#which is why i keep making half-assed attempts to be social before crawling back into the shadows

[prismatoxic]

after i got out of the insomnia phase i crashed face-first into hypersomnia instead and as it turns out, sleeping all the time and waking up sore and groggy is just as good a way to make me irritable and anti-social as dealing with insomnia is

[lord-explosion-baku]

Trident Tale part 2

Mermaid!Shinsou x reader x Kirishima x reader

Warnings: adult themes (minors DNI)

Author’s note: sorry to those of you who have asked me to put on the tag list! I don’t do tag lists! But if you don’t want to lose this story, you can always bookmark it on AO3.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Original image by @maewoahoah

Moving to an island where everyone is big on the surf scene and other oceanic happenings might not have been the brightest idea for someone so afraid of anything that has to do with water, but you make do by spending your days looking after the Bed & Breakfast, trying not to burn the house down when you fry a few eggs, and obsessively scrolling through Eijirou Kirishima’s social media page. He’ll never notice you, and you think you’re fine with that, until a mysterious force washes into Ms. Shuzenji’s pool after a particularly nasty storm.

Hitoshi Shinsou is a pain in the ass from the get-go, but you put up with him, fins and all, when he promises he can help unite you with your soulmate. The catch? The fish is hellbent on taking back what was stolen from him, and he won’t lift a gracious finger until he gets what he came for.

You’re helpless to lend him a hand, so long as you stay dry. Unless, of course, he has other plans.

You know how the saying goes: you rub his fins, he’ll rub yours.

The thing about being hungry is that you can sometimes convince yourself that you’re full. You can sip water, swallow your breath, pop a few mints in—hell, you could even pretend to eat. However, even if you might trick your brain, your stomach will still be empty.

By the time you finally get some real goddamn food in your stomach, it will be aching from being teased.

It feels like this is exactly what Hitoshi Shinsou has done to you. Teased you. He’d mentioned being one of Ryūjin, which you can only assume is something religious or magic. You know he’s a fish, and that he makes people’s skin glow when he touches them, and apparently his lips or his saliva can heal wounds. But he’s not yet given you any real goddamn food.

The jerk has been swimming circles around the pool, commenting on how disgusting it is being stuck with all the trash, and complaining about your poor hospitality, but has not yet told you what the hell he’s doing here.

It’s not like you ever asked for some creature to crash into Ms. Shuzenji’s pool. Maybe some people would be ecstatic over finding an actual merperson, but life isn’t all about singing songs and talking to seagulls. He’s definitely not an Ariel, unless he is in fact looking for a prince. With all his sass, you think he’s much more of an Ursula than a Disney princess. If he is a sea-witch, he refuses to tell you.

It won’t matter much by the time Denki gets here anyways. You had been honest when you said you wouldn’t put it against him to call some news station when he sees Hitoshi. You figure that after some science lab’s helicopters carried your intruder away to run tests on him, the fish-man will be out of your hair and a thing of the past.

Despite the cynicism crawling through your head, the thought actually makes a guilty pit form in the bottom of your stomach. A life is a life, afterall.

“At least tell me why you tried to…to…” Your mouth flattens when you recall Hitoshi leaning into you, his lips a whisper away from yours.

“To?” Hitoshi asks while he observes the wayward bra that blew into the pool with notable repulsion.

“To kiss me!” You bark out, ears warm.

“Oh, that?” He purses his lips, spinning the bra around in the water. Then, he’s contemplative for a moment, as if he’s thinking of an excuse that won’t make you angry. Or will. He seems to get a kick out of frustrating you.

“I suppose I should’ve considered that it’s not a social norm for humans to greet other humans with their lips,” he says with a cocky, probably lying smirk. “My bad.”

“You expect me to believe that mermaids kiss each other to say hello?”

“Not a mermaid.” The fish is all teeth as he regards you. “I’m one of Ryūjin. And I’d like to think that you’d believe anything I tell you, since you seem to know nothing about my people.”

“Because you won’t tell me anything about your people,” you mutter right before the house bell rings. Your heart jumps with a spike of panic. You haven’t thought about what you’re going to say to Denki yet. You begin thinking about science labs again, and that knot in your stomach tightens.

“Okay,” you say in a warning tone, “I’m gonna let Denki in now…”

“Uh-huh.”

“He’s gonna see you…”

“That’s the plan.” Hitoshi lifts a brow. “You’re not worried for me, are you?”

“I just think you should be more worried about yourself,” you say. “Humans aren’t…” There’s a pensive pause when you try to search for the right word. “Humans aren’t good.”

“Would you say that you’re a good human?” He asks.

What a question. You’d like to believe that you are, but you can’t kid yourself. Never one to be very self-sacrificing, you utter your next words with confidence. “Nope.”

“And yet, you haven’t done anything malicious towards me. Nothing, besides that half-assed attempt to kick me away from you, anyways.”

Rolling your eyes to keep your couldn’t-care-less facade up, you left the smirking merman to wade around in the murky pool. There’s not another second to think about what you could possibly say to Denki about your surprise guest, because when you enter the house, you see his face peeking through the side window next to the front door. You could see a drink holder and a Tiki Burger bag in his hand. His smile is bright, while yours is grim.

He pouts, seeing through forced body language, and proceeds to make a funny face. You let out a half-sigh, half-laugh. You might not be a good person, but Denki is. He’s an idiot, but you don’t think he’d ever do anything to harm another creature, mythical or not. This could even be fun to him. Exciting. Something extraordinary happened, and you’d been too scared to react to it appropriately, but Denki would be different.

Your changing emotions grow palpable when you finally reach for the handle.

“Heard you had some thingies that needed twisting,” Denki says as you open the door. He’s wearing his company’s shirt, a brown thing with the PoolPros logo on it, though it’s cut raggedly short to show off his midriff. He’s been particularly confident ever since he’d gotten his navel pierced, and happily showed off the topaz stone that Kirishima had given him. It hangs right above his buckle. It forces onlookers to look at his abs…or maybe his groin. He says it’s lucky, and you haven’t argued with him about it. You would probably call something Kirishima gave you lucky too.

In a flash, you’re grabbing him by his shirt collar and guiding him in and against one of the hall mirrors.

“Something’s happened.” The words immediately spill out, even while you still do not know what you’re going to say. You hope that if the right things tumble out of your mouth, Denki will get the picture.

“Uh…” Denki’s cheeks are red hot, reacting to your close proximity. “Was it a spike in your libido?”

God.

“No, shut up!” You smack his chest and glance down the hall towards the back door. The pool isn’t in your line of vision, but just knowing what lurks there gets your blood pumping. “This is going to sound crazy, but I need you to keep an open mind.”

He bobs his brows. “For you? Always.”

After an exhale, you gather your composure, and tell Denki everything with as much eloquence as you can muster.

“There’s something living in the pool!” You bark out, erratic. “It’s big and it has zero impulse control and it’s rude! It talks! When it touches me, my skin glows. Then it tried to kiss me, Kaminari! And it’s rude!” You add that in again, because you cannot stress it enough. Hitoshi Shinsou is as unrefined as a piece of driftwood, and he had the audacity to make comments on behalf of your decorum. “It won’t tell me what it’s doing here, either. I offered to get it back into the ocean, but it said it wanted something else, but it won’t tell me what, and I don’t know what to do!”

Denki blinks rapidly, like his eyelashes are repelling every word you toss at him. There’s a beat, he swallows, then his lips tilt up into a knowing grin.

“Alright,” he says, “I see you.”

“You do?” Maybe you had to give Denki a little more credit. That hadn’t been your best description of a nightmare scenario.

“Sure do, little lady. This is some kinda belated birthday prank, huh? Thought you could slide one past me when I was least expecting it! I was thinking that maybe you just forgot about it, but now you’ve got something up your sleeve, don’t ya! Well cutie, I might be dumb, but I’m not stupid!”

Striding into the house, Denki places the shakes and burger bag onto Shuzenji’s kitchen counter. Shoulders deflating, you follow him while he fishes a few fries out of the bag. If he doesn’t get it now, he will soon enough.

“What could it be?” He ponders, tossing a fry into his mouth. He nods towards one of the cups and mumbles about a shake for you, then towards the back door. “Couldn’t be a party—it’s too early for a party. And you don’t talk to many people…”

Ignoring the slight burn, you front Denki, and extend your hand out to his. His eyes widen for a moment, he wipes his hand on his pants, and takes yours.

“I need your help, Denki. Seriously.”

“Yeah,” he says, a touch more reformative. “Okay.”  

What should’ve been some grand reveal, however, turned out to be anything but.

The pool being clean is the first thing you notice, as absurd as that is. It’s now half-filled, with only sprinkles of algae leftover by some miraculous clean-up. There’s no more silver fish swimming around, and all the trash that had previously taken sanctuary in the pool now lays on a mountainous pile with the bra sitting at its peak. Your guest is no longer in the pool—the very clean pool.

Denki chuckles and says, “well, this doesn’t look bad at all. By how hysterical you were on the phone, I was expecting something much worse. Oh! Hello!”

Your jaw drops as Denki waves at Hitoshi—a very comfortable-looking Hitoshi who lounges on one of the reclining pool chairs, head turned back like he’s sun bathing, one leg crossed over the goddamn other. Legs. Attached to feet—feet that definitely were not there when you’d met him.

Tricky, magic fish-man.

“Oh,” Hitoshi says, carefully considering Denki. “We have company?”

The ‘we’ in his statement doesn’t sit right with you anymore than his appearance does. He stands, and both you and Denki gasp when you see his new outfit in its entirety. It’s all royal blue, fine silks, and sheer fabric that only covers the places that would make Denki blush. Puffy, yet flowing sleeves connect to his now two golden cuffs. A heavy gold necklace hangs around him, and he’s got a light sash thrown around mostly his bare chest. A golden, v-shaped belt holds his deep blue harem pants up.

They are the gaudiest goddamn pajamas you’ve ever seen.

Hitoshi moves like water to face Denki, then firmly grasps him by the forearm, yanking the boy forward so that their lips are mere inches away from each other. Noting that there’s no glowing from their contact, you watch as Hitoshi’s indigo eyes slide from Denki’s lips, to you, and shows off a dubious glint.

“Whoops,” Hitoshi murmurs basically into Denki’s mouth. “I almost forgot that you don’t greet people like this here.” He takes a step away and smirks. “Forgive me. I’m Hitoshi Shinsou. You must be the pool guy.”

“Um, yeah. ‘M Denki Kaminari.” Denki laughs nervously. His cheeks burn red, and he keeps shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Grabbing onto your hand tightly, he starts back towards the house, towing you along, saying, “excuse us, we just have to—uh. Talk.”

In a tick, you’re whisked right back inside, in the land of private conversations.

“It didn’t look like that before, Denki. I swear to god.” You’re insisting as soon as the door is closed.

“It?!” Denki balks, his cheeks turning even more red. “Do you mean the pool or that hunk of a man hanging around your backyard?!”

“Both, I guess, but I wouldn’t call it a man! It had a giant purple tail before you showed up!!”

“That’s very rude, y’know.” Denki peers back at Hitoshi who’s lackadaisically cleaning his fingertips. “What are their pronouns?”

You imagine Hitoshi surrounded by others like him, all either screaming or clicking to communicate with each other in an inhuman language. “I don’t think pronouns matter wherever it’s from!”

“Hmm.” Denki slides the door open and pops his head out. “‘Scuse me, Hitoshi, what are your pronouns?”

Without missing a beat, Hitoshi answers him. “As in titles? You can call me Shinsou, but if you’re so inclined, I’ll allow you to call me lord.”

“Lord, of course.” More nervous laughter as Denki closes the door. “Lord. That’s a kink thing, right? It’s gotta be!”

“It’s not!” You bark, but Denki doesn’t hear you. Instead, he rushes towards one of the hall mirrors and begins fussing over his hair.

“I honestly can’t believe you did this. I mean, you, of all people. You’re braver than I gave you credit for. Coulda given me a heads up, though. I would’ve worn somethin’ nice. Or not come at all. I do feel like I’m intruding.” Denki’s eyes light up. “Unless this is for my birthday and you’re…you want me to join you?”

“You’ve lost me.” You're too busy trying to figure out what you can do to convince Denki that Hitoshi is a mermaid. You’ve considered pushing him back into the pool, but you don’t know if that would change him back to his sea-man state, or just make you look like a jackass.

“This is so weird. I haven’t seen that guy on the island before, and believe me, I know everybody. It must’ve cost a pretty penny to get him here. On top of everything else-“ He clears his throat- “how much is this costing you? Does Shuzenji know what you get up to while she’s away?”

It hits you like a freight train. “Oh, Kaminari…No…”

“The jig is up!” Denki stomps his foot defiantly and points towards the door. “You’re paying that man for sex!”

“God no!” The very idea that you’ve paid Hitoshi to be here, to touch you, flusters the hell out of you. If anything, you’d pay for him to leave. “You’d honestly think I’d hire a prostitute?!”

“Escort is the term they are using nowadays, and no, I wouldn’t think you’d hire an escort until now!” Denki scoffs, then moves his hand through his hair, exasperated. “The thing is, babe, you don’t need to. You’re cute and fun! If you got out every once in a while…”

“Fish!” You yell, cutting him off, because you’re not about to have another conversation about your hermit lifestyle. “He’s a fish, Denki! I didn’t fuck a fish! Nor am I planning to!”

Denki blinks at you. Not like before—not like he’s reflecting your words. This blink is more like a blink one would offer someone who’d been having an otherwise normal conversation, until they started talking about the earth being flat, or homosexuals burning in a lake of fire.

I’m not crazy, you think and will Denki to believe. I’ll prove it.

Before you can give Denki a play-by-play of what happened—properly this time, and not just your rambled recall—the door slides open, and Hitoshi steps in.

“May I enter?” The regal-looking man asks.

At the exact same moment you say, “no,” Denki says, “of course.”

“I was just hoping to find something to eat.” Hitoshi stops in the kitchen, arms crossed and expectant.

“You haven’t fed your hooker?” Denki whispers and it blows your mind that he can say hooker and you can’t say prostitute. “You can have half my burger!”

“Burger,” Hitoshi repeats the unfamiliar word, and looks around, probably wondering what it could be. Denki takes the hint and proceeds to fish his meal out of the bag. Overly familiar with Shuzenji’s kitchen, he finds a knife to cut the sandwich in two, then hands one half to Hitoshi.

Hitoshi frowns.

“I’m sorry, are you a vegetarian?” Denki asks, and you can tell he’s being overly hospitable in a house that is not his. When Hitoshi doesn’t answer him, but doesn’t stop frowning, Denki asks, “do you not eat meat?”

“This is meat?” Asks Hitoshi, shaking the burger in the air. Some mayonnaise-covered lettuce falls to the kitchen floor.

“I have to clean that!” You yip and wet a paper towel. When you’re on your knees, Hitoshi gives you a smirk of indifference.

“What, do you not have hamburgers where you’re from?” Denki asks, and when Hitoshi refuses to answer him again, he says, “the meat is the patty. It’s beef.”

“Beef.” Hitoshi begins dissecting the thing, throwing the bun halves, pickles, tomato, and lettuce all on the floor. You continue to curse at him while he sniffs at the patty. “What animal is this?”

“Beef is cow, dude.” Denki sounds more skeptical now, which you’d be grateful for if you weren’t already on your hands and knees, scrubbing ketchup out of the tile. “Man, throwing food on the floor is rude no matter where you’re from. Babe, you shouldn’t have to clean that up.”

“If I don’t, who will?” You ask, sardonic.

“There’s not really a floor where I’m from,” Hitoshi says once he swallows his first bite. He places the patty back onto the burger wrap, and steps away from his mess. “At least, there’s no floor when it’s meal time. We just let shells and bones float around until they go down to where they’ll eventually break down and decay.”

Denki asks, “where did you say you were from?”

“He’s a fish, Denki.”

“I didn’t.” Hitoshi gets down on his knees with a wetted paper towel of his own. He swipes at the places you’ve missed, then looks at you. “Tell me, would a not-good person clean up a mess that isn't their own?”

“It’s kind of my job,” you retort and stand so Hitoshi can finish cleaning. Instead, he stands with you.

“And what is his job?” Hitoshi nods towards Denki who looks more and more fretful by the second. “I assume he’s here to provide services. If you’re paying him, shouldn’t he be the one to clean for you? Prepare meals for you? Bend to your whims?”

Denki says, “I’ve got a couple jobs, but I’m not a housekeeper, no.”

“No?” Hitoshi gives out a terse laugh and hands the towel off to Denki. “Clean.”

Denki looks to you for an explanation. You’re about to chew Hitoshi out, when he again says, “clean,” but this time, there’s something attached to his voice. Something that is nothing, but also more. It sends goosebumps up your arms and compels Denki to fall to the floor and obey the command.

“Yes, my lord.” When Denki finishes cleaning and throws the rest of the mess in the bin, he looks at Hitoshi, eyes glossy, waiting.

“Fetch me some water,” says Hitoshi, and after another yes, my lord, Denki begins searching for a glass.

“Quit it!” You shout and very nearly grab on to Hitoshi’s arm, stopping only when you remember the glow and the prickles that accompany his touch. Decidedly, you hurry after Denki and grab the glass from his hands and snap your fingers in front of his face.

Denki blinks, and this time it’s not because he doesn’t hear you, and it’s not because you’re spouting crazy nonsense. He blinks, and it’s a revelation.

“Hypnosis!” Denki says the word like eureka! and you want to shake him, because he should be angrier than he seems.

“I’m surprised you understand or even remember that much,” Hitoshi drawls. “You’re more in-tune than you’d like people to believe.”

And I’m Mother Teresa, you think bitterly. The fish is contemptuous as hell, but he doesn’t read people well. To him, you’re good and apparently Denki’s a genius.

“How did you do that?” Denki asks with growing excitement. “When I was a kid, I was really into magic, but could never get any of the tricks right. You didn’t use any triggering noises or images or anything.”

“There is a bit of magic about you,” Hitoshi says like he’s thinking out loud. “Not enough to pull something like what I just did off unless you have the proper tide jewel. But you do have enough power to utilize a tide jewel.”

“Don’t do that again,” you warn, and pour water from the sink into the glass. There’s purified water in the fridge, but Hitoshi hasn’t earned it. “To Kaminari or to me. The difference between a house guest and a home-invader is who does and does not use hypnosis on other guests.”

“I wasn’t aware that hypnosis is a common occurrence in your residence.” Hitoshi reaches for the glass, but you hold it away from him. Casting out a withering look, he says, “I wouldn’t be able to hypnotize him again, even if I wanted to. Not for a while, anyways. Not without my tide jewel.”

“What’s a tide jewel?” Denki asks. “Is that, like, sea glass?”

Eyes flicking from the glass of water, to Denki, then to you, Hitoshi says, “he knows how to ask a question.”

The questions that you ask get ignored! But instead of saying that, you continue to withhold the water, and say, “then answer him.”

Mildly peeved, Hitoshi turns his attention back to Denki. “You say you have a couple of jobs. What would they be?”

“That’s not answering his question,” you mutter.

“I’ll decide whether I should answer him in a moment. Denki, if you will.”

“Oh, well…” The sheepish Denki brings his hand to the back of his neck, blushing slightly. “I’ve got the PoolPros gig, and sometimes I pick shifts up at The Salty Barrel. I sort of got an affinity for making drinks…and cooking…and fixing things, so they like to keep me around.”

Unamused, Hitoshi pries. “Anything else?”

“Sometimes I pick up odd jobs. Fishing and delivery. I guess I’m pretty dependable because of the boat.”

This catches Hitoshi’s attention. “You have a boat?”

“Sure, yeah. It’s nothin’ too special yet. I’ve been working on it, and it’s coming along, but it’s not ready for what it’s truly intended for.”

“Which would be?”

Denki looks at you and winks, making your ears warm. You know exactly why he got the boat.

“Romantic rendezvous.”

“I see,” Hitoshi says pensively. Then, his eyes go sharp when he notices you fiddling with the ties on your shorts. “Are you two mates?”

Denki lifts a conspiratorial brow towards you, before throwing his arm around your shoulders, pulling you against his body. “Sure, yeah—we’re mates!”

You push away from him, and bite, “not those kinds of mates.”

Although nobody disagrees with you, you sense Denki sulking.

“Ah,” Shinsou muses. “You haven’t yet fought for her hand?”

Before you can groan at the idea, Denki laughs quietly, but his laughter quickly grows uproariously as he considers the idea. Soon, he’s gripping his stomach to stop himself from doubling over. You glare at his feet.

“As if there’s another guy to fight for her,” Denki bellows, wiping a tear away from his eye. “Maybe if she ever went out, but for now, the only person I gotta fight for her hand, is her!”

“Oh, I understand,” Shinsou says, eyes on you. “A battle to assert domination.”

Denki hoots loudly at the idea. “Looks like I’m screwed!”

To your growing agitation and embarrassment, Denki continues to laugh. It’s as if you’re not constantly shooting him down. You’re not pitiful. Not helpless. And you think you’d have some game if you put your heart into it. You just have a type, and the pool guy just doesn’t fit the bill, whether he’s handy or not.

There’s no humor to be found in Hitoshi’s eyes, though. He’s glaring at you, like before, only now he’s looking at you more like you’re a piece of meat—like he’s some kind of predator and you’re his newfound prey. You inadvertently step closer to Denki, as if he could be used as some sort of defense shield, then elbow him in the ribs, pretending that you’re not at all intimidated by this fish-turned-man.

“Nobody’s fighting anybody,” you say, keeping eye-contact with Hitoshi. You’ve been told before that the fact that you’re never the first to look away is a little off-putting. Hoping to have the same uncomfortable effect on your guest, you don’t even blink when you say, “I just have my eyes on someone special.”

At the same time Denki stops his laughing, Hitoshi narrows his eyes—not out of malice, but what seems to be curiosity. That’s as far as you’ll go with revealing any more personal information. You might not be physically spoken for, yet, but at least you’re emotionally unavailable. You vaguely wonder if those kinds of ideals are acknowledged by sea people.

“Yeah, Kiri,” Denki says with a roll of his eyes. So much for keeping things personal. “He’s not interested in dating anyone, though. In fact, he’s pretty much married to the ocean.”

“At least there aren’t other girls,” you say, and with a quick glance at Denki, you add, “or boys.”

Denki exaggerates a woeful, hand-over-forehead pose and cries, “at least we have each other!” Then, he places his hand back around your shoulders. Again, you scoot away from him, and this time, you catch Hitoshi’s lips quirk up, just a bit.

“Alright,” Hitoshi says. “I’ve decided.”

“Decided what?” You ask.

“That the two of you are going to help me.”

The fish-man moves to flatten the burger wrap down on the counter like a map, and proceeds to decimate the other half of Denki’s burger. Denki says, “oh that’s fine…I wasn’t that hungry anyways.”

“Help you with what!” You bark, practically starving for details. Despite Hitoshi and all that he’s done, your interest is piqued, and you feel as though you’re finally going to get to the meat of his situation.

Lining a few fries on the paper wrap, Hitoshi finally says, “a few of my worldly possessions have been stolen from me. They’ve been missing for quite a long time now, and I now plan to take them back. Four of the six items happen to be tide jewels. I figure those will be the easiest to locate and extract.”

Denki snaps his finger. “Tide jewels! That’s what we were talking about! What are those?

Dabbing his pinky into some mustard, Hitoshi says, “artistry…” He dips his ring finger into the ketchup and says, “reign…” he tears a piece of lettuce in half and says, “tide…” and finally, he rips some of the patty and says, “soul.”

“Artistry, reign, tide, soul,” Denki repeats, peeking over Hitoshi’s shoulder. “You don’t happen to be a musician, do you? A magician musician!”

“I’m a connoisseur, but not a practitioner.” Hitoshi breathes. “And you’re too close to me.”

“Well, you’re certainly not an artist,” Denki huffs, taking a few steps back. You move in to see what Denki saw.

On the wrap, the French fries have been warped to look like some sort of three-pronged fork. On the left prong, there’s a dab of ketchup, in the center, mustard, and the right has a piece of lettuce sitting on it. Connecting the three prongs is the bit of hamburger meat Hitoshi had ripped.

“Is this supposed to be a fork or a trident?” You ask, then kick yourself, because it’s obviously a trident. Duh. Mermaids. “Is that one of the things that have been stolen? A trident?”

Hitoshi says, “yes. All four of the tide jewels connect to the trident. With them, the trident could very well be one of the most powerful blessed objects on this planet. If it falls into the wrong hands, the results could be catastrophic.”

“Now, hang on,” Denki begins, brows curved into a frown. “What?”

“So good at questions,” you murmur.

“Each tide jewel has its own magical property. The names speak for themselves, but since the two of you are a little slow on the uptake, I’ll explain.” Hitoshi points at each different spot on his fries-trident, explaining what each point represents.

“The yellow jewel is for artistry and skill. Whoever wields it, whether in its natural form or attached to another object, will learn trades quickly, can craft almost anything at a master’s level, and they’ll have a more creative way of thinking.”

“The red jewel is for reign and rule. Whoever wields this can command any audience. Wars have been fought, kingdoms taken, and women stolen by the power of this gem. It’s almost the most violent of the four, but it can also be used to keep peace.”

“The blue jewel is for the tide. They used to be two jewels, one for tide-ebbing, the other for tide-flowing, but they’ve been molded together after another theft mishap. With the power of this jewel, one would be able to control not only the water of the sea, but water itself. This gem can create storms you couldn’t dream of. This is possibly the most dangerous stone if placed into the wrong hands.”

“Sir, that’s a piece of lettuce,” Denki says.

“Your burger didn’t have anything blue,” Hitoshi growls, “nor did it have anything purple, which brings me to the last jewel. This would be the soul jewel. It aids people with wishes, can offer good dreams, and can allow the wielder to see people’s auras, or souls. This jewel has stopped many malevolent unions in the past.”

Finally, Hitoshi turns back to you and Denki. There’s nothing content about his expression now. If anything, he looks grave.

“The fact that the trident is not in my possession has already had a cataclysmic influence on the world you know now. I need it, and the jewels, or else there may be dire consequences.”

Throat dry, palms sweaty, you swallow thickly, and allow yourself a moment to process all that he’s saying. It may be idiotic, but you believe him. Maybe if you hadn’t seen him in the water earlier, things would be different. You’d be more skeptical. But since you’ve already seen one impossible thing today—two if you're counting the fact that Hitoshi grew legs and magically poofed himself an outfit—you don’t think he’s lying.

However, Denki did not see him in the water. Which is why he’s the first to speak.

“Right,” he says, looking down on you. “Sorry, babe, but the marvel universe did it first with Thanos and his gauntlet. If this is supposed to be a scavenger hunt of some kind, can we skip the game, hints and all, and get to the dinner? I expect there’ll be candles and such for nighttime, so maybe you and I can hang out at the beach, sans the mean magician?” Denki looks at Hitoshi. “No offense, buddy. You could join us if you cheer up a bit. I’d never say no to a threesome with two equally attractive people.”

The water in the glass you’re holding begins to shake. It shakes, and then it moves, and then it lifts up into the air, snaking around like a gelatinous worm, and slowly makes its away to Hitoshi’s mouth. Never before have you seen anyone swallow menacingly, and this has changed it.

“I am not your buddy,” Hitoshi hisses between his teeth, “and this is not a game.”

“He just…” Denki begins stuttering. This isn’t something he can chock up to something as mundane as a magic trick. This is pure magic, and you feel less like a giant dork for how you reacted to Hitoshi showing himself to you, with how distraught Denki seems to be.

“I told you,” you say under your breath, “he’s a fish!”

“I am Hitoshi Shinsou. I am one of Ryūjin, and you will not desecrate my name or my people by belittling me or my power.” It hadn’t occurred to you until now that he’s not only speaking to Denki, but to both of you. The thought makes you shift with unease as Hitoshi’s eyes slide from your friend to you. “Not without consequences. I’ve been burdened with this purpose, and the two of you can choose to help me and reap the rewards that follow, or you can return to your miserable lives, loligagging and ogling the things you know you want, but are too lazy to obtain.”

At this moment, Hitoshi Shinsou seems ancient to you. Trepidation crawls up your spine, chilling you to the bone. You regret most of what you’ve said to him, even the things you’d thought he deserved. You have an inkling that if Hitoshi really wanted to harm you, or Denki, he would. Easily.

“Okay, well-“ Denki, again speaks first, thank god. “You didn’t say there would be rewards.”

Maybe don’t thank god yet. But before you can apologize on Denki’s behalf, the air that you hadn’t realized had got heavier, thicker even, lifts, and Hitoshi eases up, lackadaisical smirk back on track.

“You both wish for something,” he says. “If you help me retrieve what’s rightfully mine, I will graciously return the favor by granting your wishes.”

“We do?” Denki asks. It’s wild to you how easily he could jump back into conversation like this, although, when you look closely at him, you can see that he’s trembling faintly. “What do I want?”

“You wish for a boat,” Hitoshi says, “so I will give you a boat.”

“I have a boat.”

“I’ll give you a better boat.” Hitoshi seems to be enjoying himself now, even going so far as to lean on the table, picturing exactly what he’s describing. “A captivating boat that both women and men find irresistible. It will sail smoother and faster than the other vessels out on sea. You will never want or need for an upgrade for it will never wear or tear.”

“A super boat,” Denki muses, beguiled by the idea. It’s your turn to be skeptical now, because you haven’t wished for anything. At least, not aloud for Hitoshi to hear.

“Then, what do I get?” You ask, arms crossed. You can admit that you’re interested in what he might have to say.

“Oh darlin’, that’s easy,” Hitoshi purrs, and moves from the counter over to you. Slowly, like he’s savoring your anticipation. Lifting a finger to your arm, he slides it across your skin, watching as both the glow and the tingles return. You have to hold your breath to yourself from sighing.

“You want to be loved,” he says, “adored even. And not just by anybody. You want to be with your soulmate, isn’t that right. That may be why you came to this island to begin with.”

There’s no way he could’ve known that you’re new to the island. Nobody said anything about it. But he’s not wrong. Though you can’t say he’s right either. You came to the island in hopes to find…yourself. And though you haven’t yet found yourself, you sure as hell found Kirishima. And soulmate has a nice right to it.

“So if we help you find these gems—“

“—tide jewels,” he intervenes.

“Tide jewels-“ you roll your eyes- “then you will give Denki a super boat, and you will unite me with a soulmate?”

“Exactly,” Hitoshi confirms. “Easy peesy, isn’t it?”

“How do we know you’ll uphold your end of the bargain?” Denki asks, finally out of his super boat daydreams.

“I said you were good with questions.” Hitoshi smirks. “You don’t know. You can’t know. But you can either do this with me, and probably get a super boat and a soulmate out of it, or you can not, and get nothing.”

Denki side-eyes you, and you him. You hold each other’s gazes for a brief moment, and you already know how this would play out if you refuse. Denki would convince you to do it. You don’t do anything, he says with his eyes. Might as well hang around and see how this plays out.

“Fine.” Even though your good conscience screams at you to do otherwise, you let up. “We’ll help you.”

“Excellent.” Hitoshi beams, or at least, he beams in a way only someone who was just threatening two other people can beam. “Then we should start our search today. We’ll probably need to go into town and see if there are any supernatural occurrences or old folktales to check out.”

Going out to town is the last thing you’d planned on doing today. Or maybe the second to last thing you planned on doing. You have to ask, because if you don’t, you’ll go batsy.

“We won’t be getting wet, will we?”

Hitoshi scoffs, which isn’t an answer. Maybe you really don’t ask the right questions because when Denki asks, “you said there were six things you need to retrieve. What’s the sixth thing?” Hitoshi winks at you, and grins. And when he grins, your stomach aches.

[nneogram]

think about it — part one. get laid!

pairing: jaehyun x reader (f)

genre: enemies to lovers!au, college!au, fluff

word count: 8.4k

warnings: language, mentions of sex but not really (oc keeps being told to get laid “emotionally” idk), jungwoo gets scolded about the importance of consent, jungwoo’s in a frat but not really but yes really, quick reminiscent phone call w/ bestie jungkook, oc has unhealthy studying habits but dw it gradually gets better from here

a/n: i’ll say it for all of us - FINALLY, an update on here. this is result of my own college shenanigans, stories from my friends, and far too many fantasies whilst in quarantine. jeni needs to lay off the k-dramas, sheesh. i’d also like to note that this is unedited! there may be a few grammar/spelling mistakes.

▸ playlist (to be linked later)

Your roommate claims that you need to, in the simplest terms, “Get laid.” You are vehemently against this proposal, despite her insistence and clarification.

“Emotionally. You need to get laid emotionally, Y/N,” Megan whines. That’s all she can do from where she is sitting, tucked safely away beneath the blankets on her bed. It’s cocoon-like, she’s explained to you before, “like being in the womb.” Safe. Secure. Warm. You think that if that was her cocoon, then Megan would emerge a butterfly. If you were in her place? You would emerge a moth.

“I don’t think any getting laid needs to be done, regardless of if it’s emotional or not.” You take another flashcard from your prepared deck. Strong Acids. HCl, HBr, HI… HClO4? A hiss leaves your lips when you flip the card over to see the answer. You were missing two more acids. You reluctantly place the card into the pile to review again, which sat next to a much smaller pile of correct cards. The goal for the morning was to move all the cards in the “wrong” pile to the “right” pile, but considering the size difference of the two stacks, that goal would not be achieved.

Megan’s sigh pulls you from your focus. “Dude. Do you see yourself right now? I don’t think I’ve seen you doing anything other than studying for the past two weeks. I’m going to ace this chem midterm and I’m not even in chem. I’m not even a STEM major.”

You frown. “Sorry. Was I being too loud? I can go-”

“No, don’t worry about me. This is about you. I’m concerned for you - you’ve been cooped up more these two weeks than you were in the entirety of fall quarter. Have you taken a break recently?”

“I slept for eight hours straight, I think that’s a good enough break?”

“No, like a real break. Away from studies and school and just doing something… I dunno, fun?”

You shake your head. The past few weeks had been nothing but relentless studying. In an effort to maintain your pristine GPA, you shoved aside what little downtime you allotted yourself in fall quarter to focus on school. It was the least you could do, considering that you were on track to apply to medical school at the end of your undergraduate career. You were only in your first year, so all of the other requirements for med school - clinic, shadowing, research, the works - were inapplicable for the time being. There wasn’t much to get you ahead other than your 4.0.

Megan knows this, but she also knows that you have little to no social life outside of the bare minimum. It’s an unspoken truth that the two of you being assigned as roommates was a blessing in disguise: your studious tendencies help motivate Megan to stay on task while Megan’s more laidback nature reminds you to take a breather sometimes. 

This was one of those times.

“I’m telling you,” Megan crawls over to the edge of her bed to get closer, “You should relax a bit. Just a teeny, tiny bit. Have some fun, live out your first year of college! Make some art, go to the gym, I dunno, step out of your comfort zone. Get laid!”

“You say that last one as if talking from experience,” you tease. 

What was the charge on sulfide again? Fuck, it was two minus. Another card goes into the “wrong” pile.

