#fuck. just listen to the way he talks! he has fucking charisma and I’m sick of pretending that he doesn’t

[luna-the-cretar]

I know we like to joke about Marius being an awkward himbo that doesn’t know how to flirt—and he is, to some extent—but also like. No?

Like, he used his looks and flirted with the High Inquisitor in order to get the information he needed, as well as distracting her to let the party get to where they needed to be without her noticing them. And he was smart enough to go about it so that he found all this information and such without ever having to sleep with her.

Like, sure, stats wise he’s not incredibly intelligent or charismatic, but character-wise he’s not lacking either. Remember, he was a knight (idk how high he was on the totem pole, but considering his quest and relationship with Victor, it’s probably fairly high), and was very close to the king (which he confirmed in canon that his relationship with Victor allowed him to participate in some royal events as a guest). So he’s not some stupid awkward himbo that I’ve seen some fics portray him as, and it annoys the piss out of me.

[delilahbriarwood]

i still can’t stop thinking about the moment of sylas calling grog an ‘oaf’

first if all, sick burn. the man knows how to read. (allegedly)

second of all, it’s just funny to me because next to delilah, sylas is the oaf. like, yeah, there’s the running gag of him being a himbo and dumb as rocks with nothing but charisma to his name, and on a more serious note i don’t actually think the contrast is so stark but the contrast is... definitely there.

going off of pure mechanics, on the usual scale of 1-20 delilah's intelligence score translates to 22. (i say translates to, because matt said she has a character sheet but we don’t know if the format is a monster stat block or a traditional character sheet and matt is still too much of a coward to share it DESPITE SAYING HE WOULD, so we just don’t know the specifics other than what we can decrypt from passing combat comments that actually have numeric values to work with.)

twenty-two. i mean, yes, very much doable, even for a PC. also just because the DM does whatever the hell they want. but still. that’s two over the usual cap. she’s out there just galaxy braining life.

and then, there you have sylas. the man who still asks his wife “delilah, what are you doing?” as she drags a corpse across the floor and dumps it in the center of a ritual circle. after YEARS of doing this shit. you’d think he’s caught on by now.

i know, i know, it was a set up for delilah’s iconic “protecting you” line, the sole interpretation shouldn’t be sylas just being confused 24/7 but going along with it anyway because he’s content to see his hot necromancer wife live her best life slashing throats and chanting in tongues. (but it’s more fun that way.)

where i’m going with all this is the joy of the concept that a relationship this devoted and passionate could flourish between them. i mean, bonds like that take time, energy, effort. conversation. is sylas ever going to tell delilah anything remotely intellectual that she doesn’t already know? probably not. and yet. here we are. he still has her attention.

kind of reminds me of romancing scott in monster prom, really. he has so little to offer in the ways of saying anything useful, but the longer he blabbers on the more you appreciate his simplicity. 

i mean, there’s a certain amount of purity to how readily sylas seems to accept that he’s just not on the same level of brainpower. there’s no divide or underlying competition to their dynamic, he does what he’s good at and she does what she’s good at and together they just happen to cover all bases. let us not forget that sylas isn’t just a sweet talker, but a formidable soldier as well.

i’m just enamored with the idea of delilah as a young wizard buried in books, researching, training, holed up in a study, probably forgetting to eat or drink because she’s hyperfixated on getting a certain spell just right. and then sylas pushes into the room with idk, a fucking lemon tart and some tea, probably with his body aching after hours of sparring but GOD FORBID he doesn’t spend ten full minutes kissing delilah’s hands because her joints too are hurting from going through the motions of practicing the somatics for this hot new enchantment she’s stumbled upon.

and if she’s excited to share her new findings, he will listen. he might not understand all of that arcane mumbo jumbo, but he’ll be the soundboard for her enthusiasm and look at her with so much reverence and pride because he knows she’s an unstoppable force and he’s there to support her through all her exploits.

or, you know, maybe a complex conversation is the precise last thing she seeks after a day of running her mind on full capacity. maybe she’s extremely relieved to have him show up and take her into his arms and just talk about his day. he’ll tell her a story about that one guy who strapped his armor up the wrong way around (totally wasn’t him) and then some squire tripping over their own feet. he’ll try to make her laugh, and cheekily ease her out of a state of being on high alert, so her lovely brain can rest.

idk man, i just really fuckin’ love the briarwoods.

