulmate. His soulmate. The One.

Her trembling smile softened, thumbs swiping across his cheekbones. “You have really pretty eyes,” she whispered.

Her own were shining with unshed tears and he felt himself choking up too. Never in a million years did he think he’d meet his soulmate. To him, it had always been music. Sure, it sounded nice, but he knew he shouldn’t be yearning for it. He had his friends - his aura was red and he gained pink from Alex and yellow from Reggie.

But suddenly she was here. She was really here.

“You’re- pretty-” he stumbled, causing her to laugh again.

Yeah, there was no way he’d be able to continue the gig. The Orpheum was a big deal, but meeting your soulmate? Most monumental moment of anyone's life.

There was so much colour now. So much life. There was so much more than just music and red and pink and yellow to enjoy. (Songs swirled in his mind though, exciting him to the bone as his hands slid to grab her own. Winking all coy, like the best was yet to come.)

“Do you wanna talk?” he rushed out after.

She nodded. “Yeah. You- uh- your band-”

Their fingers intertwined, warmth dancing in his heart. “Doesn’t matter,” he chuckled. “Really does not matter right now.”

The light of a camera flash and exhilarated screams of ‘soulmates!’ ripped them from their bubble. The bassist jumped offstage and clapped Luke on the back, whispering at him to go to the alley. Leading her away, there was no sense of doubt in their steps. Luke didn’t know her name, she maybe didn’t know his. None of that mattered. There was colour now.

From the alleyway, they found themselves wandering around the Strip as they talked for ages. Her name was Julie, his was Luke, they were musicians, they were seventeen, their auras were purple and red, he decided he adored her smile the most and she his twinkling eyes.

“I think they’re green,” Julie said, peering into his eyes. She was impossibly close and it sort of took his breath away. “They’re fresh.”

“Fresh?” he grinned.

She didn’t lean back - she didn’t want to, his soul simply enigmatic - and asked him the same question. “What are mine?”

His expression softened, a smile twitching on his lips. They’re beautiful. “Brown, I think,” he said instead. “Not sure though. You wanna figure it out tomorrow?”

Her stride halted, their grasp on each other nearly yanked apart. His brows raised expectantly. It was there - that invisible, innate, sense of understanding. It wasn’t just colour. It was the refusal to look at colour alone, ever again. It was insane for the both of them, how their rushing thoughts slotted all puzzle pieces together without a hitch. It had that satisfying click-click-click sound, like dominoes.

Luke found himself coming back to her, the space between them disappearing till their arms pressed together and there were no forces tugging them together. It was all themselves.

“I have a book about colour,” Julie eventually said. “We can learn them all.”

He smirked. “I can tell you your lips are pink.”

“Yours are too.”

“Yeah?” he teased.  

But then she lifted a finger and pressed against the plump skin. His heart stopped short at the sensation. Before he gave into the instinct to pucker them and kiss it, her hand dropped.

Julie grinned. “And now they’re red.”

When Luke kissed her, hers were red too.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

@blush-and-books​ @bluefirewrites​ @unsaidjulie​ @willexx​ @unsaid-emily​ @ourstarscollided​ @pink-flame​ @constantly-singing​ @stydixa​

[leafs-lover]

Ooo please do write a little blurb about that night!🥵

So this ended up being so much more than a blurb but enjoy. NSFW under the cut

Fred's mouth is hot on your skin, sucking on your sweet spot. "You trust us baby," he mumbles through a raspy voice. His tone enough to make your core drip.

"Yes," you reply, through shallow breaths, "always."

"We need a word y/n," Auston says, hand lazily drawing up your stomach. "You say it and we stop," he presses his lip to your jaw.

Body is hot and clammy, even though they have barely touched you. Your heart pounding in anticipation, so loud you think they could hear.

Fred has a tie in his hand, Auston's yellow tie from the suit he wore at tonight's game. You can feel the smooth silk gently on your skin. Your eyes linger on the fabric, Fred slowly running it through his thick digits. You watch him play with the hem, dragging the fabric along his skin, and you immediately wish it was you he played so delicately.

Thoat dry and starved of water, you barely manage to speak the word, “yellow.” You feel both sets of lips curl up against your skin and Fred pulls away. "Kay baby, you say yellow and we stop."

The silk is brought up into your view, and next everything is black as it wraps around your head. A light moan escapes from your lip when you smell the faintness of Auston's cologne.

"You good princess," he asks, and you can feel him smirking against your neck.

"Yes, so good," you eagerly reply, nodding your head.

Someone rolls you onto your side slightly and Fred's mouth is up against the shell of your ear, "hands back baby."

You shudder, slowly bringing your hands back behind your body. Leather snaps and you shiver, goosebumps running up your spine. Gently holding your wrists behind your back, a large hand grabs them and they are tightly restrained behind you.

"Fuck," you groan, attempting to move but are only met with chuckles. The bed shifts around you, bodies moving and you remain in place unsure of where to go. Hands grip your hips and you are pulled up the bed until finally you stop.

Feeeling a head between your legs, hair rubbing against your knees. Calloused fingers grip your hips and pull you down, warm breath blowing on your folds. Before you connect to the mouth below you, you know who it is, the familiar beard rubbing against your inner thighs. Smiling slightly you feel Fred flatten his tongue and press it against your entrance, moaning when he realizes how wet you are.

Not that he should be surprised; you barely made it through the door when you pressed him against it mumbling for him to invite Auston over. Within ten minutes the three of you were naked on Fred's bed.

His tongue eagerly laps up your anticipation. It's not until you feel his mouth wrap around your clit and tongue slide inside that your body falls forward; forgetting you don’t have the use of your hands to catch you.

"Careful or you'll fall off the bed y/n," Auston chuckles, hands gripping your shoulders. He runs his hand over your neck before finding its way to your cheek; his touch is slow and feather light. You get so caught up in Fred, the curling of his tongue that you don't even feel Auston tap on your chin.

"Y/N," he says assertively, and your head cranes towards his voice "I said open."

Your mouth instantly fills with saliva and you swallow, jaw slowly opening. Flattening your tongue you feel his hard dick land on it. Moaning as you taste his precum your lips slowly wrap around him, bobbing a few times.

Auston lets you get in a few sloppy thrusts, taking more and more of him each time. His tip hits the back of your throat and you pull back coughing, saliva dribbling on your chin. Opening your mouth again you feel him slide back inside, tongue grazing the vein on the underside. "God your mouth is so good," Auston groans, and Fred hums in agreeance between your legs.

"Smooth as velvet," Auston adds.

Two hands find their way to the back of your head, while two fingers also find your folds. You feel Auston’s grip tighten at the same time Fred's fingers curl into your heat. You moan around Auston’s length and he snaps his hips, thrusting his dick in and out of your mouth. Fred's thick digits hit your gspot, his mouth focusing on your clit.

Fred is fast and aggressive, searching to quickly bring you to your high. Auston is slow but deep. He rocks in, holding his length against the back of your throat before slowly pulling back. He almost removes his entire length before he presses forward once again.

Auston's movements are more focused on being deep than fast, while Fred is both. The coil in your stomach tightens and you know its only a matter of time before he brings you to your climax. But you also know Auston is nowhere near his peak at this pace. Even still Auston doesn't change his motions.

Your moans are muffled by Austons length, but Fred knows, groaning from between your legs. He pulls you down further until you are almost starving him of oxygen but he doesn’t even flinch.

Every harsh suck on your sensitive bud has your hands twitching in the restraints, followed by a deep groan. Before you can react the coil snaps and your body trembles. Little lightning bolts erupting and your core is electrified, white warmth spilling down onto Fred's face.

Auston slips out of your mouth and you vaguely hear him talking as he grips your hips and easily lift you up, turning you around; having barely recovered. Knees on the bed, a hand pushes you forward until your face brushes against the smooth fabric of the duvet, your feet dangling off.

Without sight and touch your entire body is on edge. Every sound, even if faint you jump. Every touch you squirm. While you restrained Auston the one time, they have never done it to you. But tonight when you asked they eagerly agreed with dark pupils.

Auston trails his hands over your sweaty back before sliding two fingers over your folds. You're body jolts and you vaguely hear him mumble something about not getting a taste.

"You okay baby," Fred asks, while your breathing steadies.

"Yes," you whisper, still regaining your composure, shifting on the bed to arch your back more.

"You sure y/n? Want the blindfold off?" He asks softly.

"I'm good," you whimper, rolling your hips back in search of something but are met by nothing.

"The restraints?" He asks softly.

"I said I was fine Fred," you groan. "Please just fuck me," you beg.

"Wow you weren’t joking man," Auston laughs. "She’s real desperate."

"Auston pelase," you whine, immediately feel his hand on your ass. Before you can respond Fred slaps your other one just as firm.

"Fuck," you groan both cheeks stinging, arms squirming behind you.

"Such a mouth on you," Auston spews.

Both men connect their hands to your ass at the same time, body jolting forward. The handprint marks on your ass sting and your cheek burns from rubbing against the duvet.

Crying out you don't get any relief before you feel a dick slide inside your walls. Immediately you recognize it's Auston, and he traded in the slow thrusts on your mouth with hard deep thrusts on your pussy, every time your body jerks forward.

You try to hold your body up, but with your hands bound tightly behind your back you don’t achieve anything. He is relentless against your throbbing pussy, pounding into you from behind. He groans loudly and you can feel him getting sloppy before he pulls out. You whine slightly, and feel Fred's tip pressing at your entrance. Just as quickly as Auston left your heat Fred enters it, pulling the air from your lungs.

The two of them take turns, fucking you until seconds before they reach their peak. Everytime they pull out the other one slams in, picking up right where he left off. They don't care if you cum before they slide out, to them it doesn’t matter. Sometimes one man will pull two from you and the next time zero.

But when you do cum every one is more intense than the last. Maybe it's the smooth fabric on your eyes, or the fact that you lost count of how many you're at. But every time you cum its longer, more and more nerves being eviscerated by them. All they are doing is fucking you until you can’t stand anymore.

Their grips are harsh on your hip, and both always using a fast ruthless pace. Sometimes they will hold your wrist, ensuring your arms are trapped behind you. Your nails harshly dig into your palms leaving multiple crescent shaped marks into your skin. Just like your ass cheeks and throbbing cunt, there is a sting in your hands to be felt for days.

"This what you wanted when you invited him over"

"We're gonna fuck you until you can’t walk anymore"

"Such a slut"

"You look so good with his cock buried inside you"

"You gonna cum again? How many more you think you have?"

"Wish you could see yourself baby, such a wreck"

"Only a dirty whore would want us to use her hole like target practice"

Both men spew venom in your ear while their friend fucks in and out of you. Every time they switch they get progressively filthier, your entire body trembling under them.

You don’t know how long this goes on for, it feels like well over an hour. You are an absolute mess, pussy fucked raw but they still don't stop. However they are getting sloppier faster, alternating in and out more frequently trying to hold off on their release.

You could say the word, make everything stop. Give your throbbing cunt the relief it so eagerly seeks. But as they pull your most intense orgasm yet, you squirting all over Fred's dick you can't imagine stopping.

They have never left you hanging and you want to do the same. Besides it won't be much longer right?

[cinnaminsvga]

Taming of the Bridezilla | Seokjin

→ summary: Picture this: You had been (not-so) cordially invited to the wedding of your least favorite cousin—a woman who had been hellbent on making your childhood a living hell. Now older and wiser, you would think that you would put aside your differences and attend your cousin’s special day without any hard feelings, right? You wouldn’t seek revenge, now would you?

→ genre: fake dating!au, i2l, humor/crack, fluff  → warnings: seokjin and oc paradoxically have big yet small brains, fake proposals, not-so fake mutual pining, thinly veiled baby-making jokes, terrible family members, ass slapping (no worries it’s consensual) → words: 6.3K → a/n: first of all, no this is not a horror fic; i just thought the title was funny. unless you consider the stupidity of the characters to be mildly horrifying, then sure you can count this as a horror fic. this insanely ridiculous fic was commissioned by @breadoffoxy!! anyone who loves chaotic jin is an angel in my book. yes, this comm is a bit longer than expected but what can i say... i love me some jin. anyway i hope you guys enjoy!

“You got the ring, right?”

Seokjin pats his left breast pocket and gives you a quick smirk. The bump where the ring should be is fortuitously hidden by his large and garish boutonniere, looking to all the world like he had pinned a whole head of cabbage to his suit. Even then, he still somehow manages to make it work. “Of course I did. This entire plan would be useless if I didn’t have it,” he says.

“What flavor did you get? I quite like the watermelon one,” you muse, smacking your lips in anticipation. “Though it’s hard to remember since I haven’t had a ring pop in years.”

Seokjin laughs loudly, startling a group of aunties gossiping in the corner. They all shoot glares at him, though the effect has lost its novelty as they’ve already been glaring at you from the moment you arrived. You suppose that they have a good reason to, considering that you both arrived at the reception an entire 30 minutes late. You can imagine them cursing you under their breath, saying something like, “You’ve brought dishonor to us all!” or whatever it is that aunties like to say these days.

“I could have gotten you all the flavors available at the convenience store if you wanted, but then we’d be 40 minutes late instead,” Seokjin sighs, pretending to be anguished at the thought.

You snort in the most unladylike manner that you can, grinning wildly when you hear one of the aunties gasp in horrified disbelief. From the way they’re reacting, you might have thought that you just flashed them your Borat-inspired neon green thong.

“I do love a man who can treat me well,” you giggle, earning a soft pinch from him.

“Oh, hush. I know you love it. You nearly burst into tears the other day when I bought you a McFlurry because your broke ass was a dollar short,” Seokjin teases. You squawk indignantly, unable to come up with a retort.

“Whatever! Just because you’re a trust fund baby doesn’t mean you get to bully my impoverished state. Just you fucking wait ‘til I get hit by a wealthy 77 year old’s BMW and then I’ll be made for life,” you huff, your illusion of annoyance quickly shattered by the large, dumb grin on your face. “Hey, would you still love me if I broke all my limbs but had a massive bank account?”

“I’d rather buy you McDonald’s for the rest of your life than see you in pain,” he answers simply, patting you gently on the head. “Though I suppose helping you inject thousands of calories into your bloodstream would also cause you pain later on in life, but hey, at least you’d go down doing what you love.”

“Oh, yes. Keep talking dirty to me. I love it when you talk about the ways you’d kill me by association.” You laugh, casually looping your arms together as you walk past the slowly growing crowd of aunties and entering the reception hall to find your seats. Almost everyone is already in their seats, with a few guests milling about and greeting one another with tight-lipped smiles and hollow laughter. The sight brings goosebumps up your arm, bringing back terrible memories of having to make niceties with these people despite knowing that they despised you and your less affluent family.

Remember, you’re only here as a representative for your parents, you tell yourself. You’d rather bear the brunt of the thinly-veiled insults than to have your parents have to experience this hell. Besides, you have big plans for today, and they would only be brought to an end if your mother ever found out what you wanted to do in the first place.

“As they say… We’re here for a good time, not a long time, which I suppose is our philosophy for tonight as well,” he quips back. He taps you lightly on the hand, wrenching your gaze away from the magnificent chocolate fountain on the dessert table and back to his somewhat less magnificent face. A straight-up lie, but it is the only defense mechanism you have in your arsenal that can keep you from staring at how gorgeous he looks in his suit and tie like a braindead idiot. Denial, after all, hasn’t failed you during the last five years that you’ve been in love with your own best friend.

“What is it?” you ask, curious when he furtively points out one of your cousins near the front of the hall. “That’s Namjoon. Do you know him?”

“Know is a strong word,” Seokjin hums, winking at your cousin when he happens to turn towards the two of you. Namjoon’s eyes light up when he sees him, but his excitement immediately vanishes when he notices who Seokjin has beside him on his right arm. You could see the mental cogs going on inside Namjoon’s head as he stares at the two of you, but you don’t get to see him reach a conclusion before Seokjin is pulling you away, walking in the opposite direction.

“Seokjin? What was that all about?” you ask, though you have to admit you’re kind of afraid to know the answer to your own question. As much as everything about tonight’s scheme had been your idea, you can’t help but think that Seokjin’s intense enthusiasm to help you isn’t merely out of his own desire to help you as a friend, but rather due to his innate calling to cause chaos wherever he goes.

“I have a secret bonus surprise for the bride and groom once we get kicked out from this joint after we do our thing,” he says. “And, dare I say, it’ll be quite a treat for all the guests here.” The smirk on his lips is downright heinous, only exacerbating the frantic racing of your heart. There must be something wrong with you, not with how badly you want to do unspeakable atrocities to him and his evil-looking ass. Or perhaps he was simply put down on Earth to test your slowly fraying sanity.

He snaps you out of your dumbfounded, horny stupor when he continues, “If everything goes according to plan, then we’ll truly end this night with a bang, no pun intended.”

“What was even the pun there?” You raise a brow, slightly disconcerted by the way Seokjin was struggling to keep his laughter (at his own joke) at bay. “You know what? Don’t even answer. I guess I’ll just have to find out later tonight.”

After some pointless meandering while the two of you locate your seats, you are finally able to locate your table, unsurprisingly situated near the farthest corner of the hall where no one would have to see you. You’re honestly more surprised that your newly-wedded cousin had even remembered to give you a seat, though you suppose that it must have been at the behest of your uncle. While your devil of a cousin has always been rude and cruel to you, you have to admit that at least her father knew some manners, though that only begs the question as to what happened to his daughter along the way. Genetics and expensive etiquette classes can only help so much, you suppose.

“Thank you again for doing this with me. You really didn’t need to,” you say when you take a seat, nearly elbowing him in the process. Your chairs are wedged right beside the emergency exit and a grotesque ice sculpture of the bride and groom, forcing the two of you to sit so close that you could feel Seokjin breathe directly into your ear. If you shifted just slightly to the right, you’d basically be sitting on his lap (which is a prospect that intrigues you greatly, but you refrain from voicing it in fear of creeping him out… for now).

“How could I ever resist the offer to ruin your cousin’s wedding? This has been on my bucket list for years,” he winks cheekily at you. “Besides, you’re my dearest friend, Y/N. You could ask me to fight a bear naked, and I’d gladly let it eat my dick in one chomp!”

“I wouldn’t let a bear eat your dick,” you say kindly, patting him gently on the back. “You can’t afford to lose an inch when you only have two to offer.”

Before you could laugh hysterically at Seokjin’s howls of betrayal, your attention is pulled away when the soft violin music stops playing abruptly. From far away, it’s hard to tell what’s going on until you notice a bright light reflecting off of the sea of attendees, the balding head of the reception’s host bobbing up and down as he makes his way to the front of the hall.

“Attention esteemed guests! We will now begin serving dinner shortly. Please remain in your seats as our waiters attend to you.” The host speaks into a crackly microphone just as a few scraggly-looking underpaid teenagers in black dress shirts come out with the first course of the night.

Seokjin cranes his neck, trying to see what the food is. “What the hell is that? Why does it look like green shit in a bowl?” he murmurs, loud enough so that only you can hear. “I didn’t know your cousin was a Dr. Seuss fan. Are we being served green eggs and ham?” Before you can guess, you watch as his nose crinkles in disgust, a vile stench making its way to your area even though none of the waiters were even close to your table. “Oh my goodness, is that stench what we’re supposed to eat?”

“Smells like a barnyard,” you comment, though you aren’t as surprised as he is by the revolting smell. “Well, my cousin always did like making atrocious vegan recipes on her shitty WordPress blog, so I wouldn’t put it past her if she made up the menu for her own wedding.”

“She’s a vegan and a bully? What are the odds,” he says drily, cringing when he watches one of the guests begin to dry heave the moment a spoonful of the green stuff enters their mouth. “Christ. I didn’t know I was signing up for a life or death mission.”

“At this rate, I don’t think we’re getting served until the end of the night anyway,” you say, observing as the understaffed employees tried their best to get to every table while insufferable aunts did their worst to hinder their progress by nagging and complaining. Why were they so adamant about eating the food anyway? Were they itching to get diarrhea on a Saturday night? You do admit that it would probably be better, so then at least you’d have an excuse to leave earlier. “Though I suppose... Do you think eating the mystery goo while it’s cold would be better or worse?”