Megan scoffs. “Please. I’ve only ever had one boyfriend, and that was in middle school. The most we did was hold hands. Besides, we don’t need men… I just want one.” She mumbles this last part as an afterthought before returning her focus to you. “I think getting a boyfriend would be a great distraction for you.”

You gawk at your roommate, eyes flitting from her to your toppling stack of incorrectly answered cards and back to her. “Do you see this? I don’t need any distractions right now.”

“No, no, I - fuck. I got that all wrong, didn’t I.” Megan facepalms. “What I mean is maybe you should befriend some people, or find some kind of emotional outlet. As much as I pride myself on being your source of positivity, I’m not around all the time to tell you to take a break and relax. You tend to be hard on yourself, y’know?”

Your gaze once again travels to your flashcards, their amount of use prominent in the worn-down corners and smudged ink. “I guess…”

There’s a smile of satisfaction on Megan’s face. “Think about it,” she concludes, then crawls back to her cocoon of blankets to take a nap.

--

The gloom of the rainy weather hits most forcefully in January. With the merriment of the holiday season behind you, it seems there is nothing ahead but cold, and rain, and emptiness. Only so many mugs of hot chocolate could keep your heart warm, and it wasn’t even the good type of hot chocolate - it was the powdery stuff that you mixed in with your lukewarm water because the water kettle you brought with you to the dorm was buggy and never fully heated up a pot of water. 

Yeah, you could buy yourself a cup of cocoa from the coffee shop on campus, but as the college kid stereotype proved, you were broke. So you settle for your half-assed attempt at a comfort drink, taking extra effort to stir the dregs that tend to settle at the bottom of your styrofoam cup.

“So you need to get laid?” Jungkook’s voice crackles over the phone.

You sigh. For getting into one of the most prestigious universities in the country, Jungkook lacked the ability to draw proper conclusions from given information. He clearly hadn’t paid attention to your five minute spiel on your deteriorating motivation for life and your roommate’s unusual suggestion. “No,” you begin slowly, because if you didn’t control yourself you were going to get annoyed quickly, “I do not need to get laid.”

It’s dusk, around that time of the evening where the world slows down as the sky is painted a myriad of pinks, purples, and oranges. Even in January the sunsets in your college town never failed to astonish you. However, it’s also the time of the day when loneliness hits you most, and for a fraction of a moment you get homesick and usually end up calling someone from home. In this case, you end up contacting a close friend - though you’re beginning to question Jungkook’s title as a close friend, considering he completely missed the point of your rant.

“Well it sure sounds like it,” Jungkook refutes. There’s a loud crunching noise on the other end of the call, and you have to bring the phone away from your ear as the crackling continues. You know for a fact that Jungkook has bitten into a chip, most likely the barbecue ones he always had on hand. The audacity to snack on junk food in the middle of a conversation about your existential crisis - you sometimes wonder how you and Jungkook became friends in high school. 

Then again, you were on the other end slurping the remnants of your hot cocoa. Maybe there was something going for the two of you.

“Think about it.” You’re reminded of that afternoon when Megan said the exact same thing. “You’re unmotivated. Why? Because you’re lonely. How do we fix that? You need to get laid-”

“-Emotionally. Emotionally laid-”

“-Yeah yeah, same difference. They go hand in hand,” Jungkook brushes off. “The point still stands. When was the last time you were in a relationship?”

You hesitate to answer. “I’ve never been in a relationship,” you mumble.

“I couldn’t hear you. What?”

“I said I’ve never been in a relationship,” you repeat with a sigh.

There’s a beat of silence. “You’re kidding.”

You shake your head, momentarily forgetting this is a phone call and not an in-person conversation where Jungkook can see you. Students begin to flood the sidewalks outside of the dorms, likely the last wave of students returning for their later classes. A girl - Megan, you realize after squinting - waves at you from across the street. You wave back, gesturing to her that you’re on a call. She nods and goes on her way to the dorm. 

You return your focus to the call. “No, not kidding.”

“I’m taking that lapse of silence as you actually having to think about it.” You roll your eyes, another gesture that Jungkook cannot see. “How? You’re telling me all four years of high school you never got with someone? Not even a fling? Not even that weird ‘talking’ phase kids do these days? What have you been doing all this time?”

Your mind immediately goes back to your high school graduation. “Valedictorian, weighted GPA of 4.8, Y/N Y/L/N, attending…” You remember the smile on your face as the principal handed you your diploma. You remember the smiles on your parents’ faces, the pride and joy in their eyes. That was when you knew it had all been worth it - no one but you, your parents, and your own pure ambition fueling your fire for the four years of high school.

Maybe the closest you got to any sort of romantic relationship was… with Jungkook.

You liked Jungkook before your brain could fully process it, denying it as platonic affection for the better half of three years as he took you under his wing your freshman year. It was comforting to have someone older than you help you navigate high school, but as much as you tried you could not view Jungkook as an older brother as he so claimed to be.

Of course, nothing was ever to happen. Jeon Jungkook was a boy entirely out of your league - star student, star athlete, poster child for all things good and right in the world - but most importantly, he was your closest friend. It was this label that helped set a boundary for your affections, and your crush became more of a pastime to delve into when you wanted a break from your studies. A fantasy that would never come true.

It wasn’t until he moved away for college your senior year that your crush subsided, hitting you like some sort of epiphany when he returned for his winter break. You had been beyond elated to reunite with your friend, but when you looked in his eyes it dawned on you that the weight of his words and actions no longer affected you as much as they did in the past.

That was your only stint with romance, and you were fine with it staying that way. Yeah, it was a fruitless endeavor, but look what you got out of it: a great friend! And only at the price of three years of unnecessary emotional turmoil and relentless unrequited pining. What a bargain.

“I’ve been busy with school, mainly.” It’s an insufficient summation of your high school experience, but it got the point across. Technically, it wasn’t a lie.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of you and all - and I respect your decision to be single! Human rights and all that - but maybe it’s time for you to get into a relationship.”

You snap your fingers loudly enough to startle a group of guys walking past. You hope the grimace on your face is enough of an apology. “Oh my God, thanks Jungkook! Now that you mention it, let me just hit up one of the many young eligible bachelors pining over me, because there are so many right now.”

The feigned enthusiasm in your voice does not entertain Jungkook as much as you would have liked it to. “I’m sure there are, Y/N. There were plenty in high school.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” The playful smile you sport falls from your lips as he proceeds to dive into a list of names. 

“The one guy with the yellow hair… Yugyeom thought you were cute… Oh, Taehyung liked you too-”

“-Taehyung?” You gawk. “The Kim Taehyung. The guy two years older than you, editor of the yearbook and captain of the lacrosse team? The Kim Taehyung who was Prom King. Him?” It’s difficult to process a senior that you had regarded so highly had taken  interest in you in your lowly freshman year.

“Yeah, I know, right? I told him he was out of your league-”

“-Hey!”

“-But I said that out of jealousy. Heck, even I liked you at some point, Y/N. You’re quite a catch, just super oblivious.”

The reminder of your phone call with Jungkook consists of your disbelieving laughs and Jungkook’s reassurances that yes, that many people liked you in high school.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of people interested in you. You just have to see it for yourself first.” Oddly prophetic for someone who claims he could survive solely off of energy drinks and barbecue chips, but considering he was studying at an Ivy League, he had to have some credibility. You end the phone call possibly more confused than you had been before the conversation. Swirling the contents of your cup absentmindedly, you realize you’ve drunk all of your hot cocoa. All that is left at the bottom of your cup are the clumps of cocoa powder that hadn’t been properly stirred. The dregs. Of course.

You relay your findings to Megan the next day over a lunch of poorly cooked rice and under seasoned chicken. “Food crafted by the gods to remind us of our inferiority,” as Megan liked to call it.

She claps her hands like a seal. “So I was right!” She cheers over a mouthful of food. “You need to get laid!”

You’re a bit too late to cover her mouth, her ambiguous words now out in the open for others nearby to hear and assume the wrong thing. Glancing around, you’re relieved to find that no one seemed to notice, save for one boy at a nearby table surrounded by some of his friends. He gives you a look but you refrain from making eye contact.

“I feel like you and I heard different stories just now.” You keep your voice down. “Meg, I just found out my high school crush - debatably, my first love - liked me at some point when I liked him. Do you know how big that is?”

“Do you know how big that isn’t?” Megan shoots back. “Because nothing came out of it. You never acted on your feelings. And something tells me that even if this John Cook-”

“-His name is Jungkook, but okay-”

“-Even if he had acted on his feelings, you would never believe it.” Ouch. She really went for your lack of self-esteem right there, and that shit hurted. Regardless, she’s right, and you both know it.

“You know when we say this, we’re not trying to force you into anything you don’t want to do,” Megan clarifies. “I’m not saying you should get dicked down by the first guy who gives you attention, but wouldn’t it be nice to let someone - someone who genuinely cares for you - to let them into that dark and twisty mind of yours? God knows what’s going on up there.” She gestures to your forehead with her spoon.

Brushing aside Megan’s crude wording near the beginning, you’re at a loss for words. Unsure of how to respond, you mumble, “But there’s no one like that in my life. Other than you, that is.”

“Because you never let anyone close enough to truly know you. Just…” she pops another spoonful of rice into her mouth, “Just think about it.”

-- 

D-1 until your midterm. Nomenclature and ionic charges are now extremely familiar to you, having taken the spot from Megan as Number One Friend. And yet, you still haven’t successfully completed your flashcards.

Strong Acids. You suck in a deep breath, swerving in between groups of people as you make your way to the cafe. Walking quickly with your head down as the sure fire way of getting to any destination as quickly as possible. Okay Y/N, you got this… HCl, HBr, HI, HClO4… HNO3? You flip the card over and hiss. You were missing one more response. You truly hated it here.

The cafe is bustling with students on their laptops and scribbling away in notebooks, all likely studying for their respective exams. The scent of freshly ground coffee beans pervades the entirety of the interior, drawing you further inward until you’re standing at the cashier. 

“One tall vanilla latte, please.” You hand the girl behind the counter your money and stand aside to let the next person in line order. Once your order is called, you grab your drink - Ah, nothing like a fresh cup of capitalism to revitalize your motivation to study - and search for a place to sit. As if by the grace of God, someone leaves their seat at the barstools just as you turn around. Beautiful.

“Excuse me,” you tap the shoulder of one of the people next to the open seat. “Is this seat taken?” He shakes his head no, and you take that as your signal to sit.

You find yourself sandwiched between two young men, each immersed in their own studies. The one to your right, the one you had talked to briefly, appears to want no further interruptions, both earbuds in his ears. The one to your left never turned around to begin with, head down as he types away at his laptop. All you can make out are his broad shoulders in a brown leather jacket and a mop of strawberry blond hair. An interesting choice of hair color, but you weren’t one to judge. He’s nodding his head to some tune, and it’s only then you realize he has one earbud in. You wonder what kind of music a cute man like himself would listen to -

Get a hold of yourself, Y/N, you chastise yourself for showing sudden interest in a complete stranger. The day before your midterm at that - there was no space in your head for an unknown young man who was probably good looking, too - No! Focus. Flashcards. You fumble in your jacket pocket for your index cards.

Chemistry nomenclature, round fifty-six.

As you’re reviewing, you overhear the conversation proceeding next you with the cute guy and a girl. “Excuse me, is this seat taken?” The familiar words make you think of mere moments before when you were asking the same thing.

“It isn’t, but… you can’t sit there.”

Huh? 

“I’m sorry?” The girl seems to mirror your confusion.

“You can’t sit here. I’m sorry.”

“But someone else can?”

Your flashcards go ignored as you choose to eavesdrop on the full conversation. The man stalls, looking at the girl up and down. “... Yeah, maybe.”

Trying your best to not draw attention to yourself, you turn your head in slow, languid movements to look around. Was anyone else seeing this? Hearing this? Were you the next unsuspecting victim on an episode of What Would You Do? You were half expecting a game show host to step out and introduce himself at any moment. Y/N, you’ve just been Punk’d! 

Unfortunately (or fortunately, you couldn’t decide which scenario was better), no game show host steps out from behind a curtain, and it sinks in that this guy wasn’t joking. He was intent on not letting this girl sit next to him.

“Look,” the girl runs a hand through her hair, a habit of frustration, maybe. “I really need a place to sit and work on things, and this seat is open. That, and it’s a public space. So if you’ll excuse me-”

The young man easily lifts his backpack from his chair with one hand and places it in the open seat. “There. It’s taken now. Sorry.”

The girl’s eyes widen, and you can only imagine what your face looks like right now. You’re in just as much shock as she is. 

You scoff, and this time you don’t care if he hears. And he does: the stranger finally turns around in his seat to reveal an extremely attractive face. Chiseled jawline, deep brooding eyes, dimples even when he was scowling. You freeze and your breath hitches in your throat. It’s a shame he had to go and open his mouth.

“Excuse me,” you cut in sweetly, making a point to only make eye contact with the girl. “You can sit here. I’m about to leave.”

The girl’s eyes go wide at the addition of a third party. “Oh, no, you don’t have to! Thank you so much though.”

You shove your flashcards into your backpack and stand up from the seat. “No no, I insist, it’s fine. Besides, I didn’t want to sit there anymore.” Only then do you shoot a glare at the young man. “I couldn’t focus.”

Judging by the way the girl eyes the strawberry blond next to you, you think she doesn’t want to sit there anymore, either. Nevertheless, a seat was a seat. She thanks you profusely and you head out the doors and down the path to return to the dorms. 

Naturally your mind drifts back to the stranger. Who was he to have so much pride as to deny a seat to someone he didn’t know? A seat that wasn’t his, either? The thought that people like him exist irks you.

He was so good-looking, too, your subconscious proceeds to remind you. 

But alas, a jerk was a jerk, and at the end of the day you had far more important things to worry about than an indecent stranger whom you doubt you would see again. More important things such as -

Your phone rings with an alarm notifying you of your next scheduled event: Final Review B4 Exam! You sigh. Looks like it was back to the books (and flashcards) for you for the rest of the night.

It doesn’t hit you until you crash land into your desk chair: in your anger-fueled exit from the cafe, you had completely forgotten your barely touched vanilla latte sitting at the barstool counter. At this point you’re ready to tear your hair out at the roots. You’re five dollars and one fresh cup of caffeinated capitalism short for the night’s study session. You really hated it here.

If Megan were here, she would whip you into shape real fast, shouting at you that you’re a “Bad Bitch!” or some other expletive motivation that would comfort you. Except Megan isn’t here, attending some kind of club meeting, leaving you alone in the dorm. Another sigh escapes your lips and you tilt your head back to stare at the ceiling. 

Maybe, just maybe, you needed to follow through on this whole “getting emotionally laid” thing.

--

The midterm you had so diligently studied for was a success. Inorganic Chemistry A5 didn’t know what was coming when you rolled up with your beloved flashcards - all successfully completed, mind you - ready to fight. Needless to say you were able to enter the weekend with no qualms. You now had much needed time to recuperate and as Megan had said before, to “take a break” (among other things you were not going to address anytime soon). 

Some students recovered from the trauma of frequent exams via partying, deciding it was better to be under the influence in order to get over their academic standing. Some would meet up with their friends, maybe gossip about the latest episode of the hottest reality TV show. In your case, you decide to binge watch as many k-dramas as humanly possible. While you preferably do so in the comfort of your bed, tonight Megan has taken authoritative control over the dorm room. Meaning, she had a psychology midterm the following Monday and needed to be able to focus on nothing but the role of the amygdala without the OST of whatever drama you were watching in the background. You know for a fact if you were in the room minding your own business Megan would ultimately get distracted and join you in your k-drama marathon. Thus you are thrown to the streets with nothing but the clothes on your back and your belongings stuffed into your backpack.

You take extra care to avoid the puddles forming on the sidewalks, the result of on and off rain throughout the day. There are noticeably less people outside, and you have a feeling that any building you choose to house yourself in will be quite the opposite, likely packed with students. 

After milling about campus for a few minutes, you finally settle down in the Student Community Center - a fancy name for yet another building on campus where students could lounge about and study slash socialize. As predicted, there are significantly more people crowded in the lobby area of the two-story building. Your boots squeak against the tiled floor as you make your way down an inconspicuous hallway. Tile turns to carpeting when you step into an almost empty study room. Only a handful of people are present in the room, scattered across the tables and couches. No one ever bothered to check the rooms at the very ends of the hallways - only those more dedicated to being unbothered ever made it that far - and you were grateful for this as you settled down at one of the open couches.

Hotel Del Luna is the show of choice for the evening, and you cuddle up to the armrest of the couch as you press Play. You had watched this one before, having been forced to do so with Jungkook at its release. Curse him and his admiration for IU - some of the ghost scenes kept you up at night the weeks after watching. You much preferred the more lighthearted slice-of-life k-dramas, but following your phone call with Jungkook you were drawn to the darker show. Call it nostalgia, call it an attempt to relive the happy memories of the past, call it denial of reality, whatever.

You’re two hours into your binge watch when you notice an unfamiliar presence at your side. A boy, and a breathtaking one at that. When he had joined you, you’re not sure, but you catch him glancing at your laptop screen every so often. He doesn’t stick out too much, black hair hidden beneath a black baseball cap and similarly monotone attire with a black hoodie that was definitely way too big for him. Yet no amount of nondescript clothing could cover up his impeccable bone structure. This man had a jawline and a nose bridge that were to die for, and although you haven’t made eye contact with the stranger you’re already feeling self-conscious. There’s no way in hell you’re initiating any sort of interaction with him.

But there’s no need to worry, because the stranger does it for you.

You’re on episode three when there’s a gasp from beside you. “Lee Jun-Ki!” You crane your neck to see the stranger leaning over to watch your laptop screen. The work in front of him - whatever that mess of hieroglyphs and symbols was - is completely forgotten as he scoots closer. 

It’s not until you lean a bit away from him that he realizes his actions. “Oh, sorry. I kinda needed a break from studying or else I was gonna lose it.” His ears turn a bright pink as he explains himself. “Is it okay if I watch with you?”

“Uh…” Now that your full attention is on him, you give the stranger a proper glance-over. He was indeed studying, some sort of language of shapes and numbers that was foreign to you sprawled across his notebook in a variety of colors. Other than the all black attire (which was reasonable for college - wasn’t everyone attending their own funeral during exams season?), he didn’t look too shady… “Sure.”

“Sweet.” He extends a hand to you, pulling back the ginormous sleeve that threatens to hang over his fingers. “My name’s Jungwoo.”

You tentatively take his hand. “Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you Y/N. Are you a first year?”

You nod your head, and Jungwoo smiles. “Cool. Me too.” He moves back to his side of the couch, but quickly scoots back to sit directly beside you after he has shoved all of his work into his backpack. He settles beside you on the couch, slouching down similarly to you. “Alright, let’s do this.”

You crack a smile at the boy’s unabashed boldness. He immerses himself in the episode alongside you, clear adoration in his eyes whenever IU makes an appearance on screen. “You like IU, I take it?”

Jungwoo shakes his head. “Not half as much as one of my friends. He idolizes her. I just... look at her very respectfully.”

“Me too, actually,” you confess. “My friend forced me to watch with him. I usually watch happier things. My favorite is Weightlifting Fairy.”

Jungwoo’s eyes go wide. “I love Weightlifting Fairy!” His theatrical gasp attracts the attention of the few students nearby. This newfound information seems to make something click in Jungwoo’s head, because he wiggles all the more closer to you. “You’re quickly becoming my best friend, Y/N.”

“I’m a friend?” 

“Duh. This was established when you didn’t run away from me in fear when I was quite literally looking over your shoulder. And that’s happened before with other people. Twice.” He seems to feel the need to add in the last few details, much to your amusement. “Now shush. Lemme admire IU in peace.”

--

That interaction with Jungwoo is only the first of many, many more. While you’re the type to keep to yourself and not approach others, Jungwoo was the opposite. You’re only a bit surprised when he yells out your name from across the street a few days later, sprinting towards you with unbridled excitement on his face. The last time someone was that happy to see you was when your dog greeted you after returning home for the holidays.

“Good morning, Y/N! Where you headed? I have Material Sciences in an hour. I got time, so I’ll walk with you wherever you’re going!”

Much like your first encounter, you agree with some hesitance. Jungwoo seemed to not have a bad bone in his body, no ill intentions whatsoever. It was refreshing to be in the presence of someone who wasn’t already jaded by the world. 

As promised, Jungwoo walks with you to your destination, the coffeeshop, even waiting with you in the insufferably long line. You find out that Jungwoo is the same age as you, a Mechanical Engineering major, and is a part of some sort of club that allowed him to connect with upperclassmen of different majors but with similar interests.

“It’s called Nu Kappa Tau, everyone there’s really nice! I’ll bring you with me to the next social event.”

“Nu Kappa Tau?” You test out the syllables on your tongue. “Greek? Are you in... a fraternity?”

Your tone of voice insinuates something bad, and the way Jungwoo reacts quickly tells you he has a similar stance on the Greek life in college. That similar stance being that frat boys were vermin. “No, no no no no. It’s Greek, yes, but we are definitely not a fraternity. It’s more like… a social, cultural, and academic club?”

“Jungwoo. That’s exactly what a fraternity would say to make it seem like it’s not a fraternity.”

“Okay, but in this case we’re actually not a fraternity, I promise.” He tugs on your shirt sleeve and looks at you with pleading eyes. “You should come with me to the next event. It’ll be fun, and I’ll prove to you it’s not a fraternity. Please?”

You remain silent, eyes turning to the coffeshop’s menu. Even when your gaze is somewhere else you can sense the way Jungwoo is staring you down with those puppy dog eyes of his. This was what, the second time you were talking to him, and already he wanted to go to a social event with you? “I don’t know. You’re nice and all, but I’m not the type to warm up to people easily. I’ll have to hang out with you more first. No offense.”

Most people cower at your denials, retreat to more comfortable territory where there’s no fear of rejection. Jungwoo, however, beams at you. “None taken, Miss Y/N. You know why?” He pauses for dramatic effect, quirking an eyebrow in mischief. “Because that wasn’t a no.”

A few people in line crane their necks to peer at the two of you as a resonant smack rings out in the coffeeshop. 

“Ow - Y/N - Ow!” Jungwoo rubs at his upper arm. You know you didn’t hit him hard enough to elicit this sort of dramatic reaction, but it’s what he deserves. 

“You can’t use that logic, Jungwoo,” you scold, bag poised in the air ready for another attack. “The only means of consent is a yes. Say it with me. The only means of consent is a-”

“-Yes, yes, okay! I got it, I’m sorry. I sincerely apologize.”

--

Fast forward two weeks later, and you know Jungwoo a bit too well for your liking. Following your rejection of his offer, Jungwoo goes ahead and makes it a point to see you for at least an hour a day, weekends included, in order for you to “warm up to him.” Some days, it’s lunch shared in the cafeteria between classes. Other days it’s hours upon hours of studying together in the back of the library, you and Jungwoo taking shifts napping while the other crams for their classes. 

He forces - “heavily insists” - you to share your location with him on your phones, so it’s of no surprise to you when he starts showing up outside of your lecture halls after class. It’s when he’s walking you back from your last class of the day that you find that he lives a floor above you in the same building. Of course.

Dare you say it, it’s easy having Jungwoo in your life. He walks with you everywhere, always initiates conversation, and eats as many meals as possible with you - or as many as Megan allows. 

“Hey Y/N,” your roommate greets you with a warm smile which quickly turns into a steely glare when he acknowledges the young man standing by your side. “Ahem. Jungwoo.” 

If Jungwoo was a legitimate candidate for your mission of “getting laid,” Megan would be ecstatic. However, you explain to her that Jungwoo is nothing more than a friend, and suddenly Megan thinks he’s out to take her spot as Y/N’s Best Friend (insert trademark emoji here). 

“Megan, always a pleasure,” Jungwoo croons. If he’s perturbed by your roommate’s aloof greeting, he doesn’t show it, a smile growing on his face. Jungwoo turns to you. “See you at nine?”

You nod. “See you at nine. Bye.”

“Bye.” Jungwoo waves then walks down the hallway to the stairs. You wait until he’s out of sight to turn back to Megan, who has one eyebrow raised.

“What’s going on at nine?” She questions.

A defeated grin makes its way onto your lips. As much as you had been dreading what was to come, you couldn’t deny the excitement building up within you at the thought of something… new, for once in your life. “I’m going to my first party.”

--

Jungwoo, as promised, picks you up from your dorm room later that evening. He texts you an ominous message of i’m outside ur dorm lol for you to find him in the driver’s seat of a car far too expensive for any broke college student to own.

Hesitantly, you hop into the passenger seat and gingerly close the door. You’re not sure who he borrowed this from - or maybe it was a rental? - but you wanted to make sure you took no part in any damage fees he’d pay later. “I thought first years couldn’t have cars on campus.”

“I know. I’m a rule breaker, Y/N. I can’t be stopped… And maybe I borrowed it from a friend.”

Jungwoo insists on manning the aux, which you oblige to as you don’t trust your music taste to be liked by others. Something about the artist name Sergio Rachmaninov didn’t always hit well with the young folk these days. The queue starts up as he pulls out of the parking lot, a bass-boosted R&B song filling the expanse of the lush interior. 

“I’m going to warn you, this music queue is all over the place.” All over the place is correct, because after the R&B song finishes a ballad comes on, followed promptly by the song “Good Time” by Owl City. It’s a good song, a tolerable one, but after the second run, and third run, and even a fourth run you can’t help but wonder if the queue is glitching.

“Jungwoo.” He grunts in response. “Did you mean to put this song on loop?”

He shrugs. “What can I say? It helps me focus.”

You’re really questioning the sanity of the man behind the wheel.

Four and a half plays of “Good Time” (or fifteen minutes) later, you and Jungwoo arrive at your destination.

You audibly gulp. “Jungwoo. You are so in a frat.”

“No I’m not!” The man whines. “I swear!”

You and Jungwoo must not be looking at the same house, because the one you’re looking at is nothing less than a mansion: two stories, covering a wide expanse of vivid green lawn, with pillars on either side of the double-door front entry. Windows line the top and bottom floors, and hedges line the cobblestone walkway in the front. It looks like something out of a Southern period drama with the Victorian, colonial style architecture.

“You sure?” You can’t break your gaze away from the three enormous Greek letters placed above the entryway. “‘Cause no normal house emblazons the symbols of their group name across the front like that.”

As soon as you step foot in the door, you regret your decision to come. “Kim, I think I left something in the car-” 

You’re rudely interrupted by Jungwoo swinging an arm over your shoulder a bit too harshly. 

“Relax,” he reassures you. “My friends don’t bite. Only I do that.” You’re given no time to question that statement before he leads you further into the house.

If there’s one thing you can count on with Jungwoo, it’s his ability to socialize. It seems he knows everyone in the house, proven to you by the way he either nods his head or does a handshake with every individual present. He leads you to the kitchen where two guys are conversing, one looking like an overgrown man child and the other looking like… well, an actual child.

“Hey, look who finally decided to show up,” the much taller boy croons. “And he brought a friend.”

“Johnny, this is Y/N. Y/N, Johnny. He’s in his fourth year.” You shake hands with Johnny, who grins at you. He seems nice, other than the fact that he continues to stare at you through the duration of the handshake. Perplexed, you refuse to break his gaze.

Johnny is the first to look away, turning immediately to Jungwoo. “Oh, I like her. No one has yet to win my staring contest this year, other than you, Y/N. Congratulations.”

You force a laugh. “Thanks?”

Jungwoo steers you to the second boy, this one noticeably shorter - or was he still tall? Anyone standing next to Johnny seemed to be dwarfed in his presence - with dyed blond hair. He has a cap over his head and circle glasses, and you can’t help but think he looks awfully young to be at a frat-but-not-really house party.

“And this is Mark. He’s a fellow first year, but he’s our baby.” Jungwoo coos the last word, making Mark huff. Lowering his voice to a stage whisper, Jungwoo explains, “He was born in 1999, so we have a good year on him.”

You click your tongue. Ah, that explains why he looks so young. You deem Mark to be far more approachable than Johnny and shake the young boy’s hand eagerly.

“Where’s Peaches?” Jungwoo asks Johnny. The older boy shrugs. 

“I dunno. Not my problem.”

“Oh, I don’t think Jaehyun’s coming,” Mark cuts in. “Texted me saying something came up. Something about a paper due. Wait. Didn’t you take his car?” He points to Jungwoo, who shrugs with a look of Whoops, sorry on his face.

Johnny groans. “Oh, shoot. That’s right. We have a paper due tomorrow morning.” As quickly as the realization hits him, the worry is gone. “Eh. It’ll be fine.”

The three boys converse a bit longer, exchanging pleasantries and whatnot, before you and Jungwoo make your departure. The most that comes out of your mouth are feeble courtesy laughs and the occasional sarcastic quip to keep Jungwoo’s chaotic energy at bay. You wait until Jungwoo’s led you away to voice your thoughts. “What kind of name is Peaches?” You repeat.

“Right. One of the upperclassmen got the nickname because he smelled like them his first day of recruitment. Apparently he lives near a peach tree orchard or something. Therefore, he’s Peach Boy.”

You make a mental note of the phrase recruitment your friend uses. One day, you’ll compile a long enough list of evidence proving Nu Kappa Tau was a frat, and the word recruitment was one of them. “So what’s your nickname then?”

“Me? I’m not technically initiated yet,” - did this man use the word initiated? Yet another piece of evidence for the fraternity agenda - “but if I had to choose…” Jungwoo pauses and drums his fingers against his chin. “I’m Cheese Boy.”

You pause, letting his name sink in. The laughter bubbles up within you, threatening to spill out in a snort. It instead comes out as a strong exhale through your nose.

“Whatever, Cheese Boy,” you tease. “How much longer until I can go home?”

--

The next time you see the boys of Nu Kappa Tau is when Jungwoo drags you to yet another one of their events but a few days later. “This one’s right up your alley,” he insists. He also bribes you with the promise of buying your lunch, and the kabob food truck was on campus today, meaning you were eating well this afternoon. Making an appearance at his frat was but a small price to pay for your beloved meal of choice.

Jungwoo’s right - this event is up your alley, because you recognize the route he takes across campus. “The library?”

He nods. “NKT Study Hall.”

As you enter the building Jungwoo pulls you down an unfamiliar corridor then up a flight of stairs. An unspoken farewell is bid to your usual study spot by the second floor window as you continue up, up, up, until finally stopping at the fifth floor where no more stairs remain. You didn’t realize the library went up that high, and you probably frequented the building more than all of the boys combined - not that you knew any of the Kappa Tau boys yet.

Though they do look extremely threatening now that you’re standing in front of them.

Jungwoo brings you to stand in front of him. “Men and Mark Lee-” (“Hey!” Mark complains,) “-I introduce to you my partner in crime, Y/N.”

You give a feeble smile to the young men surrounding the table. You recognize a few of them from the party, Johnny and Mark being the only ones you can put a name to. The two wave to you and you feel a little more welcomed. Aside from the duo, everyone else is unfamiliar, giving you emotionless head nods and scowls.

“Y/N, you know Johnny and Mark, over there’s Lucas, and that’s Sicheng.” You nod at the two of them, who seem nice enough. The latter actually gives you a soft smile, so you consider that a win in your book. “And over at that table is Doyoung, Ten… You know what? I’ll just introduce you to everyone later. Have a seat.”

You trust your friend to guide you to the safest open seat, directly across from another empty chair at one end of the long table. Immediately you pull out your biology notebook and pens, hunkering down and getting to work without further notice. If you couldn’t feel welcomed by the boys at the table, you could at least get some decent studying done. You felt far more familiar with the speciation concepts in front of you than the actual human beings next to you. You allow your head to burrow itself closer to your notebook, dwelling in this small comfort in an environment of unfamiliarities.

The moment of peace doesn’t last long.

“Peaches!” Johnny’s bellowing voice makes you jump in your seat, your beloved biology notes neglected.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” Huh. You’ve heard that voice before. You can’t place where you know it from, but it causes a sneer to form on your face. Glancing up from your notes you can’t help the strangled gasp that leaves your lips.

It’s him. You’d recognize that faded pink hair and smugly complacent upturn of lips anywhere. That, and he’s holding a coffee cup that violently catapults you back to the incident from a few weeks ago in the coffee shop. You left your perfectly good vanilla latte behind because he made you mad, that jerk.

“Oh, Jaehyun.” Jungwoo leads the man to the open seat across from you. Pointing to you, he says, “This is Peaches - I mean, Jaehyun. Jaehyun, this is-”

“-Y/N, right?” Jaehyun interrupts with a grin. You lower your eyes at the dimple that forms when he smiles. “I believe we’ve met before.”

Jungwoo looks from your displeased state to Jaehyun’s smug smirk. “Uh, okay. Cool. Well then. I’m gonna go ahead and grab lunch, I’ll be right back.” You watch as Jungwoo beckons Johnny and Mark to join him, the only three familiar faces present at the table now leaving.

Jaehyun leans back in his chair, arms moving to rest behind his head. “Looks like it’s just the two of us.”

You weigh your options. You could recognize that the two of you have indeed met before, and try to get past your differences. Or, you could refuse to acknowledge Jaehyun’s presence a mere few feet across from you at the table and try your best to study until Jungwoo returned with your food, at which point you would then flee the scene as fast as your non-athlete self could. Only one of these outcomes enticed you, and it wasn’t the one that involved talking. 

“So, Y/N,” Jaehyun leans forward. The width of the table is enough to keep him at a safe distance from you, yet he’s still close enough to invade your personal space somehow. It’s suffocating, how whatever musky cologne he’s wearing wafts over to you - he smells nothing like peaches. “How’s your day been?”

“Fine.” You keep your eyes glued to your biology notes. Allopatric Speciation occurs when two populations of the same species become isolated from one another due to-

“Aw, just fine? That’s it?” His voice is low. With Jungwoo, Johnny, and Mark out getting food, you’ve been isolated at one end of the table with Jaehyun. Lucas and Sicheng are present as well, but both seem to be deeply immersed in their own studies. It’s just the two of you.

“Yep.” Allopatric Speciation occurs when two populations of the same species-

“C’mon, I’m sure someone like you has had at least one interesting thing happen today.”

Allopatric Speciation occurs when - Someone like you? What was that supposed to mean? You sigh, but refuse to look up from your notes. Allopatric Speciation-

“Are you a first year? I took that class last year. If you ever want notes or something-” Jaehyun jumps a little when you slam the notebook shut. Good. Serves him right.

“I don’t like you, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun tilts his head, a smirk tugging at the end of his lips. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough.”

He leans in by resting his forearms on the table, leveling his gaze with yours. “I don’t think you do.”

“You know what I think? I think you’re distracting me.”

Jungwoo comes back at the most opportune time, wielding a kabob skewer in each hand - one untouched and the other halfway eaten. “One chicken kabob for Y/N.”

Deeming the conversation with Jaehyun at its end, you stand up from your seat and grab your backpack from the table. Jaehyun fixes you with an intense gaze but remains silent. Whether he was sizing you up or not you didn’t care.

The tension is palpable at the table, and Jungwoo clears his throat. “Did I interrupt something?” 

“No,” you respond quickly. Grabbing your food from Jungwoo, you give him an apologetic smile. “Something came up. I gotta go. Sorry, Kim. See you tomorrow?”