[ateezmakemeweep]

you’re the one that i want (part 25)

word count: 5k

fluff

(part 24) (series masterlist)

almost every summer of your life, you spent at the beach.

and while you loved it each and every year, a place that served as a safe space you always so desperately needed, a part of you also knew it wasn’t a choice.

you came here because your parents sent you, because they didn’t want you with them and you didn’t have anywhere else to go. 

you’d spent those years feeling completely unwanted and terrified of everyone and everything; thinking at any given moment, someone was gonna hurt you. that no one cared about your thoughts or feelings or even your existence.

and you’d grown used to that mentality for so long. you were sad and hurt and just living day to day with that knowledge because what else could you do?

but now, you don’t even get the chance to think like that. because you have so many people around you as a reminder that you’re not alone anymore. 

you have your aunt who, from day one, you always knew was there for you. 

you have yunho and san who served as the people who were patient and caring from the second they met you, made you feel at ease when you were so obviously uncomfortable in a new environment. 

you have hongjoong and jongho who always make you smile and laugh despite whatever mood you’re in. 

you have wooyoung, mingi and yeosang who, while you might’ve gotten off to a bumpy start, have proved time and time again how much they care about you. how they’ll ruin anyone who tries to mess with you now and have seen the error in their ways. 

you have seonghwa who, despite everything he’s done, has always loved you. made you the happiest a person could be but also maybe the lowest; though even with that, you were able to get past it. 

he showed you how to love but also how to be loved, a concept you truly never experienced until him. how much power that feeling has over a person and once you see that it’s something completely pure and real, it could help heal a person.

but that’s not to say it completely healed you because you know that’s just not how it works. you still have your doubts and anxieties and some long-lasting trauma that you’ll have to work through. but he makes it easier, everyone makes it a little easier because you know they’re there to listen. 

you know seonghwa could take one look at you and just know you’re having a bad day, place a kiss on your forehead and comfort you in the form of your head on his chest and his hand rubbing your back. 

but for the most part, these long summer days have been amazing. even seonghwa thinks so, despite the way his friends have been staying at his house, stealing his food and giving him a headache more often than not.

“can someone please go on the ferris wheel with me!”

the loud bustling of the summer carnival truly rivaled the youngest boy’s whines, sick and tired of them all standing around and attempting to win a giant teddy bear for the past thirty minutes.

“jongho, if you ask one more time i’m gonna-”

“can someone PLEASE go on the ferris wheel with me!”

you let out a small sigh as you look at the boy, his eyes focusing right on you when he sees he finally has your attention. 

“please, y/n, we’ve just been standing here. they’re never gonna win.”

“yes we will!” mingi, wooyoung and hongjoong blurt out, causing you to snort and jongho to shake his head; it takes just one more look from him, one of pure and utter devastation, for you to give him a small smile and nod. 

an excited yelp leaves his mouth and he grabs your hand, fully prepared to pull you away and lead you to every ride possible. but then you stop in his hold and his head snaps back to see seonghwa’s arm wrapped around your waist, his mouth in your ear asking where you think you’re going. 

“she’s coming with me!” jongho says, “we wanna go on rides, not wait around for a stupid teddy bear.”

“it’s not stupid, you’re stupid,” hongjoong snaps, eyes narrowed as he aims a dart at a purple balloon. 

“seonghwa, please,” jongho whines, tightening his hold on your hand and attempting to tug you away from him. but the dirty blonde only narrows his eyes at his friend, eyes moving to see you looking at him in amusement. 

“come with us,” you say sweetly, despite the way you’re being pulled, almost painfully, in two different directions. 

“you know i get dizzy, baby,” he whines, a giggle leaving your mouth as you cock your head to the side. 

“ah, that’s right, forgot i was dating an old man,” you quip playfully, his eyes narrowing and his hold on you tightening. he tugs you closer and your hand gets pulled out of jongho’s, the boy behind you letting out a groan as he flails in a circle.

“y/n! apologize to him, god damn it, and let’s go! seonghwa, she didn’t mean it.”

“oh, i think i did though,” you tease, the smile pulling at seonghwa’s lips making you bite down on your lip. 

“you’re pushing it, you know that don’t you?” 

but you only roll your eyes as you turn in his hold, lifting on your toes to peck his lips sweetly. he meets the kiss and keeps it as chaste as possible, smiling against your lips before you pull back and look at him with one of your own. 

“we’re gonna go now,” you say, “are you sureee you don’t wanna come old man?”

his eyes narrow at you, about to pull you into him again when jongho, now teamed up with san, pull at your hands and charge away.

“we’re going on rides! fuck you lover boy!”

seonghwa shakes his head as he hears your parting giggle, smacking wooyoung in the back of the head when he misses the balloon for the 40th time.

“you are terrible.”