“It’s okay, I’ll treat you to McDonald’s when we finish up here,” he says, smiling sweetly at you. Never in your life has the mention of greasy fries and chicken nuggies made your heart race faster than it did at that moment, but then again, it could also be your high-blood pressure kicking up. Either way, you can’t ignore the way your face heats up at his offer, now more excited than ever for the reception to be over.

You and Seokjin chat as you wait for everyone around you to finish eating, not even bothered when the waiters forget to bring your food. You’re in the middle of debating the pros and cons of cock and ball torture when large dark shadows loom over both your heads, much like a solar eclipse. A cold shiver runs up your spine when you look up to find the reptilian faces of your aunts, the fumes of their designer perfume creating a cloud so noxious that you could feel your lungs shrivel into prunes.

“Hello, Y/N. It’s nice to see you after such a long time,” your Aunt Sohee greets, her tone indicating that there was nothing pleasant about seeing you at all. Your aunt, who had gotten so much botox done that she was reminiscent of a plastic balloon ready to pop, has her entourage of fellow aunties behind her, all of whom looked ridiculous in their fake designer dresses. You swear you can see that one of them had forgotten to snip off the Made in China tag before wearing it to the wedding.

“Aunt Sohee, you’re looking… young,” you say after a moment, deciding to settle on lying for now. Even though your main plan for this evening is to create chaos at your cousin’s wedding, your one condition is that you wouldn’t cause a scene with your aunts. While you are hardly in the running for favorite niece, there is still a 1% chance that you could get some inheritance from them once they hit the grave, so you’ll have to grit your teeth and bear the incoming barrage of personal questions coming your way lest you lose out in the long run.

“Why, thank you. I can’t say the same for you,” she huffs, shamelessly grabbing my cheeks and squishing them like stress balls. She peers sourly at your disfigured face, trying to squint judgmentally at you but failing due to her horrendous plastic surgery. “How old are you? Why do you have so many wrinkles?”

You feel your eyebrow twitch involuntarily, unable to respond even if you wanted due to the gorilla-hold she has on your face. You side-eye Seokjin, who is looking back at you with a blank and calm expression. You had already told him beforehand that you wouldn’t be arguing with your aunts, but that doesn’t mean he’s not allowed to be an asshole.

Being an asshole, after all, is Seokjin’s favorite pastime.

“Hello, Aunties. My name is Kim Seokjin, and I’m Y/N’s long-term boyfriend. She’s told me many good things about you,” he says with a polite smile, his hamster cheeks puffing up in that adorably boyish way. The surrounding aunties all begin to coo at his handsome face (unfair!), but they’re quickly silenced by a sharp glare from your Aunt Sohee. She appraises him, giving him a once over with a pursed lip.

“Long-term boyfriend, huh? Are you sure you aren’t paying her or something? Y/N hasn’t had a boyfriend in years. Her cousins have told me that she’s been too busy with other… extracurricular activities to bother sticking around,” your aunt says snidely, her sneer deepening. She lets go of your face, crossing her arms when she spies the expensive watch on his wrist. “Ah, I see that you’re well-off. I just can’t possibly see why else you’d be staying with her if not for other reasons.”

You can feel your blood pressure rising, the veins on your forehead undoubtedly bulging as you try to suppress your rage. Screw your cousin for spreading a rumor that you’re a whore! It’s as if you were the one sucking guys off in the locker rooms when the two of you were in the second year of high school and not her. You haven’t even had your first proper kiss, for heaven’s sake!

Instead of getting angry, Seokjin’s expression hardly changes at all. His serene smile is still plastered on his face, but only you can tell that he’s even remotely bothered by their rude remarks. You can feel the air around him turn frosty, but your oblivious aunties are still too busy tittering amongst themselves, exchanging insults at your expense.

“Oh, are we that obvious?” Seokjin tilts his head, feigning innocence. Your head jerks towards him, your eyes bugging out of their sockets. What the fuck? “You are so right, Auntie Sohee. I’m sure Y/N must have informed you about our predicament. You see, we’ve—”

“Your predicament?” Aunt Sohee scoffs, interrupting Seokjin mid-speech. “I can’t believe the nerve of this girl, bringing her little boy-toy to the holy matrimony of her cousin—”

“—been trying to produce an heir to the Kim Line for months now,” Seokjin sighs heavily, looking off into the distance with glazed, dreamy eyes. You nearly cough out a lung at his sudden proclamation, about to interject and ask him what on earth he was talking about. Your words die on your tongue, however, when he grips your hand tightly underneath the table. He taps three times on the back of your hand: an old sign that you both made back in high school whenever he was busy bullshitting his way out of trouble.

Luckily, none of your aunts notice your blunder, all of them too occupied trying to wrap their heads around what Seokjin had said. Multiple mouths drop open in surprise and disbelief, including your Aunt Sohee. Her penciled eyebrows arch comically high, her smoothened forehead wrinkling infinitesimally (a feat in itself, for you were sure she had long since lost any ability to move the skin on her face.)

“I beg your pardon?” she whispers, staring daggers at Seokjin.

Then beg, you think to yourself. Judging by the way the corners of Seokjin’s lips lift slightly, you have a strong feeling that he was thinking the same thing to himself. Instead, he says, “Yes, Aunt Sohee. You see, I come from a long line of businessmen. Ever heard of Kim Enterprises.”

Her face turns pale. “You mean… the Kim Enterprises? The one that owns—”

“South Korea’s largest chain of department stores? I’m flattered that you’re familiar,” he winks. He leans forward, gesturing for your aunts to come closer, like he’s imparting state secrets to them. “My older brother, who has been married for quite some time, has chosen to remain childless at the behest of his wife. For that reason, my father put me up to the task of producing an heir for the company.”

“An heir?” your aunt repeats, dumbfounded.

Seokjin nods, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Yes, it’s quite unfortunate, but it’s a responsibility I’m willing to take. My family is notorious for planning our lives, even for the next 50 years, so I am forever grateful to have Y/N who is willing to bring me multiple potential heirs to my family.”

“Multiple heirs?” Your aunts shriek in unison, causing a few nearby guests to look over at your table in curiosity. You wave at them awkwardly in apology, hoping to get them to ignore the absolute clusterfuck happening right in front of you.

You feel Seokjin kick you gently in the shin, urging you to say something as well. You clear your throat, channeling all the pent-up Seokjin energy that you had indirectly absorbed over the years of being his friend. “That’s right… My Jinnie has always been so lonely, living in his gigantic mansion with his piles of money. He may have never felt the loving touch of his father, but I’m certain that we’ll be great parents to our children. Why, we’re almost like a pair of rabbits when it comes to—”

Aunt Sohee clears her throat abruptly, a deep flush coloring her cheeks as she glares daggers at you. She looks absolutely peeved, and it takes all your mental fortitude to restrain yourself from jumping up in triumph. Take that, wench!

“I have to admit that this is somewhat… unexpected,” your aunt says carefully, pointing a tight smile at Seokjin. He beams back, positively delighted.

“Y/N is quite the catch. I’m grateful to have her in my life,” he says, his tone growing soft by the end. He looks at you then, and you find a mysterious emotion floating in his eyes that you can’t quite name. When you blink and try to get a closer look, his careful façade is back in place.

Eventually, your aunts lose interest in you once they realize they can no longer bully you, not when you had an incredibly rich boyfriend to back you up. “Must be nice being a rich boy, huh?” you snicker, teasing the blushing boy beside you. Thanks to his hair growing longer than usual, the tips of his ears are miraculously hidden away. When you brush his hair back, they are as red as a baboon’s ass.

“Oh, shut up. You know I hate flaunting my dad’s money,” he whines, pouting cutely. He fingers the watch on his wrist, staring at it uncomfortably. “This isn’t even my watch. I had to borrow one from my brother.”

“Well, you did it for me, so I suppose it’s not all bad,” you laugh, pinching his cheek lightly. “Plus, it was funny watching my aunts shut up for once. They’re just mad that you’re richer than the groom.”

“Really? What does he do?”

“He’s an entrepreneur.” You snort, emphasizing the word with air quotations. “Honestly, he just calls himself that while he waits for his self-made business to pop off or whatever. No such luck so far, if what I heard was right.”

“Lucky for you, you’re stuck with my devastatingly handsome face and stinkin’ rich bank account,” he jokes, contorting his face into a funny expression until you’re left snorting at his antics. Little does he know, you still would’ve l***d him even if he wasn’t any of those things, but that’d be too cringey to say. What are you, some sort of romantic lead protagonist?

It takes a little bit over an hour for dessert to start getting served, by which point the bride and groom decide to make their rounds to greet the guests. “Don’t you think this is the perfect time to put our plan into motion? The dance floor is open and we should be able to make it to the center without anyone noticing,” he whispers, his breath tickling your neck.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you say, but just as you’re about to get up from your seat, a flurry of white blocks your path in an instant. You startle slightly, falling back to your chair and hitting Seokjin in the chest with a soft grunt. “Shit, sorry about that Seokjin—”

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my dear cousin,” a voice cuts you off, the disdain in their voice dripping like acid down your ear canals. Your blood freezes instinctively, years of past trauma crashing down on you as your childhood bully stands just inches away from you, her blood-red lips stretched into a broad smirk.

“Kairi,” you greet.

“Y/N,” she responds.

“Seokjin!” Seokjin adds helpfully.

Your cousin turns to him slowly. “Quite right,” she hisses, eyebrows pinched together in thinly-veiled annoyance. “I’ve heard through some whispers that my baby cousin finally managed to snag a rich kid for a boyfriend and I just couldn’t help but let my curiosity drag me over here.” She looks you up and down, snorting at what she sees. “You would think that having a chaebol as a boyfriend would mean you could at least afford a proper dress.”

You glance down at your dress: a hand-me-down from your mother because you couldn’t be bothered to buy a new one, not when you’d rather choke on Satan’s hot fiery balls for all eternity than spend any amount of money just to attend your cousin’s wedding. Despite this, you can’t help your cheeks from heating in embarrassment, an automatic response after years of bullying and torment from that spoiled bitch.

When you don’t reply, Kairi’s smirk widens. “Oh? Cat got your tongue? Sugar daddy couldn’t even be bothered to buy you a dress? While you’re at it, maybe you should ask for a new car too. I’m surprised you even made it here alive in that old metal deathtrap of yours. You’re lucky you were just late to the reception instead of dead on the street.”

You can sense Seokjin staring at you from your right. Your fists are clenched tightly on your skirt, your nails nearly tearing the fabric in your searing rage. Slowly, carefully, Seokjin slips his hands underneath yours—he pries your death grip open until he can lace his fingers in between yours. At once, your anger melts at his tender gesture, your focus pulled away from your cousin and back to him. He thumbs the back of your hand, as if assuring you that he’d handle this himself.

He smiles at Kairi, not a single ounce of kindness in his eyes. “Yes, indeed. It is my mistake entirely for not ordering a dress much sooner. Y/N is so incredibly humble; she’d rather wear a vintage outfit than wear one of those paper-thin dresses from YesStyle that you and your bridesmaids seem to favor,” he sighs, pretending to be pained.

“Paper-thin? YESSTYLE?” Kairi screeches, her voice breaking the sound barrier. You watch in fascination as her skin turns an unflattering ruddy shade.

Unperturbed by her murderous aura, Seokjin prattles on. “Quite right,” he mocks her with her own words, smirking ever so slightly. “Though, I must apologize for being late to the reception. That was my fault as well. My father had a general meeting this morning for all the employees at the company, as he had wanted to announce that I would be the Vice President starting next Monday. We tried to leave sooner, but everyone had been too busy congratulating us,” he apologizes, though not apologetic in the slightest.

Your cousin could cosplay as a walking crack pipe with how much steam was puffing out of her ears. She’s livid, so much so that her fury was preventing her from formulating any sort of comeback. “You—how dare you—I swear on my—” she stutters incomprehensibly, her vulture-like nails tearing her dainty paper-thin skirt into shreds.

Just as she looks about ready to blow, her father comes around to your table. He places a hand delicately on his daughter’s shoulder, immediately understanding the situation when he sees you. “Kairi, I think it’s time for you to greet the rest of the guests. Uncle Iverson said he has a gift for you that simply cannot wait,” he says, doing his best to appease you. He gives you a genuinely regretful look; you shake your head, waving off his concern.

“It was nice seeing you, Kairi. I hope you and your husband will have a wonderful year together,” you say. You gasp exaggeratedly, holding a hand to your heart. “Oh, sorry. I meant to say I hope you have wonderful years together. Pardon my mistake.”

Before the scant amount of brain cells in your cousin’s brain could process your words, her father pulls her away, dragging her to the next table over. Once they’re out of earshot, you heave a sigh of relief. Beside you, Seokjin lets out a laugh that he had been undoubtedly holding in the past few minutes, sounding like a fish gasping for air with how much he is shaking with mirth.

“Fuck, that was hilarious. Did you see how angry she got? Beautiful,” he says, wiping away a stray tear. “Love that for us!”

“Damn. I knew you were good at bullshitting, but even your acting skills almost convinced me,” you whistle lowly, impressed. “You sure you’re not a con-artist in disguise?”

“All good businessmen are con-artists, my young padawan,” he snickers, winking at you. He shrugs. “You get used to dealing with assholes like her when you attend enough rich people parties. Besides, all good lies are rooted in the truth, after all. That’s what my father taught me when I was seven.”

“You must have been a terrible child, then.” You laugh, before realizing what he had just said. “Wait. Rooted in the truth? What does that mean?”

“Oh. Well,” he clears his throat, giggling nervously. He rubs his neck, embarrassed. “I am the vice president of dad’s company now. I just lied about the meeting being this morning. He announced it a day ago or something. Not that it’s a big deal or anything…”

You gawk at him, speechless. Not for the first time in your life, you are once again stunned by the absurdity of the man before you. How did men like him exist outside of cheesy k-dramas? He’s handsome, rich, funny, AND well-mannered? It’s almost like some love-crazed author had penned him into existence for their entertainment.

Seokjin breaks you from your reverie, tapping you thrice on your shoulder. “Shall we go? The dance floor is still empty. It’s now or never.”

You nod excitedly, standing up to head towards the center of the hall. This time, there is no one stopping you as the two of you make your way towards your destination. The lights near the dancefloor are still dimly lit, as most of the lighting is currently focused on the guests as the bride and groom make their rounds to greet everyone. Even if Seokjin got onto his knees right now, only a few people nearby would notice, so you’d have to do something to catch people’s attention.

“This is going to be moderately to highly embarrassing for a few moments, but I think that’s the atmosphere we’re going for, isn’t it?” Seokjin whispers, his mouth embarrassingly close to yours as he holds you gently by the waist. There isn’t a need for him to stand so close to you, but you have to admit his presence is mostly calming—minus the fact that he’s been your crush for five years and he’s going to be fulfilling one of your deepest fantasies in front of your entire extended family. No biggie.

“I suppose so. What are you gonna do to get their attention?” you ask, palms beginning to sweat. Despite this, Seokjin still takes your hands into his own, a small smile on his lips.

“Just watch,” he whispers, before slowly getting down on one knee.

Ba-dump. Here we fucking go.

“My dearest Y/N… The apple of my eye, the straw to my berry, the con to my dom,” Seokjin says, projecting his voice so that it can be heard even above the music. One of the violin players is even startled long enough to stop playing, further causing more heads to turn in their direction. You hear a gasp coming from your left, but you force yourself not to look. Instead, you stare right back into Seokjin’s sweet brown eyes, your heart beating a mile a minute.

This isn’t real… This is just a prank, bro. Get over yourself, you hiss internally, but your heart refuses to listen.

“You’ve been in my life for almost half a decade, and not a day goes by wherein I don’t wonder what it would be like to live the rest of my days with you. In many ways, I wouldn’t be the person I am if it hadn’t been for your presence in my life,” he says. If you look deeper into his eyes, you can almost trick yourself into thinking that they looked wetter than they had just a moment ago.

“Y/N, you are the person I’ve loved for years now. I used to think you didn’t like me as much as I liked you, so I was always scared to pop the question. I had many opportunities to ask, but I suppose tonight just felt like the right moment. I was afraid that if I didn’t do it now, I might never get the chance to ask again, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you slip away out of cowardice.”

For some reason, his words seem almost too real, like he was speaking the truth. You have never doubted his acting skills, but would you be willing to wonder if there was even a small possibility that there was some truth to his tale? You swallow thickly, the need to ask just dangling on the tip of your tongue.

He rifles through his jacket pocket, procuring a small velvet box. He thumbs it almost reverently, his hands shaking slightly, but you can blame that on the nerves from hundreds of people watching you. He takes a deep breath, opening the box with a soft click. “My dearest Y/N… Would you give me the honor of spending the rest of my days with you?”

You feel your breath get knocked out of you in an instant, the genuine adoration in his eyes too much for you to handle. You stammer slightly, too busy staring at him to properly register the loud claps, screams, and hollers all around you. “I… Seokjin… This is…”

“MAKE THEM STOP! SOMEONE KICK THEM OUT RIGHT NOW!” You dimly hear your cousin screaming obscenities somewhere, but you are still too caught up in the moment to care. The world only consists of you and Seokjin—nothing else matters right now.

When you look down at the box in his hands, fully expecting to see a comically large ring pop nestled in its cushions, but instead you find—

You gasp, nearly doubling over in surprise. “Oh my god, Seokjin. Is that a real fucking diamond ring?!”

He shrugs, smiling wryly. “Only the best rocks for the girl who rocks my socks off every night,” he jokes, but his nervousness is palpable. He’s sweating, a drop trailing down the side of his face despite the strong air conditioning.

Oh shit. It hits you right then that his proposal is real. The damned idiot is fucking proposing to you in front of your most hated family members, and he’s proposing to you for real.

“Kim Seokjin, please fucking explain yourself—”

But before he can have the chance to open his mouth, you feel rough hands grab you by the shoulders, pulling you away from him. “I’m sorry I have to do this, ma’am. Bride’s orders,” one of the waiters says, awkwardly escorting you to the exit. When you turn back, you see another waiter pulling Seokjin away as well, the box with the ring still clutched tightly in his hand.

The two waiters deposit you outside the hall, bowing stiffly before heading back into the room. You’re still breathing heavily, the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Seokjin isn’t any better, bent over with his hands on his knees. From your vantage point, you can see how red his entire neck is, his blush reaching even past the collar of his shirt.

“Seokjin…” you trail off, unable to say another word. You’re completely flabbergasted, elated, annoyed, and mostly just mind-fucked because when on earth did Kim Seokjin ever have a crush on you?!

“I’m sorry. That must have been quite a shock,” he coughs out a laugh. He rubs his face, embarrassment rolling off of him in waves. “I just… It was sort of a last-minute decision I made. I’ve been into you for years now, and I know I’m kinda putting you on the spot by proposing like that, but I knew if I didn’t do anything soon, you might just slip away before I can say anything.”

“Wait. So are you really… proposing to me?” You squeak out the last bit, your face mirroring his reddened state.

“No!” He shouts suddenly, before covering his mouth with his palm. “S-sorry, what I mean to say is, it wasn’t really a marriage proposal. It was more like… just a general proposal? I do want to live with you forever, but I know that thought must be daunting and—oh god, I don’t even know if you like me like that, so this must be incredibly weird and out of line. Please excuse me while I shove a cactus up my ass—”

“Seokjin,” you interrupt, silencing his rambling. He clamps his mouth shut. “Are you… asking me out?”

He nods his head. “Yeah…”

“And what you said is true? You actually like me?”

“No, you don’t understand. I love you,” he says, before getting shy again. He looks down at the ring box. “Fuck. This isn’t a real engagement ring, by the way. It’s more like a promise ring, so you don’t have to feel bad for rejecting me.”

“Oh my god, I’m in love with an idiot,” you groan, pulling him into a hug. You nestle into his chest, giggling hysterically into his shirt. “I fucking hate you.”

“Wait, I’m getting mixed signals over here,” Seokjin says, gasping when he feels how tightly you embrace him. He doesn’t complain, however. He returns the gesture in kind, nuzzling deep into your neck. “So, does that mean the feeling is mutual?”