You despise this man. You don’t even know Jaehyun - he is nothing but a familiar stranger - but you despise him. Him and his ethereal appearance. Why were the terrible ones always the ones blessed with above average looks? Why’d he have to open his mouth?

“Wait.” You do not, in fact, wait, but instead continue marching forward. It’s not until the figure stands right in front of you do you stop. It’s Jaehyun. Holding your biology notebook in the air. “Don’t want to leave anything behind. Like last time, right?”

The last few words out of his mouth have your blood boiling and your fists clenching at your sides. That explained the foreign lightness of the bag on your shoulder.

“Oh, right, the vanilla latte.” You fake a cordial laugh. “You mean the time I was so desperate to get away from your insufferable presence that I left behind a perfectly good coffee? The time when you treated that girl as if she wasn’t a human being? That time you couldn’t be a decent enough human being that you were that disrespectful to someone you didn’t even know?” 

Jaehyun stands before you with an astonished smile and a hand frozen in the air. You pluck the notebook out of his grasp and stride away before he has a chance to respond.

“I’ll see you around, Y/N,” Jaehyun calls.

“I’ll see you around my ass,” you mutter under your breath. You’re willing to go out of your way to avoid interactions with Jaehyun, no matter what it takes.

a/n 2: hope you enjoyed part one of this series! it’s been a while since i last posted a fic on here so i apologize for my rusty writing skills. part 2 is projected to be posted in one week from now, but that’s tentative. we’ll see where life takes me and if i have the capacity to post in a week from now. in the meantime: stay safe! 💕

[halinski]

Red Light, Green Light

I lost the original ask when I tried to post the other day but thankfully I had this saved! Thank you to the anon who sent this!! It was a great challenge and obviously it took me a long while (so I hope you’re still around!) but I’m actually quite happy with it :D I might finally be gaining some confidence with writing hehe lots of thanks to @kcfriedchicken​ for always putting up with me and cheering me on, and also to @livinginfictions​ for the thorough beta!! <3

[Read on AO3]

Derek blinked lazily at the clock on Stiles' desk, wishing he could close his eyes and keep dozing, pretend he hadn't seen how late it was getting because that meant putting an end to this. But...an alpha missing out or being late to his own pack meeting would not do. Especially if he popped up around the same time as Stiles, both of them smelling distinctly of each other.

No. This...whatever it was—well, relationship, yes, in a way—it was just theirs for now. Stiles’ and his. They hadn't put a name to it, mostly because Derek feared to bestow a cursed title upon Stiles. Connections like this generally ended badly. But this was something that was just theirs, safe and secure behind four walls, or car doors. For now.

Another minute ticked by, striking Derek's ears, drawing attention to the impatient little black hands, swinging further on and on, tempting Derek to dig his claws into the plastic and tear it apart, as if that would eradicate the concept of time so that he could continue to lie here with Stiles on his shoulder. If that was all his life consisted of from this day forward, Derek wouldn't mind. He'd always seen himself bleeding to death at the hands of an enemy, enduring inexplicable pain but now... 

He could spend eternity here in Stiles' room, on his tiny bed, and not be bothered at all, or alternatively, and more realistically, die happy on the spot in a good way.

He was half tempted to go public with their...relationship but it also made the fear of vulnerability stir inside his chest. It was one thing to have Stiles see his cracks and edges: to let him soothe them like balm in privacy, but revealing this thing with Stiles would mean letting the rest of the world know about his weakness. He knew the pack didn't mean him any harm, and yet...

Derek was working on giving the softness inside him space. It was a work in progress.

He sighed, another tick and tock of a minute having gone by, the planned event creeping closer. Stiles snuffled against Derek's shoulder at the sound, rubbing his scent into the worn grey shirt. His arm re-adjusted around Derek's torso.

"If you keep up with that all my shirts are gonna be shoulder free - but only on the right side," Derek said, amused and hell, proud even, at how quickly so many wolf-like behaviors had grown on Stiles; faster than anyone else in the pack, when he wasn't even a wolf. It spoke volumes of Stiles' understanding. Sure, he had been tactile from the start, searching for contact, and Derek had seen the hugs and shoulder pats he shared with his dad but this...it just felt right.

Derek was glad the human's eyes were closed because the smirk he was wearing may have been closer to a smile, and he didn't dare encourage Stiles’ ideas further. If he gave his cheesy thoughts too much room he would ruin their balanced give and take. They both found a necessary challenge in the other. Derek couldn't just surrender.

"You can buy new ones," Stiles mumbled, not caring to lift his head even the slightest bit. "Shit, it's not like you're poor. Don't be stingy. Let a guy enjoy himself."

Derek let out a light snort. "You've enjoyed yourself plenty. It's time we get ready."

Stiles just whined, slightly high pitched and grating, but a wordless communication Derek appreciated, if only for the fact that Stiles didn't necessarily need his words around him anymore. When he didn't want to, which...wasn't very often.

"Come on, let's go," Derek said, giving Stiles' a vigorous little back rub to try and get his system going, after which he managed to pull him up into a sitting position with him.

"This sucks. I'm going to excommunicate from the pack. Both you and me so we never have to deal with any responsibilities ever again," Stiles said, blinking unhappily into the room.

Derek swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, stretching his back. "And then I'll whisk you away and we'll live in a cave like real wolf-men for the rest of our lives," he quipped.

"Exactly!" Stiles exclaimed, a grin splitting his face. "This is why I'm dating you."

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. You only want me because I'm a werewolf." Derek let out a put upon sigh after slipping on his shoes and grabbing his jacket. Stiles joined him then, taking hold of Derek by wrapping his fist in the hem of his shirt.

"Come here, hot wolf-man," Stiles mock-growled, pulling him in. Derek went along easily, lips finding Stiles' blindly and letting himself sink into the warmth. Stiles' hand stroked over his cheek with the tenderness of a sunlit daisy.

God, Derek was a goner.

Derek gently nudged Stiles back, righting his head. Stiles followed his movement with a subtle lick across his lips, pupils all wide and open, as if he had a whole world in there for Derek alone to make his home in. But he couldn't let himself get distracted by Stiles again. 

"I'll race you," he blurted out to shake himself out of this delirious high. A challenge: one of the strongest motivators for Stiles. On cue, Derek watched the spark ignite in his eyes.

"I'm listening." Stiles smiled at him defiantly.

"I bet I can make it home, shower and be ready before you are."

"On foot? No way! I'm so going to win this."

"Oh yeah?"

"You're a goner, Hale."  Stiles was right about that on one count.

Derek met his gaze with equal glee. He held the moment just for a second longer, fingertips brushing against Stiles' nape. Stiles' pulse jumped beneath his thumb and Derek couldn't put the feelings in his chest into words, nor actions. The most he was capable of was resting his forehead against Stiles', just breathing him in.

Resisting the tangible temptation to give in to Stiles once more, Derek merely parted his lips to whisper, "Go!"

He ripped himself from the human and fled, holding fast to his next objective.

"Hey!" Stiles objected after a heartbeat, but Derek was already out the window.

--------

Stiles screeched into the parking lot, foot on the break and hands pulling the steering wheel for a sharp left. He skidded to a halt next to the familiar figures at the entrance to Derek’s building - he still couldn’t believe his boyfriend had bought a whole building just to maintain his social isolation. Then again, having to listen to your neighbors do literally everything couldn’t be great. It would drive anyone insane. Stiles yanked the emergency break as he parked and left the car running, jumping out in one smooth move.

Isaac could shut it, he was totally smooth.

“You asshole!” Stiles ranted, pointing at Derek in frustration. “You cheated.” 

Derek did nothing but smile smugly, eyebrows openly laughing at Stiles.

“I don’t cheat,” he declared, arms crossing over his chest, now wearing a nice bright blue shirt. There was a light, earthy cologne crawling up Stiles' nose as he stood in front of this man of brawn. Stiles knew intimately how solid and strong Derek was beneath that sturdy dark blue top but instead of indulging said train of thought he had to expel it. The pack was probably used to his hormonal responses to Derek but he was supposed to be growing out of that phase.

Thank goodness for strong deodorant, Stiles thought,watching Derek's nostrils flare. He breathed in relief at the small nod that deemed him clean enough. Any lingering scents of each other scrubbed away,  and  a change of clothes. Dating a werewolf on the down low among other werewolves was a pain in the ass. Especially when assholes like Jackson would sneer and complain about the "ghastly stink" of artificial scents only when it came to Stiles. Naturally, he didn’t dare talk smack about Derek in his presence. 

"There's no way. You absolutely cheated," Stiles insisted and jabbed at those abs, just under Derek's elbow, where he knew he was ticklish. Then he bit his tongue lest he let anything incriminating slip and whirled around, grinning to himself at the quiet wheeze behind him.

"You done?” Lydia asked with an audible eye roll. How was it that all of Stiles’ favorite people had perfected that movement? 

“Yup!” Stiles declared, making a beeline for Erica to hook his arm into hers. Erica was bound to try to interrogate him about what kind of cheating Derek had done but Stiles was a sheriff’s son, and he had all his evasive techniques down. Of course, Erica had her own theories about him and the alpha, which may or may not have resulted in him confessing to her about his crush. Despite not being able to tell her about any of the developments, he found comfort in the fact that he could be sure she was rooting for them. “C’mon, bestie. Let’s go!”

Stiles didn’t miss the grin Erica sent Derek’s way before they turned and headed up into the loft, making a pit stop at the still running Jeep. The rest of the pack slowly shuffled after them. 

--------

Somehow... no matter how organized Derek tried to be before a pack meeting or how sternly he glared and attempted to keep the pack in line, pack meetings always resulted in chaos and headaches. Right now, there was a discussion going on about cats and full moons that weren’t based on any scientific (or supernatural) evidence and Derek couldn't even recall when the conversation shifted.

Even Stiles was getting tired at this point, rubbing his forehead vigorously as he hung over the laptop. Derek hadn't heard him typing for the past 15 minutes and it hadn’t been long after that Stiles had stopped sending sullen looks his way and started stubbornly picking at the permanent stain on the table.

"Okay, let's wrap this up and get something to eat before I start tearing out throats," Derek sighed.

Stiles' laptop snapped shut before Derek finished the sentence.

Boyd smirked. "We haven't heard that one in a while," he commented.

"So, we're done, right?" Lydia declared, already packing up her things and slipping her shoes back on.

"We're done when I say I'm done," Derek said. "Any other questions left?"

Erica raised her arm from her lounged position. 

"Yes."

"Are we done?" she asked, without as much a hint of amusement, and Derek was. Derek was 100 percent done trying to deal with these teenagers. 

He gave her a long blank stare. Just to prove how much he meant it, before he turned from where he had been pacing and pointed at Stiles.

"Patty's. You're driving."

Then he marched upstairs to his private bathroom, just to buy himself some alone time, hanging out the tiny window and staring out at the tree tops. 

He loved his pack, he did. Sometimes it was all a bit much and he needed to breathe, though. He'd been the same even as a kid.

He waited until everyone had made their way into the stairwell before taking a deep breath and following. A small part of him was hoping Stiles would linger behind so they could have a moment but he quickly buried that thought with logic. They would be heard and how could he even already miss Stiles when they had just spent hours together?

Grabbing his jacket, wallet in the pocket, he pulled the door shut and ambled down the stairs. He didn't bother locking it. There was nothing to protect, and Derek made sure to chase off any stupid teens who wanted to screw around and vandalize the place. Any supernaturals wouldn't be bothered by a lock anyway.

The only exception was, of course, when Stiles was around.

Of course, the kids weren't even close to figuring out a seating order by the time he joined them. What did Derek even expect?

But upon approaching the Jeep, he found one seat occupied. The passenger seat. Derek stopped short. 

"Erica." Because of course. 

Her curls bounced as the young women turned to look and flash a grin at him. 

"Derek, hi! Would you look at that, we're matching," she said, shimmying in her own leather jacket, just as black as his, but newer and shinier. Derek wouldn't really say they matched, because Erica was a fashion statement in herself, a force of her own, and Derek was just…wearing a memento because it was comfortable. Whatever.

Derek crossed his arms.

Stiles came over to his side, leaning on him and in toward Erica. Stiles let his fingers tap lightly against Derek's pec. Thank God Stiles had always been reckless with physical contact and there was no sudden change in intimacy that could cause suspicion. Derek just had to make sure he didn't preen too much.

"Eyebrows basically mirrored, matching, with only a slight degree of tilt, I would say maybe like a good… 19%. And then we have a non-flared nose but alert ears and oh, dare I say… that freshly trimmed stubble really drives the point home,which is…Erica, I think you better move," Stiles warned, voice lifting from dramatic broadcaster to a cartoonist sing-song tune.

Derek chose not to acknowledge Stiles, because encouragement would surely only escalate this situation. Either in the manner of Stiles' antics, or instead with the fondness trying to bloom in Derek's chest.

Erica only proceeded to lean further into her seat, eyes flickering between the two of them with a certain glint.

"And why's that?" she challenged.

"Because I say so," Derek muttered.

"And he's the alpha," Stiles finished for him, straightening with pride. 

Erica gazed back between the two of them, lips pursuing with evident consideration of pushing further. Then she sighed.

"You know it's really not fair when you gang up on me," she said, but a smile still snuck its way onto her face. She turned towards the middle console and hiked herself up to clamber into the back. Halfway there, she stuck her hands out and called for Boyd's assistance, who gave a small shake of his head but quickly came to his girlfriend's aid. 

Derek bit back a comment while Stiles laughed at his side, and then detached himself from him. Before Stiles left to go grab his own seat, he left a gentle pat on Derek's back.

--------

Two and a half hours, 12 burgers, 7 large fries (4 regular and 3 curly), 2 cartons of onion rings, some chicken, multiple stacks of pancakes, 4 waffles, 8 milkshakes, and a juicy mixed berry pie  later, they were back in the cars, making the 20 minute drive to Beacon Hills. Sure, there were plenty of places to eat in town but after discovering Patty’s diner one early morning while dealing with some kind of manticore-like creature nearby, they had deemed this the best reasonably close diner. Now, it was a regular thing.

Jackson led the way in his Porsche, of course, with Lydia right at his side and Scott and Allison in the back, while Jeep tailed them with Stiles at the wheel. Erica was splayed out in the backseat with her head resting in Boyd’s lap, quietly humming along to the radio. Isaac was smooshed over on the other side and yet still somehow found a way to rest his head on Boyd's shoulder and close his eyes. 

Hungers sated, stress digested and drama enacted all through dinner, everything was starting to slowly settle. Even Derek's restless soul found sanctuary in the familiar scents of his pack and the rhythm of Stiles' fingers against the wheel as they corresponded with his heartbeat. Derek allowed himself to find comfort, sinking further into the seat and stretching his arm casually out to rest on the back of Stiles' seat. 

He watched Stiles' eyes flicker his way but halt and return to take in the sight in the rear view mirror. A small smile tugged at his lips and Stiles hummed along with Erica as if the swell of affection radiating from him was not at all related to Derek's action.

Derek followed his gaze back out to the street in front before he could get lost in retracing the slope of Stiles' nose and the starry path of moles down his cheek. The Porsche was growing ever smaller, occasionally disappearing from view entirely.

"You're going to lose them," Derek remarked. Not that it really mattered; everything still felt safe enough. As safe as it could, that was.

"If Jackson wants to flash his bougie car as some sort of compensation even  though he didn't even buy it himself, he can be my guest. I'm not pushing my darling today," Stiles said, making a show of stroking the wheel. He smirked. "Unless you want to pay for a full on “Pimp My Car” session?"

Derek snorted. "In your dreams."

"One day. Just you wait. You'll see."

"Upgrading anything about this—this—" Derek reconsidered calling Roscoe a piece of crap whenStiles threw him a warning glare, "—hunk of metal…would cost more than buying a brand new SUV, including A/C and all the good stuff."

"You know, if you give me that in cash, I could totally start saving up for that upgrade." Stiles gave him an impish little smile.

"Absolutely not."

"C'mon, Hale. Fork over the cash," Stiles sang, holding up a hand and rubbing his fingers together. "Otherwise I might have to start charging by the mile, along with a service fee."

Which Derek had absolutely offered Stiles before. Well, not payment by the mile but he had happily suggested taking care of all charges for the usage and maintenance of the Jeep. He had repeatedly insisted and it was Stiles who, more often than not, refused. 

"I think we might have to switch over to transport by taxi. That'll be cheaper as well as a smoother ride,"  Derek countered.

"What are you, 50? Have you ever heard of Uber? It's what all the—"

"Eyes on the road, Stiles."

"I am paying attention. Jeez, relax."

"And both hands on the wheel."

"Stop acting like my dad—"

"Oh my God, Stiles. I am not that old. Stop comparing me to your dad, of all people."

"Then stop acting like it. You're out here lecturing me like I don't always get you right where you need to be. With special bodyguard services, if I may add, which you will never get from any carpooling service." 

Derek shook his head at the smug smile on his mate's face. There was time for sweet praises to be whispered into burning ears from within warm embraces in bed later. For now, he just preened at the familiarity of the interaction. Nothing like some good old bickering to help digest a feast.

"It's red." Derek pointed out to the street light ahead.

"I have eyes," Stiles said, easing down on the brake a little harder. The Jeep eventually rolled to a stop before the empty intersection, the hanging mist seeping from the tall dark trees radiating a gleaming red.

Derek loved it when the world made it seem like time stood still.

Stiles turned to him.

"Red light," Stiles proclaimed, voice suddenly open and unguarded. It was like the silvery shine to full moon nights when they encased Derek in protection. He reacted to the words on instinct, habit pulling him forward. Derek leaned in without hesitation.

Letting his lips meet Stiles' didn't require any guidance. He'd probably find his way home to Stiles' soft touch blindfolded from the opposite side of the world. Kissing Stiles was sweet like honey and warm like a fireplace in the dead of a Siberian winter.

It wasn't a peck, definitely a longer interaction, but it was still soft and sweet. They were encapsulated in their own little world until they finally parted. Derek found those beautiful amber eyes and smiled.

"Green light," he said softly, having registered the quiet click and the now lightened fog outside.

Stiles breathed out between parted lips, a corner of them hiking up. He was just about to shift the car into motion when—

"What the ever loving fuck was that?!" Erica burst between them with a shout, nails digging into their sleeves. "What? I mean, this! You kissed!"

Stiles brought his foot down on the brake again hard, but he forgot the clutch and killed the engine instantly. He'd let out his own shout that fell quiet as the car came to a rocking stop.

Derek winced at the volume before he could register what was going on and then… froze. 

"Erica! What the hell," Stiles breathed out, throwing his hands up to his hair. His discomfort couldn't solely be attributed to the surprise from the backseat, Derek figured, chancing a look over to see the blush climbing up Stiles' face. Derek knew all too well how it started; with the pink gleam budding just beneath his collarbone before it expanded like smattering star dust all the way up his neck that found its heart in his cheeks. Right where Derek found the source of his happiness when they tugged up and bunched around Stiles' smile.

"No." Erica shook her head. "Not me. What is going on right here?" She tugged at their arms. "When did this start? How long has it been going on?"

"And how in hell did you manage to keep this a secret, Stilinski?" Isaac threw in, his head popping up beside the bouncy curls.

Stiles looked over at Derek cautiously. His heart was clearly doing double time and well, so was Derek's. They had always avoided discussing the possibility of an involuntary reveal so, honestly, it served them right. Derek should've known the universe would have a trick up its sleeve as soon as he relaxed.

But…this wasn't necessarily something bad. He was pretty sure that the pack wouldn't mind about this development. Chances were, it would bring them all closer together. Somehow.

Still, doubts remained. Fear crept through him on spindly legs, ready to strike with its black widow fangs at any moment. There was so much that could go wrong. So much-

There was a deep intake of breath from beside him. 

"It's not what you think," Stiles said then.

"Oh, so Derek wasn't just shoving his tongue down your throat?" Erica hummed, and she leaned forward to place her chin on Stiles' shoulder.

"There was no tongue involved!" Stiles exclaimed, throwing up an arm.

"There was a kiss though," Boyd intercepted.

Stiles glared at him through the rear view mirror. "You too? Betrayal."

"I am pretty curious about this," he replied, gazing over at Derek as best as he could past Erica's and Isaac's heads.

"Oh my god," Stiles breathed. "It was just…a game! It was—it was just a game."

"A game?" Erica had nearly perfected the signature Hale eyebrow lift. 

Stiles was not fully successful at covering up his jealousy. 

Nor the shame and upset at having to play the incident off. Derek wasn't having it.

"Yes, a game. The red light game. You spend hours on your phone. How have you not—" Stiles started.

"No," Derek interrupted. There was a quiet hitched breath as all heads turned to stare at the Alpha. He tried to remain calm, and turned to look at his mate.

"It's not just a game. It is our game but we're also dating." Derek swallowed, keeping his breath and words steady. "He's my boyfriend."

Erica's squeal almost drowned out Stiles' beaming joy, but all Derek could see was Stiles; and the unfiltered, sunshine-bright love shining off his exhilarated face. There was surprise there, and some hesitance, but it was overrun by excitement.

"I fucking knew it!" Erica laughed loudly, smacking a kiss to Stiles' cheek and quickly infecting him with her laughter.

It wasn't long before most of the car had joined in, searching for touch all around. Derek felt both pats on his shoulders as well as a grip near his neck, grounding him to pack amidst all the congratulations. It seemed funny now, worrying about the reception of this news. Derek ducked his head to hide his burning eyes.

Relief, happiness—he wasn't even sure what to feel first, but he almost felt like he didn't need to name it. All he had to do was let himself feel it for now. Stiles put his hand over his, squeezing it lightly. Derek took it.

"Wait, so this is why we found you two cooking together that one time!" 

Derek smiled, looking up to the road ahead with a lighter soul.

[fanficimagery]

Someone You Loved

Summary: Imagine being in an abusive relationship that you've managed to hide from your friends. But after one fight in particular, you realize you can't keep this secret anymore.

Words: 3K Warnings: Mention of abuse. Language.

For the last two and a half years, your relationship with Adam has been a rocky one. He wasn't exactly what you were looking for in a boyfriend at the time he showed interest in you, but you grew to love him and all his flaws. You fell hard and there was nothing that could make you leave him. Not even the fights.

The fighting had started off small, the main problem being your social media. Adam would nitpick your selfies and grumble about the comments being made by guys you once went to school with. Then he'd try to control what you posted and would eventually throw a temper tantrum when you didn't take the post down. And if there was alcohol involved, you always managed to be pushed into a wall or wake up with a few new bruises from where he had grabbed you too tight.

But then you met a group of vloggers and numerous friendships blossomed. Adam was his usual charming, goofy self when the girls were around, but he was on sudden edge when the boys were there. His comments became crueler, he was a bit more aggressive, and he suddenly had need of you all the time to keep you from hanging out with others.

Hiding bruises became second nature, as did coming up with excuses on the spot if a bruise was spotted. The emotional abuse was a bit harder to mask, but you managed to paste on a smile and get through the day without making anyone suspicious.

You knew you couldn't keep this secret forever, hell you didn't really want to, but Adam was your first real love and you didn't know how to break it off. Fortunately for you, the decision would be taken out of your hands.

Adam has decided to go out with his boys, so you drive over to David's where they're having a casual kick-back. You sometimes made appearances in their videos, but you had to be careful to choose when to hang out because you couldn't risk a viewer spotting a bruise or noticing particular behavior you sometimes showcased when voices or hands were raised. But luckily for you, you and Adam have had a good couple of weeks and you were stoked to finally be with your friends again.

There are cheers and whoops of joy when you enter the house, and a drink is immediately shoved into your hand. Your friends all readily hug you in greeting and you're pulled down onto a beanbag with Matt and Carly.

"Where have you been?" Matt asks. "It feels like forever since I've last seen you."

You chuckle. "Sorry. I've been busy with work and Adam."

"Speaking of, how is Adam? We don't see him anymore," Carly muses.

"He, uh, he's not a fan of the whole filming and documenting everything on social media." You shrug and hope they're not too offended. "He actually went out with his boys tonight which is why I came over as soon as I could."

"Girl," Matt drawls, "you must be really secure in your relationship. I've seen Adam and even I can admit that boy is a looker. Did you really just let him out with his boys?"

"Yeah." Smiling shakily as thoughts of a now cheating boyfriend assault your mind, you take a sip of your drink and hope it's not actually true.

Your friends seem to drop all talk of Adam and you easily find yourself conversing with them about anything and everything. Several people are walking around with cameras, taking pictures and video of all the crazy antics going on. You pose for several of the pictures, drink in hand and making faces with the friends you've missed. The alcohol seems to be flowing and Zane's a riot in his drunken state, but you eventually switch to water because you know you have to drive home.

But soon enough, your phone starts buzzing and buzzing. Text after text after text comes through, all from Adam. He's apparently seen the photos and videos you've been tagged in on Instagram, and he's not impressed. In fact, he's livid if the insults are anything to go by.

He's calling you every derogatory name under the sun and even accusing you of cheating, screenshotting the pictures you'd taken with Jeff, David, and Todd as his so called proof.

Sighing after the umpteenth text has come through, you stand up and make your way towards a more quiet place in the house. But on your way to the bathroom, an incoming call comes through and you immediately answer it upon seeing Adam's name pop up.

The following call goes as expected, Adam accusing you of cheating and demanding you get your ass home as soon as possible. You obviously deny everything, only to end up in tears as he continues to degrade you over the phone. Eventually though you've had enough, caving and promising to be home in ten minutes.

Once your phone is tucked away in the back pocket of your jeans, you face the mirror to clean up the damage done after that argument. You turn on the water to wash your face, also using the water to cool down and pray the puffiness of your eyes go away. Then drying off, you give yourself a minute and curse the fact that you can still tell you'd been crying.

Inhaling deeply, you brace yourself for running into your friends on the way out. Unfortunately, as soon as you open the bathroom door, Erin is standing there with the guiltiest of smiles. She's heard everything.

"Hey," she calmly muses, "is everything okay?"

"Y-Yeah. Everything's good. I'm just- I'm gonna head home."

"Are you sure? That phone call sounded pretty rough."

"Yeah." Against your will, your eyes tear up and you chuckle nervously to play it off. "Adam's just had a lot to drink and he's not too fond of the boys. He's pretty insecure and you've seen our boys. They're hot and openly affectionate."

Erin laughs. "So what? He doesn't trust you? You, the girl who has stars in her eyes when her boyfriend is brought up in conversation?"

Shrugging, you say, "Like I said, he's had a lot to drink."

For the first time, you see Erin be hesitant to accept your answer. But eventually she pastes on another smile and laughs it off. "Yeah. Okay. We need to have lunch soon. I've missed hanging out with you."

"Of course." Leaning forward, you hug her. "It was good hanging out. Just text me whenever you want to hang."

Erin watches Y/N leave, her smile falling as soon as Y/N disappears around the corner. She had only been waiting for the bathroom when she saw it was occupied, but she got curious when the yelling and crying started. She had thought the voice was familiar, but she hadn't known who it was until the door opened. Then seeing Y/N standing there with puffy, red rimmed eyes made her realize something was up. Especially after hearing about an insecure Adam because as long as she's known him, he was never insecure.

But Erin lets it go and continues on with her night. She ignores her gut feeling that something is up and it isn't until nearly an entire hour later that her gut feeling proved to be right.

Only Erin, Carly, David, Natalie, Jeff, and Zane remain. Jeff and Natalie have been working to get Zane a bit sobered up so his hangover isn't as gnarly in the morning, and David and Erin are attempting to scribble on Carly's face since she was the only one to fall asleep.

Erin's phone dings with an incoming text, but she briefly ignores it. Then another comes in, followed by another.

David laughs. "Someone's popular tonight. Either that or TJ's wondering where you're at."

Erin giggles and pulls her phone up, she skimming through the text. Her smile quickly falls. "Um, guys? I think something's wrong."

David looks up from his own phone. "What? Why?"

"Because earlier, before Y/N left, I heard her arguing on the phone with Adam. She was yelling and crying, and I've never heard her like that before." By now, Jeff and Natalie have stopped messing with Zane and are listening to Erin talk. "She tried explaining it away as Adam having too much to drink, but she seemed almost scared that I wouldn't believe her. And now I get these texts from her- texts that are half finished or just random letters. But the last one that came through, all it says is help."

"Call her," Jeff says, Natalie and David agreeing with him.

Erin nods and calls Y/N, but it rings and rings until it goes to voicemail. She hangs up and tries again. Same thing.

"I don't like this," David frowns.

"Neither do I." Erin's about to call again when another text comes in. "Oh. It's a text. A voice message."

Erin hits play and the small group listen to what can only be their friend being beaten. Adam can be heard yelling, Y/N shouting back and crying, as well as glass breaking and furniture being thrown around. Y/N can clearly be heard telling Adam to stop and then nothing. There's grunting and gasping, and Adam telling Y/N that it's all her fault before cutting out.

"We're going over there." Jeff stands, hands fisted at his sides.

Erin immediately stands, followed by David who looks at a shell-shocked Natalie. "Wake up Carly and tell her what's going on. I'll call you with updates."

"Y-Yeah. Of course. I'll, uh, I'll call one of the other boys to help me with Zane."

          - X - X - X - X - X -

Crawling up onto the couch in a daze, you look around at your completely trashed apartment and start to cry all over again. You and Adam fighting was nothing out of the norm, but his sudden rage was. The hitting was always in a place that could easily be covered up, but tonight it wasn't. His hands always gripped your arms or wrists, but tonight they didn't.

Tonight was completely different and even Adam knew things had gone way too far if his sudden disappearance was anything to go by.

You're still sitting in the same place when there's a frantic knock on your apartment door, you cringing when Erin, Jeff, and David can be heard shouting your name. You knew this was inevitable when you had texted Erin in a panic, but still you can't help but feel uneasy at them seeing you like this. The moment your phone starts to ring from somewhere in the wreckage though, you know you have to get up and answer your door.

And the moment your door opens, you don't dare meet any of their gazes.

"Y/N, what the fuck?" Erin says, her breath leaving her in a rush. Tears start streaming down your face once more and you don't fight Erin when she steps forward to wrap her arms around you.

Jeff and David step around the two of you, and then Erin's ushering you inside. "I'm sorry," you manage to squeak, flinching at the pain in your throat.

"Oh honey, don't be. You did the right thing in reaching out."

"Where is he?" Jeff wonders. Apparently he and David had made a quick sweep of your apartment.

You shrug. "I don't- I don't know. I woke up and he was gone."

Erin tenses. "Woke up? Y/N, what do you mean by when you woke up?"

When you don't immediately answer, it leaves your friends a moment to really take a look at you. "Are those bruises around your neck?" David then asks.

Erin immediately steps back and though you want to hide from their eyes, you don't. Not anymore. So instead you tilt your head to the side and let them see what you're guessing are bruises that look suspiciously like fingers wrapped around your neck. Jeff quietly curses. "He, uh, he was pretty angry," you tell them, expression crumpling. "But it was my fault," you're then quick to say. "I knew he wasn't fond of you guys, but yet I still took all those pictures with you."

Jeff frowns. "Don't defend him. If he's an insecure piece of shit, then that's on him. Pictures with your friends does not mean he gets to beat you and choke you out."

You continue to cry and let Erin embrace you again, she now crying with you.

"Y/N," David starts, rubbing the back of his neck, "how long has this been going on?"

You don't answer.

"Y/N, how long?" He asks again.

"Since- since the start. It started off as small things, but then he got more aggressive and controlling after I met you guys."

"Motherfucker." Jeff shakes his head, his body tense in his own rage.

"Honey, I think you should go to the hospital," Erin says. "Your throat has bruised pretty fast, there's a gash on your cheek, and you need to make sure there's no damage anywhere else."

"But-"

"No buts, Y/N. This is serious."

"It also needs to be reported," David says. "This has gone on long enough."

Your mind and your heart are at odds with one another- your mind telling you your friends are right, but your heart telling you that you love Adam and shouldn't turn him in. But while you loved him, you also know that if something isn't done then the abuse will only continue.

"I- okay," you eventually agree. "Lets go to the hospital."

Reporting the abuse and pressing charges against Adam had been the hardest thing you ever had to do, followed by opening up to your friends and admitting everything to them. They were, of course, angry and confused as to why you would stay in that relationship, but they were there for you every step of the way.

Erin, and TJ after he had been informed of what was going on, volunteered their spare bedroom to you so you wouldn't recuperate on your own. And then when you'd gone back to your apartment to pack a bag, you discovered all of Adam's belongings, including some of your own, were missing. Your friends were shocked at Adam's ballsy move, but it only secured it more in their minds that you shouldn't be on your own, especially when Adam still had access to the apartment.

It wasn't long before Adam was picked up by the Police, but you knew he wouldn't be gone for long. He was looking at months in jail, less if he found a way to post bail. Which he did.

So with Adam out and about, your friends helped you talk to your building owner to let them know what was going on. Fortunately for you, the building owner was understanding and let you out of the lease without any hassle. And afterward, David was quick to ask you to move in until you were ready to be on your own again. You agreed.

It takes a while to get healthy again, both mentally and physically. Your friends stick it out with you, encouraging you in every aspect of your life along the way. So months later, it's no surprise to find you on a hike with Jeff and Todd.

          - X - X - X - X - X -

"How've you been?" Todd asks, panting.

Having just sprinted up an incline, you glare at your friend for daring to try getting you to talk so soon. Seeing your glare, Jeff laughs. "Fine," you grunt. Jeff passes you the mouth-piece to the water pack and you eagerly drink. Feeling a little better, you say, "Started looking at apartments, but David and Natalie keep making excuses for me to not move out yet."

Jeff grins. "They love you. We all love you and you seem more content when you're surrounded by your friends."

"Aw," you coo, reaching out and poking him in the cheek, "you going soft on me, Wittek?"

He rolls his eyes, chuckling, and moves out of reach. "Stop."

"Are you- are you blushing?" Todd laughs, teasing him too. "Or are you still red from the run?"

"You two are assholes. I don't know why I keep bringing you with me on these hikes."

"It's because you love us." You sidle up next to Jeff, wrapping an arm around his waist and grinning up at him. He returns the grin and then laughs when Todd joins in on the sideways hug, sandwiching you in the middle.

Then taking out his phone, Todd holds his sideways. "Lets take a selfie and post it. We all know Y/N's page is still being stalked, so it'll be fun to ruffle up some feathers."

"You really do love pressing Adam's buttons now, don't you?" You muse, shaking your head in amusement.

"Hell yes. He's a little bitch," Todd says. You, Jeff, and Todd quickly smile for the picture, you then laughing when they lean down and press a kiss to each of your cheeks in the next. "He deserves to see you flourishing without his abusive ass. Flaunt your freedom, babygirl."

"Okay one," you start, "never call me babygirl again." Todd laughs at your grimace. "And two, send me those pictures." You sigh when Todd cheers. "It's time I start posting what I want to post and stop second guessing whether or not it's going to piss off the ex."

"Atta girl."

As Todd walks ahead, Jeff keeps pace with you. "Don't worry about Adam," he says. "If he wants to get to you, he's going to have a lot of people to get through."

"Yeah. He will, won't he?" You look at the trail you need to take to get back down off the hill. Then picking up speed, you flash him a grin over your shoulder. "Last one down has to buy a round of post-hike smoothies."

You take off running then, passing up Todd and cackling at his next words. "Goddammit. Not again!"

[bjy-on-ao3]

Kinktober Day 21

(As before, you can find a link to the AO3 version of this and the rest of my Kinktober 2020 prompts on the ‘Masterlist’ section of the blog.)

Another fairly open prompt, but a fun one nonetheless. I suppose Reader here is a little naive? I’m not sure if that qualifies or not, but it’s part of the excuse here.

Kinktober Day 21: Sixty-Nine (Asmodeus | Obey Me!)

“Asmo, why do people make such a big deal about sixty-nine?” You blurted out after a minute of worrying your lip out of nerves and thought.

Previously occupied scrolling through his social media feed in silence Asmo took a moment longer than normal to process the question. “What do you mean, darling?” He questioned, brows knit but curiosity piqued.

“Well, how does anyone enjoy it? Doesn’t it make it hard to focus and both parts worse if you’re trying to give and receive at once?” You could feel the blush coloring your cheeks, realizing how stupid you probably sounded.

Asmo laughed with a little shake of his head. “Hmm, not exactly,” he began, facing you with a soft smile, tapping one manicured nail to his lips. ”You know, it would be a lot easier to show you than tell you,” he explained, his grin a little more sly. ”I’d be more than happy to help if you’d like,” he offered cheerfully.

As he finished speaking, Asmo closed the distance between you, curling slender fingers beneath your chin and cupping your jaw lovingly. Any response you might have had died in your throat at his sudden closeness and, instead, you stared wide-eyed into his pale gaze. ”After all, what better teacher than me? Beautiful, skilled, and generous” He boasted in a purr, leaning in until his lips skimmed yours teasingly.

Normally Asmodeus’ narcissism made you roll your eyes and shake your head, but having him so close, it just added more to your daze. “I-Alright, teach me then,” you managed to get out in a tone just above a whisper, your throat suddenly dry and your voice weak.

You watched the mirth flicker through his eyes at the expense of your reaction. He was being dead serious, of course, though always had been quite fun to tease. You weren’t exactly naive, nor were you affected by his more supernatural charm, but you were still so easily flustered. “Perfect. Meet me in my room a bit after dinner then. Then we’ll have plenty of time~,” he concluded.

Tilting his head, Asmo dipped to cross the tiny distance remaining between you, pressing a quick, soft kiss to your lips. “I’ll see you then, darling, but for now I’ve got some things I need to do.”

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

Shortly after dinner, but long enough not to seem over-eager, you made your way to meet Asmodeus in his room. You knocked and waited to be let in, feeling a touch of nerves race through you. You knew Asmo wouldn’t hurt or mistreat you and stopping would be as simple as asking so you weren’t afraid. Though it was hard not to be just a little nervous.

It only took a few moments before the door was flung open, Asmo standing invitingly in the doorway, dressed in a dusty rose-colored satin robe trimmed with white lace on the cuffs and hem whose material looked rather thin at a glance. “I was wondering how long you’d be,” he said with a smile, beckoning you in with a gentle tug on your wrist.

Sweeping your gaze around the room, you were met with a generally familiar sight. Charming, elegant decor that felt classy but cute and a looming four-poster bed on one side festooned with roses. Asmo had gone the extra mile as well, because of course he had, and it wasn’t the ceiling light that lit the room, but dozens of candles placed throughout, giving the room a soft golden glow. An atmosphere some might have called ‘romantic’, though with Asmo there was no telling if it was for romance, seduction, or even just simple aesthetic.

The sickly sweet smell of roses hung thickly in the air, along with another scent seeping in from the candles. It was hard to place it through the cloying rose, but you suspected it might be something like sandalwood. Despite the glow of the candles the corners of the room were pitched into shadow and you noticed the door leading to Asmodeus’ immense bathroom wasn’t lit.

“What first?” You asked, half-awkwardly, turning away from your survey of the bedroom to look questioningly at Asmo.

“Well, first we both need to warm up! It’s no fun to just skip straight to it! It won’t have nearly the same effect, believe me,” Asmo insisted. “That means we need to get rid of these,” he added, gesturing with a wave of his hands to your clothes and his robe.

He stepped forward into your space, hands smoothly slipping past the hem of your shirt and under before sliding back up. As he went, he pulled the fabric with him, fingertips and two-toned nails brushing against your body. You flinched reflexively from his touch, the featherlight contact making you feel just a little ticklish. Suppressing the sensation, you lifted your arms to make the process easier for him. 

Asmo paused in lifting away your shirt when his hands rolled over your chest, unable to resist giving each sensitive bud a pinch that made you squirm and worry your lip. The demon was all knowing grin as he worked the shirt away, well aware of the effects of his touch. He pulled the shirt over your head finally, discarding it on the ground, his rosy eyes taking in the newly exposed flesh.

He moved in even closer, slender fingers settling over your bare waist and trailing to the waistband of your pants and playfully hooking them beneath it. Once again you felt your face heat and redden, acutely aware of the playful, yet sultry expression on Asmodeus’ face. When he bent down, fingers still tucked into your pants, and ran his lips across the column of your neck a much greater heat tingled to life between your legs.

Letting out a low, pleased hum that made you unable to hold back a shiver, Asmo drew your pants down, sweeping his mouth along your skin as he went. The fabric pooled around your ankles in a heap and you half stepped out of them, half kicked them away. You were left standing in your underwear, which was starting to grow noticeably damp as time progressed. Asmo brushed one long finger against your clothed cunt, grinning at the wetness he found through the garment. “You’re more eager than I thought, darling,” he crooned sweetly. “If we keep this up, you’ll be ready in no time,” Asmo continued, pulling his hand away from the apex of your thighs to drag down your underwear and leave them on the floor as well.

His fingers lingered around your hips and thighs, thumbs tenderly stroking across the soft skin. He invaded your space even further again, pressing his lips against yours in an immitation of the kiss he’d left you in the common area with earlier, but more passionate. Behind closed doors, there was room for a hotter touch with no worries of being walked in on - even if from time to time Asmo enjoyed being caught in the act. The loose hanging sleeves of his silken robe added to the light touch on your skin, much cooler than Asmodeus’ warm fingertips.

You were quickly lost to the soothing sensation of his touch and the mold of his lips over your own, feeling the smoldering heat between your legs roar higher and higher. You squeezed your thighs together briefly, attempting to contain the gathering wetness, and you felt Asmo grin against your lips. He broke away at last, allowing you a moment to catch the breath the kissing had wrung from you. “My turn! Try not to stare too long,” he cooedwith a wink as he stepped back and busied himself with the robe’s belt.

Belt undone, his robe fell open and he shrugged his shoulders, the garment fluttering to the ground in a silky heap. The sight of his toned, yet still sleek and slender frame had you feeling even hotter than before. You were beginning to feel almost jittery, this time with anticipation. Asmo’s attention had a way of making the nerves melt away. Or perhaps the passion they inflamed just replaced them.

The small smile plastered on Asmo’s face remained as you gave him a once over, pride permeating the playfulness. He didn’t miss the longer than necessary pause as your eyes trailed lower and found him already stiff and waiting. The simple idea of getting to teach you something so naughty was enough to get him hard, let alone having the pleasure of getting to touch and undress you.

Allowing you another moment to study the perfect body he was so very proud of, he grabbed you gently by the arm, the touch rousing you from your stupor of admiration. “Come on, kitten, I know it’s hard to resist, but we’ve got much more fun things to get to,” he assured you gleefully.

Reaching the side of his bed, he released your hand and climbed onto the sheets, stretching himself along them. His head lay at the foot of the bed and he looked up at you invitingly. "Come here, no need to be shy now," he insisted.

You crawled on the bed after him, carefully setting one leg on his far side and shifting until your knees dug into the sheets beside him. You started to ask whether you should start at the same time or one before the other, but your train of thought was shattered when Asmo reached up and latched onto your ass.

His fingers trailed down the curve to your lips, spreading them open and making a pleased noise at the glistening sight. Without another word, he tilted his head forward and attacked your already leaking cunt expertly. The sudden stroke of his deft tongue along your slit up to your clit almost made you bolt up straight, a low moan bursting from your lips before you recalled this was a game for two. 

You bent forward, wrapping one hand around the base of his cock. As you teased the swollen head past your lips, the salty, bitter taste of pre-cum seeped over your tongue. You took in more of his length, temporarily interrupted by a sudden hiss of pleasure as Asmo groaned against your sex at the hot touch of your mouth. Yet his enthusiastic pace wasn't interrupted, his cries of bliss mingling with the dextrous stroke and flick of his tongue and lips.

Feeling the tip of him brush the back of your throat an echoing moan erupted from you, the sound vibrating through his dick in turn. Letting yourself fall into an absent-minded rhythm, you hollowed your cheeks and tried to relax and bob up and down the length of him.

A firm hand dug into the yielding flesh of one of your ass cheeks abruptly, kneading and squeezing as Asmo licked more vigorously at your pussy. Now and then his tongue crept away from your clit, dipping into your entrance and lapping up the wetness there. You tried to ignore some of the tingling tightness building in your gut, moving the hand wrapped around his base to fondle his balls. A shudder coursed through the demon below you, which you took as a sign to keep going.

With your mouth satisfyingly full, you could do little more than suck and lick at his cock. Asmo, however, had the luxury of being able to croon lewdly at you between flicks of his tongue, "Mm, kitten, if I'd known you were so good at this," his words paused as he gave your clit an intense suck, "I would have had to drag you to my bed a long time ago," he finished, punctuating his praise with a long, languid roll of his tongue. 

He continued to purr out praise between his attentions, cooing about how good your mouth felt on him and how much the sight of you turned him on. With each bawdy word, your face flushed darker and your heart pounded harder. Between the building pressure in your core, his praise, and the subtle bucking of his hips in time with your motions, your focus for most else as beginning to dwindle. All you wanted was to crest that peak and tumble into the abyss of pleasure waiting beneath. Asmo was closing in on it as well if the increasing roll of his hips and more desperate strokes of his tongue were any indication.

Feeling the bliss you pursued just in reach, you couldn’t help thrusting roughly back into his face, needing just a little bit more. Asmo obliged, latching onto your clit and sucking hard while at the same time wriggling the tip of his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves. Like that the coil of heat and tension in your belly exploded, flooding you with a wave of pleasure and making you shout in your bliss 

Asmodeus got off on your pleasure as much as your attention, his balls tightening and his dick stiffening further. His chorus of muffled, pitched moans and whimpers joined your screams as he came as well, filling your mouth and throat with his hot, thick release. You tried to swallow as much as you could, still unable to contain your orgasmic sounds.

When the frantic squeeze of your walls died away to short, lingering flutters and Asmo's cock had been spent, you sat up, a trickle of missed cum dripping down your chin. Asmo didn't bother to move, save for running his hands tenderly along your asscheeks, sending a pleasant chill along your spine. "So," he began, his voice breathless but satisfied, "Does that answer your question?"

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #360

“we are the ones that wanna play  /  always wanna go, but you never wanna stay”

"Crawling" or "In The End?" I want to say "Crawling," but I really can't be sure. Both are bomb. Is your window open? No. Monsters Inc. or Shrek? Shrek, my man. What did you last hear that made your jaw drop? Jason's mom died. What is the longest shower or bath you have ever taken? I remember as kids, Nicole and I would sometimes play 'til Mom made us finish because the water was cold by then. As an adult, idk about my longest shower. Do you have a preference of chocolate? Yeah, milk chocolate. Is there anyone you’d like to hug right now? Yeah. Could you ever picture someone writing a biography about you? Definitely not. Do you have a clock in your room? No. Do you shut off the computer when you’re done using it? No, I just close it. Do you usually catch a cold during the winter? No. I just about never get sick. Are you a good multi-tasker? NOOOOOOOOOOO. Do you know any deaf people? If so, is it easy or difficult to have conversations with them? No. Is there a door knocker on your front door? No. Were you ever into Pokémon? Bitch I still am. Do you drink a lot of water? Sigh, no. I'm definitely better than I used to be, though; once upon a time, I literally never drank it unless I was extremely hot and dehydrated. Nowadays, it's usually after I finish my soda for the day that I then only drink water, normally around one full tall cup of it. Do you like fireworks? They're beautiful, but I'm personally against them out of respect for veterans suffering from PTSD as well as animals, because I'm not exactly interested in traumatizing them, either. Is respect given or earned with you? It's given, the way I think it should be. Are you “in the closet” about anything? No. Are you missing any teeth? No. Do you like scrapbooking? I've never gotten into it and am not really interested in doing so. What was or will be your first tattoo? It's a semicolon butterfly on my right wrist. Sometimes I've thought about getting it covered with a cooler design but the same concept; it was literally from Google, and I'm very much not into "sharing" tattoo designs with probably thousands of other people. But, I still think it really is cute, and it's just very special to me as my first, so idk. Do you have any tattoos dedicated to someone special? I have one written in Sara's handwriting inside a heart, and my "ohana" tattoo that I am 100% getting covered was dedicated to my former best friend Colleen. I've talked before about why "ohana" has never really resonated with me, and I just don't like it anymore at all. Thank God it's small. Do you like ghost stories? Oh HELL yeah, lay 'em on me. What was your favorite movie as a kid? The Lion King. Some things never change, ha. Do you own a lot of cookbooks? Mom has looooots, but never uses any. I think her mom gave them to her, so she just keeps 'em. What’s your father’s handwriting like? It looks like every other man's handwriting I've ever seen lol. All the letters are capitalized. Did you wash your hair last time you showered? I wash my hair every time I shower. I have to with it naturally being so oily. What does your shampoo smell like? Coconut. Do you listen to Guns N' Roses? Not a lot, but yeah. They've got some bangers. I actually want "Sweet Child O' Mine" to be the father/daughter dance at my wedding. Have you ever been a bridesmaid? Yeah, at my sister's wedding. What was the last video game that you beat? I replayed Silent Hill 2 a long time ago. Have you ever hyperventilated? Yep. Do you talk in your sleep? I scream in my sleep. Nightmares/terrors are a blast. Whose house did you last sleep over? Sara's. Have you ever been cut by scissors? No. Do you like peaches? It's odd, I like canned sliced peaches, but the actual, full fruit, I don't. I love peach flavored juice, though. Do you enjoy being surrounded by neighbors, or would you be more comfortable someplace secluded? Take me back to the middle of nowhere, please. I'm really not digging being in an actual neighborhood. Is there any sibling rivalry between you and your siblings, if you have any? Not at all. Do you usually root for the good guys or the bad guys? Ha, the baddies... Are you allowed to have pets at your house? We're allowed to have what we currently own and then maybe one dog if Mom finally finds one. Have you ever lived in a trailer park? No. Is there anyone that you know through the internet that you would feel comfortable meeting in person? There's quite a few, actually! Have you ever had a dream involving characters from a game/movie/television show? Yeah. What’s the last thing you wrote down? My signature, I think? Do you remember any phone numbers from years ago that now belong to someone you don’t know? No. Have you ever found something strange in your mailbox? No. Who was the last relative that came to visit you? My half-sister and her husband. Does your bedding all match? Not currently. Are you more comfortable with having short hair or long hair? SHORT. Are you interested in fantasy movies/shows? That's my preference. Have you ever gone whale-watching? No, but that'd be dope. What is something that you have a large amount of? Meerkat plushies. Who is it that you’re in love with? Nobody. Have you ever gotten love and infatuation confused? No. Do you have a steady income? No. Do you take your medications in the morning or at night? Both. Have you ever bought a YouTuber’s merch? No, I wish. :( Do you think oatmeal tastes better when made with water or milk? MILK. I don't eat it with water. When was the last time you ran into someone that you didn’t want to see? Idk. Have you ever tried vlogging, and if yes, did you stick with it? Noooo, I'm completely disinterested in doing that myself. If you go to church, what is your favorite thing about it? I don't go. Even as a kid when Mom made me, I hated it. ^and what is your least favorite thing about it? N/A What do you do for exercise? I don't. .-. I want a pool SO badly to swim and strengthen my legs without having to worry about sweating or collapsing, though. Mom says we don't have space, but we definitely do. Not a lot, but enough. Do you have a birthmark? If yes, what color is it? Yeah, it's just a bit darker than the rest of my skin. Do you need to lose weight? Yes. My sister, Mom, and I very recently started a Weight Watchers subscription and we're all working our asses off to stick to it. Ash has already lost like, 12 pounds (she started before Mom and me), so I'm kinda hopeful. Have you ever had a cat? Growing up, after we took in a stray female, we ended up with a fucking empire of cats, literally around three dozen, I'd say. They were all outdoors, too, and not fixed because we couldn't afford it, so tomcats would come around and, y'know, make matters worse. Eventually, animal control took them all and I was DEVASTATED, but looking back, I understand it was necessary. Anyway, I have one cat now. Indoors and fixed and the prince of my world, haha. Have you ever had a dog? We've had a few. I was born with my dad having a collie named Trigger, but I don't remember her at all; she died of old age I believe when I was very young. Then we briefly had a pup named Angel, but she died due to that disease some puppies just have. We didn't get another dog until Teddy, who was my Christmas present, and he was put to sleep only last year, rest my baby's soul. We also had Dale, Cali, Delilah, and Bentley. Have you ever any other kind of animal? A LOT. I'm probably going to forget some, but we've had hamsters, rats, snakes, fish, a turtle, two lizards, gerbils, guinea pigs... just a lot. Animals have always been very important in my life. Have you ever had a pet rock? HA, yeah. I didn't take it seriously at all, but I had one. When was the last time you painted something? Not since my Painting course in my final college attempt. Do you have any disabilities? Not in the traditional sense, no. My social anxiety though is at such a severity that it majorly infringes upon my ability to do a LOT of things, though. What are five of your favorite stores at the mall? I couldn't name five. Just Hot Topic and Spencer's, really. What season do you want to get married in? AUTUMN. The actual dream situation would be to get married in the snow in a black dress, like can you IMAGINE the pictures, but realistically, it'd be in the fall to avoid the biting cold. Has anyone ever spread lies about you? Yeah. Anything special planned for today? Nope. Blue or green? Blue. How much older/younger than you was the person you lost your virginity to? He's two years older than me. Do you still care for that person? Very much. Can you completely annihilate the first Mario game in less than an hour? I haven't even played the first game. I've never really been into the games to begin with. Did you make it all the way through the Oregon Trail game? Yes! I was OOOOOBSESSEEEEEED as a kid. I would usually play it after school when my mom was an assistant teacher and was finishing up her work for the day. Have you ever contemplated climbing a water tower? Uh, no. Those kind of people got some wanderlust levels that I ain't got, haha. If you have a Facebook, when was the last time you changed your profile picture? It's been a few months. Would you ever marry someone who was lower class? Um, yes? You can deny it all you want, but answering "no" is pretty much the same as saying you'd marry for money. Is there a guy you wish you hadn’t let slip away? ugh Which do you prefer: English or math? English, by light years. Who is a singer that has given you chills? David Draiman's voice in the Disturbed cover of "Sound of Silence" is fucking haunting. Greatest cover of all time. Do you watch America’s Got Talent? I did when Sharon was a judge. Do you think you could win America’s Got Talent? Hell no. What act would you perform in a talent show? uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Have you ever practiced yoga? Yes. I used to be BANGIN at it. What is your favorite thing to buy at the Farmer’s Market? Fruit! Do you get carsickness? No. What color is the rim of your full-length mirror? Black. What is your state’s bird (if you live in the US)? Cardinal. Which style of wedding dress is your favorite? I'm a sucker for ballgown dresses. Do you enjoy editing videos? I used to love it, for many many years. Now, I just don't have the dedication or motivation to. Do you enjoy editing photos? Yes. If you gave birth, do you think you would want it filmed? Um, absolutely not. I would have NO desire to look back on me shrieking my lungs out and essentially dying. I handle abdominal pain very poorly, so I've got a goooood feeling that if I actually wanted to have kids, I'd be that woman screeching like a banshee.

[softyoongiionly]

Fear and Dumplings: Chapter Fourteen

(GIF isn’t mine)

Confronting your fears for a final grade sounds unappealing but, with Yoongi as your partner, things might not be so bad.

Summary: You’re in your final semester at University when your Abnormal Psychology professor assigns you a partnered project surrounding your greatest fears. Lucky for you, your partner just so happens to be a cute boy named Min Yoongi.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Underground Rapper! Yoongi, Soft!!! Yoongi, Fluff!!!, some moderate angst (later), smut (later later), slow-ish? burn.

Word Count: 10.3k (lol, i wanna die) 

A/N: please scream along with me as I drown in a pile of emotion. I’m sorry the last three chapters have been so emotional, yoongi is a complicated boi and, needs roughly 25k to get out all of his feelings. ALSO, the next chapter will finally feature Jimin’s showcase, please send him love and good luck. Not like he needs it lmao

I LOVE YOU

Warnings for this Chapter: moderate angst, SMUT (oh my god its alot), mentions of anxiety and hardship, language, too many feelings.

Warnings for the Fic: mentions characters confronting their fears, characters in uncomfortable situations, emotional moments between characters, mentions of bad parenting, explicit language throughout the fic, moderate angst, and very explicit smut later in the story.

Chapter 14: Angels and Angels

“Jimin, if you move again, I’m going to shove this needle into your perfectly sculpted butt cheek…” You mutter, pinching Jimin’s ass, the sweat on your brow growing significantly.  

This causes a giggle to erupt from your best friend, who is currently contorting his body so that he can stare at himself in the mirror. 

“Yah! Do you miss your little boyfriend that much that you have to take your sexual frustration out on me?” Jimin wiggles his ass in your face and, you admonish him with a smack to his hip as you try your best to finish sewing his costume. 

Jimin called you that morning in a panic after he had ripped his showcase outfit during rehearsal so, you had quickly rushed over after your morning classes to resolve his crisis. 

“He’s not my boyfriend…” You counter, a smile threatening your mouth, “I do miss him though…” 

Jimin stalls his movements, allowing you to finish up, “You really like him don’t you?” 

The smile comes in full force but, thankfully Jimin is facing away from you when it does. 

“Maybe…” 

He rolls his eyes but, allows your vague response, turning slightly to examine your handy work, “You should invite him tomorrow, I still haven’t met him…” 

There is a flutter in your stomach at Jimin’s suggestion. You know that Jimin gets extra credit for the number of people that attend and, having Yoongi there would fill an extra seat. 

All the more reason to invite him… 

“I mean, it’s a big night for you Minnie, if you’re ok with him being there then, I’ll see if he’s free.” You attempt to keep your tone casual but, you’re slightly nervous at the thought of Yoongi being there as your date. 

Professor James cancelled Tuesday’s lecture due to illness and, Yoongi texted you Thursday morning that he wouldn’t be in class that day. Not seeing him for an entire week didn’t exactly sit well with you but, you were determined to not read too much into his absence.  

Jimin smirks, smoothing his hands over his hips, head tilting side to side in the mirror, “It’s my fourth showcase Y/N, it’s not that big of a deal…” 

A scoff leaves your lips, “Um??? It’s your senior showcase, you’re the reigning champion and, you’re about to make history as the only collegiate dancer to win the showcase four years in a row; of course it’s a big deal!” 

He giggles as you shove him playfully, a bit of nervousness creeping into his gaze, “You really think I’m going to win again?” 

 “Jimin,” You turn him towards you, holding each of his wrists in your hands, “I know you’re going to win again.” 

His beautiful smile graces his lips as he thrusts himself in your arms, the white sequins scratching against your skin. You hold him anyway though, you know he needs it. 

“Thank you…” He mumbles into your hair, “I don’t know what I’d do without you…” 

You smile into his neck, the warmth of Jimin’s words filling your heart, “Oh Jimin….I don’t know what you’d do either…” 

He pinches your side, “YAH! Don’t be mean! I would survive…maybe…” 

Squirming out of his hold, you giggle, patting his hip gently, “I don’t know what I’d do without you either Park Fairy. I’d probably die…” 

He points at you,” Exactly, don’t be a brat…” His tone his firm but, the smile on his lips is hard to miss. Jimin turns his attention back towards his full length mirror again to examine his costume. 

It’s a beautiful piece, skintight, covered in white sequins and, thin pearlescent lycra that hug Jimin’s body perfectly. You wondered if this was his entire costume as Jimin was known for quite an elaborate set up. 

“I love this costume by the way, it’s beautiful,” You marvel, putting all of your sewing tools back in their box, “Is the theme still a surprise or can you end my suffering and tell me?” 

Jimin smirks, eyes carefully scanning over his backside,” It’s still a surprise, my leotard is only the base piece, I have a lot more in store…” 

“RIP my mascara…” You lament, snapping your sewing kit shut before grabbing your phone off of the coffee table, “Should I text him now?” 

He giggles, amusement coloring his face as he turns to you, “Why do you look so nervous?” 

“I’m not nervous.” You grumble, thumbs tapping away at your screen to get to your message thread with the dreamiest rapper on Earth aka Min Yoongi.  

The last message that you sent him was wishing him luck on the rest of his composition, which he has been working tirelessly at for the last half of the semester. He only responded with a thumbs up emoji and, that was yesterday at 7:49pm.  

Suddenly, as your fingers hover over the keys, you feel slightly insecure at the lack of communication between the two of you. Last weekend had been amazing and, Yoongi made sure that you arrived back at your apartment safely and during the week he had said something to the effect of ‘I miss you’ without actually saying it.  

Jimin notices your hesitation, “What’s wrong?” 

Your teeth find purchase on your lip but, you avoid his gaze and focus in on your phone. 

“Nothing…I just_” A sigh leaves your lips as you tap the screen to keep it from going black, “ I don’t know… Yoongi and I had a really good time last weekend and, I’m used to not really hearing from him but, I kind of thought after everything that happened between us, there would be a little more communication. I don’t expect him to text me all day or anything but, we both agreed that we liked each other….a lot so, I thought he’d…” 

“Act like a boyfriend?” Jimin offers, a bit of his playfulness diminishing, focusing in on your emotions. 

The word sends butterflies through your stomach but, you shove them out, trying not to drown in your emotions. 

“No…I mean yeah but, like we aren’t together yet so, I can’t expect him to…I don’t know…” Articulating your emotions is not always your strong suit and, for whatever reason, you seem to become especially impaired when Yoongi is involved. 

“Jagi…” Jimin begins, sitting beside you, the sequins scratching your skin as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “…you’re allowed to want his attention regardless of whether or not you both have a title. Titles are nice but, the feelings are much more important…” 

You deflate a little bit, leaning into Jimin, your teeth still working against your lip, “I really like him…like I want to wake up next to him and, make him breakfast and do cute shit with him and, I’m not used to feeling like this and, I want to crawl into a hole and, never come out…” 

Your pink fairy giggles, pressing a kiss to your head “Yah, you’re not allowed to crawl into a hole, my showcase is tomorrow…” 

“Can I do it after your showcase?” You mutter against his leotard, your thumb tapping your screen again to ensure that it doesn’t go black.  

Jimin scoffs, “I literally just told you that I can’t live without you, do you want me to die?”  

His brows are raised in playful accusation and, you try your best not to get to distracted by how adorable he is. 

“No...” You grumble, lips fixed in a firm pout 

He chuckles now, nudging your hand towards your phone, “Okay then, text him.” 

With a roll of your eyes, you unlock your phone for the third time and, begin typing your message. 

You: Hey, I’m not sure what you’re up to tomorrow, I know you’ve been working on your composition but, my best friend is performing in a dance showcase in the main theater. Do you want to come? I figured we could carpool and, maybe get dinner afterwards or something? Let me know when you get a chance! 

By the end of your message, you feel your heart doing somersaults beneath your sternum. Why the hell were you so nervous? Shouldn’t you be passed this by now? 

“See? I knew you could do it...” Jimin cheers, kissing your head once more before moving to carefully take off his costume. 

“Yes, now I just have to endure a slow painful death while waiting for him to respond...”  A sickly sweet smile is on your mouth which causes Jimin to throw his head back in laughter. 

“Aren’t I supposed to be the dramatic one in this friendship?” 

“No Jimin, you’re the beautiful and talented main character and, I...”You gesture to your chest, “...am your socially inept, quirky side kick...” 

This earns another boisterous round of laughter from your best friend who is currently checking out his nearly naked body in the mirror.  

“Okay, first of all, thank you for calling me beautiful. Second of all, you’re can’t possibly be the sidekick...” 

Your eyes narrow, “Why not?” 

Jimin whips around in your direction, bubblegum hair a disheveled mess ontop of his head, a brilliant smile on his pretty lips, 

“Because you’re my hero...” 

With a mouth parted in shock, you process just how ridiculous your best friend is. At your expression,  

Jimin rushed into another fit of laughter as you respond. 

“Alexa, play Hate That I Love You by Rihanna...” 

 ------------------

After Jimin leaves, you wait approximately 5 hours before getting a response from Yoongi. The response does nothing to aid in soothing your nerves:

Yoongi: Hey sorry it took me so long to respond. I’ve been working, I think I may be able to go but, I was wondering what you were doing right now. I’m having some trouble sorting through something, I know it’s late though, so I understand if you’re sleeping.

Your brow furrows. His message seems odd but, you don’t want to pass up an opportunity to see him. Plus, you definitely wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing that he’s having an issue.

You: I can come by, what’s the address? Are you ok?

5 more minutes pass before another message comes in,

Yoongi: I just want to hang out, this week has been kind of rough.

Yoongi: 8294 Han Road. I’m in the 4th studio space. Just ring the front and, tell them you’re here for me, they should let you through. Sorry it’s so late.

You frown at his admission, wanting nothing more than to be with him now that you know your suspicion is correct.

You: Don’t be sorry, I’ll be there as soon as I can.

His message comes through within seconds and, you can’t help but feel a little nervous at seeing him in his studio. There’s also this feeling; a feeling that indicates that something is wrong. Yoongi has never asked you to come see him and, that paired with his odd behavior this past week has your stomach in knots.

What if he didn’t want to see you anymore?

You both agreed that you liked eachother but, life was busy for the both of you. The conversation on the Ferris wheel inches its way back to the forefront of your mind. Yoongi said that you two getting together would be a bad idea, was he returning to that conclusion?

 He never explained why he felt that way in the first place.

The Uber ride to Yoongi’s studio costs you $9.78. You didn’t realize how close he was to your apartment and, as the car pulls up to the faded brick building, you feel your heartbeat grow to an alarming level.

“Thank you, have a good night…”

“No problem, have a good one.”

The exchange with the driver is short and, given that he didn’t talk to you the entire car ride, you decide to rate him 5 stars.

 As you approach the front entrance, you notice the soft blue neon sign hanging off of the door that reads: SoundCrowd.

Clever.

You’re definitely in the right place.

The door swings open effortlessly and, you’re met with an empty lobby. Tables, chairs and, various flyers containing the studios information are the only things that greet you when you walk in. The clear glass that separates the lobby from the reception desk make the whole place feel like some sort of medical clinic; it’s not exactly a beacon of creative energy. You hope Yoongi’s studio space was less clinical.

“Can I help you?” A deep but, friendly voice calls from behind the glass.

The receptionist is an older guy, maybe in his mid-30s, wearing what looks to be a ghost busters pajama set.

“Yeah, I was looking for Yoongi? He said he was in the 4th studio space…”

The man smirks knowingly, “You’re here for Min huh? Tell you what, I’ll let you through but, you have to promise me you’ll try to get him to go home. The dude’s been here for like four days straight…”

Your brow furrows, “Four days? Are you serious, he hasn’t gone home or anything?”

The man clicks his tongue, “I live upstairs, and his car’s been here since Monday. He used my shower about an hour ago but, other than that, I don’t even think he’s left the room…”

A sigh leaves your lips at the information, “Jesus.”

“Are you his girlfriend?”

The word makes your heart go fuzzy and, your first instinct is to say yes but, the last thing you need is for Yoongi to find out that you made your relationship official without him.   

“Uh no, we’re just_” You trail off, searching for the right word, “we’re dating but, he’s been a friend of mine for quite a while…”

He smirks, waving you over to him, “No need to explain, I’m just happy Min is getting some sort of human interaction. He’s been a god tier introvert ever since I’ve known him. I’m Sejin by the way…”

A hand is extended through the opening in the glass and, you accept it graciously, bowing your head.

“Y/N,” You smile, “it’s really good to meet you. How long have you guys known each other?”

Sejin squints his eyes for a moment, tilting his head in thought, “Oh geez uh, let’s see, Yoongi’s 25 this year…uh…ten years maybe?”

Your brows go up, “Oh wow, are you from Daegu too?”

At your seemingly normal question, Sejin grows visibly uncomfortable, as if a realization just crossed his brain. You fear you may be asking too many questions but before you can amend, Sejin speaks up again.

“Uh, Yoongi’s never mentioned me has he?”

“No, he hasn’t, I’m sorry…” You smile looking towards the buzzer near Seijin’s hand, wishing you would have just asked him to buzz you in.

“Oh don’t be sorry at all,” A soft smile is sent your way as he sees that you may have gotten the wrong impression. Sejin nods toward the door, “Yoongi lived with me for a while when he first came to the city, I’m a friend of his older brother. I’m sure he’ll tell you more about it if you ask; Here let me buzz you in, he’ll be straight down the hall to your right.”

Confusion swirls in the forefront of your mind but, you smile nonetheless, turning towards the door, “Thank you so much, it was nice meeting you.”

He bows his head, offering a small smile, “Nice meeting you too.”

There are rooms lining either side of the long hallway, some of which emit a low hum of music through their barriers.  Yoongi certainly isn’t the only night owl plugging away in the building.

Turning right at the end of the hall, you’re met with a black door boasting a sign that read “#4.” The irregular heartbeat is back as you raise your hand to knock at the door but, your desire to finally see Yoongi after nearly a week overruns the nervousness that you feel.

“Come in.” You hear his voice through the door and, quickly, you turn the knob and, let yourself in.

You’re met with a confusing sight. 

The studio space was dimly lit with a low hanging turquoise fixture that sends a calming wave of light throughout the small room. The walls contain various speakers and, electrical equipment and, along with a work desk, you notice a giant monitor, nearly the size of a flat screen and, every production tool that any musician could ever dream of. However, there was also several indicators that Sejin was right about Yoongi never leaving this room. There’s a black pull out couch on the right side of the room that looks like he hasn’t been slept in, a few pieces of Yoongi’s clothes scattered on the floor and, perhaps the most disturbing thing is the overflowing trashcan in the far corner of the room containing nothing but empty coffee cups. From what you can tell, there isn't a single take out box so, that either means that Yoongi has been taking his food trash out or, that he hasn’t been eating at all.

And then there’s Yoongi, who’s just turned to look at whoever just came through his door. He’s sitting in the black desk chair,  dressed in a pair of torn up black jeans and a grey hoodie, his formerly platinum hair is a faded brown now and damp from his shower. He musters a small smile for you, his normally cat like eyes are sunken in, clearly from a lack of sleep and, his lips are chapped, another indicator that he hasn’t been taking care of himself.

“Hey you…” You smile, setting your purse down by the door, trying to gauge what’s going through his mind.

“Hi…um thank you for coming…” He rasps, his eyes shifting nervously over you, fingers itching to reach out for you.