“Yes, you idiot. Now give me my ring.”

“My pleasure, princess.” He laughs, drawing away slightly so that he can slip the ring on your finger. The diamond shines brightly under the fluorescent lights, but nothing brings you more joy than having the boy you love in your arms.

As the two of you are sharing a sweet moment, it takes a second for you to realize that the commotion from inside the venue still hasn’t stopped. When you crane your heads, you spot one of the doors had been left ajar, allowing you to slip your heads through the crack just in time to see Seokjin’s beautiful bare ass being projected onto a large screen.

The musical notes of Rick Astley’s most popular song play loudly on the speakers, drowning out the sounds of the bride screaming bloody murder as the IT people tried their best to sort out the mess. The Seokjin on the screen slaps his ass in time with the tune, his glorious moon-shaped globes shaking mesmerizingly for all to see.

When you look to Seokjin for an explanation, he merely shrugs his shoulders. “They really should do background checks on the people they hire for these things. Taking that one video editing course in university really does pay off, huh?”

“Sure does,” you grin, linking your arms together. “Now let’s get some fucking McDonalds.”

And so, you lived happily ever after—the end.

[violetrose-art]

Frankenweenie Headcannons, Theories, and Ideas

This is just a list of the theories, headcannons, and ideas I came up with for Tim Burton's Frankenweenie. I might add more later on, so watch out

-When he was six years old, Victor Frankenstein got Sparky as a small puppy from the local pet shop

-Elsa got Persephone as a gift for her seventh birthday

-Victor’s full name is Victor Charles Frankenstein

-Victor is strongly not fond of sports, especially baseball. But he does love to play fetch with Sparky and ride his bike

-Victor secretly has a crush on Elsa, but he’s too nervous to say anything. But he wouldn’t mind just being friends with her

-Even though he doesn’t get along too well with Toshiaki and Nassor very well, Victor doesn’t mind Bob (who was one of the “cool kids”) being nice to him

-Victor used to have a pen pal in London named Shamus Holmes. They wrote to each other back and forth almost every week, until Victor reached college. That was when the letters from Shamus stopped coming

-Victor isn’t allergic to anything, but he does get nauseous around peaches for some reason

-When he grows up, Victor either wants to become a scientist, a vet, or a movie director… but he can’t decide

-Victor likes to watch both horror and sci-fi films. His favorites are Karloff’s “Frankenstein”, “The Fly”, “The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms”, “Behemoth the Sea Monster”, and “Earth vs. the Flying Saucers”

-The Monday after Dutch Day, Victor was told to stay after school for baseball practice, but when he hit the ball and ran around the diamond, he broke his arm and got a black eye and he was suspended from the baseball team… which he thought was the best day ever

-Victor isn’t particularly fond of his young cousin, Vincent Malloy. He’s often annoyed by Vincent's slightly obsessive mannerisms and all of his Vincent Price talk and Vincent's mother blames Victor for introducing her son to scary movies in the first place

-Victor was born on August 31st, 1957

-Elsa’s full name is Elsa Anais Van Helsing

-Victor and Elsa first met on their first day in kindergarten. They both reached out to grab the same toy, but their hands touched and their eyes met. After a tiny squabble over the toy, they started playing together and they quickly became friends

-Elsa was born on October 28th, 1957

-Elsa isn’t into sports, but she enjoys going swimming or roller skating on occasion… She also likes to watch Victor Frankenstein at baseball practice sometimes

-Elsa is highly allergic to bees and pistachios

-A year after Dutch Day, Mayor Bergermeister forced Elsa to take ballet lessons recently and she doesn’t like it

-Elsa has an interest in history and she thought about becoming a historian someday

-Elsa has a secret crush on Victor, but she’s too shy to say anything

-After the events of Dutch Day, Victor promised never to reanimate Sparky again if he died one more time. Eventually when he was in his late teen years, he let Sparky die because he and Elsa wanted Sparky and Persephone to be together in death. The two dogs were buried in the pet cemetery together (Romeo and Juliet style)

-Elsa likes to watch horror movies in secret. Her absolute favorites are “Bride of Frankenstein”, “Dracula”, and “The Phantom of the Opera”

-After Dutch Day, Victor and Elsa started to grow closer and closer, as well as their dogs Sparky and Persephone

-Despite her uncle's protests of having a dog around, he agreed to let Elsa keep Persephone. But he insists that she keep the dog away from his front lawn

-Sparky and Persephone had four puppies together. Their names are Coal, Raven, Anastasia, and Hades

-When they were in the eighth grade, Victor and Elsa had their first kiss at a Halloween dance at school. They had their second kiss after a Christmas dance recital; they were performing the Nutcracker together. They started officially dating when they were freshmen in high school

-Elsa’s favorite books are “To Kill a Mockingbird”, “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland”, “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”, “Romeo and Juliet” and other works of William Shakespeare and her favorite writers are Lewis Carroll, Harper Lee, and Shakespeare. She also enjoys Edgar Allen Poe’s works

-Elsa considers Weird Girl (aka, Mindy) a friend, but she doesn’t like it when she creepily stares at her

-Elsa had a pen pal in New York City named Kristen. They wrote to each other a few times a month, but they lost touch when they reached senior year in high school

-When Victor and Elsa grew up and got married, they had two children. Their names are Peter Timothy Frankenstein (age 12) and Moira Juliet Frankenstein (age 8)

-Weird Girl’s full name is Mindy Cecilia White

-Mindy was raised by a single mother who was a medium, as well as a psychiatrist

-Mr. Whiskers was adopted as a kitten by Mindy from a local pet store. He was the only one of the litter that wasn't adopted because of his large starring eyes

-Mindy took the same ballet classes as Elsa

-Mindy has a crush on Edgar. She secretly hoped that Mr. Whisker's would one day dream about her and Edgar

-After Mr. Whiskers’ death, Mindy fell into a deep depression. Elsa was there to comfort her in her time of need and she even helped her bury the body in the pet cemetery

-Mindy first discovered Mr. Whiskers’ ability to predict the future through cat litter one morning after changing it; it was shaped in the letter B. On that same day, a girl named Brooklyn from school got three strikes at the bowling alley

-Mindy was born on April 3rd, 1958

-Edgar’s full name is Edgar Abraham Gore

-Edgar has a crush on Mindy, but he believes she’s out of his league and was too afraid to approach her

-At one point, Edgar wanted a snake or spider for a pet, but his mother told him no. Once tried to adopt a wild raccoon, but got a scolding from her when he let it into the house

-Edgar was born on September 14th, 1958

-After Dutch Day, Edgar developed a fear of rats

-Edgar still wants to make a death ray with Victor, even though they can't actually make one

-Mindy and Edgar started dating when they were in their sophomore year

-When they got married, Mindy and Edgar had a daughter named Giselle (age 7 ¾)

-Toshiaki’s full name is Toshiaki Ito Oroku

-Toshiaki's mother and father were originally born and raised in Japan until they moved to the US a month before he was born. Being an open community towards different race groups, New Holland was the perfect location to start a family

-Toshiaki was born on May 28th, 1956

-As a reward for winning his first science fair, Toshiaki was given a pet turtle, who he named Shelly. Shelly was unfortunately passed away when he was left outside in the hot afternoon in his aquarium for too long

-Toshiaki and Victor are frenemies, mainly friends, but mostly enemies

-When Shelly died two times, Toshiaki was very upset. But luckily, he had his friends to comfort him after his second and final burial

-In school, Toshiaki met one of the new girls, a Japanese girl named Mae-Lee, and he quickly developed a crush on her

-Years later, Toshiaki and Mae-Lee got married and had two children, a daughter named Shelley Sue (age 8) and Yoshi (age 7 months)

-Nassor’s full name is Nassor Hannibal Karloff

-In school, Nassor stood out from the other children due to his height and cynical macabre personality. The only thing that made him happy as a child was his pet hamster, Colossus. One day Colossus went missing and Nassor was frantic with worry. About five days later, Colossus was found trapped inside the wall and he had starved to death, leaving Nassor heartbroken

-Nassor has an interest in Ancient Egyptian culture around pharaohs and the afterlife. It was his idea as tribute to Colossus would be mummified and placed in a large tomb

-After Dutch Day, Nassor was found wrapped up and he was untied by the others. While he holds no grudges against Toshiaki, he doesn't exactly forgive him for causing Colossus's second death

-Nassor was born on February 24th, 1956

-After Dutch Day, Nassor met one of the new girls, a young lady named Hillary, and he was instantly infatuated with her

-When Nassor and Hillary grew up, they got married and had a son named Darwin (age 12)

-Bob’s full name is Bob Adam Hill

-Bob’s dad passed when he was rather young, making his mother, Mrs. Hill, extremely protective of him, and he finds it super embarrassing

-Bob hates it when people talk about his weight. When he fell down a manhole by accident, he got stuck and had to have a crane to pull him back out

-Bob was born on July 6th, 1957

-In school, Bob had a crush on a girl named Jenny

-Bob first met Toshiaki shortly after Shelly's death. Despite Toshiaki's cold behavior towards him at first, they became good friends

-Bob has an interest in marine life and he has a fish tank full of different kind of fish up in  his room

-When he grew up, he and Jenny got married and had a son named Carl (age 12)

-Mr. Frankenstein’s full name is Edward Steven Frankenstein

-Edward was an avid lover of sports, especially baseball. He played as a star athlete in high school, where he first met Susan who was cheering with the other cheerleaders

-Edward has a bit of hard time understanding his son, Victor, but still supports him nonetheless

-Edward likes to role play with his wife Susan that he's a travelling salesman when her "husband" isn't around the house

-Edward often gets people who ask him about his last name Frankenstein. An old family rumor was that he was a direct descendant of the original presumed fictional scientist, Dr. Frankenstein

-Edward tries to get along with his next door neighbor, Mayor Bergermeister

-Mrs. Frankenstein’s full name is Susan Delia Woods Frankenstein

-Susan and Edward Frankenstein first met in back high school; he was a star athlete while she was the head cheerleader. A few years after graduation, they got married and she gave birth to Victor at age 31

-Susan has two sisters, Lillian and Francine. Francine is the eldest, Susan is the middle child, and Lillian is the youngest. Lillian is Vincent Malloy’s mother

-Susan isn't as social with the other mothers/housewives with their gossiping. She prefers the company with her family instead. She is friends with Mrs. Van Helsing, though

-Susan had a pet calico cat when she was younger named Lacey. But poor Lacey died when she was around Victor's age, so she knows what her son was going through

-Mayor Bergermeister’s full name is Robert “Bob” Clarence Bergermeister

-The Bergermeister family has been mayors of New Holland for generations. They were known for their strict laws, rules, and leadership towards its citizens

-Bergermeister has a very low tolerance towards animals, especially dogs… probably because he never had any pets growing up

-Elsa’s father’s full name is Jonathon Gabriel Van Helsing

-Elsa’s mother’s full name is Lydia Hermione Bergermeister Van Helsing

-Mr. and Mrs. Van Helsing are philosophers, hence why they tend to be away a lot. They travel to countries mostly in Europe, like Romania and the Netherlands. They sometimes take Elsa with them when they have to go out of the town, state, or even country. But most often, she stays behind because of school and just wants to be at home and spend time with Victor

-Mayor Bergermeister is in fact the older brother of Lydia by four years. Like most siblings, they do love each other but sometimes can’t stand each other

-Lydia is one of the few people and things that actually scares Mr. Bergermeister, despite the fact that that she’s his little sister. She doesn’t take nonsense from him or anyone else and she’s not afraid to stand up to him. When she’s done, he usually replies weakly “yes, sis” or “yes, little sis”

-Jonathon grew up in Romania for most of his childhood, but when he lost his parents, he immigrated to the United States to make a better life for himself. He met Lydia when he was about to start high school

-Bergermeister loves gardening, especially his first prize flowers. He absolutely hates it when the neighbor's dog lays his "business" all over the lawn

-Bergermeister cares deeply for his niece and younger sister… but he isn't very fond of her husband, Jonathon

-At first, Bergermeister greatly disliked the idea of Elsa and Victor being together, but he eventually grew to respect him

-Bergermeister used to be married; he and his wife even had a son named Bernard. But the couple had a huge fight and they filed for a divorce. When the divorce was finalized, his ex left New Holland and she took Bernard with him

-Bernard Bergermeister was never close with his cousin, Elsa. In fact, Elsa often found Bernard to be quite repulsive

-When Bernard grew up, he met a wealthy young woman named Lucille and they had a son named Bruce (age 13)

-Mr. Rzykruski’s full name is Ivan Darius Rzykruski

-Ivan was born in a small Eastern European village. He grew up influenced around various scientists in the community. Both of his parents were scientists in different fields of expertise and would encourage him to pursue his dreams

-By the time Ivan was 18 years old, he immigrated to the United States and eventually landed a job as a university professor teaching quantum mechanics. He met with various famous scientists in his career

-Ivan tends to be a bit dramatic in his teachings. He briefly took acting classes in his youth, but he wanted to focus more on being a scientist

-During one of his science lectures, Ivan met a woman by the name of Vanessa. They quickly fell in love, got married, and had a son named Dirk. Unfortunately when Dirk was about 9 years old, Vanessa passed away because of cancer. Ivan was heartbroken and he and Dirk missed her terribly. When Dirk was 10, Ivan sent his son to a private boarding school in another part of the state. But when the boy turned 14, he went back to public school

-Dirk grew up and met a woman named Clarice. They got married and had a daughter named Ingrid (age 13). But Clarice died of a terrible sickness when Ingrid was about 3 or 4, then Dirk died in a car crash when Ingrid was about 7. That was when Mr. Rzykruski took his granddaughter in and raised her as his own

-The gym teacher’s full name is Coach Darla Gladys Barnes

-Bob’s mom’s full name is Barbara Deborah Ferguson Hill

-Vincent Malloy’s full name is Vincent Sebastian Malloy

-When Vincent grew up, he met a woman named Marilynn, they got married and had a daughter named Winona (age 7). But Marilynn got into a bad car accident and passed away, leaving Vincent to raise his daughter on his own

-The invisible fish Victor reanimated didn't die. In fact, the fish used its invisibility powers to slip out of the glass jar Edgar was keeping it in and disappeared into the sewer, rumored to still be there

-The reason that New Holland has so many lightning storms is part of an old town legend. Centuries ago when the first settlers built New Holland, there was a young witch by the name of Loretta Thistletwing and while she was a good witch, she kept her true nature a secret from the superstitious townsfolk. Unfortunately, one fateful night, Loretta accidentally caused her powers to be revealed and the townsfolk formed an angry mob to have her killed. However, her beloved familiar black cat, Midnight, heard of the danger and tried to defend his mistress, only to get killed in the process. Outraged by the loss of her beloved pet, Loretta unleashed a curse upon the town right before they burned her at the stake, saying that the town would be cursed with perpetual thunderstorms and any lightning that hit a deceased pet would bring it back to life, unleashing its fury upon the town. This is why the lightning brings dead pets back. But Sparky is the only good one to be reanimated because Victor loved him so much

-Susan and her two sisters are the three granddaughters of Victor Van Dort and Victoria Everglot. Susan’s son and only child, Victor, was named after his great-grandfather who passed away before his birth

-In the past, New Holland had experienced horrible monster attacks and many of them were based on famous movie monsters. There was a mutated bulldog made out of slime (based on the Blob), a half lizard/fly (based on the Fly), a gigantic pet capuchin monkey (based on King Kong), and even a phantom like cat (based on the Phantom of the Opera). Of course, the current townsfolk never believed these supposed stories until the Dutch Day incident

-Legend has it that the curse Loretta put on the town could only be broken when a pet that had been deeply loved by its owner was brought back peaceful and the townsfolk came together to save it should it die again. This ultimately ended up happening by the end of the movie and the curse was unwittingly broken

This is all I've got so far, but feel free to tell me what you think and tell me which one is your favorite

[itsapapisongo]

Soul Nemeses! | WINWIN

Starring: Winwin ft. Hendery

Genre: Comedy | Superhero

Concept: Supervillain!Winwin (The Lobe) | Superhero!Hendery (Freakazoid)

Word Count: 2,786

Prompts: “Stop screaming, it’s just me.” + “I don’t think that’s legal, but we can work around it.”

Notes: The following is (1) an absurd short-story for the @ficscafe’s dialogue prompt event and (2) a writing exercise to get into a headspace where I can be as silly as possible. Freak Out! is a story I’m very excited for and this was a way to explore the characters and their dynamic. So, without further ado, I genuinely hope you enjoy this VERY SPECIAL EPISODE of Freak Out!

Taglist: @stayinzencity @mother-hyucker @lebrookestore @doievoir @du0tine @naptaemed

All is well in Way City.

Which is to say it’s really not and something is about to happen to disrupt that all-is-well feeling across town. Because a day can’t go by without some burglar, mad scientist, or supervillain indulging in their burglary, mad science, or super-evil shenanigans.

Thus we turn our attention to a deserted, discolored, and depressing city landmark: The Daebak Fair. Once it used to be the kind of place that burst with laughter and excitement, where money flowed every weekend and kept the owners’ pockets heavy and full. People couldn’t get enough of it until, well, they got enough of it.

So much so that it became free real estate for any villain that felt like using the abandoned fair as their lair. This changed, however, when Winwin decided he didn’t feel like sharing. He bought the place, and officially made it his holiday lair. And it’s here that our story takes place.

What once used to be a house of mirrors is now a workplace where a plethora of patented inventions specifically designed for destruction are built, reserved-engineered, dismantled, and kept out of his rivals’ hands.

With all the bells and whistles removed, the lair is quite spacious. Having decorated the place himself, Winwin has hung stolen paintings all over the walls and set tables for dissection, welding, engineering, and even, if he was ever in the mood, arts and crafts. The whole thing has Mad Scientist meets Bob Ross vibes and it’s both odd and endearing.

Winwin is currently dismantling his latest invention—a large crane-looking thingie fitted on the roof a modified golf-cart—out of boredom and frustration after being foiled once again by that red-wearing, annoying, ne’er-do-well freak of a nemesis.

“I can’t believe him,” Winwin grumbles, shaking his head for the nth time. Seeing as he’s alone, he says this to no one in particular. “I craft the perfect plan and he finds a way to thwart it!”

Who would have thought that Freakazoid would have convinced him that creating a gas capable of turning people into clown zombies to do his bidding would be the stupidest  masterplan ever? Winwin felt like he was failing as a villain, not challenging his nemesis enough. He had wondered then and still wonders now if he’s losing it, if he’s gone soft yet he knows he’s not, knows he hasn’t.

So why does this recent defeat grind his gears? Why has Freakazoid gotten to him? Though Winwin knew not to take their rivalry seriously, he sometimes did. It’s standard hero-villain stuff—to hurl insults and humiliate one another—yet something felt off.

He stops working and thinks back to their encounter.

CUT TO: HOURS AGO, IN A COLD, TALL, AND VAGUELY EUROPEAN MOUNTAIN

“Well, if you don’t mind me saying so,” Freakazoid had said, hanging off the side of a snowy cliff, for their confrontation had taken place in a cold, tall, and vaguely European mountain. With an impressive leap and a landing, he stood in front of Winwin and pointed a finger at him. “That’s the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard of! People don’t like clowns, dummy! People are terrified of clowns! Ever heard of It?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—’tis a good plan!”

Freakazoid rolled his eyes, scoffing.“Nuh-huh.”

“Uh-huh,” Winwin replied, feeling instant regret for lowering himself to his nemesis’ childish argumentative skills. “It’s a brilliant plan!”

“No, it’s dumb, dumb, dumb!”

And then they debated like adults for a minute or two—

(“Nuh-huh.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nuh-huh.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nuh-huh.”

“Uh-huh.”)

—until Freakazoid clicked his tongue and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Pack it up, big brain,” he told him, not unkindly but definitely disappointed.

“Why should I? I already have a small zombie army at my disposal.”

“Small clown zombie army at your disposal.”

Winwin groaned in exasperation. “Yes, yes, that.”

“You’re doing this out here in the middle of nowhere. There aren’t even that many people around so I wouldn’t call it an army. I’d call it a small terrifying crowd.”