You shake your head, “Of course, is everything ok?”

Yoongi opens his mouth immediately as if he’s already has an answer prepared but, he deflates soon after, looking at you helplessly, “No, not really I-“

He takes a deep breath, looking away from you, trying to keep it together. You don’t say a word as you close the space between you, moving to stand in front of his seated figure. Instantly, you pull him into a warm hug, holding him tightly, not needing him to explain just yet.

Yoongi feels so much of the tension melt away from his body as he feels your embrace, his arms coming up to reciprocate, burying his face into your hip.

The two of you don’t speak for a few seconds but, you feel Yoongi shake silently, not daring to untuck his face from you as he lets the tears spill over his eyes.

This causes your heart to shatter but, you don’t break the silence yet, allowing him to process his pain how he needs to. You keep him close though and, rub his back soothingly as he collects himself.

“I’m sorry…” He mumbles into your yellow sweatshirt, regretting that he’s staining the material with tears, “I should have texted you more, I just…this week’s been really hard.”

You shake your head, holding him tighter, “Don’t be sorry, I knew you were working on your project this week, it’s completely ok…”

This is said for his benefit of course, you didn’t want him to worry about your fear that he had lost interest when he clearly had something much more pressing going on.

“I wanted to text you…the first night I got like this but-“ He cuts himself off to sniffle, still not releasing you from his grip. “I didn’t want to bother you, or freak you out or anything…”

“Hey-“ You tilt his face towards yours, thumbing away one of the tears that is attempting to roll down his face, “-you’re never a bother to me, especially if something is wrong…”

He turns his face to place a gentle kiss against your thumb before sighing out shakily against your skin, “I can’t get this fucking song right Y/N. I’ve been at this for 5 months now and, it always comes out wrong, I’ve rewritten it like 10 different times and, I can’t do it. It’s shitty. I’m not cut out for this, I’m not good enough to go pro, I should’ve_”

He trails off, his eyes reddening as the tears collect once more at the corners of his eyes, “ I should’ve listened to my father, he told me to major in business, he said this would happen and, he was fucking right.”

His words create a deep ache within your heart.

How could someone so talented, doubt their abilities so much?

It’s not the first time you’ve seen it but, you’ve yet to understand it.

“I know you’re upset, I know that this seems impossible right now and, you’re unbelievably frustrated but, Yoongi…” You tilt his head back towards yours, your gaze growing firmer, “You were born to do this. You are the most talented musician I’ve ever known and, the quality of your stuff? The way you write, the way you think, it’s a sign. It’s a sign that this is what you’re meant to do. You’re not meant to be in a suit, slaving away at a corporate job you don’t even like, that’s what everyone else is doing. Yes, it may be more stable, it may provide a steady income and, give your parents something to brag about but, it isn’t you. Your happiness is in music, I can see that. You light up when you talk about it, you lit up on that fucking stage, and had half the city eating out of the palm of your hands. You are so incredible, you have no idea…”

Yoongi feels his heart swell in his chest, no one has ever spoken to him about his music like this, not with this much passion. But then again, Yoongi’s never known another person like you, he’s never known another that can make him feel so good.

“But jagi…the song…it’s not coming together, my professor is going to hate it…” He urges, anxiety still squirming around in his stomach. He wraps his arms around you tighter though, feeling a bit of comfort at your words.

“Did you think the crowd at Glacier was going to hate your song too?” You point out and, as you do, he bites his lip, sniffling again.

“Yeah…I did…”

A hand is carded gently through his damp hair as you smile down at him, “And look what happened Agust D, you became the city’s champion underground rapper. Did you lock yourself up in this studio and live off of Americanos for weeks on end then too?”

A smile threatens his lips, “You remembered my order…” he sighs, nodding reluctantly at your question, “I do this a lot…”

A breath is released through your nose as you smile gently at his observation but, the frown between your brows remains, “I don’t want to tell you how to live your life Yoongi but, you can’t do this to yourself. I know self-doubt can be borderline parasitic sometimes but, you have to try and cut yourself some slack. I know how hard anxiety can be, I know it can make you feel like the world is coming to an end but, please know that you are so much more capable than you realize. Sometimes it helps to step away from something and, revisit it when you’ve had time to clear your head. I have to do that with my proposals all the time…”

Yoongi moves back slightly to wipe a hand over his face, taking a deep breath as he nods in consideration of your words, “You’re right…I know you’re right. It’s just hard for me not to fall into this cycle sometimes. I got help when I started school, for my anxiety and, it helped but, old habits die hard you know? I just start overthinking everything…I can never get rid of that part.”

You lean down to press a kiss to his forehead before slowly helping him to his feet. “You might not ever get rid of that, you’re only human. Overthinking is my first reaction too but, over the years, I’ve slowly learned to not trust every crazy scenario my brain comes up with.”

He smiles and, this time you see it reach his eyes, the sight calms you significantly. “You’re…”

Yoongi shakes his head, “I knew you’d say the right thing, you always do…”

“Come here.” You smile, pulling him into a hug, tucking your face into his neck, “I’m sorry you’ve been going through this…try to reach out earlier next time ok? So this doesn’t go on so long, you know I’m here for you.”

He nods sagely, rubbing his hands on your lower back, “ I will, I promise…”

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

Roughly an hour later, after you’ve gotten Yoongi to eat a good meal, the two of you start indulging in one another, the lack of contact starting to get to both of you. 

Your lips peck against Yoongi’s gently, just as a means to soothe him, your hands placed firmly on his shoulders.

 “I just...” He whispers against your mouth, attempting to melt away against your touch.   

He needs it, now more than ever.  

“Hm?” You hum gently, combing your fingers through his hair, nails scratching tenderly at his scalp.  

“I just don’t want to think anymore.” He breathes, responding more and more to the kisses placed against his lips.  

The column of his throat is eagerly arching towards your lips in a silent invitation. At the sight of his swallow, tender flesh, you frown at the lack of color there.  

“Your marks are gone.” You murmur, kissing the corner of his mouth  

Yoongi swears he wants to cry. He's kept his distance all week, trying to make sense of his emotions, trying to perfect his composition. But now, with you here, touching him, loving on him, he realizes how desperate he is for you; for relief.  

“Make new ones please...I just want to stop thinking...help me.” He practically keens his response but, he keeps it in check for the most part, not wanting you to consent for the wrong reasons.   

You bring your eyes to his, holding his desperate gaze, a smirk beginning to play on your lips.  

“How do you want me to help you?” You tease, encouraging him to articulate his desires.   

His cheeks flush even more, his Adams apple bobbing as he attempts to swallow back his nerves.  

He doesn’t know what’s come over him but, your tone compels him to his knees and, as his jean clad limbs touch the tile, he speaks, “You know...you know me, you know how to take care of me...”   

The response goes straight between your thighs; his small voice, his display of respect, you can tell this is something he’s had on his mind or awhile and, after the week he’s endured, you conclude that he needs to let loose.   

A finger is curled under his chin, directing his cat-like eyes up towards your own. You can tell he’s nervous but, the way he shifts eagerly on the floor tells you he’s more than ready for you.  

“You think so?” You coo, thumbing over his chin, smirking down at him  

He nods eagerly at the conclusion of your first sentence but, continues to nod throughout your teasing.  

“Use your words...” You urge, tightening your grip on his chin, admiring how beautiful he is on his knees.   

“Ye--...” His voice is already shot so, he clears his throat attempting to speak clearer, “Yes...”  

Your teeth press into your bottom lip, as your hand moves from his chin to push his faded brown hair away from his forehead.  

 “You want me to call the shots so you don’t have to?” You’re taking your time to rile him up, knowing it will pay off for him in the end.  

Another eager nod comes from Yoongi as he pushes against your hand, his doll-like lips going dry from his heavy breathing.  

“Yeah...I trust you; I’ll be so good for you, I promise.” He vows, lips brushing against your wrist, his dark eyes never once leaving yours.  “Please…” 

You tug on his hair then, drawing a whimper deep from within his chest. Yoongi feels his nipples harden as the pain pricks deliciously against his scalp.  

“You like this right? When I pull on it?”   

“Yes.” He breathes, shivering as your fingers brush across his lips and, down over his neck.  

“And...” You whisper, keeping your tone gentle as your hand wraps around Yoongi’s throat.  

This causes him to exhale shakily, his cautious eyes widening like saucers as he stares up at you.  

“Wh-…"  

You attempt to finish your sentence but, Yoongi’s shaky voice beats you to it, his request tumbling clumsily past his lips.  

“Fuck...please choke me...”  

He sounds so weak and, yet so sure of himself at the same time. You two had just begun breaching your sexual interests but, stepping into true dominant/submissive roles is something you’ve yet to do.

Whatever is about to happen, is going to be completely new territory for the both of you.   

The tightening around Yoongi’s throat makes him see stars; he feels like one of those cartoon characters that’s just been hit with a ton of bricks. Its intoxicating.   

“Oh-” Yoongi’s voice is raspier underneath your grip, his dick plumping up painfully against the zipper of his jeans.   

“You like when I choke you?” You coo, still holding his throat but, decreasing the pressure slightly.  

He nods, gasping as you tighten your grip again, testing the waters. Yoongi can already feel the dampness in his jeans but, he doesn’t care, he wants so much more tonight; he wants you to ruin him.   

“Use your words...” You remind him gently, urging him to open up as your free hand combs back through his hair.  

He exhales shakily once again, “Yes...”  

A fond smile is on your face then as you take a moment to run your fingers through his chestnut locks. You slowly urge him towards you so that he’s close enough to rest his chin against the center of your stomach. Yoongi stares up eagerly, awaiting instructions, his breathing uneven and, you take the small moment of silence to tug on his hair again. This causes his hands to come up and grip your outer thighs in desperation and, if he wasn’t already suffering in his jeans before, he definitely is now.   

With a salacious smirk you slowly bend at the waist so you can brush your lips against Yoongi’s, holding his gaze all the while, “I need a safe word from you...can you think of one for me?”   

Yoongi can’t think of anything aside from you at the moment along with his painfully hard dick threatening to bust out of his jeans but, he tries his best to wrack his brain for a suitable answer.  

“Dragon.”   

He scans your face for approval, hoping his choice was sufficient and, if you weren’t fulfilling the role of caretaker, you would be melting onto the floor right now.  

“Dragon it is...” You smile, combing a hand through his hair again, resisting the urge to tug on it, “You use that word anytime you need to ok? And we’ll stop...”  

Yoongi returns your smile, exhaling at the touch of your fingers, “Ok...”  

“Good boy.” The words are spoken into his hair when you lean over to kiss the top of his head. His hands haven’t moved from the outside of your thighs and, at the touch of your lips, he squeezes them again, “Stand up for me.”  

At your request, you move away from him, offering your hands as support. Yoongi looks at them tentatively before interlocking his fingers with yours and, slowly moving to his feet. Through the holes in his jeans, you can see how red his knees got from kneeling on the floor.  

You want the rest of him to match...  

“Come here...” You practically coo at him, curling a finger in your direction, beckoning him towards you. Yoongi never takes his eyes off of you as he takes the three steps necessary to reach you. As he stands before you, you keep his eye contact and, curl your fingers underneath the hem of his grey hoodie.  

“Arms up.”   

He obliges immediately, raising them high above his head, allowing you to slowly pull the material off of his body. Yoongi feels the hairs on his arms stand at attention as the cooler air of the studio hits his exposed skin. Without instruction you hook a finger underneath his chin and, silently bring his lips to yours. The two of you kiss, slow and sweet, taking time to lull deeper into one another. Your tongue slips in first, laving against Yoongi’s timid but eager mouth, as your hands begin slowly moving up the sides of his torso. A smirk is pushed into the kiss when Yoongi shivers at your touch, his whole body on fire for you.   

“You trust me to take care of you right?” You murmur into his mouth and, not two seconds go by before he’s nodding. “You’re gonna be good for me?”  

A half of a whimper slips out of Yoongi’s swollen lips, his hands come out to touch your waist as he nods again.  

“Yes, I’ll be good...”  

You smirk again, deciding that one of your goals tonight is to get Yoongi to feel more comfortable talking dirty to you. It’s a quality he possesses and, you can tell it’s something he’s into but, it takes a certain level of lust to send him there.   

“Why are you gonna be good for me?” The question is spoken between a few kisses and, you can’t express the delight you feel when he’s cheeks go red again.  

“Because-” His words are cut off as you slowly start to tickle your fingers over his ribs, the pads of your thumbs inching toward his erect nipples. “…. you deserve my respect. You deserve my obedience...”  

Good answer.  

“What makes me so deserving hm?” You coo against his neck, sucking gently against the sweet spot at the juncture of his collar bone. Before he can answer, you swipe your thumbs over his nipples. Yoongi swears he already feels like he’s going to pass out but, he does his best to answer coherently.   

“All women deserve my respect but, you...” He breathes, his head falling back on his shoulders, exposing his skin to you,, his hips rutting forward as you continue brushing your thumbs over his nipples, “you’re the best woman I know...you always take care of me, you’re always so nice to me. I wanna give you everything I can, so I’m worthy for you.”   

Yoongi is more than worthy enough for you but, given his history with insecurity, you can’t say his answer surprises you. However, if you weren’t melting into the floor before, you certainly are now.   

“You are worthy angel, come here...” The whispered command brings Yoongi’s mouth back onto yours as he swears he could cry at the particular pet name you just chose.  

Do you really think he’s an angel?  

He can’t imagine why...  

With your bodies pressed together and, your lips delicately tending to his, you speak again, initiating the rest of your plan, “Are you ready to play Yoongi?”  

Another nod comes from the angel in question, his nose nudging against yours as he does,   

“Mhm...”  

God, you didn’t know you’d be this into his submission but, here you are, completely drenched and he hasn’t even touched you yet.   

“Sit down on the chair for me, hands on the arm rests.” 

He follows orders, sitting down on his desk chair, spreading his legs to accommodate the throbbing erection pushing against his zipper.  His long fingers curl over the edges of the arm rests as his chest rises and falls with his increasing heartrate.     

You watch him carefully, mulling over multiple options that will hopefully make him cum so hard he can’t think straight. The first move you make is removing your hoodie, baring your black lacy bra to him: an article of clothing you chose specifically because you knew he liked it.  

The thing is though, Yoongi is no ordinary man. When he’s truly submitting, he does nothing without permission, not even look at you. Even as you step in front of him, Yoongi’s eyes stay glued to the floor but, the ever increasing motion of his chest gives away his reaction.  

“Didn’t you miss me Yoongi? Why aren’t you looking at me?” You grin, knowing the answer already 

He shakes his head, not wanting you to misunderstand him, “I missed you, so much, I just hadn’t asked permission to look at you yet. May I look at you?” 

“You may.” 

He doesn’t need further coaxing. He immediately brings his eyes up to your body, scanning over you eagerly, wincing as he feels his dick twitch in his jeans. 

“So pretty...” He murmurs, eyes full of adoration, “thank you for letting me see you...” 

“Don’t look away.” You demand softly, smirking in his direction as you slowly unclip your bra, revealing your breasts to him. As the cool air of the studio hits your sensitive chest, your nipples harden causing Yoongi to finally lick his lips.  

He wants them in his mouth so badly but, he wouldn’t dare question your plan. He knows you’re going to do right by him. 

“Jagi...” Yoongi pulls in another deep breath to calm himself, resisting the urge to gawk at you, “you’re so beautiful...” 

You’ve moved in closer to him, standing between his thighs in just your leggings before dipping down to kneel on the floor. 

As your nails slowly slide up his legs, you respond, “I wish you knew how beautiful I think you are...maybe then you’d be able to see what I see.” 

Yoongi’s lips part in awe of what you just said, feeling very overwhelmed before the two of you have even started.  

“You think_” He exhales, eyes fluttering with the sensation of your fingers inching closer to the inseam of his jeans, “…you think I’m beautiful?”

Your fingers tickle over his inner thighs before crawling over his unstable hips and towards his zipper. As you reach his erection, your eyes travel to his, catching a glimpse of his fucked out expression. His pupils are dilated, his lips are swollen, cheeks pink and puffy like fresh cherry blossoms, his fingers twitch on the arm rests; he’s growing desperate with anticipation.

“You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen Min Yoongi. I wouldn’t be caught dead on my knees for any other man…” You whisper, holding his gaze as you yank down his zipper, the motion causing a gasp to leave his lips. The relief is minimal but, Yoongi is grateful that his swollen dick finally has the room fully stand at attention. 

You deserve his full attention.

“You’re beautiful…” Is all he manages, his ability to form coherent sentences slowly slipping away.

His hips are lifted at your instructions as you pull his jeans and boxers from his hips, leaving him completely exposed to you. Yoongi feels a little insecure, his got a bit of a tummy on him as he’s been skipping the gym and, eating nothing but takeout the past few months. He didn’t shave either and, he’s waiting for some sort of negative reaction from you but, instead he feels the sharp pull of arousal in his stomach as you start kissing up his thighs.

“I should punish you for the way you’ve treated yourself this past week…” You admonish before taking the tender flesh of his inner thigh between your teeth, sucking hard enough to make him squirm.

Yoongi’s breath catches as he winces from the pain, his thigh jumping away from the sensation, “I’m sorry…I’m really sorry.”

Your tongue laves over the battered flesh before you make your way to the other thigh, taking time to blow cool air over his engorged dick. He shivers whilst thinking of what he would give to be in your mouth right now but, he won’t beg. He won’t try and sway you in any direction; he wants your full control.

“I told you last weekend not to talk shit to yourself didn’t I? So you can imagine my surprise when I come in here tonight and, you’re doing just that…you don’t want to disobey me do you?” You coo, pouting your lips before sucking his skin back between your teeth, creating an identical mark on his right thigh.

“Ah-“ He whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut, feeling rather tipsy at the sensation of pain, “No…of course not. I want to listen…”

A dark chuckle leaves your lips as you start placing kisses up his thigh, a wicked sense of delight coursing when his dick twitches towards your mouth, “Oh he wants to listen now does he?  Is it because my lips are so close to your dick?”

Yoongi grips the arm rests, his fingers slipping off due to the sweat created by his palms. Despite the cool temperature of the room, he feels like he’s on fire, he doesn’t think his ever been this turned on in his life.

“No, that’s not the only reason…” His hips jerk along with his stomach trembling when he feels your nails tickle their way over his hips, “I want to be good for you.”

As your nails conclude their teasing over his lower stomach, you let them rest against his hip bones as you ask your next question, “Mm, then you’ll sit there like a good boy while I have my way with you then won’t you?”

Before he can answer your question, a ragged whimper leaves his throat when you scratch your nails harshly across his soft pale skin, leaving aggravated lines of red as you do.

“Oh my fucking god…” He mumbles, eyes watering when his dick does the impossible and swells further, “I’d sit here like a good boy no matter what you wanted to do to me…”

He confesses, his faded chestnut hair sticking to his forehead, his eyes completely blown out with lust.

You prepare your nails to scratch him again and tickle them up the sides of his body, taking a moment to brush your fingertips over his pert nipples. Yoongi’s body is really sensitive but, his chest in particular always garnishes a special reaction from him. Your nails settle right where his heart is and, you can actually feel it pounding against his chest, “I want you to touch yourself for me…can you do that?”

Yoongi lets out a shaky breath and, once again you interrupt his answer by dragging your nails across his chest, digging in harder this time.

He actually feels his dick leaking at the sensation whilst his body arches off the desk chair, craving more of your touch.

“I have to go slow…I’m so hard right now, I don’t know how I’m gonna last….” He warns, his eyes shifting in uncertainty and, you take the time to admire how utterly innocent he looks.

Yoongi may be intimidating to those who don’t know him but, to you, with you, he is the softest man you’ve ever known.

But now isn’t the time for tenderness, you know what he needs.

He needs to be ruined.

So you’ll do just that…

Your hand comes out to wrap around his neck which elicits another gasp from his pink lips, his body going limp at your touch. You squeeze gently, just enough to slow the air circulation and lean in so your lips can brush against his.

“You’ll last because I tell you to last, because this dick belongs to me doesn’t it?”

Yoongi’s face is weak with pleasure as he nods eagerly, a small whimper leaving his lips, “Uh huh…”

A smirk forms on your lips as you squeeze his throat a little tighter, his dick jumping in response, “Say it…”

“My…my dick is yours jagi…” He gasps when you use your free hand to brush gently over his aching nipples, the sensation a huge contrast from what you’re doing to his throat.

“Your cum is mine…” You egg him on, dragging the pad of your thumb gently over either of his nipples.

“Ugh fuck…” He curses, his eyes locking onto yours and lull in and out of focus, “My cum is yours…everything is yours…”

Licking your lips, you loosen your grip slightly, giggling wickedly as he tries to reach for your lips, “You want me to hurt you while you jack off baby?”

Yoongi swears you must be sent from heaven, or maybe hell, either way, he’s dancing on the edges of euphoria at the moment. It’s like you know exactly what he’s thinking, he’s never known anyone who can anticipate his desires so well.

“Mhm…” He hums, the sound edging very close to a coo.

There is something that crosses your mind, something you hadn’t thought of before this began: was Yoongi capable of going into subspace? Because the glossy eyed expression, the yearning look, the pliant posture and slack jaw, everything about him looks like he’s heading in that direction.

“Yeah? You want me to hurt you really good?”

His mouth falls open as soon as you slide your cupped hand up his throat, your thumb brushing tenderly against his lips, “Yeah…please hurt me…”

Oh fuck, he’s right there…

“Suck…” You command gently, staring into his eyes, which have started to glaze over at your touch. He takes your thumb in his mouth, sucking eagerly, holding your eyes for approval, laving his tongue against the tip of it. “show me how you touch yourself baby…”

He nods, still sucking on your thumb before removing his sweaty hand down to his aching length. Yoongi’s eyes squeeze shut as he slowly curves a fist around himself, and, his leg twitches when he starts stroking his dick.

The relief is instant and, you feel the vibrations of his moans against your thumb. As he works himself up, you move away from him to kneel back between his knees.

His breathing is heavier, his toes are fidgeting against the floor but, his eyes refuse to leave yours, even as they threaten to close from pleasure.

You slowly tease your nails down his chest, over his ribs and hips, dangerously close to his dick, over his now bruised inner thighs and, all the way down to his ankles.

He brushes his thumb over his tip, a small whimper leaving his lips as his eyes squeeze close at the sensation. He’s already close, you’ve been winding him up for the past 45 minutes but, he holds on desperately, not wanting this to end.

“What do you think about when you touch yourself Yoongi?”

He takes another shaky breath and, does his best to swallow properly, despite his mouth being completely dry, “Lately, all I think about is you…I don’t even watch porn that often…”

Before you ask another question, you dig your nails into his calves and slowly begin dragging them up his legs. His whole body jerks in response, his hand faltering over his tip, he has to pull away for a moment, he almost came right there.

“ohmygod….” He keens, mostly to his self, his wide eyes looking away for a moment while he desperately tries to get a hold of himself.

“Oh but, you do watch porn? You’re cumming for other women then?” You tease and, Yoongi would panic that you’re actually upset but, the playful smirk on your face tells him that you’re just giving him a hard time.

“I don’t watch women…” He breathes, a ghost of smirk now playing on his own lips, “I watch men mostly, women in porn are annoying…they’re all annoying honestly…”

This makes you giggle but, you feel yourself growing wetter at the thought of Yoongi, getting off to men.

“So you think of me sometimes?” You’re still teasing him and, he knows you’re fishing but, he’s so into you he doesn’t care; he’d write a fucking thesis on you if he had the time.

He shakes his head, stifling a moan as you drag your nails over his hips when his hand reaches the tip of his dick; he really doesn’t know how he’s going to last.

“No…you don’t get it…” His breath is fucked and, his dick is so hard he wants to cry, it takes everything in him not to beg, “I think about you all the time…I’ve been thinking about you, ever since I came to your house that first time…”

Lust swirls deep in your panties; you don’t know how much longer you’re going to be able to do this either, his dick looks so good, hard, swollen and aching to be fucked. But you haven’t finished ruining him yet, you want him completely desperate before you give in.

“When I pulled your hair the first time?” You smirk, your hands travelling up his body once again as he nods, licking over his lips.

“Ye…yeah…that’s why I left so quickly, you made me hard…” He gasps again as your hand makes it back up to his neck, “…I…are you gonna choke me again?” His eyes look wary, almost frightened, the motions on his dick slowing again, “I don’t….jagi, I don’t know what to do…I don’t want to disappoint you but, if you…if you choke me again, I don’t…”

You smirk, tightening your hand around his neck before he can finish his sentence, “You’re gonna what baby?

“Oh fuck-“ He squeaks, his eyes starting to water when he squeezes over his tip, trying to halt his release, “Jagiya…I can’t…I can’t hold it, you have to stop…”

“Hold it, or I’ll tie you to this chair and leave you like this…” You hiss into his mouth, and his brow furrows in desperation but, his balls tighten further at your threat. The hand around his neck doesn’t cease its constriction and, his hand actually begins to move faster on his length.

His starting to learn…

“Good boy…don’t stop…” You kiss at his lips but, not long enough for him to respond to you, his whole body on fire and shivering at the same time.

Yoongi nods in determination, a shaky breath leaving his nose as he follows orders. He tenses however as you stand up, your left hand coming up to comb through his hair, which is matted against his forehead with sweat.

“Please…” He whimpers but, its not for permission to cum, you know exactly what it’s for.

Curling your fingers around the roots of his hair you tug hard enough to push his head back against the desk chair and, before he can even react, you use your other hand to tighten around his throat.

That’s it, that’s what breaks him.

Tears collect at the corner of his eyes as they widen like saucers, his mouth falling back open as he tries to cry out but, he’s too hoarse to do so.

“Y/N please…baby…baby please, pleasefuckme, pleasefuckme, I can’t…I need you...“ He’s completely lost it, he’s rambling, his eyes aren’t even in focus.

He isn’t even really looking at you but, you know you’ve got him, he’s made it there.

In less than ten seconds, he’s out of the desk chair and onto the pull out couch. He trembles beneath you; his hands reach up as if the lack of contact is painful.

Leaning down to him, you press a tender kiss to his lips to which he responds like a starving man.

“Please jagi…please I need you so bad, I’m sorry I need you, I need you…I really fucking need you…” He sounds like his about to cry and you nod, your tenderness returning just as quickly as it left, your panties pushed haphazardly off of your hips

“Hey…hey...I’m coming angel, I’m coming, just breath for me ok? I’m going to make it better…” You coo, pressing him gently into the squeaky mattress of the pull out couch, the cool sheets welcome against his hot skin.

He nods, not fully able to focus as he wraps his hands around your hips. You press another kiss to his lips before your final command is given, “As soon as I sink down onto you, I want you to cum ok? Can you do that for me?”

Yoongi’s bleary gaze finally locks onto your eyes, his body weakened with desire, “I’ll do anything for you…”

You can’t even recognize his voice, it’s so small, so weak and, so in…

You can’t say it.

Not yet.

But you can feel it, its bubbling right underneath the surface.

As soon as you sink down on him, you give him a few good strokes of your drenched heat before his whole body arches off the bed. Yoongi’s face is buried into your neck, his dull nails dig into your hips as he lets out a cry that shatters you.

You can feel how much he’s cumming as shot after shot of his release paints the inside of you. He’s cumming so hard that he starts crying, his silent whimpering enough to send you over the edge with him.

“don’t stop…don’t stop…” He cries into your neck, holding you so tight to him that it restricts your movements.

All you can do is nod as white hot pleasure takes over your senses, your orgasm just as intense given the events of the last hour.

Yoongi completely loses himself, he cums again, his hips glued to yours as he cries for you. Part of him would feel embarrassed but, he’s too fucked out to care. He’s too in…

Not yet.

He can’t say it, but it’s in his throat.

Its in his heart.

God, he’s never felt so good in his life, he never knew it could be this good.

“Y/N…” He croaks when your hips start settling down. His face doesn’t leave your neck but, he starts sucking gently on it, trying to ground himself.

He feels like he’s floating.

“Baby…” Yoongi practically coos, hands glued to your skin, still sniffling as his tears slowly come to a halt.

The smile that graces your face is brilliant and full of adoration. You slowly pull off of him, “I’m right here angel, I got you…”

You want to get him in a more comfortable position so you can hold him but when you try to pull away to do so, he panics, his glossy eyes widening in fear.

“No…no…” He tries to protest but, you kiss his forehead to reassure him

“Shh…I’m not going anywhere, I just want to hold you…come here for me…” You murmur, kissing his forehead again.

He’s suspicious, not thinking clearly but, he trusts you, not moving more than an inch away from your body as you shift the two of you to sit against the back of the couch. Yoongi scrambles to get closer to you, making himself smaller as he lays his upper half into your chest, tucking his face back into your neck.

“I got you baby boy, I got you…” You whisper, hoping the soft blue light in the studio will soothe him further along with gentle kisses pressed to his skin, “You did so good for me angel…”

Silent tears fall down his cheeks as he tucks further into you, “I did good?”

He checks again, feeling so vulnerable and, yet so safe at the same time.

You smile, pressing a kiss to his sweaty forehead, your nails gently combing his hair back, “You did amazing. You were so good for me.”

His small mouth curves in a dreamy smile, still trembling but, feeling slightly more grounded, “You keep calling me angel….you’re the angel…my angel.”

“You can’t steal my nickname…” You giggle, causing his small smile to turn into a gummier smile as he nuzzles your neck.

“So pretty…” Is all he can think of to say but, you know he’s talking about your laugh.

God, you feel like crying right now though, you could have never guessed that you could feel this strongly about another person.

When a comfortable silence falls over you, you take a moment to notice how banged up he really is. His body is decorated with pinks and purples, scratches, bites, a hicky or two; you really did a number on him and, you want to take care of his skin before it gets too uncomfortable.

“Yoongi? Baby, I need to put something on your scratches, I have cooling gel in my bag-“ You begin to say but, his eyes quickly widen again and, the same panicked look returns.

“Don’t…don’t go-“ He urges, holding you tighter.

You know it’s a symptom of him being in subspace, he doesn’t actually think your leaving but, a lack of contact with you makes him nervous.

“I’ll come right back, my bag is on the floor…” You assure him gently, pressing a kiss between his eyes.

His eyes flutter shut at your kiss and, his hands tighten on you one last time before, he kind of gets a grip on himself.

He knows he’s being a little unreasonable but, he’s never felt like this before, he feels intoxicated and so incredibly needy.

“Ok…” He reluctantly agrees

Another kiss is placed to his forehead before you move quickly to retrieve the gel from your purse. As soon as you sit back down with him, he immediately wraps himself around you, hiding away in your neck as you start to apply the gel to his skin. His breathing is beginning to even out as he melts into you, letting you take care of him.

Like you always do…

“How do you feel?” You whisper into his hair as you smooth the substance over his neck, which has reddened slightly.

“I feel high…” He muses, sounding a little bit more like himself.

His response causes you to giggle, “I’m that good huh?”

Yoongi smirks, kissing your neck slowly, “You invented sex…”

Another giggle bubbles over your lips, as you pull the sheet over Yoongi’s body, “Do you feel better then?”

“Mhm…” He hums into your neck, kissing up the length of it before finding your lips. A soft kiss is placed there before he speaks again, “I wish I could articulate better but, you fucked me stupid jagi…”

Smiling into the kiss, you comb a hand through his hair, scratching gently at the scalp, “Don’t worry about it, take your time, I’m right here if you need me…”

The two of you stay like this for quite some time, holding each other, as you slowly settle back down. Yoongi stays quiet for the most part, doing his best to center his thinking which proves to be quite easy as the only thing he can really think about is you.

A half an hour passes before he finally speaks up, feeling the need to explain something to you.

“I used to live here…” He murmurs, face still tucked into your chest

Your brow furrows at his statement, “Here? At the studio?”

He shakes his head, “It wasn’t always a studio, ten years ago it was a halfway house for troubled youth…”

The beating of your heart stalls but, as you open your mouth to respond, Yoongi continues, his voice stabilizing finally, “My parents are not supportive of what I do. When I was a teenager, we used to fight all the time about it. They tried to force me to stop but, I never listened. I snuck out to do music all the time and, started failing out of school. One night, my father came in and freaked out on me, he destroyed my lyric pages and, threw everything away. The next day, I came home from school and, they had kicked me out. My older brother tried to stop them but, they wouldn’t listen...”

Your chest feels tight as you try your hardest not to let your emotions overflow; you never knew how much Yoongi has endured.

“Sejin, the guy at the front desk, he’s a friend of my older brother,” He rasps, placing another kiss to your skin as a means to soothe himself, “he took me in with nothing but my old laptop and, the clothes on my back. My parents wouldn’t let me take anything. I finished school in the city and, ended up landing a scholarship at our university, that’s where I met Hobi and, reconnected with Namjoon. Once he found out what happened to me, he insisted I move in with him while I got my degree. The rest you already know…”

You hold him tighter, kissing his forehead for the 100th time, “I’m so sorry Yoongi, I didn’t know you went through all of that. You’re so strong for pushing towards your dreams despite everything being so hard for you…”

He smiles gently and the wise look has settled back into his eyes as he looks up at you, “You see why I get a little nervous sometimes now…I’m so worried that my parents are going to be right.”

Nodding, you thumb over his cheek, “I do but, please know that you’ve already proved your parents wrong. After everything you’ve endured, you still keep pushing and, as long as you keep dreaming, you’ll never fail…”

A sudden kiss is pressed to your lips then, which Yoongi turns slow and sweet.

Just like him…

“On my worst days, I tell myself that all of this will be worth it someday…” He whispers against your lips, continuing to kiss at them

“It will be, everything will pay off...”

“It’s already started to…ever since my classroom switched…” He smiles, brushing a piece of hair from your face.

Intense emotion blooms fully in your heart when he responds and, you have to shake your head to keep yourself from crying, “Does that mean you’ll be my date tomorrow then?”

He chuckles, his eyes brightening up significantly as he leans into your lips,

“Tomorrow and, any other time you’ll have me.”

if you let me, here’s what i’ll do: i’ll take care of you

[fleckcmscott]

The Knot

Summary: Arthur and Y/N finally have the wedding they discussed on their sprint to City Hall.

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 4,238

A/N: This was requested by @sweet-nothings04​. It is the fluffiest thing I have ever written. Special thanks to @ithinkimawriter​ for the support and beta-reading!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

The nightly routine Y/N had developed over the years was a simple one. Her barely-there foundation, neutral eye shadow, eyeliner, and light mascara would be washed away with soap and water. After changing into a nightgown, she'd brush her teeth and hair. Moisturizing cream would be dabbed on her forehead, cheeks, and chin. (A couple of thin lines had formed at the corners of her mouth, and she hoped to prevent more.) She'd crawl into bed beside Arthur, they'd talk and cuddle, then she'd kiss him good night and wait for sleep to take her. It was a relaxing end to the day that didn't require a lot of effort.

But this evening was not routine. What Patricia seemed to have planned for it put Y/N's habits to shame. Peeking into the mint green satchel she'd brought caused a grimace. It was possible the clay and honey cosmetic masks wouldn't be too bad. The toe separators and nail polish and pumice stones didn't interest her. And the floral, spray-in hair perfume was pungent. God. All this fuss prompted Y/N to pour the both of them the rest of the wine.