“Oh.”

Freakazoid nodded and crossed his arms, tilting his head to the side. “Did you even think this through?”

Winwin suddenly found himself speechless. Genuinely and anxiously speechless. He didn’t have an answer other than “I don’t know” and he hated resorting to admitting he didn’t know anything. He was the most brilliant supervillain in all of Way City—the Lobe, some called him—and admitting ignorance was (1) not on brand for him and (2) his worst nightmare.

“I don’t—I’m not sure—I—”

“Alright, you.” Freakazoid shook his head and gently guided him away by his elbow. “Pack it up. Get out of here.”

“But—”

“No butts, not tiddies, not ding-a-lings,” said the hero, his pout a judgemental feature in his face. “I expected a lot more from you. Clown zombies? Aiya.”

“I—” Winwin’s eyes widened and he felt them welling up with tears. “You’re right. I think I’m overdoing it. I might be overtired. It’s the best I could do on such short notice.”

“Turn off the cloud.”

And so he did. Winwin turned to see Freakazoid—lean, clad in red, black domino mask concealing his identity, his insignia that of F and an exclamation point on his chest, his black hair, slicked back as always, haswhite streak in the shape of a bolt across it—grimacing back at him. For a second, Winwin thought he could hear the world’s tiniest violin play a sad tune for himself as he pouted and got on the modified golf-cart he’d driven around the mountain to spread the gas around.

“Hey, big brain,” he heard Freakazoid call after him, the hero’s voice distant. He noticed it had softened somewhat. “It’s a dumb plan but I know you can do better.”

“Thanks, Freakazoid,” Winwin mumbled as his nemesis gave him a thumbs-up.

The moment was ruined the moment the idiot in red opened his mouth again—

“Now, git!”

CUT TO: NOW, BACK TO WINWIN’S LAIR

“Can’t believe I cried in front of him,” Winwin says, cringing.

“Yeah, me neither,” says a familiar voice.

Startled, Winwin squeals then yelps. A wrench flies off his hand as he falls off four feet to the ground and lands squarely on his bottom. He groans, and feels the back of his head throbbing. Opening his eyes, he blinks once, twice, thrice until he makes out the unmistakable silhouette of his nemesis looking down at him. Freakazoid couches and leans in so close, Winwin can feel his breath against his forehead.

“Stop screaming,” the hero says, “it’s just me.”

“Stop scream—are you serious? You nearly gave me a heart attack, you imbecile!”

“I know but that’s no reason to scream your lungs out.” Freakazoid offers his right hand and a half-smile. “Time to go upsies, big brain.”

Winwin glares, refusing the offer for help. “I don’t need your—” he begins but is cut off when he’s lifted off the floor. It’s both rough and gentle, in that he feels he’s taken several tight turns in a roller coaster without whiplash and is suddenly standing upright without imbalance. “Thank you.”

Freakazoid waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t mention it.”

“I won’t.” Winwin scoffs then wags a firm finger in a gesture of warning. “Nor shall you mention that I cried all the way up there in those cold, tall, and vaguely European mountains.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Freakazoid raises a hand, making a gesture that’s supposed to imply his discretion. He frowns then tilts his head with a shrug. “I mean I would dream of it so I might come up. Like, cards on the table, I might tell some of my dream friends about it.”

A beat as Winwin glares, turns to a camera that’s not there, and rolls his eyes.

“Are you quite finished?”

“No, not really—”

Winwin sighs and turns, picking up the wrench he dropped and returning to his work. “Why are you here, Freakazoid?” he asks, his voice laced with despondency.

“Oh,” is all Freakazoid manages to say. Winwin hears him clear his throat and take a step forward. “About that. I came to apologize, big brain. Didn’t mean to be, well, mean to you. It’s just that—” he pauses and the villain can practically see him shrugging. “—I think I’ve been a bit overworked too.”

“Was it your idea to apologize or was it Sgt. Qian’s?”

“That’s neither near or far.”

Winwin groans, doing his best to not roll his eyes or rub his face. “Neither here or there,” he corrects him.

“Exactamundo!”

“Did you come here to aggravate me?”

Freakazoid deflates, looking forlorn for a second before he clears his throat and the usual and insufferable aura of confidence that encompasses his very being returns. He smiles sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck.

“Come on, big brain, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. It’s just that—” Freakazoid groans, throwing his head back like a teeanger not wanting to admit he’s responsible for some wrongdoing. “—it was such a good plan!”

Winwin’s eyes widen as he takes a step forward and squeezes Freakazoid’s shoulders. “Come again?” he queries. “It was a good plan?”

“I mean—duh!—zombies I can handle but clowns? Geez. Ugh. No. Nightmare fuel.”

“So you did like it?”

“Like it? No, bud, I absolutely, definitely, without a shadow of a doubt, love it. Let me tell you, Lobe, it’s—” Freakazoid motions he’s kissing his fingers then wiggles his left hand as if to say mamma mia. “— diabolical.”

Winwin feels warmth spread across his cheeks and immediately clears his throat, looking away to avoid giving Freakazoid any satisfaction or a glimpse at his embarrassment. He laser-focuses on taking apart a component from the machine, cautious not to tinker much with the cylinder that contains the clown zombie gas, and pretends he’s not giddy with excitement and validation.

Then, just as he’s going to turn and give him his thanks, Freakazoid open his mouth and yet again ruins the moment—

“It’s diabolical, but stupid.”

Winwin mutters angrily under his breath, every fiber of his being urging him to reach for that knock-out gas he’d been working on for the past few days—or, perhaps, that disintegrating rifle that has been gathering dust for God knows how long—yet relents when he sees the look of concentration in Freakazoid’s face. The hero looks like he’s seriously considering why he feels Winwin’s plan was, in his words, diabolical but stupid.

And the villain, overwhelmed with both anger and vile curiosity, crosses his arms, taps his foot, and grits his teeth.

“Go on . . .”

“It’s—how to put this lightly?—immensely stupid yet awesomely evil in that you didn’t think it through but it has potential to really ruin my day if done correctly.” Freakazoid throws his arm around Winwin’s shoulder, pulling him close. “See what I mean, old chump?”

“You and I are not chumps.”

Freakazoid gasps and pouts, dramatically putting a hand on his chest. “And here I was thinking you were my nemesis,” he whispers in a low, wheezing voice. “I thought we were soul-nemeses.”

“I mean—” Winwin blushes again and his eyes widen the second he realizes Freakazoid notices his blushing. “We are nemeses, yes, but we are definitely not chumps.”

“Could we ever be chumps?”

Winwin sighs, rolling his eyes. “I believe so.”

“Ah, big brain, I knew you cared!”

“Yes, yes, caring.” The villain nods and pushes his nemesis off himself, “You’ve apologized, insulted me yet again, and tried to be my, as you say, chump. I believe that’s enough banter for a day.”

“Touché.” Freakazoid smiles. “I’ve made plenty of shameless jokes at your expense today.”

“And I’m certain they won’t be the last.”

“You know me,” the hero blinks, pointing a thumb at himself. He glances at the contraption built on the roof of the modified golf-cart and a glint of curiosity and mischief appears in his eyes. Despite wearing a domino mask, Freakazoid could be inexplicably expressive. “Whatcha up to?”

“Dismantling this heap of scrap metal.” Winwin turns so fast that it’s impossible for Freakazoid not to notice the frustration apparent in his face. He smacks the wrench against the roof of the cart and winces when it slips out of his hand. “Damn it.”

“Here, let me help,” Freakazoid offers, guiding Winwin away from the cart. “I need some space.”

Before Winwin can protest, a gust of wind pushes him back. He blinks to see nothing but a blur of motion and a shower of white sparks moving around the golf cart. It’s so fast that he glimpses at Freakazoid’s silhouette twice before the hero stands next to him, wiping his hands with a dirty rag. It reminds Winwin of a mechanic finishing up a check-up on a car in desperate need of maintenance.

“There.” The hero throws the rag over his shoulder. “Doneso.”

“How did you—” Winwin blabbers, flabbergasted at how thorough Freakazoid had been. Every piece is laid on a table that hadn’t previously been there, each component perfectly classified, and all the parts that were supposed to be tossed away neatly put on a trash bag. “How’s that possible?”

“Come on, brainy,” Freakzaoid scoffs, clapping Winwin in the back and making him yelp and glare at him. “We’ve been at this for a while now. If I can think of it, I can do it.”

“That’s not a very reassuring thought.”

For a second, Freakazoid’s smile disappears and a haunted look passes through his eyes. “I know,” he whispers ominously. Then he’s flashing that bright and infuriating smile of his as nothing has happened. “Anyways, I gots to get going.”

That stops Winwin dead on his tracks. Usually, after some crime-spree or being foiled and getting away, Freakazoid would burst in wherever Winwin was currently laying low on, say his cheesy heroic lines, and promptly deliver him to the authorities—which was always, without fail, to Sgt. Qian—and they would call it a night.

Here he is, apologizing, acting like Winwin hadn’t enacted yet another brilliant and evil plan—even though he had deemed it dumb—and being overall far more obnoxious than usual. Yeah, something’s definitely off tonight.

“Whoa, whoa, aren’t you going to take me in?” Winwin protests and instantly groans when he notices his hand on Freakazoid’s forearm, like a lover begging their other half not to leave. He lets go and sheepishly clears his throat. “You might have thwarted me today but I still turned a couple of people into clown zombies. That has to be a crime somewhere.”

“Definitely a crime somewhere, but they’re all good now. All they needed was some fresh-air. No harm, no foul.” Freakazoid shrugs then grimaces. “Although, no, not really. A couple of people were traumatized so there was some harm involved.”

“You see?” Winwin cackles and offers his hand, waiting to be handcuffed. “Take me in!”

“Not tonight, brainy. I’m all tuckered out and Kun invented me out for ice-cream. We can do that tomorrow, though.”

Winwin opens his mouth then closes it, narrowing his eyes in disbelief. “That seems awfully irresponsible.”

“Oh, it is.” Freakazoid snorts, turning to leave. “But I’m getting some ice-cream and Kun’s paying.”

“If you don’t take me in now, Freakazoid, I’ll come up with a worse plan tomorrow and enact it without mercy.” Winwin poses, raising his hands above to display his collection of inventions and devices solely designed for destruction and chaos. “For I live to oppose you. So it is written. So it shall be done.”

The hero blinks, holds his chin, looking pensive for a second, hums, then shrugs with an impassive expression. “I don’t think that’s legal, but we can work around it.”

“I—” Winwin raises and lowers a finger, deflated.

He could reschedule, postpone some things, advance others before he unleashed absolute chaos on the city. He knows can make it work. It would be business as usual.

With a mental note to not start his rampage before dinner time, he slowly and painfully rolls his eyes and huffs, “Fine. We’ll do it tomorrow then.”

“Goodie!” Freakazoid claps, pulling Winwin close for a hug. “Ice cream today. Possible disaster tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Winwin replies through gritted teeth.

“Okey-doke, brainy. See you tomorrow.”

One second, Freakazoid is there. The other, he’s gone in a blinding flash of light and a gust of wind that vaguely smells of chocolate. Winwin is left alone, despondent, and secretly impressed. He sighs and rubs the back of his head, feeling the area bruised and sensitive to touch.

Giving his lair the once-over, he slumps on a chair and pops his lips.

“This is my most humiliating defeat,” he grumbles.

A minute later, he decides to call it a night.

And, for the first time this week, all remains well in Way City.

itspapisongo | © 2020-2021 | All Rights Reserved

Freakazoid! is a Warner Bros. property, all rights reserved to them and the show's creators (Paul Dini & Bruce Timm).

[i-rely-on-you]

Farah and Sauk prompt: them cuddling, sharing a bed, just being really near to each other. make it fluffy. that's the main thing. fluffy. soo fluffy

Love you bibii!

I hope you’ll like it bibii ❤️

Closer

Being a mind fairy had its disadvantages too.

An overactive mind even while asleep being one of them. This sometimes resulted in Farah having very vivid dreams.

Such as tonight.

Her dream had her groan in her sleep, curling in on herself further than she already was.

The tiny noises from deep within her throat had the man behind her on alert in the blink of an eye.

His eyes shot open and zeroed in on the source of the noise immediately.

Being a light sleeper himself, a result of many years on the force, had come as an advantage for the man. They didn’t share sleeping quarters often, not like this, but three decades side by side had them crawl into the same bed or sleeping bag on a few occasions before. This way he had been able to experience Farah’s night terrors first hand a few times during their days together. Be it on a mission out in the woods or one of Luna’s stupid gatherings they needed to attend to. They always decided to stick together whenever they left Alfea for more than a few hours. It was their rule. Their promise to each other.

The bond they shared was a connection so strong it had taken them years to even attempt to understand it. To this day they didn’t fully know what it meant and how it worked but they did know that whenever they were separated they could feel the anxiety building in the other as if it were their own body. It was distracting to say the least. And should one of them get injured during a mission without the other nearby they would feel the pain as their own. It multiplied in their bodies to the point of collapse. They had gathered that knowledge the hard way.

Now concentrating on the woman in his arms he marvelled at their proximity. They gravitated towards each other during the night. Each and every night they slept close to each other this would happen. This magnetic pull just sowing them together. The contact made them both feel safe wherever they were. He had been able to calm the fairy down during her fitful sleep many times. Was able to save her from magic build up during the night. Sometimes her powers would surge on their own accord without her knowing, creating energy fields around her and levitating nearby objects.

If soothed quickly enough the specialist could reign her in before she managed to damage anything around her. Or anyone for that matter.

The fairy in question chose this moment to let out another soft noise of discomfort that had Saul wind his arm around her a little more securely now. She had been lying on his arm, her head pillowed on his biceps but the small noises emanating from her had him switch up positions swiftly. The arm she had been slumbering on drifting down a little to rest below her neck, his elbow bending, making his forearm band across her chest snugly. With his hand that had settled on her arm he started to rub delicate circles into her skin.

Not feeling her settle fully yet Saul decided to take a little more initiative as he knew how hard he could fall should he not get her to settle soon. Seeing as her body was still a tightly strung ball of tension he began to slowly wind his other arm across her belly, pulling her closer to his chest. The hard panes of his front laying flush with the taut muscles of her back.

Wiggling his hand between her hipbone and the mattress he grasped on tightly before pulling her centre backwards, her backside connecting with his groin.

Humming at the contact in her sleep Farah began to murmur softly. Still not fully convinced that she had escaped her dream yet the specialist started to whisper sweet nothings in the quiet between them. His nose ducking behind her ear, his face completely obscured by her shiny tresses shimmering silver in the moonlight filtering in through the open curtains.

This seemed to calm her somewhat, his voice always having had a special effect on her even in deep slumber. It was like her subconscious knew he was close by to have her back at all times. The total trust displayed before him had Saul stunned into quiet awe behind her. Each and every time he did this she would just go slack in his arms, pliant even. It was an honour he still wasn’t sure how to handle. Even after over thirty years by her side her trust was a gift he received anew every day. And he was grateful for it like the very first time it happened.

His hands still unsure then were attuned to her curves and edges now. Every valley, every dip in skin, every little freckle making up a map he had long memorised. His fingers having walked these familiar paths for years now. He knew where to squeeze, where to graze, where to lay the softest of touches to get her to react. To get her to relax. To get her to melt at his fingertips.

Their proximity had never ventured into the realm of being sexual but the closeness they shared was something so intimate, so heartfelt and earnest. He found it hard to describe on the best of days. On the worst he could only describe it as a deep rooted need to feel close to her it was almost painful.

A sharp intake of air had the specialist jolt out of his musings as Farah woke with a start in his embrace. She let out a gasp as the dream slithered from her sleep mussed brain at last. Grasping onto the arm slung around her chest she breathed out deeply with the relief of knowing he was by her side.

As if reading her mind he murmured into her ear “I’m here, it’s okay.” It made her tremble a little how well he could read her. He had always been good at that too.

Holding onto his arm a little stronger for a second she loosened his grip on her enough to turn around in the circle of his embrace to face him. Closing the space between them again as soon as she had fully turned around she grasped onto his back with such a strong grip it made him wonder what her dream had been about.

Her arms having come around his middle held him to her tightly now. Her muscles quivering with the strain. Letting out a grunt at the force Saul let his arms settle around her once more holding her fast and strong.

Farah pressed her face into his neck, her hair lying in wild tendrils around her he tried to tame her locks by gliding his fingers into her mane. His hands stroking it into a sort of order he could make out the shape of her head through again at least. Her mouth coming to rest at his jugular, revelling in the strong thrum of his blood pumping through his veins. Breathing out shakily she pushed further into him by nuzzling his Adam’s apple. It bobbed at the intensity she gave off. It wafted off of her in waves like aftershocks of an earthquake. One shaky breath sounded almost like a sob it had his head crane down toward her ear to whisper to her soothingly. “You’re okay Farah, I got you. It’s alright, love.” The endearment a long cherished friend slipped out of his mouth like a benediction. Hearing him talk made her shudder again.

One of her legs slung itself around his hip, her foot sliding over his backside and hooking around the back of his leg pulling his lower half towards her. Her strong leg binding him to her eliminating any remaining space between them with a firm tug of her calf. Her other leg finding it’s way between his own to rest comfortably between his thighs.

A quiet descended upon them after that. It was a long silence. Her sniffled breathing the only noise in the room for a while.

After what felt like hours she finally began talking in a subdued murmur into his skin, barely a whisper. It was hard for him to make out her words.

“I lost you.”

Her voice sounded so fragile it made his heart stutter. He hated hearing her like this. Her dreams made her relive some chapters of her life that they would both like to leave behind for good. Her strong mind cataloguing memories like a vault. Under lock and key but she could access each and every trauma with a vividness as if it had happened just yesterday. Another downside to being a mind fairy he suspected.

Finding his voice again Saul lowered his head to her ear before saying “I’m right here. You could never lose me.” His tone carrying a softness he only reserved for her. Placing a small kiss to the shell of her ear he let his hand wander into her hair. The soft strands weightless between his fingers as he grasped the back of her head tenderly.

Her chest was still heaving in rapid movements his other hand slid behind her and began to caress the silk clad valley at the small of her back. The material feeling cold to the touch he thought she might be freezing. This had him reach behind him to grab the blanket that had slid off of them during the night. Lowering it over them he pulled it close to her back, his hand finding it’s way to the small of her back again continuing his ministrations.

After a while he felt her relax into his touch. Her body falling slack in his arms. Breathing out deeply Farah hummed into his skin. The low rumble in the back of her throat making him wonder if she was falling asleep again. Stopping the circling motion with his hand he was surprised at her strong voice coming from the crook of his neck. “Don’t stop.” After a short pause she added “Please don’t stop.” Resuming his caressing he hummed out loud briefly. His mouth settling near her temple, his lips pressing a kiss to her skin there.

He felt her lips press the faintest of kisses into his stubbly skin before saying “Please don’t ever leave me.”

Humming more deeply he wound the arm not cradling her head to him around her back and pressed her to him even more firmly than before. His rigid body melting into her soft curves.

“Never.”

His promise had her sigh at how fervently he said it. The word falling from his lips like a vow never to be broken as long as he lived.

And it wouldn’t.

Her breathing evened out again after that. Her body going lax in his arms.

He would never stop protecting her be it during her waking hours or like this when she was at her most vulnerable. Because that is what he was meant to do.

He was meant to love her.

And he would.

Forever.

fin

@chibsytelford look what I did 🙌🏻

[dojaspankow]

dumbstruck

(*NOT MY GIF)

summary: you and jj have been friends for a long time and somewhere along the way you develop a small crush for the cute blond. you want to know if he feels the same way so you decide to do something about it.

word count: 3,400

a/n: hiii!! This is my first obx blog and jj piece I’ve ever written so plspls give it some love!! i hope this is enough for now hehe, enjoy babies! xx

based on the song : dumbstruck - ceraadi

*

*

“I don’t get it. The two of you are affectionate with one and another eye fucking every time both of you are in the room and none of you are planning to confess?!”

you laugh softly at Kie’s exclaims and waving her hands in exaggeration as you pour another batch of brownie into the pan. Popping it inside the oven before turning around to face her shocked face,

“There’s nothing to get. It’s just how we are. Flirty and shit. Strictly platonic.” You remind her, though you know deep down in your heart, you want more than just friends with JJ,

She rolls her eyes at your comment, shaking her head in disagreement. “Yeah no. I’ve seen the way you look at him and I’ve seen the way he looks at you. That boy is head over heels for you.”