"This is too much for me." Y/N frowned in the bathroom mirror and examined the mud on her face. "How long do I need to keep this on?" she asked, the alcohol making her grumble.

"Ten minutes." Patricia set a timer and placed it on the sink. "And don't whine. This stuff is why no one knows I'm over fifty."

"And here I assumed it was your vibrant personality." After taking a sip from her glass, Y/N turned to the tub. There were about five inches of hot water in it, topped with pink foam that smelled like artificial roses. It reminded her of the dusty, scented candles her grandmother had kept in the bathroom, but never lit. Patricia sat on the edge, dipped her feet in and waved for Y/N to join her.

Patricia started scrubbing the ball of her foot. "Are you excited?"

Y/N made a thoughtful noise. When she and Arthur had gotten married at city hall a year ago, she hadn't needed a wedding - she'd needed to be married to him. He'd wished for one, though, and she'd promised him that. "The wedding I had before was stressful. I could go without it." A gentle smile came across her cheeks. "But I am for him." She sighed contently as she submerged her feet. "When we were filling out the invitations a month ago, he was so happy. He pasted one in his journal - he showed me the page - and put exclamation points all around it."

That wasn't all he'd done. Arthur had convinced her to practice a slow dance to one of his mood music records. It hadn't taken much effort for him to talk her into it. ("I've imagined this a lot," he'd told her.) She figured she'd gotten pretty good, having learned to let him lead her instead of trying to anticipate his steps. His generous encouragements and the pleasure in his eyes had helped.

Snorting, Patricia grabbed a nearby smoother and began working on her heel. "How did a hard-ass like you end up with a sweet man like him?"

"He thinks I'm sweet." Y/N shook her head, splashing around with her toes. "Don't tell him he's been had."

At the buzzing of the timer, Y/N sprung up and went to the sink. Getting the mask off was as annoying as she'd suspected. The packaging said to use a cloth, lukewarm water, and circular motions. But the clay was stubborn and didn't want to leave her face. Patricia apparently found it hilarious, laughing all the harder when Y/N looked at her with indignation. Three washrags and an empty glass of wine later, her skin was clear. Irritated, but clear.

Patricia gestured over her shoulder as she dried off. "There's a present for you in my bag. You said no gifts, but it's nothing. And I didn't want to give it to you in front of Robert and Matt tomorrow."

Intrigued, Y/N retrieved the bag from the floor and sat next to her on the tub's edge. Matt, Y/N's former boss, she could understand. But what would Patricia give her that she didn't want her own husband to see? It only took a little digging to find the box, slightly bigger than her hand, with a red ribbon around it. "You shouldn't have." She opened it and pulled out what was inside. Her best friend had given her a black, satin thong with side ties. She stared at it a moment, then burst out laughing. "It's so tiny," she exclaimed, the triangle front barely large enough to cover her palm. "I don't have the ass for this!"

Winking, Patricia nudged her upper arm. "It won't stay on long enough for Arthur to notice."

~~~~~

Meanwhile, Arthur was at a pub with a friend for the first time in his life. He'd been to comedy clubs plenty of times, and Y/N had introduced him to numerous restaurants. But his general lack of interest in drinking and absence of companionship had never made bars a desirable destination. It had been Gary's idea, though. And with his company, Arthur was part of the crowd instead of apart from it.

They were seated at a small booth near the kitchen, away from everyone. Their conversation was sparse. Despite his overall increase in comfort, Arthur still had a hard time with social situations. Granted, Y/N had told him he was steadily getting better at them. And now, with the effect of the Fuzzy Navel in his hand, he was doing all right. There had been no forced laughter (which only happened a few times a month), no bouncing of his legs, and no nail biting. He was proud of himself for that, especially given the hint of nervousness he felt.

Tomorrow was their big day. The wedding was going to be at their apartment. There would only be four guests: he'd made it clear Penny wasn't welcome, and the elderly woman Y/N had invited, Ms. McPhee, had declined with an apology and cookies, saying she was too ill to go anywhere. Dinner would be potluck style. Finally, he'd fucking have what he'd dreamed about for years. Although it was implied every time he touched Y/N, he'd get to vow, publicly, to stay with her forever. To take care of her, no matter their circumstances. To love her ceaselessly. And, he reflected, she'd promise to belong to him, too. He grinned around his cigarette as he smoked, looking into his drink, joy rushing through him at the thought.

Gary took a swig of his porter. "Are you looking forward to tomorrow?"

"Yes." Arthur answered without hesitation. "But I don't know why Y/N wanted me to spend the night out. We're already married."

"You can't sleep with the bride before the wedding. It's tradition."

Tradition. His chest tightened at that. Tradition hadn't meant anything most of this life, anything besides futile yearning. He couldn't remember if he'd been read to as a kid. Lost teeth probably ended up in the garbage. Holidays had always been too expensive to take part in, and with Penny's apathy and all the hours he'd worked, he hadn't had the energy to try. He was glad to be making up the deficit with Y/N. Still. This was an odd custom, and not really applicable to them. "But I've been sleeping with her for two years." Almost as soon as he spoke, he realized his double entendre. He brought a hand to his forehead. "Shit. Sorry, Gary."

A sly smile crossed Gary's face, but he didn't seem upset. Which made sense - filthy jokes and dirty tales often flew around the locker room at HaHa's. The shorter man reached into the breast pocket of his striped shirt, then held out a small package. "Here. I got this for you."

Curious, Arthur examined the cellophane enclosed carton. The teal box of NoDoz said it would keep him awake, was fast acting, and safe as coffee. And there was a sentence, written in a cursive font on the bottom edge: "Number 1 with Newlyweds!" Oh. Oh. He knew what they were for. Once in a while he'd come across The Honeymoon Game when flipping through channels. The tablets were often mentioned, along with comments about "being busy all night long." The burning in his cheeks only amplified his giggles as he tucked them in his pocket. "Thanks. For letting me stay over, too."

"You're welcome. It's just the sofa." Gary gave a shrug. "What time did you want to get back home?"

Arthur recalled the list of errands Y/N had helped him make. He had to stop at the flower stand near their place and get a white carnation for himself and a bunch for her. Garlic bread needed to be ordered at Marchetti's, to go with the lasagna Y/N was attempting. He wanted to give himself a good half hour to change, fix his hair, and practice saying what he'd written.

Gary agreed getting back to the apartment in the early afternoon would be fine. Arthur wasn't expecting his follow-up question. "How'd you know she was the one for you?"

Trying to hide the embarrassment behind his answer, he sipped his cocktail. "Gary, no other woman ever wanted to be with me."

"I'm sure that's not true," Gary replied. Arthur didn't move to correct him. Maybe he'd successfully hidden his prior failures from his former co-workers by simply not joining in when they all talked about women.

It took time to come up with a response. When he gave it, the words were quiet, his tone almost reverent. "She never acted like there was something wrong with me." The corner of his mouth quirked up as he tapped the ash off his cigarette. "No one else ever did that. Not even my mother." Realizing he may have insulted Gary, he backtracked quickly. "You- You were always nice."

Gary visibly brightened and waved at a waiter to order them both another round. Arthur sat back against the torn cushion of the booth, already slightly dizzy from the first one. It was going to a long, hopefully good, night.

~~~~~

The preparation for the 4:00 PM ceremony did not go as smoothly as planned. The dish Patricia brought, which she had wanted to keep a surprise, was macaroni and cheese. Y/N ran out and bought three salads from the deli so there'd be an option besides pasta. She'd made a small tear in the hem of her light blue wedding dress, one she'd picked up at a consignment shop, when she'd gotten caught on a doorway. And Arthur insisted on not seeing her in her dress beforehand, so she spent most of the time cooped up in the bathroom. She could hear Arthur's hushed tones as he paced the living room and spoke to Gary ("I'm gonna fuck up. What if I start laughing?"), and Gary trying to reassure him ("Arthur, just read it.").

But those snags were nothing compared to the issues at her first wedding. The flowers had never arrived. The cake topper had fallen, splitting the groom's head in half and breaking off the bride's arm. And, about halfway through it, she'd realized she was making a mistake. Presently, standing in front of the mirror while she fiddled with her high, split neckline and waited for Patricia to get her, she knew she hadn't erred. Doubt never entered her mind when it came to Arthur - only love, happiness, and gratitude.

When the door opened, Y/N ran her palm along the embroidered lace of the dress's bodice, smoothed the chiffon of the full-length, A-Line skirt, pulled at the wrists of the long, translucent sleeves, and took a deep breath. Her heart quickened when the faint notes of Arthur's favorite, sentimental Jackie Gleason Orchestra LP reached her ears. She stepped out. All the furniture had been pushed up against the walls, leaving space in the middle of the room. Their four friends stood there expectantly. Then she looked at Arthur, and the excitement she'd told Patricia she felt for him suddenly became her own.

He'd slicked back his hair, the way he always did when he was trying to be formal, curls loose around his ears. The white button-up he was wearing was a tad large around the shoulders. But the likely second-hand black vest and trousers he wore fit perfectly. The carnation in the waistcoat's breast pocket was a nice addition. He was wearing his red and yellow tie, still the only one he owned, in spite of it being part of his Carnival outfit.  As she approached him steadily, she studied his face. The affection in his soft expression caused her breath to hitch, as did the drawing together of his dark brow as he admired her. She giggled, hoping he liked the nontraditional dress.

There was no need for the question, however. As soon as their hands met, he clutched hers and smiled. The autumn sun, which was already halfway down the sky, brought out the deep chestnut undertones of his brown waves. And the clear green of his irises glistened beautifully in the bright light. If it would have been acceptable, she would have kissed him on the spot. Instead, she settled for mouthing, "You're gorgeous." The blush that resulted, the way he lowered his head as he grinned happily, and his silent, "You, too," made her stomach flutter.

Listening to what the yellow-pages officiant said was nigh impossible. And from the expression on Arthur's face, he couldn't concentrate, either. But they managed to get through the basic vows, those same, time-honored words spoken at nearly every wedding she'd attended. (Except for "worshiping" and "obeying" - she'd insisted those parts be removed, explaining they were equals.) They'd each come up with their own short pieces, too, and at his insistence, she went first. "I didn't come to Gotham to find love. I just wanted to leave everything behind. Then I met you. You made getting remarried the easier decision I've ever made."