“No, he isn’t.” You press, chuckling a little, sitting yourself down on a stool across her. “He’s my best friend, Kie.”

She casually brushes your defense. “Again, no.” She disagrees, grabbing a couple of fries before shoving them into her mouth. “I’m no expert but he’s definitely into you. And since you are too, both of you need to gut up and confess!”

“Who are you talking about?”

A familiar voice of John B’s causes the two of you to glance towards the door. Watching his figure walk in and towards the kitchen, sitting down next to Kie,

“Have you ever heard of knocking, JB?” you playfully asks, raising your eyebrow before handing him a bottle of cold soda,

“Have you ever heard of locking your doors?” He asks back, making you laugh and nod,

“Okay, you’ve got a point.”

John B leans forward and settles his elbows on the counter, flickering his eyes to you then Kie. “So” he starts, smacking his lips, “What are you guys gossiping about?”

You open up your mouth to say something but Kie beats you to it,

“JJ and y/n”

You widen your eyes and gasp before reaching over to smack her lightly on the arm. “Kiara!”

She laughs and raises her hands in surrender, giving you a ‘sorry not sorry’ look,

“Ah!” John B’s eyes snap back towards you and giving you a teasing smile. 

“That boy is fucking crazy about you.”

“See!” Kie claps her hands and looks at you, trying to get you to understand. “I wasn’t lying!”

You blush at John B’s statement, looking down and fiddle with your fingers a little. “No, he’s not.”

“Yes, he is.” He argues. “Man, you should see the way he looks at you when you’re not looking. He’s got this dopey smile and heart-eyes when you’re in the room. Turning down a bunch of girls at parties because his heart is set on yours, drop my ass off at midnight because you needed him.” He casually spares the details about JJ, chuckling at the last sentence

now you can feel your stomach is filled with butterflies

“And the way he talks about you when you’re not around?” He asks as he stares at you, throwing his head back in disbelief with a small laugh. “He talks about you as if he’s writing a fucking poem. Doing John Green shit and he could go on for hours without stopping especially when he’s high, I’m telling you that boy is in love with you.”

Biting your lip, you’re trying hard to hide your smile. your cheeks redden even more while John B continues to unbox every little secret of JJ’s to you,

“You think so?”

John B nods his head fast, cracking open the bottle before taking a chug. “Oh, I know so. Don’t blame him though. You’re hot as fuck y/n—don’t tell JJ that— Two of you are perfect for each other. He can’t stop talking about you”

Kie nods furiously, “I second that.”

“Then why hasn’t he said anything?” you frown, putting your hands on your hips,

“The same reason why you hadn’t said anything too” John B fires, putting a cocky smirk on his face, “You’re a daredevil y/l/n, what’s so scary and hard about saying ‘i love you’ to him when you do? You keyed Rafe’s car last summer yet you’re scared of this?”

You shoot him a glare before answering, “The fact that he could either turn me down or laugh his ass off for being in love with him” you say in an obvious tone, picking the strings of your jean shorts. “You pick.”

“Jesus Christ, woman!” He groans in frustration, running his hands over his face as Kie shakes her head at your stubbornness. “He likes you! more than a friend! I know this!”

Kie rubs John B’s arm in an attempt to calm him down in a joking manner before switching to another subject. “Look, there’s a party at Kegger’s tonight. Do your thing and that boy will surely prove our points.”

*

*

It was around 7 and the gang decides to meet you there at the party. Except for JJ himself. He wants you to come with him and he doesn’t take no for an answer, despite the number of times you’ve told him that you can drive by yourself,

looking in the mirror, you feel satisfied as you stare at your own body up and down with the choice of clothing you’re wearing. A simple white bralette and black swimming undies, along with a short sheer wrap up skirt also in white that compliments the plump of your butt and thick thighs.

What? you love showing off your assets

you let your long thick brown hair fall over your shoulders before clasping JJ's your necklace. Then spraying your chest and neck with your favorite body spray, setting the bottle down on the table when you’re done,

hearing a ding from your table, you crane your neck to see a text message from the pretty blond,

JJ💞 : hey gorgeous, I’m outside. come out whenever you’re ready x

a smile taking over your lips as you reply to him, you have no idea why simple text messages like this could guarantee heebie-jeebies from you. but it always works.

God, you love this man,

after replying with a simple ‘okay boo’ you shove your phone in your small bag and walk out of your room. writing a note on the table for your mom so she knows you’ll be ‘staying at a friend’s house’ because there’s no way you’d be honest about going to a party,

locking the door behind you, you see a glimpse of golden-haired boy a few feet apart leaning against the motorcycle with a white muscle tank and red snapback on, busy playing with his phone to even notice you,

“hey pretty boy” you greet him with a smile in which he looks up, a frown is replaced with a grin,

“holy-shit. you look hot.” he compliments bluntly, looking at you up and down as he bites down his lower lip softly. chuckling as he sees you blush. “Is that new?” he asks as he points at the skirt,

nodding excitedly as you step closer to him so you can hop in behind him. “you look hot too tonight, Maybank. have I ever told you that your white tank and a red cap is my favorite look on you?”

he feels the butterflies erupt his stomach when he hears that, smiling to himself as he looks down to start his engine. “no you haven’t actually. I’m glad you told me.” he says, feeling your hands wrap around his waist and he can’t help but loving how your delicate touch makes him weak on his knees and cheeks red,

“you always look good though. smells nice too.”

he tries to ignore the feeling you give him and clears his throat. “ready princess?”

“ready, my love” you smile softly as he begins to drift off to the Kegger.

soon as the two of you arrive, JJ keeps his hand against your lower back as he guides you to the party. Not that you minded one bit, you even lean towards his touch. Feeling warm and protected under it.

“Not even five seconds in and a bunch of Kooks and shit start looking at you like a piece of meat” he grunts, shooting glares at the guys who keeps staring at you,

chuckling, you turn your head to look at him and squeeze his shoulder. “Down boy” you joke, feeling his muscles soften soon as you touch him. “They know I’m with you, they wouldn’t even dare to lay a hand on me. Plus I’d knock their teeth in even if they tried.”

A soft chuckle escapes from his mouth, pulling you even closer. “That’s my girl”

Again with making your heart flutter. This boy won’t stop!

Kie is the first one to notice about your arrival, waving her hand enthusiastically as you giggle. Waving your hand back,

her eyes then stop at JJ’s hand on you. Her mouth drop open and eyes wide like a bug, squealing a little as you sign to her to ‘tone it down’ with your hands,

“I’m getting high tonight,” you say out of nowhere, sighing as you look out at the scene. dozens of kids getting drunk, sweaty bodies grinding against each other, endless chatters can be heard from left to right. 

JJ raises his left eyebrow, baby blue eyes are now focused on you. “With me right?” His protective side is showing making your lips curve,

“Of course silly. You’re the only person I want to get high with... at the moment” You say in a whisper, nudging him in the stomach as he smiles fondly at you,

“Good. Because I brought just enough for the two of us.” He states, pulling a Ziploc bag out of his pocket just enough so you can see. “Want something to drink?”

Nodding your head, he gives a quick peck on your head, muttering a ‘be right back’ before wandering off. You stand there with your hands behind your back, watching the beautiful scene of young kids enjoying their moment like it’s their last and you can’t help but smile. The sound of ‘Best On Earth’ by Russ is blasting through the speakers as you bob your head to the beat,

“hey cutie” you hear a voice from behind, noticing that it’s Kie greeting you, with her hand interlocked with Pope’s,

smiling at the couple, you greet back. “hey you two. Awe aren’t you two the most adorable shits I’ve ever seen” you poke out your bottom lip, placing your palms against your chest,

Kie just giggles and looks up at her man who has a shy smile plastered on his face. “You and JJ next.”

rolling your eyes playfully, you give a small pinch on her stomach making the girl squeal. “stoop that. God, you’re so annoying.”

Pope then wraps his arm around his girl’s shoulder, pulling her close before giving you a playful smirk. “So you and JJ, eh? Not surprised, man.”

“Oh my God we’re just friends” You laugh at the two, putting your hands on your hips and you stare down at Kie. “You should stop spreading false rumors” You joke,

“they’re FACTS, not rumors” she shrugs, sipping on her red solo cup. “Pope thinks if you two get together, you’d be the hottest couple in the box.”

he nods his head aggressively. “oh yeah definitely. plus, he won’t stop bragging about it. God, you need to lock him down, y/n”

you’re trying so hard to suppress a giggle, just before you could respond to his statement, you feel a figure bumping from your side,

“don’t even try to steal her away from me. I’m planning to spend the whole night with this woman.” JJ jokes, his hand goes out to grip on your waist and keep you close to his body which makes you melt,

“All yours buddy” Pope sends him a wink and Kie just shoots you a smirk before the couple bids you bye and walk off,

"Here you go beautiful” He hands you your drink with a smile, admiring how gorgeous you look under the dark sky with him by your side,

you’re so fucking beautiful it hurts him,

“Thank you my lovely escort” you look up at him before taking a small sip. “Just so you know I’m not planning to get drunk tonight.”

“Me too. I have to drive you back home and make sure you’re safe.” He explains, lacing his fingers with yours as he guides you out from the crowded scene to find a spot just for the two of you,

shaking your head, you look at him who has his eyes on the ground. “You don’t have to. I can just ask Kie or John B to drive me home.”

“Nonsense. I’m taking you home, I always do.” He responds, finding a quiet spot which drives the two of you away from the scene before sitting down on the sand. “Come here, pretty.” He pats a spot next to him before you plop down,

His hand digs into his pocket to pull out the bag he shows you earlier, grabbing a couple of joints as he hands you one. “me and my dad got into a fight this morning when I stopped by the house to grab a few clothes of mine”

With that, you freeze. Your focus is no longer on the joint but rather the boy who’s sitting next to you with a sad smile on his face. “Oh no JJ, what did he do?” Your tone begins to roughen,

as he takes a notice of the tone of your voice, he assures you that nothing happened. “He was about to knock me to the ground but I bolted out of the door before he even got the chance.”

your brows furrow, bottling up your anger deep at the thought of his father hurting the boy you love so much. it pains you to know that you can’t do anything about it, mainly because JJ tells you to stay out of it. Not wanting you to get hurt too.

“where have you been staying?” you can’t help but ask,

he shrugs lightly, lighting the joint before his hand goes to your behind, setting his palm firmly on your back and rubs small circles around it,

“here and there, doesn’t matter.” 

“of course it does” you get a little defensive, scooting closer to him. “i don’t want anything to happen to you jay... you know the guest room at my place is always available right? my mom loves you so she doesn’t mind.”

he smiles at your concern for him, grabbing your hand and kisses your knuckles. “don’t worry about me. i got you, the guys, a job. I could give two fucks about my dad. He’s the least of my concerns.”

though you feel unsatisfied with the answer, you decide to not push him since you know all he wants is to enjoy this night with you and you do too.

“okay.” you smile, softly inhaling the weed before exhaling and closes your eyes. “you know... me, Kie and John B talked about you today” you tease as you bite your lip,

he groans playfully, rolling his eyes before smiling back at you. “Oh yeah? what did you guys talk about?” he asks, 

“they said ... you have a crush on me aaand that you’re like a John Green when it comes to talking about me” you giggle, watching his hand covering his eyes and cheeks flush. you reach out to peel his hand off so he can look at you. 

“heeey don’t be embarrassed. it’s cute as fuck.”

he hums in reply, staring at your pretty brown eyes and find himself getting lost deeper and deeper in them,

“not cute. it’s embarrassing.” he mumbles, leaning his back against the stone wall. “i can’t believe they told you that, fuck! i told them not to tell you!” he groans cutely, 

giggling, you shift your body a little so you’re laying on your side and let your thighs touch with his. “why?” you question,

he knits his eyebrows together, confused by your question, his hand on your hip. “why what?”

“why do you have a crush on me?”

he scoffs at that, chewing on his lip before choosing the next few words to say to you. “1. you’re gorgeous and sexy as hell” the start of the sentence causes you to throw your head back with a laughter. “2. you have always been there for me and no matter how much i think myself as a fuck up-”

“that’s because you’re not” you cut him off

he smiles for a second and continues, “you always remind me the good things i’ve done and what a good person i am to a lot of people, especially our friends. i’ve never had someone do that to me, you know?” he says sadly, his eyes looking forward,

you bite your lip as you put your focus on him, fingers playing with the hem of the material of his tank,

“And every time you talk? Fuck, i’d never want you to stop. Your voice is fucking angelic and makes me smile like a dumbass which is now a joking matter to JB and Pope.” he chuckles and you laugh too, smiling softly as you watch him explain the things he loves about you. “I love how passionate you are about your work but not forgetting about your friends, i love how you stick up for me that one time when we’re at the police station, i love how you know exactly how to make the perfect grilled cheese sandwich and got me hooked on your Empanadas, i love how you punched Topper and gave him a nose bleed that time, i love how you’re willing to guide me through everything in life just so we can get the fuck out of here and move to New York.”

he pauses for a while, taking a deep breath as he now moves his gaze down towards you, who’s eyes already looking at him getting teary.

“but most of all... i love how much i love you and have no intention of going back.” he confesses. “i want to stay in that bubble. would you let me stay?”

you can feel the tears start to building up and blurring your vision, blinking fast as they start to run down your cheeks in which you quickly wipe it off. Nodding your head. “of course... i love you too”

he breathes out a relief, showing you a toothy grin before crashing his lips onto yours, humming deeply as you kiss him back. he smiles against your mouth, heart skips a beat when he feels your soft lips moving hungrily. he bites onto your bottom lip making you gasp and he takes it as an opportunity to slip his tongue inside you. 

the two of you make out for a couple more seconds before pulling away to catch each other’s breathes, laughing lightly at how hungry you two are for each other’s kisses.

“God i’m fucking crazy about you, baby." he sighs out, shaking his head as he admires how plump and sexy your lips are after he kisses you. “driving me insane but i love it. i love you.”

you giggle shyly, sucking on your bottom lip as he chucks off the joint he has on his fingers and so do you. ”i love you too and i’m into you, JJ. i hope you know that.” you wrap your arms around his shoulders and drapes your leg over his lap. “there’s no place i’d rather be right now.”

JJ is over the moon. He can’t believe he got you. He got you... his gorgeous best friend is now his girlfriend, who’s cuddling against his chest and just shared their first kiss. he doesn’t have to hear about you going on a date with other guys because now, you’re his girl.

he fucking wins in life.

“you know” he starts, smiling at you, the ‘i’m so fucking in love with you and there’s no going back’ kind of smile. one of his palms is settled on your waist and the other on your ass. “from the number of times i’ve smoked with the guys, you might be the best high i’ve ever had, baby”*

*

a/n : omg this kind of sucks i’m sorry lmaoo but please give me feedback or leave a comment down below. thank you for reading babies:)

[randomingoftherandomness]

Secrets I Have Held In My Heart

A/N: Modern!AU, Soulmate!AU, Soul Mark!AU, Angst, OT3.

This is quite honestly one of the longest things I’ve ever done in one sitting. I am exhausted. My prose and tenses are probably everywhere and I am so sorry for it. Enjoy x

(Edit 20/1/2021) It has recently come to my attention that lies and slander have been spread about my character amongst persons in this OT3 community. They are malicious lies made with the intent to cast a shadow over my credibility and my good standing in this community. I only ask that you come talk to me first before you believe the horrible things that have been levelled about me.

Please take care of yourselves x

--

Booker smiles placidly when he catches Joe's eye from across the room and let's the pretenses drop the moment he ducks out into hallway, finding a spot of quiet from all the music and chatter of celebration in the living room. He really should be happy but as it is with heartbreaks, happiness is something you can only fake until it feels real.

He opens the door when the doorbell rings and kisses the cheeks of the latecomers in greeting. They awkwardly avoid his eye with shifty smiles as they shuffle past him. Booker doesn't blame them. It's an awkward fucking situation all around.

Joe's warm and happy laughter carries through the air, and Booker just feels his heart twist in his chest. The sight of his head of curls bobbing along in the joy of whatever joke one of their friends was making while his arm was slung intimately low around Nicky's waist was unbearable. Booker has enough self-respect in him to recognise it as jealousy.

He has been in love with his best friend for almost as long as he has known him. It had been ridiculously easy for them; Joe had no soul marks and neither had Booker, so it was the most natural thing to move in together after they'd both hit 33 and when Booker decided to offer his fine art restorer skills up to go freelance, they make plans to spend the rest of their lives together. It made sense and they were happy. Booker had had no intentions of ever letting Joe know how he had truly felt and that was the mistake.

It isn't that he dislikes Nicky. 

The man was beyond perfect and Booker could have never hoped to compare. From the briefest of familiarities, he knows that Nicky was a former theology student who left the seminary and is now deep in his work with a local NGO, well on his way to maybe working for the UN some day. He volunteers at a local shelter, helps at his church's soup kitchen, is handsome and funny, is a fucking Saint personified and looks great next to Joe when Booker looks like a twice drowned rat on his best day. It isn't that he hates the man. It's just that, well, Nicky isn't him.

Booker knew something had changed then. Joe had never looked at him the way he had when his and Nicky's eyes first met. And he knows Joe like he knows his own mind and there won't be any one as trusting or as kind. If he tells him he loves him, Joe would stay and he'd be Booker's, but that's not how love works and so he waits until the day they're both on the sofa watching a game and Joe turns to him to say, "Nicky's my soulmate."

Just like that. And because he could never hurt Joe, he smiles, nodding. "I figured he was. Congratulations man. That's amazing!"

There had been an indescribable look that crossed Joe's face when he said that but he hadn't lingered on it for too long. Joe's soul mark was on his left forearm set in stark, bold lines; a scimitar and a longsword threaded together with roses and thorns. Pretty cool and Booker made sure to tell him so.

That had been three months ago. Three months of waiting for the other shoe to drop, the inevitable moment when Joe says he's gonna move out and into Nicky's unit. For the second it hits his best friend that there really wasn't a place for someone like him in this equation. Two months of sitting around until he wraps up his current contract with the museum in the city and the curator takes him aside to ask him if he would be interested in working for a private collector in Turkey. Two years to work on a team of freelancers. Two years on the other side of the continent. Booker said yes with no hesitation.

"Hey, you good?"

Booker knocks his bottle of beer to Copley's. He is one of the newer persons to join their friend group but it feels like they've know each other for a very long time. His warm smile anchors Booker to the here and now and he is stupidly grateful for his presence. The man was steadfast and calm, and it made sense to Booker that he'd be the only one he told about his leaving. "Yeah. I'm ready to go whenever you are."

He'd snuck a duffle bag of his things out to Copley's house the day before and then two suitcases when Joe was over at Nicky's last night. Right before the party to celebrate Joe's birthday, he had brought his carry on out to Copley's car. His name was still on the lease and he has left instructions to help pay for his part of the rent until the end of the year if Joe would like to continue staying here. Copley will help ship the rest of his things after a month. All that's left to do is leave.

Joe had been looking forward to introducing Nicky to his family and friends, and this party was perfect for it. Booker feels bereft at the thought that this could be the last time he sees him in a long while and he cranes his neck to spy him in the center of the room, accepting a kiss from Nicky as the birthday cake is brought out from the kitchen. He holds that image of Joe, smiling from ear to ear and hopes he won't hate him too much for leaving without saying goodbye.

"Let's go."

--

His Turkish is passable at best but he gets by well enough. The rest of the restoration team were up and coming names mixed with pioneers in the field and despite the lingering heart ache, Booker finds himself pleasantly settled and happy with the work he gets to do. Everyone seems to be equally as excited as he is to be working on their employer's personal collection of paintings and sculptures, in addition to the rare books that Booker has never seen outside of museums and archives.

It's good work and it keeps him busy. It stops him from thinking about Joe too much.