What Arthur said in return, reading softly but clearly from a worn piece of paper, had her beat. "People think I'm weird. But you don't." His Adam's apple bobbed and a slight tremor entered his voice. "You're my one and only person that can understand me." His rasp turned into a hiccup at the end, and he sniffled and scoffed while he tucked his notes away. The clench of her throat was immediate, and she threw her arms around him, not waiting for the words "you may kiss the bride" before joining their lips.

~~~~~~

​​​A wedding day was supposed to be special. Out of the ordinary. Exceptional. Anything but regular. But Arthur couldn't remember the last time he had felt normal for as many hours in a row as he did today. The flash of a pocket-camera when he'd cupped Y/N's face and kissed her after she'd lunged at him. Their short dance, with the shallow dip they'd practiced and her stepping on his foot only once or twice. The gentle "I love you" he'd murmured against her lips. The acceptance of her friends when they congratulated them both. All of these extraordinary moments coalesced into a warm, tender, soothing ache that, in spite of his doubts, confirmed he was a real person, worthy and capable of love.

The glass door opened behind him, and, expecting Y/N to drag him back inside, he flicked his cigarette away. But upon turning he saw Patricia, drink in her hand. They'd spoken briefly a few times since initially meeting a couple years ago. Arthur didn't yet have a clear impression of her. Y/N and she were close, he knew, and they often met for lunch. And Patricia had helped her try to stop the Wayne Foundation case from going forward. Observing the older woman, he noted the gray scattered throughout her hair, the lines on her face that were less prominent than his own, the minimal rouge on her cheeks. She reminded him of Penny before her health had declined. Before everything had changed.

"Could I have a cigarette?" she asked, indicating the pack he was holding.

He blinked at her. "Sure."

She stepped to him as he retrieved one for her. After she plucked it from him and placed it between her lips, she took his lighter. "Y/N doesn't know. Keep it that way. You may not have picked up on it yet, but she can be bossy."

Chuckling, he cocked his head. Y/N had warned him about her bossiness early on, but it wasn't as bad as she'd claimed. Sure, she was assertive about certain things. But smoking was the only thing she was overly pushy about. The reason for her nagging prevented it from being more than a minor annoyance, though: she wanted them to spend a hundred years together, she'd said, instead of him dying prematurely of lung cancer. Blunt to a fault, as usual, with an inkling of sweetness underneath.

"Y/N was crazy about you from the start," Patricia said, pulling him out of his musings.

A glow blossomed in his chest and he dropped his gaze bashfully. "She talked about me?"

She smirked up at him, as if she was about to reveal a secret. "She gave me a note with hearts and exclamation points on it after you slept together."

Eyes widening, he turned back towards the street and focused on a manhole cover. It shouldn't have surprised him - he'd spoken with Gary about Y/N - but it did. And meant the world to him. But he was beginning to wonder what else she'd disclosed. Christ, was Patricia aware he'd been inexperienced? Had Y/N said he'd done a good job? Had she...Could she have talked about his body, the way the men at HaHa's described the women they were seeing? Those notions were laughable, he tried to tell himself, and attempted to push through them amid his growing discomfort.

Patricia gave his forearm a maternal pat, allaying his unease. "It was because you were gentle with her." He watched her angle her body towards the window and peer inside, and he followed her gaze. Y/N was pointing at a spot in the living room for the folding table they'd rented, along with six chairs. "She's gritty - she's been through a lot. I'm glad she has you to let go with."

Nodding slowly, Arthur understood. He was a good partner, a good husband to Y/N. And it wasn't only the woman he loved more than his own life saying it - it was her closest friend, her confidante. Intermittently, his conditions made it difficult, particularly on those days when he needed repeated validation, or the fury he carried deep within him threatened to bubble up. (Though it had gotten better with treatment, the stability his life now had, and Y/N's support.) Patricia recognized that he was trying and believed he was doing well. Accomplishment wasn't a sensation he often experienced, but the foreign sensation creeping into him must have been it. "Thanks," he said, clearing his throat. "I love her a lot, too."

They went inside and put up the chairs and set the table. There wasn't a table cloth, but Y/N had taken out their "good plates," with gold filigree on the rims. One of their cotton napkins went missing, so Y/N put a paper towel under her cutlery. After he lit the two cream taper candles he'd found in a drawer, everything looked perfect.

The food and drink were something else. The only macaroni and cheese Arthur had ever had come out of a box. Patricia's tasted savory rather than salty, but he wasn't sure if he liked the tomatoes it had in it. Although the pasta was too soft, Y/N's lasagna was good, if a bit heavy on the sauce. The garlic bread helped with that. The salad was mostly ignored; he only ate the small serving she stuck on his plate. The scotch Gary brought was passed between himself, Matt, and Robert. Arthur did try a sip, but it was exceedingly strong and stole his breath. He decided to stick with wine.

As the evening went on, Arthur grew pleasantly warm and drowsy. Y/N and Patricia had taken over most of the banter, guffawing and being mildly foolish. Matt had brought a chocolate sheet cake for twenty-four instead of six, and Y/N had to hold her stomach to quiet her tipsy laughter when it was sliced. Arthur's hand crept to her thigh and squeezed lovingly, his eyes locked on her with adoration. The depth of his feelings, his keen awareness of her, her presence at his side, was drowning out the rest of the room. It didn't take long for her to turn to him and mouth, "Let's say good night."

Y/N sent everyone home with leftovers and a hug, and forced Matt to take most of the cake with him. Gary gave Arthur a wink and a nod as he left, and Arthur snorted as he shook his head and shut the door. Propping himself against it, he sighed, trying to clear the fuzziness from his head. She came up behind him and kissed his shoulder. "Patricia's going to have the photos developed in triplicate and give us the negatives."

He twisted to face her and put his arm around her shoulders, slightly dizzy. "Does that mean we'll get copies?"

Giggling, she pressed into him and nuzzled his cheek. "Yes. We'll get three copies." She looked up at him as she leaned back. The ardor in her gaze made his pulse skip a beat. Then she lead him to the bedroom without preamble, blowing out the candles on the way.

He'd read and seen enough to recognize what was expected of him. This was their wedding night. It was when the music would swell and the screen dissolved to black in the old movies he would watch. He was supposed to take charge and make love to her. And he wanted to. Truly. But he'd eaten more than he usually did in two days. That combined with only having slept a couple of hours the previous night, anticipation having kept him awake on Gary's couch, lead to the tiredness he now felt.

Her hands were everywhere, though, roaming his back as their mouths melded together. Arthur slid his tongue between her lips, and he could taste the wine they'd toasted with and spent the rest of the night drinking. Breathing raggedly, he swallowed her moan and held the nape of her neck. When she presented her back to him, he paused before caressing the lace on the back panels of her dress. He took the dainty zipper between his thumb and forefinger and slowly pulled it down. The intimacy of what was happening, of Arthur Fleck unfastening the dress of his bride, made him shudder. Once the bodice was completely undone, he pushed his forehead to her and kissed the soft skin at the top of her back.

The dress fell slowly, catching on her breasts and hips as she brought it down. When she turned to him, his brows lifted. She was wearing the smallest pair of black panties he had ever seen. They barely covered her sex. He huffed. "Where did these come from?"

A grin broke out across her cheeks. "Patricia was convinced you'd love them."

Smirking, he gave a little nod. "I do." They were tied at her waist. If he just pulled the string, she'd be revealed to him. "You're so pretty." His fingers teased a bow, trying to will himself to perform. But he wasn't feeling it. "Um." He chuckled sadly, knowing he was about to disappoint her. "I ate too much. And I think I'm drunk. I'm sorry." He winced and looked away from her.

Y/N stared at him, then laughed throatily and squeezed him close. "Oh, thank god. Me, too. It's been a busy day."

His grasp on her tightened. "But a good one?"

"A wonderful one." She pecked his mouth and moved towards the bed, not bothering to take off her bra before slipping beneath the blankets. "You can untie me in the morning."

As Arthur undressed, he folded each piece of clothing and placed it on top of the vanity. He'd take care of it whenever they got up. By the time he sat on the bed in his briefs to take off his socks, Y/N's breathing had slowed to a steady rhythm. Sleep always seemed to come easily to her. Carefully, he got in beside her and stroked her hair back. Not wanting to wake her but needing to touch her, he kissed her brow bone faintly, gliding his fingers along her cheek. Then he ran his hand down her side and teased the string on her hip, loosening the knot until he could whisper his fingertips over her without obstruction. She mumbled quietly but didn't stir.

Smiling, he breathed against her temple. "I hadn't been happy one minute of my entire fucking life before you." He sniffled and swiped at his nose, sighing contentedly. "Sometimes I am now. Like today." He rested his head next to hers on the pillow, his arm going around her waist to tuck her back against him. "Thanks, Y/N Fleck."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​ @ithinkimaperson​ @sweet-nothings04​ @stephieraptorr​ @rommies​ @fallenstarsabyss​ @gruffle1​ @octopus-plasma​ @tsukiakarinobara​

[alternativewinxcontinuity]

Margarita

Home World: Eraklyon (Born in Isis) | (Father is from the lagoon planet: Laugos)

Purview: Fairy of Pearls (Fairy of that which is hidden by 'beauty' or gilded, has a manifest preference for pearls)

Hair Colour: black with an iridescent sheen (purple and blue)

Eye colour: amber-brown

Skin: peachy-beige  

Height: 5 foot something (in heels)

Personality Key Words: polite, accommodating, five-seconds-from-feral, sharp/prickly

Hobbies: diving for treasure (sometimes treasure is a handful of pearls, sometimes it's getting to see a fun looking fish)

Favourite Foods: has a secret love for soft, stuffed fruit-buns

Pixie: N/A

Mother and Early Life:

Margarita comes from a mixed background, born to a single mother in Isis after a brief affair which her mother, Sabbia, believed to be the start of a long lasting relationship, Margarita has always felt the weight of her mother's expectations and desire for a better life for them both.

Their family line has had only weak fairies, and those have been spread out over the generations. Sabbia, was the first fairy of any real strength but her familial duty kept her home bound and helping with the old inn their family runs instead of learning more than the basics about her powers.

During a treaty summit roughly 16-18 years pre-series, the inn hosted the King of Laugos and his entourage, and Margarita was conceived, but Sabbia was left behind when the party returned to their own world.

Her mother pushed Margarita to embrace all the chances Sabbia had missed in her youth, and become the best fairy Margarita could be.

(And also with the hope Margarita's father would acknowledge her existence.)

Unfortunately for Margarita, this push for excellence hits unhealthy levels of obsession for her mother, something Margarita is aware of, but she doesn't feel like she can get out of her current circumstances without throwing everything her mother has ever sacrificed for Margarita back in her face. (And she believes she has nowhere to go.)

Margarita plans to get a well paying job that will allow her to take care of her mother and repay everything Sabbia has ever done for her, but one that will also take her away from her mother frequently. (Academically, logically, Margarita knows she shouldn't have to pay her mother back for doing the basic motherly steps of raising her own child, but beyond just feeling beholden to her mother, Margarita has some genuine affection for Sabbia which makes it difficult to keep an emotional distance.)

As a result of Sabbia's drive for Margarita's success, Margarita had very little social life as a young child which left Margarita feeling forever out of step with her peers, only her experience helping at the inn gave her the (customer service) ability to interact with others in a way that makes her seem personable.

Her academic achievements meant Margarita was always at the top of her class and often somewhat ahead, which helped her to secure scholarships to Eraklyon's premier school to study magic.

Which is where she met Diaspro.

*

Academia and Diaspro:

The two young women have been fighting each other for the top spot in everything since they first took the same exam.  Despite driving one another ever harder, they recognise a kindred spirit, both of them throwing away their own desires (not that they’ve ever really had the chance to figure out what those are exactly) to strive for unobtainable perfection.

They share a mutual, if grudging respect for one another, and any time another student comes close to replacing them at the top of the score boards, they close ranks and study together. (“If someone's going to beat me, it had better be you! I won't lose to some nobody!”)

The high stress of always having to maintain perfect grades and be friendly (if not friends) with everyone is extremely taxing, and Margarita often feels like she's on the edge of a complete meltdown.

*

Biological Quirks:

As a fairy from a long line of strong fairies associated with the elemental idea of earth and stone, Diaspro has a higher than average natural strength which Margarita will never match.

As someone who has a parent from Laugos, Margarita's body has a more efficient respiratory and cardio vascular system which allows her to run for longer and endure less hospitable air qualities better. (and dive for longer without spell assistance.)

Of course, Margarita can't shake off being thrown through a brick wall as easily as Diaspro.

And there's a down side to Laugossian heritage.

Laugos is called the Lagoon planet, it is covered primarily by lagoons and shoals, the surface water in most areas is often only 50 - 100 metres deep, though there are some sections of ocean which are said to be dozens of kilometres deep. (The furthest down most people go is 5 kilometres, which is half the depth of the Marianas Trench on Earth.)

The people of Laugos live in the shallows of the ocean, in crystalline under water cities, their eyes are adapted for extreme glare and constant shifting of light.

Margarita's eyes aren't able to handle the light like a pure-blooded Laugosian would, but her eyes aren't Eraklyon standard either, and occasionally she wears glasses or contacts to regulate her eyes' photo-sensitivity.

*

During the Series:

Margarita has never been Sky's biggest fan, finding out about the events of the Day of the Royals had her ready to commit treason and beat him to death with his own arm, but she decided Diaspro need a sympathetic shoulder more.

*

After Diaspro was kidnapped from her own palace while attending her princess duties, Margarita told Diaspro that she'd developed a theory:

M: “Weird things have been happening to you in the past few years, and it always seems to be while you're off doing your princess things, and therefore I miss them. I propose, you stop going places with out me, because I am clearly the anchor your life revolves around, nothing bizarre has ever happened to you around me, so for your own safety...”

D: *starts laughing and doesn't stop for several minutes* “Yeah, sure, that's how I get my life back on track”

M: “Well if you're going to be sarcastic, see if I ever help you again.”

D: “No! Come back! I need you to help me make 'Queen Consorting for Dummies'.”

M: “... what for?”

D: “urgh, Bloom. Sky's dating her, probably wants to marry her, which means she needs to know everything I know, and she has far less time to learn it in.”

M: “Your making her a cheat guide for Consort studies? Really? Her?”

D: “Sure, why not right? It's my duty as the Heir of Isis to ensure Eraklyon is in the best capable hands, which means making her hands any kind of capable. It's just duty. It's not like she ruined my life, stole my purpose and destroyed my entire sense of identity!!”

M: “... I don't know exactly when I became the calm, stable one in this relationship, but I hate it.”

*

Shortly before Valtor broke out of the Omega Dimension, Margarita received a summons from her father requesting her help.

Prince Litore, the heir to the throne had been injured and cursed in an attack by an ancient sea witch who had suddenly crawled out of the depths of Laugos's ocean, from a place called “koiláda tou thanátou”, (lit. “Death Valley”) the deepest chasm in the ocean floor which few have ever gone into, and which none have ever returned until now.

Margarita was called because her father had known of her existence, but never planned to acknowledge her, until the witch returned. Their ancestor had been a Guardian Fairy who'd defeated the witch before locking the tool she'd used away so it couldn't be misused, and only a fairy of her bloodline could free it.

Margarita is, of course, the only known fairy of her bloodline currently alive available. And naturally the Prince can’t be un-cursed until the witch has been defeated, so she absolutely has to do that while she’s there retrieving the witch-be-gone-device anyway.

By the time she's finished and able to return to Eraklyon, Diaspro has already been banished.

(Which makes Margarita laugh in hysterics, because she's just gotten herself perma-banned from Laugos for punching the king in the face after he acted like they'd done her a favour for calling her, rather than her doing Laugos and the royal family a favour by showing up and risking her life to save them.)

Margarita agrees that she could see how people would think so, but she's 100% certain Diaspro did not roofie prince Sky of her own free will. Not that Margarita can ever prove it one way or the other because the Eraklyon Royal guards stonewall her attempts to investigate.

*

Margarita's Father:

You may have guessed, Margarita's father is the King of Laugos.

Unlike with her mother, Margarita has no mixed feelings about her father and thinks he's 100% a piece of garbage (and not even the classy kind you're supposed to recycle).

She's also 78% certain she has more siblings than Prince Litore, who she thinks is arrogant and naïve, but not a complete loss if he can get his head out of his ass.

[therainroguefanfiction]

❉ 139 Dreams (Jaemin Na) Along the Way

📑 Table of Contents

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Mafia, Angst, Romance, Crossover ☁

Word Count: 2,583 ☁

Pairing: Reader x Jaemin ☁

World: Kpop, NCT & Anime, Katekyo Hitman Reborn! ☁

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

Jaemin sat at the kitchen table with his parents. A man sat on the other side of the table, casually drinking an espresso. He was wearing a black suit and a matching fedora. The air was thick and uncomfortable.

The front door creaked open, boots stomping on the wooden floor of the entryway. You stepped around the corner with a scowl on your face. “This better be important, Reborn. Today was supposed to be my day off.”

Reborn sipped his espresso. “I have a job for you.”

“Obviously,” you rolled your eyes, catching sight of the young boy. As one of Got7’s bodyguards, you had come across several other kpop groups in the past few years. One of the recent ones was NCT, the group that this boy belonged to. The question was, why was he sitting across from Reborn?

“You’re going to marry this boy,”

“…excuse me?”

“His parents took out a loan with some questionable people when he was injured. They were then referred to me for help. The deal is quite simple,” he smirked at you over his shoulder, black eyes shining with amusement. “Until their debt is repaid to me, their son will be married to you.”

Your eye twitched in annoyance, “You’ve got to be kidding me…”

“Jaemin, you really don’t have to do this…” his mother patted his arm with a sad look.

He smiled softly, resting his hand over hers. “It’s okay. You did everything you could for me when I was injured. This is the least I can do to repay you.”

Reborn’s smirk grew as he stood up, his fedora covering his eyes. “Now that that’s settled, go pack your bags. You’ll be living with Y/N from now on.”

You stood in the doorway awkwardly after Reborn left, receiving a glare from Jaemin’s father and a worried glance from his mother. ‘Don’t blame me, I’m just as much a victim here as your kid is,’

Clearing your throat, you pushed away from the door frame. “Come on,”

Jaemin hugged his parents before following you out to your car. “I have to get my things from the dorm.” He spoke softly, not sparing you a glance.

“Right,” you sighed, starting the car. ‘This is gonna be hell,’

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

“You got married?!”

“I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Did hell freeze over?”

You scowled at the younger members of Got7, throwing a pillow at them. “It’s not by choice, idiots.”

“Couldn’t you just say no?” Jaebum questioned.

“I could, and then Reborn would make my life an even bigger hell than it already is.” You huffed, sliding down in the chair. “That bastard is a sadist through and through that gets off on pushing people to their absolute limit.”

“Until the debt is paid…” Jinyoung murmured thoughtfully. “How much do they owe?”

“100k, I think.”

“Daammmnn,” Jackson covered his mouth, eyes wide. “Do you know how many pairs of shoes I can buy with that kind of cash?”

“Or how much Dr Pepper…” You mumbled.

“It may take a few weeks, but with the high-paying clients you get, you could pay it off.”

“See, Reborn thought of that,” you met Jinyoung’s gaze. “The money has to come from Jaemin himself or his family. I’m not allowed to contribute to the pot because of how easily I can make money.”

“Is it really that bad being married, noona?” Bambam inquired curiously.

“Having someone you don’t know living in your space is pretty frustrating, yeah.”

“Why don’t you try to get to know him?” Youngjae suggested.

“No thanks,”

“Stop being anti-social, Y/N.” Jinyoung scolded. “You’re obviously going to be together for a while, the least you can do is try to make the best out of the situation. Think about how stressed he must be right now.”

Your nose wrinkled at the thought. All these years, you only had to look out for number one, but now you had another human being in your life that you had to think about, keep safe, and consider their feelings. You were not happy.

“I’d like to start a pot about how long it’ll take before Y/N cracks and kills someone.” Jackson flipped his hat upside down, holding it out to the other members.

“Five days,” Bambam wagered.

“A week,” Youngjae grinned.

“I think she can last a month,” Yugyeom commented.

“Thanks for the confidence, assholes.”

“Twenty bucks says Y/N ends up in love with him.”

“Really, Mark.”

He shrugged in response, sending you a grin.

“I hate you guys.”

Jinyoung chuckled, “We love you too.”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

“I’m home,” you muttered, kicking off your boots by the front door. It was late, nearing one in the morning, so you didn’t figure Jaemin would be awake.

The apartment was dark and silent, just the way you liked it.

You stretched your arms above your head, feeling your shoulder pop. You grunted in pain, cursing the bastard that had kicked you into a filing cabinet. Who came up with the bright idea to give those things such sharp edges? If they were still alive, you’d kill em.

You plopped onto the couch, stretching out across it. The apartment only had one bedroom, and since you were away most nights anyway, you let Jaemin sleep there. When you were home, you had the luxury of sleeping on the couch. At least it was mildly comfortable.

You were almost asleep when you heard the bedroom door creak open, setting your body on alert. After spending most of your life in the mafia, your body had learned to be hyper-aware of your surroundings at all times, even in a state of half unconsciousness.

“You’re home late,” Jaemin’s voice cut through the darkness, gruff from sleep.

“Job ran late,” you muttered, not bothering to open your eyes. You could hear him shift, but he remained silent. With a sigh, you opened your eyes. The balcony doors behind you were made of straight glass and were not covered, allowing moonlight to shine on him. “What is it?”

He remained silent for a moment more before finally speaking. “Dream is doing a photoshoot tomorrow, but Haechan hyung and Mark hyung will be doing an interview with 127… can you come?”

You raised a brow, noticing the way he held himself uncomfortably. There was something he wasn’t telling you. “You do realize all hell is gonna break loose if an SM employee sees me, right?”

“Right…” he took a deep breath, looking away.

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows with a smirk. “Sounds like fun. You don’t mind if I bring a friend, yeah?”

His body language changed to a more comfortable stance as he quickly shook his head. “I don’t mind,”

With a chuckle, you fell back onto the couch, folding your hands behind your head. “Get some sleep, it’s gonna be a wild ride tomorrow.”

The words should have worried him, but they brought him comfort as he returned to the bedroom. Crawling under the sheets, he couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on his face.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

To say Jaemin was nervous was a vast understatement. As the Dreamies entered the photographer’s studio, his nervousness grew, eyes darting around. You had told him that you would be there, but that morning you had gotten an emergency call for a job. He was beginning to think that you weren’t going to show, and that didn’t bode well for him.

“Hello, boys.” The photographer purred, her small eyes sweeping up and down their bodies.

Feeling her eyeing him like a piece of meat made him shiver in disgust, but she smiled at this. How did the other boys not realize how inappropriate she was being? He glanced at the others, but they were chatting animatedly amongst each other, all of them smiling and relaxed.

“Come along, boys. We’ll do the group shots first!” She clapped her hands as she turned, the boys following her like little ducklings.

Like the professional he is, Jaemin bit his tongue and gritted his teeth, putting on his best smile as he followed her instructions. After the group photos were complete, she moved onto individual photos. Oh, how he wished she would do his first so he could get it over with, but he knew better. His would be done last so she could take her time with him.

“Jaemin~ it’s your turn,” She smirked, her eyes glinting.

He suppressed a shiver as he moved to stand in front of the camera. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and it felt as if his heart had stopped. Their manager was following the other boys out of the room. It had been a long afternoon and none of them had eaten anything, so they thought it would be a good idea to go down the hall to the vending machines, per her suggestion. That left Jaemin alone with her, aside from a couple others who were too preoccupied with their own work to notice anything amiss.

Jaemin swallowed when she stepped closer. “The fear in your eyes is so… lovely~ So raw, so pure!”

He took a step back, falling onto the wooden bench behind him. What was he meant to do? What were the chances that his manager would believe him over her? She was one of the best photographers in the business, having worked with thousands of idols, models and various of the world’s most powerful companies. Her word meant more, and he would be forced to apologize for lying and attempting to smear her reputation.

“Oi, aren’t you a bit too close to be taking a picture?”

Both of their heads snapped to the side at the voice. You were dressed in a suit and fedora, your go-to outfit whenever you had to go undercover for a job. That isn’t what startled Jaemin, though. No, it was the look of pure rage burning within the depths of your eyes. He was sure if Jackson hadn’t been there to hold you back, you would have attacked her.

“Who are you?” She snapped, eyes narrowing at you. “We’re in the middle of a shoot, which you are disturbing. Leave now or I will call security.”

“Shove it up your ass, hag.” You spat, pulling your arm from Jackson’s grip so hard that he nearly lost his balance. Your eyes never left her as you approached Jaemin, roughly pulling him to his feet.

The woman recovered from her shock after a moment. “How dare you – Do you have any idea who I am?!”

Jackson scoffed. “You don’t know who you’re messing with, lady. Just let it go before Y/N kills you.” He nodded his head towards you and the woman’s eyes followed, widening. Your hand was on your hip, barely pulling a thick blade from its sheath under your shirt.

“Y-You’re crazy… You w-wouldn’t -”

“Try Me,” your tone sent a shiver down her spine, the murderous look in your eyes sending her stepping backward. Satisfied at her fear, you put your arm around Jaemin before pushing him out of the room. He walked between the two of you in silence as you exited the building.

“What about -”

“I took care of you,” you cut him off, not sparing him a glance as you approached your car.

Jaemin knew you were steaming, and he couldn’t help but feel guilty. It wasn’t his fault that she acted that way towards him, but maybe he should have been honest about why he wanted you there to begin with.

Jackson bumped his shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry too much, it takes little to piss Y/N off.”

“Jackson,”

“What’s up, Y/N?”

“You can walk home.”

“Oh, come on, it’s like fifty blocks away and it’s freezing!”

“Then I suggest you start running,” you sent him a sharp look. “Get in the car, Jaemin.”

He didn’t hesitate, sliding into the passenger seat. He sent his hyung a sorry look through the window, but he just grinned in response.

The drive back to the apartment was silent and tense. He tried to stay as still as possible, worried that the smallest of movements would interrupt the silence and bring your anger to an explosive point. Your hand was gripping the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white. Your face bore no expression, but you couldn’t hide the fire lighting up your eyes. You just wanted to punch something, and it didn’t help that you kept seeing that woman’s face in your mind. Jackson shouldn’t have held you back. Then again, you really didn’t want to commit murder in front of Jaemin, he didn’t deserve to see something so grisly.

You stepped inside the apartment, throwing your keys onto the small table near the door. Your suit jacket and boots soon followed. The tension was driving him nuts.

“Where the hell are you going?”

He paused, not turning to face you. “I was going to take a shower.”

“A shower,” you muttered under your breath in disbelief. “You had no intention of telling me, did you?”

He grabbed his elbow, still refusing to turn around. “No, I didn’t.”

“I should beat your ass, you know that?” You started to pace, needing to move in order to release the energy building within. “How long?”

“Since debut…”

“Debut – are you kidding me right now?” He winced at your loud voice. “I thought you were smarter than that, Na Jaemin!”

Jaemin finally turned, eyes showing his displeasure. “What I did was the smart thing. No one would have believed me if I told them.”

“I would have!” You sighed in frustration, resting your head against the back of the couch. “I care about you, dumbass.”

He felt his heart pick up speed at the words. It felt taboo like he wasn’t meant to hear that part and despite himself, he had to question it. “Since when?”

You lifted your head to scowl at him. The anger was mostly gone, replaced by a mild annoyance and exhaustion. “I don’t know. Somewhere along the way, I started to… to care.” Your nose wrinkled at the thought. “Jackson said you were a witch jokingly, but I’m starting to believe it.”

“I’m not a witch,”

“Really? That is what you have to say? Motherfu – I need a drink.”

As you passed by him, he reached out, his slim fingers wrapping around your wrist. For a solid minute, you just stared at each other, no sound other than each other’s breathing and the air conditioner whirring in the background.

“I think… I care about you, too.”

“I’d ask you out on a date, but I’m pretty sure that’s supposed to come before marriage.”

Jaemin smiled, lightly smacking your shoulder. “Idiot, married couples go on dates, too.”

“How should I know? I don’t date.” You grabbed his wrist, pulling him closer. “You know, you’re pretty lucky.”

“And why is that?”

“If anyone else hit me like that, I’d kill them.”

“And me?”

You hummed, leaning closer until your lips ghosted over his. You could feel the warmth radiating off his cheeks and you smirked. “You can sleep on the couch tonight.”

Jaemin blinked at you dumbly as you walked away, his heart racing in his chest.

You peeked your head around the corner, grinning. “What, did you want me to kiss you?”

“Shut up!” He cried, grabbing a small pillow from the couch and throwing it at you. Despite the embarrassment flooding his system, he couldn’t help but smile.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

[geirskogull]

Steel Reign - Chapter 3 - Dial A Summoner

Danica calls up a good friend who probably wont react badly to “oh yeah i might be a primal now”

Archive Link

Rating: M

Count: 2.1 K

Rain. Rain was a regular occurrence in the Shroud. Caolan Haustefort should know that. Caolan Haustefort liked to consider himself a smart man, and things such as the local weather patterns should be within his constant purview of “things he was aware of.” 

But as his floppy wet beret could tell you, he very much was not. 

Danica was lucky, he thought to himself, lucky he was bored enough trying to find a ship to sign on to in Limsa that he'd be willing to drop everything and come to this ass end of the forest to see how she was faring. A lie in two parts on his account, one he told himself in a vain attempt to keep the haughty aloof arcanist act in one piece. He was sure that was exactly the kind of person ships were looking for and Gods above he’d be their man. 

Of course he’d also be the worried mother hen, rushing from one end of Eorzea to the other when one of his comrades muttered even a single worrying word. 

Pushing open the swinging doors of Buscarron Druthers, the rush of warm dry air made him shudder, sending droplets of water all over any who were within spitting distance on the main door. His eyes scanned the crowd for the mop of black hair and slightly pointed ears of the woman whose shaky voiced link pearl call had dragged him there, and when his eyes came up empty his heart began pounding. The mask slipping and worry visually coloring his grey face, somehow losing what little color it did have. His long steps rushed him towards the tavern keeper, a strong looking gent whose name adorned the very place her ran. 

“Need a drink, son? I’m sure I have something here that can warm your drenched bones” Buscarron asked, looking up at the Duskwight with a  sympathetic look in his singular functional eye. Caolan shook his head no, sending another wave of splatters across the bar this time. 

“Not now, though depending on what the person I’m supposed to meet here has to say, perhaps later.” He cracked a nervous smile, letting his eyes wander over the gathered crowds again, absently. Trying to maintain a calm that he was no longer capable of holding.

“Looking for the Dragoon in the corner perhaps?” Buscarron’s words drew caolans eyes and attention back towards him. The ‘keep motioned to a well hidden alcove with the glass he had been cleaning. Eyes following, he did not like what he saw.

Danica sat in the booth, eyes downcast, intent upon the small linkpearl and not at all at either the food or drink placed in front of her. She looked exhausted, almost half dead. “She’s been like that since she wandered in here during the worst of the storm. I had half the mind to offer the poor girl use of the backroom to rest, but something tells me she’d be too proud to accept the offer.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” He replied, he shook his head, a heavy sigh following. “Thank you.” He pushed himself off the bar, and with a slight bow of his head towards its keeper he turned towards Dee. His frown never truly leaving his face.

Buscarron’s eyes followed the leggy gent, he must have been whoever she called on that little red pearl earlier. Who she spoke to in rushed, hushed tones, far too low for him to make out anything she actually said to the folks on the other side. All he knew was that she looked scared, and alone, and his honor - and his memory of when she came bouncing through the door on order of the Lancer’s guild - had him flicking his eye back over there every once and awhile. Just make sure she was still upright and breathing. 

“Dee?” Caolans voice was almost a whisper as he approached his friend, and yet she still nearly jumped from her skin when his words hit her ears. She paused just short of her spear, just recognizing him before her hands wrapped around its shaft. Danica Voss was jumpy.

This wasn’t good.

Voss was never jumpy. Ok that was a lie, Caolan chastised himself, her entire preferred form of combat revolved around jumping, but this was a different jumpy. A scary jumpy. A worrying jumpy. A jumpy that had him compressing himself to as small a size as he possibly could, which admittedly, even when he hunched over and scrunched up his shoulders wasn’t very small. 

“Dee...” he let her name hang in the air as he slid into the booth, across from her. Trying to figure out, among his many grand social stratagem, which to employ to talk to a friend about something bothering her. 

“Your food is getting cold.”  Working around the problem before getting it, that would work yes? He thought to himself, gentle nudging the plate towards his friends. Even if it didn’t work, it would make her eat something, hopefully. 

Voss flicked her eyes to the plate, as if noticing it for the first time. She opened her mouth, flicked her eyes towards Buscarron who simply waved, and then shook her head. The way her brows crinkled as she grimaced spoke a sharp spike of pain as she did so. 

“....Not Hungry.” She eventually managed to whisper. “But thank you.”  Her eyes flashed back towards the owner, who hard turned back to his own work for now. She silently cursed herself, how had she not heard him place it down? Odin, or the sword, or perhaps even just her own overactive mind painted her scenarios were such inattention would be fatal.

“Thirsty then?” Caolan asked, tilting his head, and comically letting his dripping beret fall with an audible splat. Danica blinked, startled and confused at the sound, but drawn away from her own mind if even for a second by the sheer strangeness of Haustefort without a hat. When she didn’t respond, he leaned in, his wet hair dripping upon the table. Gods he wished he had thought to bring an umbrella.

“Or perhaps you wish to tell me why you summoned me all the way from Limsa, where if you’d like to know I was very very close to actually signing on with a good crew for a spell, via linkpearl with just the words “We need to talk.” You know, the anxiety words. The no good very bad anxiety words.”  He cracked a small smile, hoping his good natured jab at the heart of the problem would ease some answers out of the half elezen woman.

She swallowed hard, eyes still downcast when she answered. 

“I need help.” Three simple words that did not tell any meat of the matter. He blinked, waiting for more words, fear growing in his heart as the seconds turned closer towards a minute. Slowly, she raised her hands to the table. They were bruised, bandaged things. Unsurprising considering her martial profession.

“Did you really summon me all this way just to heal some minor injuries?” He asked, giving an incredulous. He deeply doubted such a thing would be the case. Hells, he’d known her to forgo medical treatment when she really needed it, if it didn’t seem important at the time via her own special, Danica standards.

Then, he noticed the black metal hilt in her hands. 

His mouth hung open, shock and awe stalling any words from leaving his mouth. He’d never thought he’d live to be in the presence of such a sword, well unless it was swinging down upon him to end his pitiful existence. Yet, here it was in Danica’s hand. 

“You killed Odin?” He whispered, finally. Grasping at her wrist holding the hilt and shoving it back beneath the table. Scanning the bar for eyes turned their way, thankful that his whisper hadn’t actually been a scream. 

“Yes.” She responded her hands shaking, “No.” She said quickly after. Her eyes finally leaving the sword to look into his grey ones. They were red, had she been crying? Or was she just tired. 

“What do you mean?” He asked, leaning further across the table. The wood digging into his gut, he was almost crawling across it. 

“I think it is the Primal.” She whispered, and he felt the his gut twist. “And... and who ever kills Odin becomes him the moment they touch the sword.” 

Becomes the primal. 

The words hit him like an imperial air raid. He dare not ask to confirm if she was saying what he thought she was saying. The look on her face was enough to tell him that any shadow of doubt in her own mind was long gone. He took a deep breath.

“What do you need me to do, Dee?” His voice was serious, thankfully not betraying the fear in his core. His friend, a primal. A primal among those who hunt primals. He was sure she was having those very same worried thoughts rushing through her mind, mayhap even faster. Of those she called friend turning their blade upon her, striking her down. Her name cursed, those close to her executed for fear of being tempered. He closed his eyes, swallowed hard, and spoke again.

“Anything you need of me, I will do.”

“I need you to be my friend right now.”

She responded, her voice shaky. Perhaps on the verge of tears. Reaching across the table, caolan grasped the hand that did not hold the cursed blade with both of his. A comforting shield, even if only in theory and less in practice.

Hells, the Arcanist Guild never prepared him for something like this.

“I’m...” She spoke, looking back towards the swirling wood grain of the table. “I’m telling you because your the only person my mind gave me that wouldn’t...” She couldn’t even bring herself to finish the sentence. He wondered how long she sat agonizing over those names before ringing him up. He was glad she did.

“I need you to help me understand this, help me figure out what exactly is going on. You know stuff about primals, about summoning! And your my friend and...” She shook her head, grimacing. If Odin was in there, was he talking to her? Was he making this easy, making this hard?

“I can do that, I’ll head back to Limsa and start spending my days scouring for everything I can get on the topic. And I’ll get us a linkpearl for just us. And I’ll... Have you told anyone else?” He asked, concern in his voice. “Who sent you out here anyway? Last I heard you were too busy punching people in Ul’dah for sport.”

Danica snorted, and Caolan smiled. Progress in this strange predicament they found themselves, that he had been dragged into. 

“Urianger, we Scions were called on to try to put a permanent end to Odin. We thought we had a plan by fighting him in Urth’s font but...” She shook her head, giving a bitter chuckle. “Look how that turned out.”

“Urianger, that’s the guy with the hood right?” he asked, trying to remember everything he could about Danica’s fellow scions. He remembered little, mostly tidbits about the ones Zara and Bryce were also familiar with. There was Neran, the Paladin, then Aveline the Astrologian, and Y’sthola - he’d seen her around Limsa and... 

He cursed his memory for not giving him more. 

Danica gave an affirming nod. “The others were out dealing with other big problems, so it fell to me and now...”

“Do you trust Urianger as well?” Caolan asked, not allowing Danica to continue deep into the swirling abyss of fear that stood before her. She looked up and nodded. 

“He’s done nothing to earn my distrust,”

“Then I think we should tell him as well.” Caolan announced, Danica merely shrugged. 

Though her voice showed much more fear than her nonchalant movement did. 

“I’d prefer to let as few people know about this condition as possible.” She whispered. Eyes darting around the room. None had eyes on her, but it didn’t stop her from worrying ears may be. 

“Alright, don’t, but at least report in so they don’t come calling.” He amended his statement, and she sighed. He was right, so very right. If she didn’t report in people would come calling. When people come calling, they ask questions. And when people ask questions, they inevitably get answers. She swallowed hard and nodded.

“Come with me?” 

She asked, though it was more of a plea. He sighed, shaking his wet head with a look of mock insult upon his face.

“Yet you request more! Ugh, fine.” He couldn’t stop a smile from creeping upon his face, or laughter from breaking his words

“But let’s at least wait till the rain stops,”

“Pray then we will return to the waking sands?”

[songficsbyrissi]

Right By My Side (T’Challa x Reader)

Warnings: angst, some white tears, an angsty flashback included in italics, but real marshmallow fluffy fluff at the end. “I just hope your heart hear me now I let you know how I'm feeling You own my heart, he just renting Don't turn away, pay attention I'm pouring out my heart oh boy” - Nicki Minaj feat. Chris Brown

A/N: I used this gif because it’s adorable and look at how adorable he looks right before he kisses her but this is a READER INSERT as always. Nakia doesn’t even pop in this oneshot so just pretend it’s you in the gif which I know is hard because I’m doing right now as I’m typing this and its not working and the more I look at it, the more it pisses me off because that’s my fucking man but Imma chill. Anyways, let’s get angsty and fluffy. 

***************** Your head rested in your hand as you twirled the creamy fettuccine on your dinner plate. You say in the comfy booth of the Cheesecake Factory as your blind date that was in front of you was paying more attention to his phone than you. This is the third time you subjected yourself to the torture that they call “blind dates.” They’re not your thing but you started it because you just needed to get over him. You took a bite of your pasta shaking your head as he continued to scroll down his phone. “Having fun on your phone there?” You finally spoke dropping the metal fork on the plate. Your blind date, Lawrence, widened his eyes in embarrassment. “Oh shit. I’m sorry.......” he trailed off and you rolled your eyes scoffing. Is he fucking serious? “Y/N.” The white boy in front of you gave you a nervous smile. Yeah, you were thinking “what the fuck were you doing on a date with a colonizer?” You hit all the way rock bottom.

“Y/N. I’m just settling some things. I promise I’ll put all my attention back on you.” Lawrence repeated for the third time this evening but this time he forgot to turn his phone over and you leaned over to see the Instagram post of a cute white girl projected on his iPhone X. “Settling something with that girl on your screen?” You raised an eyebrow gesturing towards the phone with your fork. Shock was displayed on his pale face and you continued. “Let me guess. She’s your ex you’re trying to get over with blind dates but clearly it’s not working. As a bonus, you figured you should get a black girl because it’ll be “new” and “exotic” and a pleasant change from your ex. Am I correct?” You tilted your head after reading the hell out of his colonizer ass. Yeah you were kind of doing the same thing but at least you had the respect for him to not scroll through your ex’s pictures and social media right in front of him. Lawrence blinked rapidly before putting his face in his hands and began releasing full blown sobs. His narrow shoulders shook up and down and you leaned back uncomfortably. You had no problem with a man being in touch with his emotions. Your ex was always communicating about how he felt which you love about him. Well, loved. “I just love her so much! Cheyenne! I miss you so much, Cheyenne!” Lawrence wailed laying his head on the table. You looked around at your fellow patrons who were staring at you and the sobbing white boy. This was not a good look. Your waiter finally came around and you whispered to them. “Please bring separate checks and a slice of red velvet cheesecake to go.” You looked back at Lawrence and whispered back to them. “Scratch that. Give me that cheesecake to go. He’s taking care of the check.” When the waiter brought the cheesecake in the bag, you took the cheesecake thanking him and stood up from the booth. Lawrence quieted his sobbing a little bit. “I’m so sorry! I just miss her so much. I’m trying to forget her but it’s hard! I’m so sorry....” he trailed off once again and you rolled your eyes putting your caramel colored crossbody on. You put your hand up shushing him. “It’s ok. Just lose my number and we’re good. I hope you get your ex back and I’ll see you never.” You pushed the check towards him and grabbed your cheesecake. “You might wanna take care of that. Ok byeeeeeeee.” When you finally got to your condo, you changed into some booty shorts and a tank top and laid in bed with your cheesecake and your laptop opened to Hulu. You put Family Guy but barely paid attention. You were too busy eating your cheesecake and scrolling through pictures of you and him. Him was your ex, T’Challa. It’s been a couple of weeks since you broke up with him and hopped on a plane back to America. Your girls called you crazy for breaking up with a king but they didn’t understand that his status was not enough reason to stay in a relationship where you felt like you were that person’s last priority. You understood that he was a king that had an responsibility to his people and his country but you felt like he neglected his responsibility to you. “T’Challa!” You shouted as you walked throughout the huge palace. You sighed out of frustration as you busted your ass looking for your M.I.A. boyfriend. Once again, you set up a romantic date for the two of y’all but of course something came up again. You had hopes that he would be able to make it but they were crushed when Okoye, general of the Dora Milage, approached you with a despondent look on her face. You knew he was cancelling again. You’ve barely been able to spend time with him and it was pissing you off. Yes there some days you guys were able to get a makeout session in or sleep together but not to be crude but you haven’t had his dick inside you in a long time. It wasn’t just lack of sex though. It was also lack of attention. When you guys were finally together, you weren’t together. His mind was somewhere else and you were finally going to confront him for it. “Ayo, have you seen T’Challa?” You questioned groaning out of exasperation in front of the Dora. Ayo saluted you. “Lady Y/N, he is in his office.” You saluted her back thanking you and continued on your journey to T’Challa. You finally landed in front of his office doors and pushed them open. T’Challa glanced up at you with those big brown eyes you first noticed when you first met him. You wanted to melt but you were full of anger. “T’Challa, what is it with you?! Everytime I try to spend some damn time with you, you keep blowing me off! I get it. Being a king is a lot of work and responsibility but damn it, you owe some responsibility to me! I’m your girlfriend!” You slammed you feet then crossed your arms looking him up and down with attitude. “Or am I?” T’Challa had gotten up quickly to shut the door during your rant and turned to you when you finished with frustrated eyes. “Are you mad?! Coming into my office screaming at me with my staff right outside in the hall. You see me occupied here! Have you lost your mind, woman?!” He yelled back stepping up to you. You didn’t step down. You were keeping the same energy. You built this anger over time and it was about time you released it. You laughed sarcastically shaking your head. “No but I feel like I’m losing my man.” T’Challa put his head down and sighed out of annoyance. He pinched the bridge of his broad nose. He was tired of this same argument but so were you. “Why do you have to keep doing this to me, Y/N? I am trying!” T’Challa pleaded causing you to snort in response. “Do you not see my attempts?” “Barely! Your attempts are half assed and you know it!” You leaned back crossing your arms and your voice got low. “Is there someone else?” T’Challa slammed his fists on the wall which had you a little shook but you held your ground. His nostrils flared as he fumed with anger. If there was one way to set the normally calm king off, it was to accuse him of infidelity. You couldn’t help it. You’ve been cheated on before and work was always a cover up. How were you supposed to know it wasn’t happening again? “You know damn well- why would you even ask that?!” You shot back. “Because I’m not even sure of my position in your life, T’Challa! You say I’m your queen, your love, but I don’t see it! I mean do you even love me anymore? Just let me know if someone else took my place so I can stop wasting my time!” You finally released the tears that has been building up in your eyes. T’Challa finally spoke after staying quiet for a while. “I would never cheat on you and you know that. I keep trying and trying but nothing I do is enough for you. I do not know what to do. I feel like you are asking me to choose between you and my country.” You gasped through your cries. “God! Are you even listening?! I could never ask you to choose but I see where your priorities lie. I’m just a mere distraction to you.” You shook your head and breathed. “I’ll just pack my stuff and be on the first plane back to America.” T’Challa’s eyes grew and he moved at rapid speed to prevent you from leaving. You refused to look at him as you saw the young king get on his knees holding on to you for dear life. “Please, sithandwa sam, I will do anything. Do not leave me. I can’t do all this without you.” He stared up at you with begging eyes. You swallowed hard as more tears fell down your face. You gently pushed him off you and stepped back. “You already have been doing all this without me.” You shuddered at the memory. That was the last words you heard from him and the last words you spoke to him. After that argument, you quickly packed up your belongings and went back to your home in New York. Okoye contacted you to find out if you landed safely. You knew it was because T’Challa wanted to know but didn’t have the courage to directly contact you. The memory still agonizes you as you began weeping on top of your half eaten cheesecake. You lost your appetite causing you to throw the dessert in the trash and crawled back into bed to resume your crying fit. At that moment, you realized you made a terrible mistake and let a good man go. “Baby girl, it’s been 2 weeks and you’re still crying over this man. That dick must’ve been made of gold and had you squirting like a water gun.” Your older sister Kimara tried to joke while rubbing your back. She had used the key you gave her to your apartment to come check on you and found you in fetal position crying your eyes out once again. You side eyed her adjusting your body pillow. “That’s not funny, Mar. I still love the fuck out of his ass. Now that I’m looking back at it, the free time he did have, he spent it with me. My selfish ass kept asking for more. Feeling like it wasn’t good enough. I should’ve been more understanding.” You hit your forehead. “Fuck! I’m such a dumb, selfish bitch!” Your sister stopped your physical and verbal attack on yourself. “Hey. Stop that. Yeah, you are a bitch.” “Wow, Kimara.” You responded dryly. She ignored you and continued. “You are a bitch but you’re also a human being. You had every right to feel that way. I know you. You were never clingy so if you felt like you weren’t getting enough from him, then you most likely weren’t. But he was a good man. You could’ve worked it out. Communication and understanding is key to healthy relationships.” “Ok, Dr. Phil.” You cracked a smile and Kimara laughed at your joke, happy to see you in a better mood. “Yeah