Booker had found thirteen missed calls and twenty texts and ten voicemails when he lands. He hesitates only for a moment before deleting everything that wasn't from Copley or his work.

As if sensing he was being summoned by thought, his phone rings as he basks in the afternoon sunshine whilst reading a book on his off day, Copley's name flashes on his screen.

"You still alive, then?"

"Alive and kicking," Copley says over the line with a laugh. "I swear, Joe is going to eviscerate me one of these days."

Booker shakes his head, marking his page and setting his book aside. The sunlight feels good on his skin and he takes a deep lungful of air. "He won't. He's way too nice."

"You didn't see him glare when I packed the last of your things into the boxes. They're shipped, by the way. Should reach you in a week tops."

"Thanks. I owe you big time."

"Oh, you owe me more than big time. When I come over to visit, I want you pulling out all the stops for me. I want the five star experience, Mr Booker. No expense spared," Copley chuckles.

"Alright, alright," Booker laughs. "I'm sure I can rustle something up. Just let me know when, alright?"

Copley hums and they fall into a comfortable pause. "How are you? Really. Don't lie."

He tightens his grip on his phone, swallowing tightly. "I miss him every day but that's not new. I think I'll keep missing him for a while yet."

"That's normal. I'm not surprised. I think he misses you too, you know?"

"He has Nicky now. He doesn't need me. I'm... I'm just his best friend with a stupid crush that had made plans to spend the rest of my life with him. I don't fit in it any more and he deserves more than I could ever give him," He swallow tightly, licking his lips. "Copley, he'll be okay."

"But will you?"

Booker doesn't have an answer to that. When his things arrive a week and a half later, he accepts it and begins to unpack his books. He's grateful to have his familiar favourites and is eager to fill his shelves when he spots the edges of an envelope peeking out of a battered copy of Neruda. It was a letter and it was addressed to him, though the handwriting is unfamiliar to him.

Dear Sebastien, it starts and this clues him in that this person isn't someone who knows him well. No one outside of his employers and colleagues call him Sebastien.

I hope you don't mind. I'll be slipping this along with the books. I really do hope it finds you well. I don't have your number and judging by the way Joe seems to not receive a reply from you, you might have changed it. I would ask it from Copley but I do not know him well enough and you deserve someone you can speak to without any awkwardness. I write this letter because I want to know you better. It occurred to me that we have never exchanged more than a handful of words whenever we meet and it was always about Joe. I found myself curious about you even if it feels like I know you from all that Joe talks about you. He still talks about you. Even if it is in confusion as to why you left us. I don't write to judge you. I just want to be your friend. If you are amenable, please send your reply to me care of the address on the back of this paper. I hope that you do. I won't tell Joe if you don't want me to.

Sincerely, Nicky.

Booker flips the paper and sees that it's for the church he'd half-remembered being the one that Joe had mentioned off-handedly once. He rereads the words, thrown by the whole thing. He tucks it into his pocket, pushing it to the back of his mind as he focuses on unpacking his life. But the shape of it digs against his skin and he cannot help unfolding it every few minutes to read it all over again.

Each word was carefully pressed and written with intent. He finds his thumb brushing over the looping Joe, but it is the careful He still talks about you that decides things for him.

Scratching his chest absently, he tears out an empty page from his notebook as writes, If we're going to be friends, you'd better call me Booker.

--

The seasons change and his correspondence with Nicky grows from a weekly letter to every few days, to Booker posting a letter only to receive a reply for the one he sent two days ago when he arrives back in his flat. Booker takes to sending a box of baklava over an overnight service and Nicky sends him a handwritten recipe for his Nonna's tomato soup when Booker off-handedly mentions a sniffle.

Eventually it gets easier to talk about Joe and Booker tells Nicky on what he likes and what he doesn't, how to best care for him; he's allergic to a certain brand of detergent, he always forgets his scarf in the depths of winter so always stuff one in his coat pocket, he loves it when you caress his hair, he doesn't support any team in football but he loves watching a game and he always chooses the team that starts on the right side of the pitch, ask his mother for her recipe for lamb stew and make that for him when he's having a busy week.

Nicky never seems to be bothered by him telling him all these things and in turn, Booker learns that Nicky cannot function before his first cup of coffee, that he misses the quiet of his life in the seminary but he is glad he can do more as he is, that he has a few kids that he works with that he is hoping will get into gifted programmes that can help them excel in academia, that if he hadn't done the almost priest route, he would have been a doctor or a medic.

It was ridiculously effortless to be friends with Nicky and he finds himself actually looking forward to his letters and random bits and bobs in the mail. Sometimes Nicky sends Booker Joe’s sketches and he keeps them up on his bedside, keeping them in sight as he falls asleep at night. Other times there’s a picture or two, taken by Nicky, of Joe. Joe on the corner of the sofa, curled up and dozing, Joe eyes crinkling as he laughs at something. Joe with those ridiculous sunglasses they bought on a whim over a very wet Welsh afternoon.

As the first chill of the season sets in, Booker asks about Joe.

He's fine. Missing you. We're heading to his family's beach house. He said you both used to go together?

Booker finds that he can smile a little easier when the memories come or when it is brought up that Joe misses him. It still tastes a little bittersweet but he can be happy about how he had the chance to experience these things with Joe. Even if he hadn't been the one to keep having them. 

Yes. He writes, But you both can do this together now. Make sure you pack extra blankets for yourself. I'm sure you know that he hogs them.

Nicky replies with a box of Marks and Spencer Welsh Cakes which Booker thanks with an assortment of Turkish Delights. 

Their correspondence slows as the weather cools further. Copley, when he tells him about what’s happening over Skype, merely asks him if it i a good idea to be even putting himself in the same sphere as Joe and Nicky when he had moved across the continent just to get away from the heartbreak. 

“I don’t see how it couldn’t be,” Booker says over the sizzling of the butter as he makes the cheese toasties that Joe used to love for breakfasts. He scratches at his chest, eyes watching the way the cheese oozes off its side.

“Mate, I don’t think you’re far removed enough to actually know how catastrophic this could be.”

“O ye, of little faith,” Booker huffs, flipping the toastie. “At some point I would like to be able to exist in the same city as him without melting into a puddle of heartbreak. If being friends with his soulmate helps get me there, I’m all for it.”

“You are a masochist, Mr Booker.”

Booker laughs even as he burns his finger on the pan.

He works harder than ever, learning and improving his own techniques under the tutelage of his colleagues and can appreciate the opportunity. There's already talks of him going to New York after the New Year's to accompany some of the artifacts that are being lent out for display. Booker is climbing the stairs up to his building, head down, free hand rubbing at his chest and reading through the latest methods of restoration on his phone when he bumps into a person rushing down. 

“Oh, sorry--”

“Booker.”

Joe’s eyes are big and wide when their gazes meet. Booker blinks, breathes in deep before looking behind him to see Nicky watching them from his landing, exhaling shakily as he whispers, deep and with feeling, “What the fuck are you guys doing here?”

--

Nicky nurses his cup of tea from his lean against the window and deftly avoids the inquiring glare Booker keeps sending his way from the safety of the kitchen. Joe, on the other hand, is carefully prowling the space of his studio flat he has made home, obviously cataloguing the way his books sit on the shelf and the way he has kept the space marginally clean-ish, how there are pictures and sketches tacked to the wall behind the dining table, the clear signs of a life he has built here.

“Let me get this straight, you picked up Nicky’s mail from the church, saw my handwriting, and decided to come all the way to Turkey. Just to see me,” Booker says, gesturing at their backpacks leaning against his door. “Again, let me ask, why?”

“Why?” Joe laughs, throat clicking when the sound comes out rough and raw. “You ask me why I would fly out to Turkey in the middle of the holiday season just to see my best friend who left me without telling me he got a job in Turkey and was going to leave without even so much as a goodbye, and you are asking me why I would come all the way out here just to chase you down? Are you perhaps short of a marble!”

“And what was I supposed to do! Linger around you when I was dying every single time I looked at you and knew I wasn’t your soulmate? We were going to spend our lives together, Joe! I loved you!”

Booker slaps his hand over his mouth and turns away, focusing on his breathing. “You love me?” Joe says softly in the stillness of the flat.

“I did. I do and I’m sorry,” He sighs, feeling his chest shake with his trembling breath. He presses the heel of his hand to his sternum. “I do. And it’s okay, Joe. I know you don’t love me in that way. It’s okay. I just need some time away to figure out how to love you like you need me to.”

“And what do you know about what I need from you?”

Booker feels Joe come close and allows himself to be turned around to be face to face with him. “Do you know I love you too?”

“Yeah,” He chuckles wetly, rubbing his nose with the back a hand. “I’m your best friend.”

Nicky choose this moment to speak. “Booker, look at him and listen. It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you in our letters. “

There’s an insistence in Nicky’s gaze that galvanises Booker to turn to Joe and meet his eyes head on. “I love you, Book. I always did. I still do. Even after the bullshit you’ve put me through.”

“But Nicky--” “Nicky’s my soulmate and I love him too.” Joe smiles, eyes gone liquor soft when Nicky returns his fond look. “But I’ve loved you for the longest time, Book. I still want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

The itch on his chest starts to burn.

“And you’re alright with this?” Booker breathlessly asks Nicky, taking a step back. “This- This whole Love, Actually thing is a situation you’re okay with?”

“Yes,” Nicky says, standing to cross the distance between them. Joe reaches for him then, tenderly touching him by the elbow while Nicky slides a hand to his cheeks and Booker feels immediately overwhelmed. He parts his mouth to speak when he doubles over dropping to his knees when the fire spreading over the skin on his chest sends him to his knees gasping for air. 

Joe keeps a hold on him while Nicky looks him over with clear worry. “Fuck!” Booker groans, trying to arch away. Clawing at his shirt, he tears at it until the buttons plink on the floor as they fall. For a moment, he does not register the dark lines that spread over his sternum. Running shaking fingers over his raw skin, Booker barely holds back the awed gasp at the scimitar and longsword twined together with thorns and roses. 

“Well,” Nicky laughs softly, cupping him by the side of the head, sweeping him into a gentle kiss. In that second that their lips touch, Booker feels his heartbeat skip a notch. “I guess this answers things, doesn’t it?”

-- Epilogue --

“That’s the last of the boxes.”

Joe kicks the door shut behind him, dropping the bags in his hands to the floor, ignoring the evil eye sent his way by Nicky who had warned them against scuffing up the hardwood floors. Booker throws himself onto the sofa with a sigh and Joe, grinning like a maniac, does a running start before launching himself onto Booker. 

“Oof!” And then after a beat and a wiggle. “Joe, you’re suffocating me and I can feel your dick against my ass.”

They’ve finally moved into their first home together. It had taken a bit more effort after Turkey to keep their fledgling relationship going but all’s well, ends well and Booker is back with them after finishing up his contract with glowing recommendations and growing his contact list. Joe was ridiculously proud and he knows Nicky feels the same too. 

They’ll need to work hard over the next two days to spruce the place up in time for their housewarming. Their friends and families will be here and Joe cannot wait to show off his loves. Wrapping his arms around Nicky and pulling him along back to the sofa where Booker is, he basks in the happy warmth of feeling whole with his heart in one piece.

[donutloverxo]

Salty Baby

Chapter five

Please do not steal or repost my works. Reblogs are welcome.

Summary- When you moved to New York in hopes of living a glamorous life this isn’t what you expected. Steve offers to help you but your pride gets in the way. Pride isn’t going to pay your rent and college loans.

Pairing- Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings- smut, little anal stuff, daddy kink, angst, hurt/comfort, sugar daddy/baby themes

Word count- 2.2k

Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three | Chapter four

Masterlist

Not having to work at the cafe or babysit your nephews freed up a lot of time for you. You were used to caring for others, always being busy with something. What the heck are you supposed to do now? Steve suggested getting a hobby. You tried cooking and almost burned down the kitchen.

Steve had been on a mission for two weeks. He had promised to be back in one. Your anxiety was through the roof. This is the longest you had been away from him. You weren’t allowed to contact him. Your worst fear was to find out something bad happened to him through the news.

It was also the first time you were truly alone. At first it was your mother and her delinquent friends and then your loud nephews. Now there was no one . No one to annoy you, nothing to do. Just silence.

Silence was deafening. It made your mind go to dark places, think about dark things. Things you pushed in some corner of your mind. You had to. You weren’t going to wallow in sadness forever.

You deserved to be happy. You kept telling yourself over and over again.

You were making some ramen for dinner after writing a long tedious paper. With your favorite show on, you were set for a nice relaxing night.

You shrieked when you looked at your supersoilder standing in the middle of your living room, almost dropping your bowl of ramen. You hadn’t even heard him come in.

You carelessly dropped the bowl on the coffee table embracing him in a tight hug. His scent overwhelming your senses. You felt tears roll down your cheeks. You were blown away by the relief you felt seeing him safe and sound and the weeks of longing and restless nights spent without him.

He let put a muffled groan before wrapping his arms around you. “I missed you too” He whispered nuzzling his nose in your hair.

You pushed yourself off of him, cradling his face in your hand. “Are you hurt?” You asked.

Steve was always distant when he got back from a long mission. He would still crave your hugs and cuddles, sometimes your body, to switch back to his normal self. You didn’t mind. You wanted to be there for him as he was for you. Your heart broke at the physical and emotional toll his work took on him.

“Oh my god” You cried looking his white t-shirt, now stained with blood around his ribs. You softly touched it with your hand. Taking it back instantly when you heard him hiss. “Why didn’t you get it checked out?”

“Don’t worry about it doll. I heal pretty fast. I just needed to see you” He said dipping down a bit to capture your lips.

You pulled away before he could. Frowning at him. “How could you be so careless?”

Turns out he did have a flaw after all. A fatal one at that.

He gave you a pout tilting his head a bit. By now he knew exactly how to play you. “Oh fine” You huffed. Standing on your tippy toes to capture his lips. You didn’t give in completely though, pulling away after just a few seconds.

You pulled on his hand, dragging him to the bathroom. Your ordered him to sit on the toilet seat while you looked for the first aid kit. You had patched up your mother and your sister a few times but you didn’t have a lot of experience with it. He really should have gotten his wounds checked at the med bay.

You stood in front of him pouring the alcohol on a small cotton bud. You looked at him, he was staring at his hands, his knuckles bruised.

“Hey come back to me” You whispered softly kneeling in front of him, caressing his swollen cheek.

“I should have stayed at the tower” he gave you a small smile “I don’t want you seeing me like this”

“No, don’t say that. I just want you to be more careful. You’re not alone anymore. I don’t mind patching you up or taking care of you”

“I’m sorry. I promise I’ll be more careful” He kissed your palm, his smile lifting up ever so slightly.

After stitching up some of his wounds you made him some tea to calm his nerves. You talked about your week while sipping on yours. You asked him about his mission but didn’t pry too much since he didn’t want to talk about it.

After a few hours most of his wounds healed and he seemed to relax. You were both in bed holding hands. Usually your legs would be tangled together while you were pressed tight, holding each other. You didn’t want to agitate his wounds so you chose to keep your distance. It was easy said than done. Two weeks without him, without his body against yours, him inside of you, had left you feeling hot and bothered.

He shifted towards you to get closer to you.

“Steve” You warned him. You couldn’t see his face but you knew he was giving you a cheeky smile. “You can’t sleep?”

“Don’t worry” He said pinching your cheek “Just jetlagged. It’ll come in a while”

You hummed to that. Throwing a leg over him. You propped yourself on your elbow when you felt, what could only be his erection, again your shin.

You smirked grabbing it in your hand stroking him through his boxers. He groaned out your name growing harder in your hand.

“Let me take care of you, daddy” You got up freeing his cock from the tight boxers.

“Shit” He cursed as you fondled and rubbed him in your hand. He particularly lost his mind when you grazed your thumb over his tip, smearing his precum to lube him up. “Do that again” He cried.

You did a couple of times before kneeling on your hands and knees to take him in your mouth. You sucked at his tip licking his slit while fondling his balls. Craning your neck to take one of them in your mouth sucking on it.

“Don’t tease” He demanded manoeuvring your head back to his dick.

With some research and practice you had become an expert at making him putty in your hands. You took his length in your mouth going as deep as you could. You still couldn’t completely swallow him.

He bunched up your hair creating a makeshift pony tail while you bobbed your head up and down on him. Making loud slurping noises. You were determined to take him as far down your throat as you could.

He was biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. He felt as if he could cum then and there. He tried distracting himself looking around the room. Only to be met with the silhouette of your ass peaking out of your nightshirt.

He groaned letting go of your hair to squeeze and fondle your cheeks. He brushed his fingers over your folds dipping them in. You were tight, tighter than you normally are. He could tell. You clenched on his fingers moaning around his dick. He had missed that feeling more than anything.

“Get over here” his voice raspy, commanding. He pulled at you dragging you to pull you just above his mouth.

You blushed at the awkward position. You had sat on his face a few times but never while you were sucking him. You were about to protest, you were trying to take care of him not the other way around, when you felt him lick a strip up your pussy.

You shuddered above him as he kept licking and pushing his tongue inside of you, fucking you with it. He pushed at your head. “Keep going”

You struggle to suck him or even stroke him, with him sucking harshly at your clit while playing with your pluckered hole.

You tried your best to keep from gagging as you stuffed him in your mouth and breathe through your nose.

“I’m going to come” you whined as he gently bit your clit “Come with me daddy. Come in my mouth” you plead.

You felt his grip on your ass get tighter as he pulled you in his tongue eating you out mercilessly. You cried out gushing around his mouth. You felt him release spurts of salty creamy cum in your mouth. You swallowed around him not wanting to waste one bit. You heaved trying to catch your breath as you took him out of your mouth.

Resting your head on his thigh tired from your orgasm. You bounced your fingers on his cock like a little trampoline. You giggled to yourself.

“What’s funny?” he asked smacking your ass his voice hoarse and tired.

“Nothing” You tried your best to muffle your laughs as you got off of him. Tucking him back in his boxers.

You wrapped your arm around his neck as he rested his head on your breast humming contently.

“Love you”

“Love you more” He replied on his way to a dreamless restful night after a long time.

***

You had never been a huge fan of Christmas. It was all just a capitalist corporate ploy to get people to buy useless crap.

You used to sulk in your bed being a bit jealous of everyone who got to have a merry christmas. Full of presents with people they love. You never thought you would get to experience it. Until now.

It was the first of December. You and Steve woke up early to buy a Christmas tree. It took a while to get one best suited for your apartment but you were happy with it. It was small and perfect for both of you.

You had bought some ornaments to decorate it. Unbeknownst to you Steve had got some more over a month ago. He was that excited about your first Christmas together.

Your feet were tucked into a warm fuzzy blanket while you sipped on your hot cocoa. It was a hard but rewarding task. You finally managed to get your tree up.

You had jokingly bought some red, white and blue themed balls. He rolled his eyes when he saw them but you knew he secretly loved them.

He plopped down beside you. Smiling at the tree then staring at you.

“What’s up?” you asked him.

“Well I had an idea”

“Uh-oh that’s never a good thin..”

“Since you’ve made my Christmas so happy” He interrupted you “I’m giving you twenty-five presents for twenty-five days of Christmas”

“Steve you don’t have to”

“I finally have a girl I can spoil. I’m sorry sweetheart but you can’t stop me” He waved you off. It was true there was no stopping him when he set his mind on something.

“Here’s uh... here’s the first one” he said bashfully handing you a paper bag.

You smiled at him. You didn’t have it in you to break his heart. You opened the bag pulling out a white dress. You got a good look at it once it was out. It was beautiful. Maybe the most beautiful dress you’ve ever seen.

“This...”

“Yeah. I saw you looking at it the other day. You’ll look beautiful in it” He said as you inspected the material running your hands through the sheer net “It’s perfect actually. There’s a party. It’s a white christmas them? I’m not sure. I don’t understand half the things Tony comes up with.”

You had never met Tony or any of his teammates. He had talked about introducing you over Christmas. Which you were excited for until now. You weren’t one to wear make up or pretty dresses. Either you didn’t have the money for it or you didn’t have the time.

“I’d love to meet them” You finally spoke up. He would have to introduce someone like you to his amazing friends. “But this isn’t for me” You tried your best to keep your voice from cracking.

“Is it the wrong size?” He asked.

He remembered Clint telling him to never buy clothes for a woman. 'If it’s too big she’ll assume you think she’s fat. If it’s too small she’ll assume you want her to lose weight.’ He should’ve listened.

You chuckled at him blinking your tears away. “No it’s probably the right size. But it’s not for someone like me.”

“What do you mean?” he asked subtly pulling you into him to comfort you.

“It’s for beautiful girls. I know I know you think I’m beautiful” you shut him up before he could get a word out “But I’m not graceful or beautiful. Are you sure you want me to meet your friends?” you let out a humorless dry laugh.

“Yes I’m sure. You know why?” He asked to which you shook your head no “Because you’re the only one for me. You’re my best girl. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen”

“Steve” You whined covering your face. He always annoyed you with his gush of compliments and his love.

“You don’t have to wear that if you don’t like” He continued.

“Well I can’t say no now” You went back to looking at the dress. It was beautiful. You could pull it off. “Just so you know you’re the only one for me too” You pecked his lips your lips lingering close to his “Promise me this is forever?”

“I promise” He pulled you in to give you a proper kiss.

[ateezmakemeweep]

richboy!seonghwa (part 27)

word count: 4k

angst, fluff

(part 26) (series masterlist)

the next few weeks were spent getting back into the swing of school. the hallways that were buzzing those first few days back quickly fizzled into a panic-induced frenzy. because if you thought the winter coursework was a nightmare, the spring proved to be much worse. 

“20 pages? 20 pages!” you exclaim in the library to mingi and yunho. “i don’t even know enough words to make an essay that long!”

“okay miss scholarship student,” yunho teases, smirking when you smack him playfully. 

“maybe if you weren’t so distracted by boys and read a dictionary instead, you’d be able to write those 20 pages,” mingi says casually, his own face in a book as he chews on a carrot stick. 

your mouth drops as yunho snorts into his hand, the satisfied smirk on the red head’s face quickly falling when you speak up. “you really wanna talk about being distracted by boys, mingi?”

that’s quick to shut him up, only the crunch of him chomping on the carrot stick and the sound of your own chuckle between the three of you. the squeak of the library door opening causes all of you to look, your neck craning back to see seonghwa walking through with two boys from your 4th period class.

your eyes meet and he only does his usual greeting to you, a simple head nod with the smallest of polite smiles on his face before he quickly looks away. you let out a sigh, turning around to see the two boys looking at you carefully.

“still not saying a word?”

“no,” you sigh. 

because the only time you managed to have a conversation with him was by catching him after your class the third day back at school. he’d been avoiding you like the plague and you suppose you understood that maybe he felt embarrassed about his drunken night and confessions. 

but you didn’t want him to feel like he couldn’t talk to you or that you were weirded out. so that’s why you watched the clock and got your books away before the bell, springing up from your seat when it rang reminding you of the other times you had to plan out a way to catch him before he bolted out. 

“seonghwa,” you said, voice quiet but strong as he stiffens upon hearing it. he turns to look at you and tries to smile but it falls flat, his eyes and entire body deflating slightly. 

“hey, y/n.”

the bustling of other students surrounds you as their feet scuffle and backpacks zip close, only a few people straying behind to wait for their friends or talk to the teacher. you two hold a tense eye contact, both of you unsure and guarded but for very different reasons. 

you don’t know if you’re making things harder for him while he doesn’t know if you’re completely perturbed by the shit he pulled last week. because he thinks if there’s two people more disturbed by it than him, it’s you and yeosang. 

“you’ve been avoiding me,” is all you say. because before that night, you guys were kind of back to normal. smiling and laughing and actually talking to one another. 

“and you know why,” he mumbles, leaning his arm on the desk as he looks up at you. 

“seonghwa, it’s fine,” you tell him softly. 

“it’s not,” he says, a humorless laugh leaving his mouth. “i don’t even remember what i said to you but i know it had to be-”

“nothing. it was nothing and nobody’s mad at you,” you tell him in an attempt to make him feel better.

“it wasn’t nothing, y/n,” he snaps, your eyes widening at his unusually harsh tone. and he knows you’re only trying to make him feel less embarrassed and ashamed but it only makes him feel worse. 

you hold your breath as you see him exhale one of his own, running his hand through his hair before he shakes his head. “i’m sorry,” he grunts lowly, “i’m just..i shouldn’t have done that.”

“and i shouldn’t have done a lot of things, either,” you tell him quietly, “i know...that that was kind of my fault.”

his adams apple bobs as he swallows, not even realizing the room has emptied out and people are waiting outside. he can only feel the thick tension between you two, your desperate attempt to make him feel better and make things between you guys normal again while he’s desperate to run away and just forget everything. 

but even after everything, he’s desperate to tell you nothing’s your fault. that you didn’t do anything wrong and there’s no fault to put on anyone. but then the more he thinks about it, the more he thinks maybe placing the blame on you would make you feel better.

ask why you kissed yeosang when you knew he liked you. ask why you kept it a secret for those weeks after even though you both knew it was wrong. ask why the hell you chose yeosang but still insist on talking to him. 

but he knows that’s not in his nature. he couldn’t ever put the blame on you when he sees how much it’s hurt you, how much you’ve cried and gone back and forth with yourself. it’s why he says:

“nothing was your fault,” he tells you. “i got drunk and said shit i shouldn’t have.”

“then why have you been avoiding me?” you ask softly. “yeosang said you haven’t really talked to him either.”

seonghwa swallows down the lump in his throat, his resolve to stay polite and good quickly leaving him. he shoots up from his desk and slugs his bag over his shoulder. he knows you mean well but he’s still sensitive and upset and the way he’s feeling hounded by you right now is making his skin prickle. 

“why are you attacking me, y/n?” 

his voice is such a short snap that it makes you draw back in offense; you were just trying to talk and make him feel better. 

“attacking you?” you ask, “i’m just...i’m just trying to tell you we’re okay. that nothing has to be...weird now.”

air blows out of his nose and he can’t bring himself to look at your face, his head turned back to look out in the hallway. he sees a few younger kids waiting for them to leave, like their able to sense the tense atmosphere and stay far away. 

it’s why he turns back and forces himself to look in your eyes, already feeling like an asshole when he sees the hurt and confusion swirling in yours. but for once in his life, he can’t bring himself to care that much. you say you guys are okay, but that’s not the case. he knows it, you know it, everyone probably knows it. 

but because he needs to get away before he becomes a person that he isn’t at his core, he nods his head at you.

“you’re right. we’re okay. nothing’s weird,” he says, his voice soft but not with the warm sincerity you’ve grown to know. “i gotta get to class, y/n. i’ll see you around.”

“seonghwa,” you breathe out. but he pushes past you and out of the classroom, the people waiting outside immediately filing in and taking their seats. 

that was the last time you’d talk to him and it was almost a month ago. you’ll see each other and nod or wave or attempt to smile but everything feels so forced and fake that it makes your stomach sink. 

“it’s like after the move night,” you tell the two boys looking at you curiously. “we were finally becoming friends again, kind of, and then that call changed everything.”

yunho and mingi look at you then toward seonghwa, who’s walking through the library and looking everywhere but their corner. their hearts hurt for him, knowing how hard these past months have been for everyone but especially him. and they know you mean well but expecting him to be friends with you is a little...unrealistic right now.

“he’ll be friends with you when he’s ready,” mingi tells you, gently but firmly the way he always does. “it’s not that easy, y/n. think about if you felt the way you do about yeosang but he rejected you. and then try to imagine if he kept insisting you guys could be friends.”

you let out a sigh, knowing he has a point and is absolutely correct. but it still hurts your heart because you do love seonghwa and his friendship and everything he has to offer as a person. 

but if he needs you to wait, you’ll wait. because you don’t wanna lose your first friend here over something as silly as a drunken night. 

“did seonghwa talk to you today?” yeosang asks as you plop down in his car, leaning over to place a peck on his cheek before throwing your bag onto the floor. 

“nope,” you say, a frown on your face before you ask him the same. 

“not really,” yeosang says, shaking his head as he holds his palm up for you to take. “just his usual safe bullshit.” 

him and seonghwa are in a similar spot that they were in after the movie night fight, tip toeing around each other and using their other friends as buffers. it’s not as bad, since they’re able to be in the same room as each other, but it’s still not their usual friendship; it’s why yeosang’s decided that today he’s had enough. he misses his friend and they have to talk it out again.

“that’s why i’m going to his house later tonight,” he continues. 

“oh?” you squeak, playing with his fingers as he starts to drive off. 

“yeah, i don’t know if he wants me to like...talk to him about that night?” yeosang questions, wondering if his friend is thinking he’s harboring ill feelings about the whole thing. because he was at first, but it hadn’t had anything to do with seonghwa. it was his own insecurities and stupid brain concocting a bunch of a bullshit. “but i have to go over there. last time it went well and he definitely wanted to punch me in the face back then. so this time should be fine.”

you giggle at his comment, nodding your head before looking over at him again. “maybe let him get one in this time. for fun.”

his eyes roll toward you and your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you smile, your eyes lighting up when he says if that were the case, you’d be the one taking care of him afterward. you peck him on the lips and then do it again when you’re in front of your house, wishing him good luck and reminding him not to be an asshole later. 

“i don’t know where you get this impression that i’m ever an asshole.”

his cute boyish chuckle rings through his open window after you slam the door at his comment, blushing and waving him off when he screams out the three words you’re still getting shy and giddy hearing.

yeosang waits until dinnertime to go over to seonghwa’s, texting the boy that he’s bringing chinese food and to have the door open for him. he doesn’t get an answer but knows the boy saw it when he gets there twenty minutes later, walking into the house and hearing the tv on in the living room. 

he sees seonghwa laid out on the couch, passing right by the kitchen counter and missing the passport papers and boarding school pamphlet laid out for everyone to see. but it appears his house is empty again, everything spotless and untouched like a soul hasn’t lived here in months. 

“hey,” is all he says, placing the food on the coffee table before plopping down on the couch. 

“hey,” seonghwa says, eyeing the plastic bag before looking at the boy. “thanks for the food, though it didn’t seem like i had much of a choice.”

“you turning down a free meal now, you fuck?”

seonghwa smirks at the boy, fishing in the bag for a plastic fork before throwing one at yeosang. “don’t get shit on the couch. my mom will-” the words die in his throat when he realizes even if something did get on them, he could probably buy a new couch and have it shipped to his home before anyone  noticed. “actually, it doesn’t even matter.”

“i won’t,” yeosang says, popping open his container before shoving a piece of sesame chicken in his mouth. the boys eat in a relative silence, a stray comment about the tv show and the sounds of their chewing filling the room. 

“how long have your parents been gone?” yeosang finds himself asking, fishing around his bowl as he successfully avoids the pieces of broccoli. 

“don’t know, maybe since november. hadn’t talked to them in a while.”

yeosang’s eyes widen, placing his sock-covered foot on the table and smirking when seonghwa smacks his foot down immediately. “hwa, what the fuck, you’ve been here alone for almost five months?” 

the boy only shrugs in response, stuffing his mouth with a dumpling as he mumbles “i guess.”

“assholes,” yeosang grumbles, shaking his head before the last part of his sentence rings in his head. “but you’ve talked to them recently, then?” 

the boy only answers with a short “yeah,” but yeosang doesn’t find anything about it suspicious. after all, they’re always a little short and cryptic when it comes to issues with their parents. 

they finish eating as they watch tv, yeosang laying back on the couch with a grunt when his stomach feels like it’s about to explode. seonghwa wipes his mouth with a napkin before picking up the food, humming when the boy laid out thanks him quietly.

seonghwa dumps the food in the trash before eyeing the papers on the table, his gaze roaming to yeosang before back on the counter with a sigh. he licks at his lips questioningly, the short phone call with his father replaying in his mind.

“looks like we’ll be here for a few more months,” his dad told him firmly. it’s the first thing he said after saying hi, not a ‘how are you?’ or ‘have you been eating?’ just a pleasant reminder that he’ll be alone in his huge house for a bit longer. 

“oh,” is all he managed to get out. and whether his dad heard the disappointment in his voice or not, the next sentence that left his mouth throughly shocked him. 

“i know it’s your senior year but we figured we’d ask. would you wanna go to school here?”

his eyes widened at first, his immediate instinct to say absolutely not and enjoy the life of being a teenager whose parents are abroad in france. but he can’t even lie that the thought of getting away could be just what he needs right now. because his life hasn’t felt right for the past few months. 

and he’s not only thinking about the whole thing with you and yeosang. he’s considering how much he’s hated being alone here, how he’s so sick of the empty house and not hearing from his parents for weeks. how he no longer wants to bother his friends with his weepy nonsense while they’re trying to enjoy their last moments of high school.

but does he really wanna do that? does he want to leave his friends and school and move to a country where he doesn’t know anybody? 

“i-i...” he stutters, unsure of how exactly how to answer. but with his son not immediately blurting out the word ‘no,’ the man offers him time to think about it, informing him of the name and telling him to print out the brochure on the school’s website. 

“it’s a great school, seonghwa. it’d be a good opportunity and my colleague’s son goes there. but we’re not gonna force you, it’s all up to you.”

that conversation was a little over a week ago and seonghwa had still been going back and forth with himself, every night going going over the pros and cons in his head. because while a part of him thinks it’d be good for him, another part of him isn’t sure. 

but then when he pads his way back over to the living room and see’s yeosang sitting up with a serious expression, his brain pushes all of that out of his mind. he knew the boy had ulterior motives for coming over and now he thinks he’s about to get his ass handed to him. 

“you know we gotta talk about it,” is all his friend says, placing his foot on his knee as the boy looks at him. “stop looking like i’m gonna punch you in the face.”

seonghwa lets out a snort, rolling his eyes as he plops back down on the couch. “you probably deserve to,” the boy mumbles. 

there’s a few beats of silence before he hears, “you’re fucking joking, right?” seonghwa’s head snaps up immediately, raising an eyebrow as his friend just looks at him in disbelief. “you’re too good a guy, seonghwa, i swear to fuck.”

the boy only lets out a humorless laugh and shakes his head, looking away for a moment before back at his friend. “how do you figure? i called your girlfriend in a drunken fit and confessed all of my feelings to her.”

“she said you couldn’t remember anything,” he says. tone not accusing nor angry.

“i don’t,” seonghwa says, “but i know that’s what happened.”

yeosang looks at his friend and can see the inner turmoil he’s feeling, wishing the boy wasn’t always so hard on himself. he puts aside his own shit all the time to spare others and it’s something yeosang wishes he could do so easily.

“okay. so what?” yeosang says. seonghwa raises an eyebrow as he looks at his friend in confusion. did he not just hear him say he told his girlfriend he had feelings for her? not like he didn’t already know...but still.

“seonghwa, we all already fuckin’ knew that. we also know i was wrong in the first place for kissing her when i knew you liked her.” the boy pops his neck to the side, remembering the blow out fight they had in the basement that felt like it was, both somehow, yesterday and a year ago. 

“but i know also you’d never do anything. you’re my best friend and you’re just too fucking good.”

seonghwa looks at yeosang and swallows the lump in his throat, shaking his head at the boy. he doesn’t feel like he’s good, he doesn’t like that he put you in that position in the first place and he doesn’t like that he couldn’t put his feelings aside for his best friend’s girlfriend, no matter how sneakily you guys started.

“you’re also a fuckin’ pussy so...”

seonghwa rolls his eyes and kicks the boy roughly in the leg, smirking in satisfaction when yeosang lets out a pained groan. “you’re such a dick.” and just like a dick would, he only laughs before his face turns serious again. 

“i’m serious, though, seonghwa,” yeosang says, “neither of us are mad or uncomfortable or any of that bullshit. we did have a fight that night but it’s because i was being a bitch.” 

seonghwa raises his eyebrow at that tid bit of information; he didn’t know about that. 

“she cares about you seonghwa. probably more than she’ll ever admit to me,” he continues to say. “because she was going no matter what i said. she didn’t want you being there drunk and upset.”

and even though seonghwa knows you’d do that for anyone, it does make him happy to know you were gonna be there for him no matter what. because you’re his friend and even if that’s all you see him as, it’s still someone in his life that’s there for him. that should make him want to stay and finish the year out where he grew up. 

but...

“i’m going to france,” he blurts out. 

a dead silence hangs between the two boys, yeosang staring at his friend in immense confusion; that was the last thing he was expecting him to say. what does he mean he’s going to france? 

“what?”

and it’s like saying it aloud has finally made the decision final. he thinks he even knew that’s what he wanted, what he needed, the second he got off the phone with his dad that night. that even though he’s almost an adult, he needs his parents around for guidance and support and can’t be in this house for days at a time with just his own thoughts. 

“my dad told me about a school there,” he finally tells the boy, now wishing he would’ve told him sooner by the look on yeosang’s face. “said it’s a good opportunity and asked if i wanted to go.”

“and you said yes?” yeosang asks in bewilderment, trying to keep his composure and voice calm. but what the fuck, “it’s our senior year, seonghwa. we’re supposed to be graduating in like four months.”

“yeah and no one would even be here to see me graduate, yeosang. they’re gonna be there for god knows how much longer.”

“so?” yeosang asks, knowing he might have a tiny point but not wanting to see it. because his brain can’t stop connecting all of this to the drama that’s been happening this whole entire school year and now he thinks he might be feeling the crushing guilt you’ve been experiencing. 

seonghwa lets out a small chuckle at his friend, shaking his head as he looks over the boy. “so i want my parents to see me graduate. and if that means going to france, then that’s that.”

“thats bullshit, seonghwa, and you know it,” he says. “this is because of y/n, isn’t it?”

seonghwa swallows the obvious elephant in the room. because, yeah okay, he can totally see why he thinks that. he’ll even admit it may be playing a role in this. but even without all the drama, he might’ve considered this opportunity. 

“no,” seonghwa says firmly. 

“don’t fucking lie to me,” yeosang spits back immediately. 

seonghwa rolls his eyes at the boy’s temper, his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek before he throws his arm’s up in defense. “okay, it might have a little bit to do with-”

“fuck, seonghwa,” yeosang groans, getting up from his spot on the couch and pacing around the large living room. he allows his friend the time to process this, watching silently as the boy walks around the room and goes through the motions of allowing the information to sink in.

“if your feelings for her were this strong, you should’ve-”

“it’s not only because of you and her, yeosang, don’t think so highly of yourselves,” seonghwa says, surprising yeosang and causing a smirk to quirk at his lips despite the situation. it even causes him to settle ever so slightly, still feeling a pit in his stomach about his best friend really considering leaving just months before their senior year is over.

he lets out a sigh looking at the boy, not seeing an ounce of hatred or envy in his eyes. just an open honesty that causes yeosang to plop back down on the couch. 

“so, paris?” he finally asks as he looks at seonghwa. 

“i...i think so, yeah,” the boy responds, smiling sadly at his friend. he never would’ve thought in a million years that they’d be having this conversation. that seonghwa would actually take his father’s offer and allow him to ship him off to a fancy, school in europe. 

“and it’s really not because of...everything?” yeosang asks, still unconvinced but trying for his friend, and maybe even himself, to believe the alternative. 

“no,” seonghwa says, “i’ve been feeling...lonely, i guess, in this house. they weren’t even around much but when they were it was good, ya know.” yeosang only gives him a sad smile back, shaking his head as he feels his heart sink.

“no, i don’t.”

seonghwa looks down and wants to laugh at the situation. because there’s nothing more pathetic and cliche than sad kids with mansions and black cards. but if seonghwa has parents who are better than most wealthy ones and yeosang has a girlfriend who he’s incredibly lucky to have, then he thinks both of them are gonna be okay.

“not to take one from your book and be a pussy, but i think i’m gonna miss you.”

seonghwa throws his head back in laughter and it’s the first real laugh he thinks he’s had in weeks. but it’s always been like that with yeosang, a balance of teasing and serious that naturally comes after years of friendship. 