yeah yeah. I know what I’m talking about. That’s why I’ve been happily married for 3 years.” She flashed her ring and grabbed your hand. “But seriously. Stop wallowing in self pity. It’s not good. If you and T’Challa were meant to be, it’ll happen. If you love something, let it go and if it comes back, it’s yours. And other cliché bullshit that has been proven to be true.” You smirked pulling your sister in a tight hug. “Thanks sis. I love you.” “I love you too.” You two pulled from the hug and the TV brought both of your attentions with a huge headline saying “King T’Challa of Wakanda arrives to New York City for annual Met Gala.” You saw footage of T’Challa walking the streets with the Dora Milage behind him. Met Gala. You remembered you received an invitation to Met Gala since you were dating the king. Thank God T’Challa specifically told them to give you a separate invite just in case you wanted to bring one of your friends. You beamed at the television screen and your sister looked back at you. “Well, girl. That’s your sign. Question is, what you gonna do it?” You wiped your face and smirked glancing towards your closet and back at her. “I’m going to get my man back.” *************** “Thanks for escorting me, Jason.” You whispered to your longtime friend as you grasped his large bicep. You walked slowly to make sure you didn’t step on your large white and golden ball gown. You hated the large dresses but looked forward to this gala because you knew this would be the day you had T’Challa all to yourself. Unfortunately, you weren’t on his arm. Jason has the same height as him and almost the same build but he wasn’t him. Jason was lightskin and you missed your chocolate man. “No problem. I always wanted to go to these fancy ass events and find a sexy ass celebrity shorty to pipe.” When you rolled your eyes and scoffed, he cleared his throat looking at you sheepishly. “Oh and to also help my dear friend Y/N get her African nigga back.” You laughed his antics hitting his chest. Jason was a whole clown but you still loved him like a brother. You turned your head and saw T’Challa staring straight at you. He had a sour look on his face and you cursed realizing what this looked like. Did he honestly think you would show up at a event with a new boyfriend knowing he would be here? You still smiled and made your way towards him. “T’Challa! Can we-“ You were cut off by him leaving his spot quickly and to go and socialize with other people. You sighed deeply wanting to slap yourself but you still continued after him. You were blocked by Okoye who had a stern look on her face. “Okoye! Nice to see you! Please let me talk to T’Challa.” You tried to move past her but she stayed in her place. “I can not allow that, Y/N. He does not want to see you.” Her stern face dropped when hurt came on your face. She looked sad instead. “You have hurt my king too many times, Y/N. I really like you but my job is to protect the king. That involves his heart as well.” “I’m hurting too, Okoye. These past two weeks, I’ve been crying my ass off realizing I made a huge mistake leaving him. I just need to talk to him.” Okoye sighed in exasperation shaking her head. “Please just leave him alone.” You looked down feeling your heart break even more but you weren’t going to cry especially with this expensive ass make up on your face. You felt stupid. Why the hell did you think T’Challa would want to talk to you after you looked him in the eyes and broke his heart? Just when you thought about giving up, you didn’t. You picked your head up and stood up to the general. “Okoye, I’m not gonna tell you again. Let me see T’Challa. I love him and I need to fix the mess I made. I will find a way to him. I lost him once and I’m not losing him again so move out of my way.” You commanded with eyes that dared her to deny you again. A tiny smile came across her face. “I knew you were fit to be a queen. Well, I am just going to look to my right side and not see you walk past me on my left.” Okoye looked to her right causing you to smile and move past her while whispering a “thank you.” Shockingly, you spotted T’Challa by himself going towards the men’s room. You moved as quickly as your heels allowed you and you grabbed his wrist pushing him into the women’s room. You locked the door behind you and tilted your head to see if there were any feet in the stalls. There was nobody here so you were free to talk. “What is the meaning of this? I do not have time for your ridiculousness! I am leav-“ “T’Challa, shut up and let me talk.” You rested your back against the door and you had pleading eyes. “Please.” T’Challa crosses his arms narrowing his eyes at you. “And why should I? You left me. You are my heart, Y/N and you just left me. You come here with that watered down black man as your date knowing I would be here and now you have the audacity to ask me to talk to you?!” You sighed trying your hardest not to laugh at him calling your friend a watered down black man. It was fucked up but funny. However this wasn’t the right moment to laugh in his face. “We’re not romantically involved, T’Challa. That’s my friend Jason. You’ve met him. I just brought him because he’s trying to get with Nicki Minaj. There’s a slim ass chance of that but I’m going to let him rock.” You shrugged your shoulders and glanced back at him. He seemed convinced so you continued. “You’re the only man I want. You gotta believe that.” “I remember meeting him now but I need to know. Since you have left me, have you seen anyone else?” T’Challa questioned walking slowly towards you. You bit your lip feeling defeat coming soon. “To get over you, I’ve been on a couple blind dates but they didn’t work out because I’m still in love with you!” T’Challa scoffed loudly making his way towards the door. “Move aside.” “No!” You roared and he stepped back looking away from you. “Don’t turn away from me. I’m pouring out my heart to you!” His eyes finally landed on you and you sighed backing off the door. “You own my heart. All this time, we’ve been together, my heart has been yours. I was so hellbent on me barely seeing you that I didn’t realize there was something even worse than that. Me not seeing you at all.” You sighed walking up to him and taking his broad hands in your smaller ones. “It took me sleeping alone to realize how much I missed your presence, how much I missed your touch, how I missed your morning kisses even though sometimes you didn’t brush your teeth yet so that morning breath was deadly.” T’Challa let out a laugh as he interlocked his fingers with yours and you joined in. “I missed that loud laugh as well. I’m sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have been so ungrateful and should be more understanding. You have a tough job and I didn’t make it any easier by leaving you.” He pulled into his arms and kissed your forehead gently. “Sithandwa sam, I must apologize as well. How do I have the audacity to call you my queen yet fail to treat you like one? I did some reflecting as well and I realized that my attempts were “half assed” I could’ve done more. I did treat you as my last priority when you’re not at all.” “I know that, sithandwa sam.” You replied leaning up to place a passionate kiss on his lips and his hand gripped your waist moving down to your ass giving it a small squeeze and you giggled pulling away from the kiss wrapping your arms around his neck. “Look at you speaking my language fluently. One way we could see each other more is you being involved with my duties.” T’Challa kissed you again. “I missed you so much. Let’s go out there. I have something I need to do.” T’Challa left the restroom with you right by his side, holding his hand tightly. He went up to Okoye and whispered in her ear. She smiled at the two of you and placed something you didn’t see in his hand. He continued to bring you up the front of the large ballroom and grabbed the microphone. “Hello everyone. May I have your attention? There’s something I need to do that should’ve been done a long time ago.” Once T’Challa had everyone’s attention, he turned to you smiling. “Entle, I’ve been in love with you ever since I met you and you’ve always been mine but I can not keep calling you my queen without making it official.” T’Challa dropped down to one knee while the whole room filled with gasps and cooing. You covered your mouth in shock letting the tears of joy flow down your face. “Y/N, please marry me and be my queen.” He presented an ancient, beautiful gold diamond ring taking your left hand ready to place it on your ring finger. You nodded vigorously with a grin on your face. “Yes! Oh Bast! Yes!” The whole room cheered as T’Challa placed the ring on your finger and lifted himself from the floor to kiss you. He hugged you tightly putting his lips to your ears. “I would love to take my fiancée back to Wakanda with me. But first, I would like to make love to her endlessly tonight.” You giggled with your heart swelling with love and joy. You got your man back and you were now engaged to be married to him. Today went better for you than you had expected. “You will get to do that, my king. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life right by your side.” “Right by my side.” T’Challa stated pulling you back in for another kiss.

Tags: @iamrheaspeaks @chaneajoyyy @brianabreeze @dramaqueenamby @marvelpotterlove @purple-apricots @brattywriters-anonymous @cancerianprincess @blowmymbackout @ljstraightnochaser @blackpinup22 @airis-paris14 @vibranium-chakra @sociallyawkward18 @chefjessypooh @mychemicalimagines @nerd-lovely @slimmiyagi

Sorry if I missed anyone! I honestly just go through my notes and look to see who wanted to be tagged and the ones i remember. If your tag didn’t work, Please fix your settings! Love y’all!

[raendown]

Day 22 Pairing: Tobirama/Kagami Word count: 1535 Word: Whelve - to bury something deep, to hide

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Whelve - Tobirama/Kagami

Kagami had every intention of staying at the party until dawn. It wasn’t every day you got to celebrate the unexpected yet peaceful retirement of a man who’d never wanted the job anyway. After his brother’s death Tobirama had only accepted the mantle of Hokage because it was the Shodaime’s dying wish that he watch over the hard-won dream of a lifetime but it only took a handful of years for Tobirama to find someone better and more willing. Mito was going to make a wonderful Hokage, they all agreed. And with her Uzumaki bloodline she was likely to outlive them all anyway.

Unfortunately for Kagami’s plans of being smashed before the sun had set he was roped in to walking a drunken Hiruzen home instead. Evidently his friend had been pre-drinking since noon and barely lasted all the way through the admittedly unsteady speech Tobirama gave after consuming more sake than any of them had ever seen him throw back in one sitting. Among the many mysteries of the second Senju it appeared he was a man of refined tastes when it came to liquor and had his brother’s constitution for it. Which was to say that he was swaying after half a bottle. Two bottles in and Kagami cursed every god he knew for making him the responsible, caring type. He could have been back at the party watching Tobirama loosen up for once but instead he was frog-marching Hiruzen up the front steps of his home in the Sarutobi compound.

“Sleep it off,” he ground out. “And drink some water, you slosh. I hope Biwako gets a hold of you tomorrow.”

“No, don’t tell Biwako I was drinking!”

“I don’t have to, she was sitting right next to you. Dumb ass.” Kagami rolled his eyes at the idiot and left.

He headed back to the party with every intention of using his Sharingan to record the once in a lifetime sight of Senju Tobirama drunkenly swaying through his own party – only to be told that Tobirama left shortly after he did and no one knew where he’d gone. Just his luck.

Not nearly as drunk as he wanted to be, denied the thing he’d been looking forward to since the day the Nidaime announced his retirement, Kagami declined the offering for him to rejoin the party and turned for home. What was the point of celebrating if the man they were celebrating for had left? At least this way he would get some sleep so he wouldn’t be so hungover for his shift running patrols the next afternoon. There was that.

The way home was quiet and lonely. Last time he’d gone out with friends they had all stumbled back to the closest apartment and crashed in the living room together. He smiled as he remembered that the closest friendly living room had actually been Tobirama’s and while he had obviously not been pleased to have them disturbing his rest in the wee hours of the morning he had caved fairly quickly when Kagami turned on the puppy eyes. It was almost as though he grew more and more weak to them as the years went by.

Just as he approached his front door and reached for the keys in his pocket Kagami realized that he was not alone. There was enough time to spin around, a split second to identify the other person, and then suddenly he was lurching under Tobirama’s weight as the man tripped over his own feet and pitched forward.

“Right, look, I’ve got something to tell you,” he announced in slurred syllables.

“That’s a little off from your usual greetings but alright. Hello to you too. You know people are looking for you?” Kagami bit his lip as soon as he got Tobirama back on two feet. Plastered was a good look on him. It left his eyes half lidded and a painted a very fetched splash of red across his cheeks.

“I am not the Hokage anymore,” Tobirama declared.

Wincing at his volume, Kagami nodded slowly. “Fancy that. We should have a party for you.”

“And as such I am no longer your superior.”

“How about you come and don’t be my superior inside where I can tuck you in to a nice soft couch?” Door stealthily unlocked while the other man was distracted, Kagami gently tugged him inside. He only made it inside the genkan, just far enough to kick the door shut behind them, when Tobirama spun and pressed him back against the wall.

“But I’m not above you anymore,” he said as though protesting something.

“Not technically, I guess.”

Tobirama groaned and dropped his head on to Kagami’s shoulder. “No, you don’t get it! I’m not…I don’t outrank you! I’ve outranked you for years!”

“Okay…” Maybe if he just let the man ramble he would get to the point.

“Years of pretending it’s not there and pushing it down and now I don’t outrank you and you leave! That’s…you weren’t supposed to leave.” He sounded genuinely offended.

Kagami, however, was only more confused. “Leave where?”

“The party!”

“I was taking Hiruzen home; the idiot could barely stand on his own two feet. Much like you. How exactly did you get here by yourself?”

“As if I’d let a bit of sake stop me from getting to you.”

Tobirama’s words were earnest and Kagami felt something flutter in his chest. Finally the man pulled himself away from the neck he was all but drooling on and used two handfuls of Kagami’s shirt to keep himself upright. Knowing how stiff and proper he always was, it was a good guess that tonight could actually be the first time he’d gotten properly drunk.

Hilarious though it might be to witness, it was also kind of annoying. After dealing with one drunkard and being denied his public entertainment Kagami really just wanted to crawl in to bed and sleep. He’d thought drunken Tobirama would be fun blackmail but instead he was just confusing and toeing some lines that Kagami didn’t appreciate. Watching someone dance and make a fool of themselves was one thing. Having the man in front of him say things that played with his heart was quite another. He knew Tobirama, however, and the man was like a dog with a bone when he wanted something. The quickest way to get this over with would be to just play along.

“Why did you need to get to me?” he asked bluntly.

“Because I’m not the Hokage anymore.”

“Yes, I got that part, but why did you need to come tell me specifically? Everyone knows that.”

Tobirama blinked at him once, twice, then turned his lips up in a sheepish smile so gentle it didn’t even look like his own face anymore. “I am very, very drunk,” he announced.

“Uh-huh.” Kagami gave him the flattest look in his repertoire. “I guessed that.”

“Don’t other people use their drunkenness to give them courage? I thought that was just the thing to do. Once I realized the state I was in I went looking for you but you were gone. How am I supposed to make drunken confessions if you leave?” Again he looked offended.

And again Kagami was nothing but confused.

“Confessions?” he asked carefully. Tobirama’s smile turned sloppy as he leaned closer.

“Yes, about me being in love you.”

“Oh. Well that…that’s not what I was expecting,” Kagami admitted faintly.

What he wanted, yes. He’d been dreaming of hearing those words for such a long time it was hard to remember what it was like to look at Tobirama and not feel a yearning deep in his chest. To ever consider that the man had been hiding the same yearning, had only held himself back because of the gap between their ranks, it seemed almost too good to be true.

But there was Tobirama with his eyebrows up expectantly as though waiting to hear someone’s opinion on his latest budget proposal. What a ridiculous man. At some point Kagami should probably question his own sanity for choosing this particular dumb ass to fall in love with.

“I think,” he began softly, “that I would like to hear that much better if you were sober.”

“Oh. Really? Then I suppose I should sober up…”

“Mhm. Why don’t you lay down on the guest bed and sleep it off? I’ll bring you some water and we can talk in the morning, okay?”

“Excellent idea. The room had begun to spin and I would appreciate if it stopped that.”

Kagami bit his lip and turned to help Tobirama down the hall. Hopefully when the morning came he woke up first so he could prevent any escape attempts before that conversation happened. The man he loved could be a slippery one whenever emotions were involved and Kagami very much intended to pin him down for this particular talk that they had both apparently been waiting a long time for.

And then he very much intended to spend the next decade or so teasing him about being so socially awkward that he deliberately used his drunken state to confess. At least they would have a fun story to tell the grandkids.

[jjkfire]

taehyung x reader // fuckboy!taehyung // 2k words

You stare at the piece of paper before you. You’re so close. All you need is the middle tile and you would hit double bingo.

Wait, bingo? Why did you care for bingo?

See it wasn’t just any game of bingo. It was a special one. Each tile was a specific challenge, one you would have to complete and post on social media as proof. The challenges ranged from correcting your professor during lecture to kayaking to the middle of the enormous lake on campus to scaling the beloved statue right in the middle of the quad. Granted, you’ve picked the easier ones to complete but you think you’ve done pretty well so far. You’ve already managed to complete 8 of them. 4 straight across and 4 up. Almost forming a cross but you needed that middle tile, badly. Why? Well, this game of bingo boasted a prize of a semester’s supply of free burgers and fries. If that isn’t music to a broke college student’s ears, you’re not sure what is.

So, you’re one away from double bingo, only the middle tile standing in your way and maybe right now, you regret choosing this formation. Perhaps you should have gone for one of the rows or columns that didn’t have the middle tile… but, striking the middle tile meant you had to do one less challenge. Considering the fact that your professors are really beginning to pile on the coursework, you didn’t have the time to complete any more than one silly challenge. You groan about your predicament to Lisa, your closest friend who was this close to throwing you into the lake herself if you make her film anymore of your stupid videos for the bingo challenge.

“But that’s easy,” She laughs looking at the paper in your hand.

“Easy? It’s the middle tile for a reason,” You grumble.

Get 3000 likes on an original post that has some academic relevance.

Now how were you going to do that? It’s been weeks and you and well… the 10 other people who still bothered participating are still trying to nail that very tile. Considering that only 5 people follow you on Instagram, 3 of which are spam accounts… you don’t think you’ll be getting 3000 likes on anything, much less a post that was academically relevant.

“Just get a picture with Taehyung,” She hums. “He rakes in likes by the thousands.”

“It has to be academically related, you ninny,” You grumble, poking her in the forehead. “Taehyung and academics don’t really go hand in hand.”

See, Kim Taehyung is Beta Tau Sigma’s beloved fratboy. Loved, or rather lusted after by many, but also hated by many… usually, scorned women, of course. You’ve heard stories of him, many in fact, but they’re all the same. It’s always the same story about how they had a one-night stand with the handsome boy, how he oozed confidence, how he had them crawling back for more and of course, he obliges but it’s never really more than sex. The boy wears his fuckboy badge loud and proud and you guess you always found it quite ridiculous that the girls would come crying, bawling over the fact that he didn’t want to be exclusive. Of course he didn’t, you snort. It was practically written on his face. But you don’t understand, they would say. He was so sweet, he was so… different. But fuckboys are fuckboys, you smile. If you had a face like his, you’d probably do the same.

“Okay, but what’s the criteria? You just have to look like you’re doing homework or something, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s easy! I’ll get you your 3000 likes so I don’t have to follow you around campus and watch you make a fool out of yourself anymore.”

“Okay, but how? How does Taehyung fit into this? Just so you know, me roleplaying a schoolgirl while Taehyung smacks my ass doesn’t count as an academically relevant post.”

“That’s… actually better than what I had in mind but, you know that’s what Pornhub is for and unless you’re thinking of delving into amateur porn, I think we can skip that idea,” She laughs. “Just bring your notes with you to Beta Tau this Saturday and I’ll sort the rest of it out.”

“You’re not going to make me flash a tit in front of him are you? Because I absolutely won’t—”

“It’ll be PG, sort of… anyway, don’t worry,” She huffs. “Just, remember to be there, okay?”

You say yes and she reminds you a few more times during the week but as usual, when the day comes, you’re nowhere in sight. It’s only when your phone rings, the bass thumping in the background of Lisa’s call that you actually remember where you’re supposed to be.

“Please tell me you’re on your way here.”

“I… Yeah, I am,” You mumble, as you answer one of the last few questions on your online Chemistry quiz. “But look, I need to finish this quiz first because once I start it, there’s a time limit and—"

“You better get here in 20 because Taehyung is getting awfully antsy about being held back from his usual… activities.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there!” You yell as you attempt to change your outfit and answer the quiz questions, all at the same time.

There’s only 20 minutes left on the clock and you struggle to answer the quiz while you’re sat on the bus heading towards a frat house of all places. With one question left and only 8 minutes to go, you arrive at the front door of Beta Tau Sigma, pushing past the front door, ignoring the freshman that attempts to stop you from going in.

Lisa spots you instantly, dragging you towards the couch where Taehyung is seated. He looks absolutely annoyed, a deep set frown on his face with a solo cup in one hand and phone in the other. When you stand in front of him, he barely gives you the time of the day. He puts his phone away before he taps at his thigh, as if he was asking you to sit.

“Are you just going to stare at me all day or are we going to get this thing moving?”

“Sorry?” You question, unsure what he had meant by that and you turn to your friend for help. “Lisa, wait what are we—”

“Where are your notes, Y/N?” She asks before her gaze lands on the laptop in your hands. “Oh my god, you idiot. I meant like bring your physical notes not your online lecture slides,” She groans.

“Lisa, you said this would take 5 minutes,” Taehyung grumbles from behind you. “It’s been almost half an hour.”

“Okay, okay. 5 more minutes, I promise,” She sighs. “Anyway, quick introduction. Taehyung, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Taehyung. Okay, now sit on his lap.”

“I’m supposed to do what now?”

Lisa doesn’t even answer you, simply pushing you onto his lap before she snatches your phone from you. Taehyung lets out a soft groan of pain before his arms circle your middle to keep you from falling off.

“You want your 3000 likes, don’t you? Well, we’re gonna get them.”

You don’t even know what to say because first, you didn’t even know what the hell was going on. You look down at your screen and you almost let out a scream as the countdown timer shows 3 minutes left.

“Look, I just need to finish this quiz question real quick and then we can—”

“Neat, you’re already in character,” Lisa smiles as she begins recording. “Yeah, just focus on your laptop. Pretend you don’t care,” She directs, to which you nod to, albeit a little confused.

Her friends stand behind her with their phones out and their flash on to provide lighting Lisa says. It’s certainly a bizarre sight to say the least. You’re in the middle of a dimly lit living room, everyone around you already half past drunk and the soft bass thumping from the basement where the main party is happening does little to help you concentrate on your quiz.

“There’s no need to be nervous, babe,” Taehyung whispers and you assume it’s because you’re practically shaking in his lap but what he doesn’t know is that it had absolutely nothing to do with him but everything to do with the fact that you now only had 1 minute left and you can’t quite figure out the question.

You hear Lisa say something akin to alright, action! but you have no idea what she’s really talking about. It doesn’t take you too long to figure it out though because within seconds, Taehyung is pressing open mouth kisses from your collarbone to your neck, his tongue leaving behind a trail as he slowly works his way up. You gulp, when he nips at your skin and you shut your eyes in an attempt to focus on the question instead, softly mumbling to yourself but it’s a mistake because you hear him let out a low groan as he presses you down harder into his lap, his hips grinding upwards. It’s soft but Taehyung smirks because he swears he hears you stifle a moan. His hand pulls you closer to him, his thumb just under your bra and he grumbles because he finds all the layers between you and him… annoying. Lisa is practically laughing as panic flashes across your face, obviously enjoying this more than you, but seconds after, it’s like you have a lightbulb moment and you smile as you move your finger across your trackpad, selecting your choice before you hit submit.

You turn your screen towards the camera pointing at your score as you grin.

“Ten out of ten,” You beam, surprising Taehyung who pulls away with his eyebrows furrowed.

“What?” Lisa asks, confused. “What do you mea—”

“I only had 20 seconds left too!”

“Oh my god, was that a real quiz?” Lisa queries as she steps closer. “You dumbass! You should’ve just used a screenshot and faked it! I can’t believe you—”

“Well I was trying to tell you that I had an actual quiz to finish but you didn’t want to listen,” You frown and Lisa doesn’t even look at you, simply typing away at your phone.

“You know sometimes it feels like I’m the only one with functioning braincells in this friendship,” She sighs. “Anyway, you’re welcome. That’s going to be 3000 likes easy,” She hums as she hands you your phone.

“Really?” You question as you watch the video, the clip starting with just Taehyung’s lips on your neck, your head thrown back as you have your eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed but it gradually zooms out to show your laptop in your hands and finally, you pointing to your screen and Lisa midway scolding you before it cuts to black and repeats. It’s oddly a lot funnier than you expected… even if maybe that wasn’t quite what Lisa was going for originally.

“Just the thumbnail alone would probably get you 1000 likes,” She smirks, but the way her lips curl up has less to do with her statement and more to do with the way Taehyung seemed to be undressing you with his eyes.

“Nice. Here’s to hoping we get our free burgers,” You grin, shutting your laptop before you tuck it under your arm. You tap at Taehyung’s hand that’s still around your middle, holding you in place. It’s a silent gesture to ask him to let go but he only clicks his tongue at you.

“And where do you think you’re going?” He asks, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear, his thumb smoothing out against the fabric of your crop top.

“Well, home, preferably,” You smile as you pull his hand away to stand up, hoping you look confident despite the way the low timbre of his voice had sent shivers down your spine.

“But what am I going to do with this?” He questions as he points to the tent in his pants. The boy was absolutely shameless.

“That seems more like a you problem and not a me problem.”

“But you caused it,” He frowns.

“From what? Sitting on your lap?” You question before you turn to Lisa. “So this is the fabled Kim Taehyung?”

“Fabled?” He asks. “Tell me, what do they say about me?” He smiles, hands resting at your waist, as if he was waiting for permission to pull you onto his lap again.

“I’m sure you know,” You sigh. “Though they neglected to mention that you’re the type that would come after just one stroke.”

Lisa lets out a low whistle, laughing silently at the way Taehyung’s jaw ticks. “I’d be careful if I were you, Y/N. This one doesn’t do too well with jokes.”

“I’m just playing,” You smile, patting the hand he had on your waist before you peeled it off. “I’m sure you’re everything they say you are,” You wink, taking a seat on the arm of the couch as Lisa hands you a drink.

“Why don’t you come find out for yourself?”

“I should, shouldn’t I?” You hum, sipping on your drink. “But there seems to be quite the line for that,” You laugh, using your cup to point towards a few of the many girls who were currently eyeing him up and down.

“Well, looks like you’re first in line to me though.”

You smile, loving the attention. The boy is smooth, you’ll give him that.

“Maybe next time,” You smile, before you lean down to whisper. “You’ll wait for me, won’t you?”

You don’t stay to hear his answer, sauntering off before he gets the chance to reply.

“Make sure to like the video, yeah?” You say, turning back just to flash him a grin and he simply answers with a thumbs up.

He smirks to himself as he watches you walk away, your hips swaying from side to side. Hmm, Taehyung wasn’t exactly a patient man… but, he’ll wait. In any case, you’re refreshing. It’s been a while since he’s had some fun.

[tomlinotracey]

I Dreamt I Dwelt In Marble Halls || Selene & Tomlin

@selenemacsuainsabr

Selene: it took Selene a little over half an hour to find her way to Tomlin's apartment. Still not used to the roads, she had stopped to pick up a fresh bottle of whisky and had lost her way. Dressed in a simple black backless dress with sandals, she knocked on his door as she leaned against the doorframe, looking up with a wide smile as he opened up. Lifting the bottle of Knappogue Castle Irish Whisky. 'Look at that, I even got you a little piece of home.' Straightening up she leaned in and brushed a faint kiss against his cheek in hello and wandered in as he stepped back to open the door for her, glancing around at the box filled apartment before looking down, letting her sandal slide over the flooring. 'I don't know what you're talking about, this floor looks comfortable for a wide variety of activities.'

Tomlin: Tomlin wasn't against having people to his new apartment. It was part of the reason he had sold his house and downsized. Unfortunately, his first attempt at moving on had failed in the sense that he had sold a very small amount of the family belongings. In fact, what he had sold were things he likely could have used.... Namely the couch. Still, he couldn't bring himself to keep the things that were so completely Abigail's. Tomlin, still a bit sluggish from the night before' drinking with people from the network decided it was better he tried to smell less off booze rather than to try and present the small apartment as anything but a mess. Just as he finished pulling on a clean t-shirt over his wet hair he heard the knock on the door. She was a little shorter than he expected, but her accent was just as he'd imagined it which almost put a smile on his face. He took the bottle and laughed, "You really think you can take me, Scotty? Plastic cups okay?"

Selene: 'Oh I can take you.' With a quick cock of her eyebrows and a sly grin she laughed, wandering in a little further. 'Plastic cups are fine with me, there will be less breakages later.' Letting her bag drop from her shoulder she set it by the door softly as she glanced around at the boxes before back up at him, taking in his wet hair which her fingers itched to touch to see if it was still warm and the faint smell of soap, the over all effect of it completely arousing. 'Did you find your pack of cards? What shall we bet on, Irish? What do I get when I win?'

Tomlin: Selene's confidence was undeniably sexy. He could feel his pulse picking up as he realized the innuendo in her comments. Tomlin told himself this was why he joined, distractions and attempting to socialize again, and simply left the ball in her court, "What would you like to bet on? He reached over to one of the lower pile of boxes and sad down next to Selene, passing her the cards. "Aye, they're probably the first thing I unpacked. I tend to keep 'em in my pocket. Have you played Texas Hold 'Em? It's a type of poker that only needs two players."

Selene: found a spot on the floor, sitting just infront of him but slightly to the side, taking the cards and pulling them from the box and beginning to shuffle them but she had her eyes on Tomlin, smiling as he seemed unfazed by her forwardness. 'Let's bet on these boxes...' She glanced around the room before back at him with a smile. 'Whoever looses has to pack away a box, a loose a piece of clothing. Nothing sexier than practical strip poker, right?' Holding out the cards to Tomlin she smiled sweetly as he took them before reaching for the bottle, ready to pour them a drink each. 'You might have to teach me, I don't know texas hold 'em.'

Tomlin: "Don't you think that's a bit unfair? What if I teach it to you wrong to give myself the advantage. You'll be in your nickers and I'll still have an apartment full of boxes." His eyebrow quirked up as he looked at her smile. It had been a while since people smiled at him, he thought, pushing the reasons why away and focusing on the drink. He took the drink she poured and downed it quickly, before setting the glass in front of her for another. "How about a fair game, a child's game... Goldfish."

Selene: 'You're going to be a gentleman about strip poker? I am both impressed and a little disappointed, Tomlin.' Chuckling to herself she refilled his glass and slid it back across the floor to him as she put down the bottle to one side. There was something about him that had her intrigued, he was a very firmly closed door and the tighter the lock the more she wanted to slip down to peek beneath. 'Goldfish, deal me in.' As she poured herself another drink, she glanced at the boxes and noticed the labeling on them, biting her tongue on it for now. 'Tell me one of your mysteries, Tom, just one.. a little one. Give me a slice of you...I'll share one of my own?'

Tomlin: "I'm only saying that it wouldn't be fair for me to still be clothed." His blue eyes fell to the cards as he swallowed at the knot in his throat. He wondered if he was ready for this, flirting and sex. He'd done it a few times since the funeral with success but never flirting that led to sex. He'd maybe chat up someone at a bar, sleep with a client. He kept the two separate because it felt like he was keeping emotions out of it that way. Tomlin cleared his throat trying to think of something about himself that didn’t involve prison, Abigail, or Tommy. He’d been too in his head to notice that she’d seen those labels on the boxes, ‘Tommy’s nursery’ and ‘Abby’s vanity’.... So, he dealt the cards to delay the inevitable. Something vague, he thought, “I used to fish.”

Selene: Selene could feel Tomlin wasn't exactly comfortable with her natural coquettishness, his slightly reserved body language was clear enough, even if his response had been more open. Reaching out she picked up her hand and looked over the cards, indulging in her usual habit of immediately putting them in order. Tempted to just toss the cars to one side and make a move, Selene resisted. Whatever it was that gave the air in the apartment a faintly haunted feel, it warned her enough that slow and steady, for now, was what was needed. Then, having decided that, she promptly threw it out the window. 'Fishing? Tomlin, are you honestly talking to me about fishing?' Looking over the top of her cards, she studied him for a moment before she put them down and crawled over, setting her lips to his for a moment. There was no sloppy hollywood snogging, no chaste peck. It was light at first, until her lips begged his to open, long and languid as her free hand's fingertips brushed his jaw. With the faintest touch of her tongue to his, she let the kiss deepen a moment before she pulled away. With her face still close enough for her breath to tickle his skin, she smiled. 'I want to kiss you again Tomlin, and then I want to touch you, and kiss you, taste you, have you, surrender to you and fuck like no tomorrow. You don't have to talk to me about fishing.'

Tomlin: He shrugged and started off, “I said I used to like it.” The emphasis on it being a thing of his past fell on deaf ears as the card game seemed to have fallen to the wayside. He didn’t push her away, he’d missed the warmth of a woman. Moreover, he hadn’t expected her to want to get to know him. So, in his usual silent manner, he obliged without words. Tomlin kissed her back, his firm and callused hands pulled her closer at the waist before moving down her hips and thighs. He pushed up the hem, slid his hands under her thighs, and pulled her onto his lap. He pulled away to catch his breath, his sad blue eyes looking at her lips while he thought about rights and wrongs.

Selene: A soft groan escaped as his hands slid onto her thighs and she could feel each hardened fingertip along her sensitive flesh. It didn't take much for his kiss to warm her completely from the inside but she could feel his submission to it, almost like a quiet inevitability that somehow gave her a slight hollow feeling in a foreign area of her chest. As he broke away she let her fingertips trace down his neck as she swept her eyes over his lowered gaze before setting her lips to his jaw. Words came in quiet breathlessness. 'Did you enjoy it for it's... solitary nature.. or for...' Swallowing she closed her teeth over a little of the skin on his neck, her hips rolling in his hands and pressing in. '...or for it's quiet companionship?'

Tomlin: There were a million ways to answer that. His stints in jail had made him anxious in crowds, so when he’d come out he liked the quiet. Fishing had also been an easy way to have dinner without wasting the little bit of money he made at the pathetic job he’d had. Still, it had been beaten into him to answer a question when asked, so he thought of the simplest way to say it without talking about jail, poverty, or death. “I used to enjoy the quiet.” He watched her hips rocking and he wondered if this was what he really wanted, again thinking about how he’d separated the people he slept with from people he talked to. Tomlin’s thumbs pressed into her pale skin, then his other fingers, not enough to hurt but firm as he stood up. He adjusted, holding her ass with one hand to support her as he leaned down and grabbed the bottle of whiskey. “You didn’t come for cards, did you?”

Selene: adjusted herself to hold on a little better as he lifted her up, moving to wrap an arm around his shoulders so she could steady herself. 'and you don't enjoy the quiet now?' Unashamedly she moved her free hand up and pushed his hair back as she looked over his face, her lips raising up into a delighted smile. 'I came for cards and for you, I just don't mind what order that happens in.' Her right thumb brushed over his left temple as she laid her lips to his cheekbone and then down to press a kiss to his jaw. His reservation didn't bother her, if anything it made her more intrigued and attracted. Taking the whiskey from his hand she took a swig and passed it back, a classical quote tumbling from her lips onto his as she pressed in again. 'It pleases, it pleased, it long will please.. it ever starts, Tomlin, and knows know cease.'

Tomlin: “No, but it’s never truly quiet anymore.” He let her kiss him, drinking instead of kissing her back. Tomlin was glad to have someone different around. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand it was women that played coy while licking their lips and batting their eyelashes. “That’s some latin lad, innit?” He tried to recall the words, but the poetry he’d read hadn’t been something he absorbed like other subjects, it sat in the back of the walk in closet that was his mind. He could at least recall that it was old poetry, so he offered a line or two that rose from the same dusty corners of his memory, “Now, goddess, now sustain me, since within your shrine so many painted plaques show you can heal...” Tomlin, being the grumpy sort, kissed her to stop her from laughing, if she’d so intended, took a swig, and moved into the bedroom.

Selene: Selene was prepared to hear his laughter or perhaps a dismissive remark but the last thing she was expecting was poetry in return. Just as her lips opened to exclaim surprise, he kissed her and cut off her words. As they passed the boxes which littered the apartment, her eyes lingered over the labels a moment before her gazed rested on Tomlin's face again, curious but adapt enough at body language to know there would be no answers. At least not tonight. Crossing the threshold she was yanking up at his shirt, holding the bottle of whisky as it came away and she tossed it to one side of the sparse room. 'I would promise you some quiet now but... I think the time for that is passed.' Smoothing her hands back over his hair and tipping his head back so she could very softly bite his lower lip, she gazed at him, deviousness written all over her features as they hovered for a second on the edge. 'Do you want me to heal you?'

Tomlin: There was the slightest hint of a smirk on his face when she said the time had passed for silence, but her question mad his throat tighten. As fiery as she was, her fingers in his hair, the way she ran her hands over his bare chest, it was gentle. He turned a lock of her red hair over in his fingers, some random fact about the percentage majority of the gingers in the world being from Scotland while Ireland had more by head came to mind. "You'd die trying, a thaisce." He set her down on the firm bed, watching her as he pulled his pants down, unsure if she would want a stranger undressing her.

Selene: drew herself up onto her knees on the bed, drawing up her dress in one swift move and tossing it away somewhere behind her. Once his pants were gone she wasted no time in reaching out, curling her hand around his arm and yanking him down onto the bed beside her, palm flat to his chest to hold him there as she climbed on top. For a moment she hovered her lips near his with a soft 'Haven't I told you? I'm immortal' and a wink before she disappeared down, wedging herself between his legs as she let her lips drag down his warm skin, soaking in the aching way it made her feel. Closeness, possession, raw. As much as this was a meaningless romp, it didn't stop her thinking in poetics. When his hardening cock slipped into her mouth and raked her nails very lightly down the inside of his thighs, she shuddered herself from eagerness.

Tomlin: Tomlin couldn’t recall a single person he’d been with like Selene. She was wild and unfazed by his half responses, didn’t ask how a guy that looked like him would know a single line of poetry. No, she was obviously interested in one thing and a lesser man might have felt emasculated by it. He wasn’t, however, and he shut his eyes and enjoyed her warm mouth. As she teased him he started to move his hips, pushing himself into her throat. His fingers pulled her hair out of the way and he watched her. The way her eyes looked up at him, that smile, the movements of her tongue, it was all about to push him over the edge. “C’mere or we won’t be having much fun because you’d’ve finished me off. I think a little reciprocation is in order.”

Selene: Selene closed her eyes as his fingers touched her hair, one her favourite intimate pleasures. It was only for a moment though as she felt him move into it and she met his movements with her own, sending him as deep as possible, her mouth tight and soft around him. Raking her fingers up the inside of his thigh she curled them around the base of his cock as she drew away at his words, letting her lips fall back to his flesh at his hip bone. Raising herself up so she could touch him better she let her hands brush over his chest and collarbones.

Tomlin: The tips of his fingers moved over the top of her hands, then wrapped around her wrists. Tomlin rolled her onto her back using his hips and legs in some sort of playful wrestling move. Tomlin let go of her hands and kissed his way down her neck and stomach, stopping at her hips. He pressed his thumbs into her hipbones and then bit them softly. “Sure you wouldn’t prefer cards?”

Selene: Selene couldn't help the delighted 'whoop!' as he wrestled her over and she sighed as her body relaxed down into the firm bed. Once he let go of her wrists they were slipping in, raking through his hair again, curling in. Half gentle, half possessive. Selene's pale skin flushed under his kisses and by the time his lips reached her hip bones she was nearly breathless, her thighs falling open eagerly. With one hand still resting to his head, almost in benediction, she leaned up on her elbow on the other so she could watch him with every move he made. 'I'm sure, mo ulaidh. Very.. fucking.. sure.' Swallowing, her eyes lingered on the way his thumbs indented onto her skin. 'Don't be too gentle.'

Tomlin: With her blessing, he tried to push away his own hesitations. They were familiar now. Every time he’d taken someone to bed he felt like he was stepping away from his past, from the parts of him that were happy just to have a little comfort. He accepted it, shutting his blue eyes and burying himself in her. His right hand moved up her body, rubbing her breasts and teasing her nipples until they stood at attention. Meanwhile, his left trailed across her inner thigh and slipped under her ass, squeezing playfully. He’d taken his time, kissing every inch of flesh before him, teasing around the most sensitive parts of her skin with the tip of his tongue. His lips parted and wrapped around her. Tomlin gently sucked until he remembered her final command. He didn’t think, he simply listened to her. As his tongue flicked and sucked, any hint of a louder moan, Tomlin would nip at her thigh or pinch her rear before going back. The more wet he made her the more eager he was to get her off and thrust into her while her body was still shaking. He let his fingers scratch down her stomach and then he started to rub her clit, working her up until that final moment.

Selene: it didn't take long for Selene to sink into the sensations, falling back onto the mattress and letting the sensations of everything he was doing wash over her. His hands worked against her, twisting and pressing into all of her on switches until she was writhing on the sheets as her hips pressed up to his lips and tongue. With each pinch or nip, Selene's fingers tightened in his hair or into the sheets with growing ferocity. As Tomlin's thumb touched to her clit and doubled the sensation, the reaction was obvious as her body arched sharply and her walls clenched tight, every single hair of his beard sparking it's own fire. In the final clutches of climax, she turned slightly, biting to the sheet as she groaned and came hard and swift. Selene's body jerked away and shuddered, covered in a sheen of sweat. Knees still shaking she pushed herself up enough to hook her hand under the back of his arm and yank him up. Voice cracking. 'Fuck me Tomlin... please.'

Tomlin: Tomlin didn’t argue with her. He let Selene pull him up and he pushed her legs a little wider open with his own. After reaching into the bedside table and making quick work of the usual precautions he took her. There wasn’t a patience or gentleness with it. In that moment, she was all that he wanted and his heart thumped with eagerness for the closeness of Selene against his skin and to hear her moaning with pleasure again. HIs hips rocked hungrily, harder and harder into her until the bed was thumping loudly against the wall. His strong hands moved down her thighs and then slipped behind her knees, pushing them forward and putting her legs over his shoulders so that his every hard thrust hit her deeper. As his body began to glisten with sweat he fell into a rhythm and started to let his hands tease her nipples once more, but if she wanted kissing in this already intimate act she’d have to take it from him.

Selene: Selene's body arched sharply as he entered her without ceremony, her hands reaching to the pillow behind her head to grasp onto something, anything, as he ploughed hard into her. With every thrust she grew louder, her hips pushing up eagerly to selfishly take as much of him as she could. When Tomlin's hands drew her legs up and the fresh angle sent him slamming into her, Selene cried out in Gaelic and ripped the pillow from beneath her head, flinging it away in spasm as her knees shook uncontrolled against his shoulders. There was no searching for intimacy in her face as she hungrily watched him slam hard into her already soaked pussy. There was no reach for a kiss, no begging conversation, only her right hand with it's palm open, pressed firm against his chest, over his heart. Reaching up, she hooked her left arm around his neck, hoisting herself up so she could feel her whole body swing back to him, the slapping sound of her ass against his hips mingling with with her moans.

Tomlin: Once he got her off he was ready to do it again. He wanted to feel her legs shake and her body tighten around him one more time.Tomlin’s hands moved down her body and he rubbed her clit as he continued each hard and deep thrust. As she clung to him he moved to the wall, pinning her to the cold white wall. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her upper thighs as they crashed into the wall. Biting softly into her shoulder he focused on the warmth of her skin and the sounds she made, grinding into her with every thrust, waiting for her to cry out again.

Selene: Selene embraced Tomlin's vigor, he seemed to avoid any intimacy or contact other than the animal drive for pleasure so she dropped away her natural instincts and let it ride. Still on the crest of her first climax when he ruthlessly went in for a second, Selene's body reacted with violence, her back arching so sharply it didn't seem possible. Every thrust had her crying out, a sound that didn't change as he pushed her into the wall. The repeated attack, again and again sent her nerves into overdrive as she clung on. In no time she was clawing at his back as she came again, legs jerking and trembling as the rush hit hard and fast.

Tomlin: Tomlin couldn’t bring himself to kiss her as he made her call out again. No, he couldn’t tear his eyes away or muffle the sounds. He pushed himself deep within her, letting the wall support her thin frame as he let one hand drag up her pale flesh. His thumb brushed across her alert nipples, pinching as her legs continued to tremble. There was no desire to tame her and his hands stopped at her neck. Tomlin’s fingers pressed softly into the back of her neck and pulled her closer as he felt her body start to relax again. His tongue ran across his lips as his blue eyes fell on hers, but in the last moment he turned his head and kissed into her neck. Then, his lips brushed down the curve of her neck and he kissed her shoulder. It had been quite a while since he took a moment to enjoy someone he was sleeping with, usually dealing with the sort of quickie in and out method. After joining the network he wasn’t looking for a relationship, but he wouldn’t let himself feel guilty for wanting to enjoy sex again. Tomlin inhaled, rocking his hips slowly, before moving back to the bed, sitting on the edge with Selene on his lip, his cock still hard and deep inside her. Leaning back on his elbows he drank her in, his hands moving in tandem with his eyes as he started to rock his hips again, the eagerness for a faster pace building up once more, but he forced himself to be patient and let his partner catch her breath.

Selene: Selene's lips opened faintly as if ready to catch his but as his own mouth fell to her neck they closed along wit her eyes, Selene's head tipping back to rest against the cool of the wall as her body trembled without restraint. It wasn't until he lifted her from the wall that she buried a moan against his jaw, thighs clenching as his hard cock, still pressed deep, hit nerves and rubbed textures. Selene stretched out as Tomlin seemed to drink her in, raising her arms up and raking her hair back, the sheen of sweat covering her breasts trailing all the way down. With no breath to say anything, Selene just slipped her hands to his chest, pushing him back into the hard mattress and holding him there as she started drawing her hips back and forth. The pace was slow at first, taking her time to find the rhythm that seemed to make him react best. As Selene's hips picked up pace and her ass slapped against his thighs as she rocked hard and harder, her fingers curling into his chest a little as his cock started to hit home again. Even though her red locks fell over her face with the movement, her gaze was locked on his face, watching every flicker of pleasure eagerly.

Tomlin: There was no rest to it. She obviously knew what she wanted and he didn’t mind at all, they were hungrier for it. Tomlin didn’t hide his satisfaction, letting her control the pace as his hands moved up her breasts, his fingers pinching her nipples before they softly cupped the curves of the small mounds once more. He didn’t linger, either. The man’s eyes moved, with his hands, up her back. The coarse tips of his fingers pressed into her back on their trail and tangled in her red hair, pulling softly. “You’re going to make me...” He trailed off, the words themselves were a quiet and stammering growl. Tomlin rolled her over, his chest to hers, his arms cradling her neck. His hips bounced enthusiastically and for a fleeting moment he confused the bliss of being inside her with the bliss of the moment until he was out of breath, his softening cock the only barrier from the mess he’d made of things staining the sheets. “I believe I’ve lost my head with you. Sorry.” Even as he apologized, he couldn’t even bring himself to leave her, despite the certainty that she was about to smack him for his impropriety.

Selene: Selene was too lost in the moment to hear his stammered growl so her pace didn't lessen until he took control and she relaxed into the mattress. There was a fevered emotion to the way he was moving that she did nothing but revel in it, grasping to his shoulder blades with her lips against his neck. Each moan was muffled against his skin until her cry broke across the room in his last thrusts before everything stilled. Swallowing, Selene made no move to untangle herself from his hold, her voice coming quietly from his jaw. 'Dinna fash, I think we have both lost our heads.' A very light kiss was pressed to the hollow of his throat before her body fell away from it's post climax cling. Selene happily hummed to herself in satisfaction, lazy fingers starting to stroke patterns on his back as she let the throbs of her body pulse. 'You're something else, Irish.'

Tomlin: It was more comforting than he could admit to have someone simply holding him. He looked at her, his eyebrows drawn together in thought. “Would it be a hassle for you to stay?” He trailed off, not sure if Selene would care to know why he was asking and hoping (though he didn’t think she was the type) she wouldn’t think it was meant to make the moment romantically intimate. The last thing he wanted was a relationship. Still, he never really slept when he was alone. To his surprise she’d agreed. He pulled her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her, welcoming the warmth and falling into a dreamless sleep almost instantly.