“well i’ll be here for another week. cry then you little bitch.”

and now it’s yeosang’s turn to kick seonghwa in the leg, both the boys snorting in laughter as they try to contain their smiles. it feels good for them to be back to normal, turning their attention back to the show before suggesting to put on one of their favorite movies. 

and with something unspoken in the air, yeosang and seonghwa crash on the couch that night because neither of them would ever utter the term slumber party to one another.

(part 28)

[1962dude420-blog]

Today we remember the passing of Peter Green who Died: July 25, 2020 in Canvey Island, Essex, England

Peter Allen Greenbaum (29 October 1946 – 25 July 2020), known professionally as Peter Green, was an English blues rock singer-songwriter and guitarist. As the founder of Fleetwood Mac, he was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1998. Green's songs, such as "Albatross", "Black Magic Woman", "Oh Well", "The Green Manalishi (With the Two Prong Crown)" and "Man of the World", appeared on singles charts, and several have been adapted by a variety of musicians.

Green was a major figure in the "second great epoch" of the British blues movement. Eric Clapton praised his guitar playing, and B.B. King commented, "He has the sweetest tone I ever heard; he was the only one who gave me the cold sweats." Green was interested in expressing emotion in his songs, rather than showing off how fast he could play. His trademark sound included string bending, vibrato, and economy of style.

In June 1996, Green was voted the third-best guitarist of all time in Mojo magazine. In 2015, Rolling Stone ranked him at number 58 in its list of the "100 Greatest Guitarists of All Time". Green's tone on the instrumental "The Super-Natural" was rated as one of the 50 greatest of all time by Guitar Player in 2004.

Peter Allen Greenbaum was born in Bethnal Green, London, on 29 October 1946, into a Jewish family, the youngest of Joe and Ann Greenbaum's four children. His brother, Michael, taught him his first guitar chords and by the age of 11 Green was teaching himself. He began playing professionally by the age of 15, while working for a number of East London shipping companies. He first played bass guitar in a band called Bobby Dennis and the Dominoes, which performed pop chart covers and rock 'n' roll standards, including Shadows covers. He later stated that Hank Marvin was his guitar hero and he played the Shadows' song "Midnight" on the 1996 tribute album Twang. He went on to join a rhythm and blues outfit, the Muskrats, then a band called the Tridents in which he played bass. By Christmas 1965 Green was playing lead guitar in Peter Bardens' band "Peter B's Looners", where he met drummer Mick Fleetwood. It was with Peter B's Looners that he made his recording début with the single "If You Wanna Be Happy" with "Jodrell Blues" as a B-side. His recording of "If You Wanna Be Happy" was an instrumental cover of a song by Jimmy Soul. In 1966, Green and some other members of Peter B's Looners formed another act, Shotgun Express, a Motown-style soul band which also included Rod Stewart, but Green left the group after a few months.

In October 1965, before joining Bardens' group, Green had the opportunity to fill in for Eric Clapton in John Mayall & the Bluesbreakers for four gigs. Soon afterwards, when Clapton left the Bluesbreakers, Green became a full-time member of Mayall's band from July 1966. Green made his recording debut with the Bluesbreakers in 1966 on the album A Hard Road (1967), which featured two of his own compositions, "The Same Way" and "The Supernatural". The latter was one of Green's first instrumentals, which would soon become a trademark. So proficient was he that his musician friends bestowed upon him the nickname "The Green God". In 1967, Green decided to form his own blues band and left the Bluesbreakers.

Green's new band, with former Bluesbreaker Mick Fleetwood on drums and Jeremy Spencer on guitar, was initially called "Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac featuring Jeremy Spencer". Bob Brunning was temporarily employed on bass guitar (Green's first choice, Bluesbreakers' bassist John McVie, was not yet ready to join the band). Within a month they played at the Windsor National Jazz and Blues Festival in August 1967, and were quickly signed to Mike Vernon's Blue Horizon label. Their repertoire consisted mainly of blues covers and originals, mostly written by Green, but some were written by slide guitarist Jeremy Spencer. The band's first single, Spencer's "I Believe My Time Ain't Long" with Green's "Rambling Pony" as a B-side, did not chart but their eponymous debut album made a significant impression, remaining in the British charts for 37 weeks. By September 1967, John McVie had replaced Brunning.

Although classic blues covers and blues-styled originals remained prominent in the band's repertoire through this period, Green rapidly blossomed as a songwriter and contributed many successful original compositions from 1968 onwards. The songs chosen for single release showed Green's style gradually moving away from the group's blues roots into new musical territory. Their second studio album Mr. Wonderful was released in 1968 and continued the formula of the first album. In the same year they scored a hit with Green's "Black Magic Woman" (later covered by Santana), followed by the guitar instrumental "Albatross" (1969), which reached number one in the British singles charts. More hits written by Green followed, including "Oh Well", "Man of the World" (both 1969) and the ominous "The Green Manalishi" (1970). The double album Blues Jam in Chicago (1969) was recorded at the Chess Records Ter-Mar Studio in Chicago. There, under the joint supervision of Vernon and Marshall Chess, they recorded with some of their American blues heroes including Otis Spann, Big Walter Horton, Willie Dixon, J. T. Brown and Buddy Guy.

While touring Europe in late March 1970, Green took LSD at a party at a commune in Munich, an incident cited by Fleetwood Mac manager Clifford Davis as the crucial point in his mental decline. Communard Rainer Langhans mentions in his autobiography that he and Uschi Obermaier met Green in Munich, where they invited him to their Highfisch-Kommune. Fleetwood Mac roadie Dinky Dawson remembers that Green went to the party with another roadie, Dennis Keane, and that when Keane returned to the band's hotel to explain that Green would not leave the commune, Keane, Dawson and Mick Fleetwood travelled there to fetch him. By contrast, Green stated that he had fond memories of jamming at the commune when speaking in 2009: "I had a good play there, it was great, someone recorded it, they gave me a tape. There were people playing along, a few of us just fooling around and it was... yeah it was great." He told Jeremy Spencer at the time "That's the most spiritual music I've ever recorded in my life." After a final performance on 20 May 1970, Green left Fleetwood Mac.

Green was eventually diagnosed with schizophrenia and spent time in psychiatric hospitals undergoing electroconvulsive therapy during the mid-1970s. Many sources attest to his lethargic, trancelike state during this period. In 1977, Green was arrested for threatening his accountant David Simmons with a shotgun. The exact circumstances are the subject of much speculation, the most famous being that Green wanted Simmons to stop sending money to him. In the 2011 BBC documentary Peter Green: Man of the World, Green stated that at the time he had just returned from Canada needing money and that, during a telephone conversation with his accounts manager, he alluded to the fact that he had brought back a gun from his travels. His accounts manager promptly called the police, who surrounded Green's house.

In 1979, Green began to re-emerge professionally. With the help of his brother Michael, he was signed to Peter Vernon-Kell's PVK label, and produced a string of solo albums starting with 1979's In the Skies. He also made an uncredited appearance on Fleetwood Mac's double album Tusk, on the song "Brown Eyes", released the same year.

In 1981, Green contributed to "Rattlesnake Shake" and "Super Brains" on Mick Fleetwood's solo album The Visitor. He recorded various sessions with a number of other musicians notably the Katmandu album A Case for the Blues with Ray Dorset of Mungo Jerry, Vincent Crane from The Crazy World of Arthur Brown and Len Surtees of The Nashville Teens. Despite attempts by Gibson Guitar Corporation to start talks about producing a "Peter Green signature Les Paul" guitar, Green's instrument of choice at this time was a Gibson Howard Roberts Fusion guitar. In 1986, Peter and his brother Micky contributed to the album A Touch of Sunburn by Lawrie 'The Raven' Gaines (under the group name 'The Enemy Within'). This album has been reissued many times under such titles as Post Modern Blues and Peter Green and Mick Green – Two Greens Make a Blues, often crediting Pirates guitarist Mick Green.

In 1988 Green was quoted as saying: "I'm at present recuperating from treatment for taking drugs. It was drugs that influenced me a lot. I took more than I intended to. I took LSD eight or nine times. The effect of that stuff lasts so long ... I wanted to give away all my money ... I went kind of holy – no, not holy, religious. I thought I could do it, I thought I was all right on drugs. My failing!"

Enduring periods of mental illness and destitution throughout the 1970s and 1980s, Green moved in with his older brother Len and Len's wife Gloria, and his mother in their house in Great Yarmouth, where a process of recovery began. He lived for a period on Canvey Island, Essex.

Green married Jane Samuels in January 1978; the couple divorced in 1979. They had a daughter, Rosebud(born 1978).

Green died on July 25, 2020 at the age of 73.

[ask-them-bois]

A King and His Soldier, part 2/3

(Okay, well. Zeruki appeared ahead of schedule. Let’s figure out how the hell that happened.)

-AgressiveUndead began trolling GlitchingVampire!-

AU: Blxlit.

GV: AlMMawt.

AU: …

GV: … lMMao hi.

AU: Hello.

GV: What do you want?

AU: I need you to find someone for me. Ribbit.

GV: Oh yeah? Who? And also, why should I care?

AU: Xre you fxmilixr with x boy nxmed Ursidx?

GV: I think so? It sounds faMMiliar.

GV: oh.

GV: wait…

GV: ….

GV: Yeah I know that naMMe.

AU: I thought xs much. How do you know him?

GV: … I knew hiMM from the CoMMpound. He was the engineer MMy… designs… got sent to. He was, like, MMy assigned partner.

AU: I need you to find him. Ribbit.

GV: Why.

AU: Becxuse I need his xncestor on my side, before Mxddel cxn get him. Becxuse I know who his xncestor worked for, xnd I’d much rxther hxve them both on my side. It’d mxke this whole thing x lot exsier. Ribbit.

GV: I have no idea what you’re talking about dude, lMMao. But the answer is no. I’MM not gonna go find someone froMM the coMMpound. I blew up those bridges a long tiMMe ago.

AU: …

AU: I understxnd thxt, but I xsk you to reconsider. I wouldn’t xsk xt xll if it wxsn’t importxnt, Blxlit. Ribbit.

GV: What’s in it for MMe?

AU: Wow, rexlly?

GV: You realize what you’re asking MMe, right? You want MMe to go find soMMeone froMM a place where I was literally IMMPRISONED and ENSLAVED. A place I BLEW UP. What if he turns MMe in? I’MM a wanted robot, MMusrio. I can’t just get in contact with the Fleet like it’s no big deal. So if I’MM gonna do that, I want soMMething in return.

AU: …

AU: Blxlit, under thxt childish, prxnkster personx of yours, you’re quite… xstute, xren’t you? Ribbit.

GV: Bitch I built war machines. I MMake robots and eXXplosives. I’MM hella sMMarter than you take MMe for. I’MM hella ass-toot.

AU: Xstute.

GV: Ass-toot.

AU: There’s thxt childishness I wxs spexking of. Ribbit.

GV: lMMao

AU: Fine. Whxt do you wxnt, then?

GV: ... I don’t wanna say yet.

AU: Why?

GV: Because I’MM not ready for you to pay off the favor so fast. Having a zombie wizard at my beck and call? Who the hell would pass that up?

AU: I’m xn undexd necromxncer. Ribbit.

GV: Ass-toot.

AU: Ugh. Fine.

GV: Good.

GV: I’ll find your guy, AlMMawt. But you’re gonna owe me big for this.

-GlitchingVampire ceased trolling AggressiveUndead!- -GlitchingVampire began trolling SoldieringSkybear!-

GV: Hey you.

GV: Are you still alive?

GV: Been a while, huh.

GV: If you’re still in the city, MMeet me on a rooftop, okay? We need to talk.

-GlitchingVampire ceased trolling SoldieringSkybear!-

Corden closed down Trollian and spun around in his chair. Once, twice, and he jumped up, catching the chair before it knocked into the desk.

“Batmom, I’m gonna go out for a bit. You wanna come?” He spoke to a large meow-beast tower that stood next to the desk. After a moment, a very small bat poked her head out, golden eyes blinking sleepily.

She squeaked, and with a flutter of four wings, lighted on his shoulder.

“Cool.” Corden made sure to pocket his knives and a handful of gadgets, before he left his respiteblock. Jumping down the stairs two at a time, he stopped at the bottom and glanced around. “Ken-ken?” He shouted.

“Yo?” Makeno looked up from where he was laid on the lounge-plank, scrolling his palmhusk, hair still damp from a shower.

“I’m going out for a bit.”

“M’kay. Be safe.”

“No promises.” Corden snickered, extending two fingers as he walked past. Makeno reached up and connected two of his own fingers to Corden’s.

“Pale for you, Cordy.”

“Pale for you, too.”

Corden stepped outside, rolling his neck as he headed down the walk and made his way to the city proper.

Once he was among the towering hivestems and workhives, his tense shoulders loosened. The buzz of the city hummed in his ears, hyping him up until blue and red sparks were dancing along his horns.

He roamed the streets for a while, a vague plan beginning to form in his head. He paused on the sidewalk and craned his neck back, looking up at the soaring buildings. “If there’s one place to find him, it’d be up there, huh?” He asked Batmom.

She chirped, and he nodded thoughtfully. Turning, his cape swishing, he marched into a nearby alley between a hivestem and coffeehive. With a burst of psionics and a jump, he landed easily on the fire escape that went up the side of the hivestem.

The smell of the coffeehive’s garbage bin in his sniffnub, he quickly scaled the fire escape to… well, *escape* the smell. The higher he went, the bolder he became, his psionics swirling around him to keep him from falling if he slipped. His hair began to stand on end from the energy alone.

Wind blew it back from his face as he neared the top of the ninety-story hive. He vaulted over the lip of the roof and landed easily. Standing up straight, he looked around; it was a clear night, and from the edge of the building, he could see across the whole city. He stared at the millions of lights, almost entranced by their glow.

Across the city, hidden by the towering buildings between him and it, was the burned out, collapsing remains of the compound. The place he grew up, worked, and lived for the first sweeps of his life. The place he blew up, leaving virtually no one alive, in a daring attempt to escape. No one, save one person, who he’d sent a single message before it went up in flames.

Corden sat on the edge of the roof, dangling his legs. All he had to do now was wait, so he allowed himself to indulge in his memory files. He slid one hand over the back of his shoulders, where he could feel the tips of the scars that marred his back.

“Still don’t know why they thought flogging a robot was a good idea. All it did was tear up my exo-skin.” He said to Batmom. The tiny bat only trilled in response.

Corden sat there for a good half hour, watching the city as he got lost in painful memories. Finally, however, he heard the telltale sound of several jingling bells as someone vaulted onto the roof behind him.

“Ayyye, it’s the Cordy-bordy-robo-bro! Wassup manbot? Dude it’s been like- fucking sweeps huh? Fuck yeah man, whatcha been doing since the compound went-” The newcomer made several vocals to indicate explosions, before he laughed, his loud voice amplifying his thick lisp.

Corden held in a sigh as he got to his feet and turned to face them. “Nice to see you again, too, Engineer-class Fleetman Zeruki Ursida.” He said formally, his posture suddenly stiff as he swept into a low bow.

Zeruki stared at him like he’d grown a second head; at least, Corden thought he did. It was hard to tell with the hair. The tealblood’s tail lashed, sending the bells jingling vigorously.

“Oh, so we’re being all form-fit-finessed here, are we? Fine. Nice to see you, Gold-Station #315.184.514, Bloodline: Blalit.” Zeruki stuck out his split tongue in disgust, “WTF man, I don’t do that,” He blew a raspberry, “shit unless it’s with the ssssssuperiors. You and I are buddies, ain’t we?” He clicked his tongue, his tail bobbing and jingling again. He tugged on the lip of his helmet, nodding to Batmom, “Hello, missy ma’am.”

“Are we?” Corden repeated, his voice flat and emotionless.

Zeruki shrugged, bouncing on his toes. “I dunno. Sure. Yep. LMAO. Anywaysies, what didja message me for? I thought you never wanted to see me again, after you,” he waved a hand vaguely, making more explosive vocalizations, “ya knoooooow? After you killed all our buddy-bros and left me to clean up the mess.” His expression soured for a moment, before he was grinning again.

Corden frowned; he wasn’t sure what the meant. “I didn’t want to see you, but a… friend, asked I find you again. He needs you for… something.” He explained.

“Ah, dope. Totes. Uhhhhhh, he wouldn’t happen to be an olive dude? Real skinny, looks like a doritos bag? Got soda-cola-pop for hair?”

Corden frowned. “No… That sounds like Oliver, though. You haven’t been talking to her, have you?”

“Eh, meh, kinda, no.” Zeruki snickered, his tail shivering and jingling. “They approached me after I left the base a few nights back. Told me they wanted to talk, and started going off about some magicky-tacky-spooky stuff. Wanted my blood so he could meet some doctor or ssssssomething. No idea what that was about, so I bounced. Now your dude wants me, too? Didn’t know I was so famous.” He grinned with a mouthful of crooked teeth.

“I don’t think it’s you they want. They want your ancestor. But believe me, my dude is on the right side here. I can give you his Trollian Handle.” Corden pulled out his palmhusk and did just that.

“Freaky-deaky, dude-bro-bot, buuuuuut… I dunno if I’m down for this shit. I’m just trying to keep my skull off a threshcutioner’s sickle, ya know? I’m barely making it as an engineer, duder, I don’t need to get caught up in any of this shhhhhit.” Zeruki shifted his feet, frowning.

“I don’t know, but okay. Just give Musrio a message. I’ve done my job, so I’m going home.” Corden pocketed his palmhusk and turned way.

In a flash, Zeruki was at his side, his tail surprisingly dexterous as it wrapped around Corden’s metal wrist. “Yo, hold it up, brody-Cody! You just gonna hitch-snitch and ditch like that? Maybe I’ve got a message for you, too!” He said sharply, before looking down at the metal hand. “Yoooooo, that’s new.”

Corden wrenched his arm from the quad-horned troll’s grasp, before he raised an eyebrow. “A message?”

“Yeah-huh. Uhhhh… what was it.” Zeruki screwed up his face in thought, before he perked up, his tail wagging and chiming. “Oh yeah! You remember Fallen? The freaky-deaky-spooky dude who patrolled the compound sometimes, ‘cause his ancestor ran the place? He’s out, dude. You’ve got a mory-dory-morail right? They had history or some shit, didn’t they? Exes, or something?”

Corden stepped back, alarmed. “How do you know all that? Ken-ken never talks about his ex.” He demanded, one hand reaching for the knives at his side.

“Aye, dude, I got freaky ears, remember? These bitches hear everything!” Zeruki slapped the side of his helmet for emphasis, before he flinched, “Ow. LOL. Anywhoodle-doodle, he’s out of confinement again. Back on the streets, you get it? His daddy-oh paid his bail or whatevs.

Fallen is fuckin’ nuts, man, I’ll bet nothin-touchin’ he’s gonna come visit Makey-dakey-sharky-chef. He’s, uh… what do those weeby-dweebs call it? Yonder-wander. Sssssunder-thunder. Whatever, LMAO, one of those. He’s got a bone to pick with Faslet, and a general lack of a thinkpan. So…” He sucked air through his teeth and blew another raspberry, before popping his lips. “Yeah. Watch out for Fally-bally.”

Corden stared at him, before he nodded slowly. “Okay, I’ll let Ken-ken know.” He heaved a sigh, stepping back. “Thanks, Zeruki.”

“Yeppers-peppers, Cordy-bordy-bro-bot.” He rolled his R’s, and made a buzzing sound. He raised an arm and rolled his glove forward, checking a device wrapped around his wrist. “Oh, brrr, I gotta get home. Mama’ll be wanting dinner before sunrise.” He snapped a two finger salute to Corden. “Until next time, bro-bot!”

With that, he turned, ran for the edge of the roof, and leaped off, shrieking, the fuzzy end of his tail the last thing to disappear from view.

Corden rolled his eyes, walking over to the edge of the building and looking down.

Zeruki was not a smear of cyan on the pavement, but instead a blur, bounding between the walls and roofs of the skyscrapers and buildings like a free-running character in a videogame.

Corden faintly heard him shriek again, cackling manically.

“He’s nuts.” Corden told Batmom, who chirped in amused agreement. “Guess we should go home, too, huh?”

Corden shook out his hands, a burst of psionic energy rocketing across his body as he stepped off the other side of the building and made his way home.