“you are terrible!” you squeal to jongho, watching as he shakes the cart of the ferris wheel and sends san screaming.

the blonde had been hesitant to go on this ride in the first place, a fear of heights that has made him have mental breakdowns at amusement parks before.

but you promised that he’d be okay, and it took a little bit of begging on the line to really convince him, just for jongho to mess it all up within the first ten seconds of being secured in.

“i’m gonna scream for wooyoung to beat you up if you don’t stop,” the blonde whines, his hand clutching onto the edge of the ride desperately.

“i’m not scared of that short little man, i could easily take him.”

“i don’t know, it’s usually the small ones that are crazy,” you reason, overlooking the calm evening sky despite the vigorous shaking beneath you.

“stop!” san yelps.“please, you little shit!” and now you can really hear the anxiety and fear cracking in the blonde’s voice.

“no more!” you scold, pinching jongho’s arm and watching his face pull into a pout. “stop! or we’re not going on anything else.”

and even though your threat was empty, because you wanted to go on more, it did the trick. you three bounced around to every and any ride you could get on, even the ones that weren’t san approved; he just shut his eyes tightly and screamed directly into your ear.

but you and the youngest had your heads thrown back in laughter, your hair zipping through the wind with your arms up in a sight seonghwa watched with a smile.

he was leant against the side of a booth, blueberry slushy in hand drowning out the sound of the boys arguing over who gets custody of the giant teddy bear.

“i was the one who popped it!”

“but we all paid for it!”

“you only popped it because we loosened it.”

“you can’t loosen a balloon dickface.”

your happy squeal rips him away from the nonsense bickering, your eyes finding his as you immediately run to him. 

“you should’ve came, it was so much fun!”

“yeah?” he says, offering you a sip from his slushie. you take the straw between your lips with a smile, sucking down the sugary blueberry before pulling back.

“that’s good.”

he smiles when he sees a blue speck on your lip, wiping it off with a delicate swipe of his thumb and soft look in his eyes. he knows you have your good days and bad days, the former more often than not during these past few weeks, but he can’t help but love the good days.

when he gets to see the smile he was robbed of for the first few weeks of knowing you and then again the first few months after reuniting. but now it’s like he makes it a personal mission everyday to see it; not even for his own enjoyment but to know you’re genuinely having a good, happy day. 

“your hair’s a mess,” he chuckles out, voice deep and amused as he runs his fingers through your knotty hair. but you only narrow your eyes at him and take the slushie from his hand, pecking his cheek quickly before running over to see the $100 carnival prize you eventually get custody of.

you remember how uncomfortable you felt at the first bonfire you went to, when yunho’s bright smile or hongjoong’s charisma or jongho’s funny antics did little to calm you. 

you remember being scared of seonghwa, the way he watched you with emotionless eyes and nearly threw a water bottle in your hand with demands for you to take it. you had usually felt out of place but it really stuck out that night to you, watching everyone talk and laugh and bond around a crackling fire. 

you never would’ve thought that, just a year later, you’d be around one of your own. laughing and giggling and kissing your boyfriend around a fire with people you felt comfortable and safe with. with people you went to, what felt like, hell and back with but came out okay. 

more than okay, really. 

because you watch wooyoung and san shove each other lovingly, two people who also overcame struggles in a strained relationship. you watch all of the boys with the blonde, once tumultuous and non-existent friendships that were able to blossom again. 

you watch from mingi’s shoulder seonghwa and yunho play cornhole, giggling when you see that after a year, yunho’s skills with the game still haven’t quite improved - and that’s obvious in the way the four boys charge down to the ocean.

“okay, honestly, he might’ve gone worse,” you mumble to mingi, the boy scoffing lightly and pushing you off his shoulder playfully.

“leave him alone,” he whines, a soft smile on your face that causes him to roll his eyes in embarrassment. you giggle and knock your arm into him, looking around the dark beach with a sense of tranquility. 

you always loved the beach at this time, that solitary part of you itching to feel the cold sand between your toes and hear the gentle lull of the waves with no one’s presence but your own.

but you wait until the boys are occupied, until mingi eventually sneaks over to yunho and defends him against everyone’s harsh insults; you also saw san and wooyoung go down to the ocean a few minutes ago, the blonde not having learned in his lesson from back in febuary.  

so it’s then that you quietly sneak away, catching your boyfriend’s eye and he already knows where you’re headed off to.

you make your way to the cliff you became well acquainted with during these types of events, watching your feet in the sand before you climb your way up and shimmy toward the end. 

you watch the waves crash under the bright moonlight as your pelt with memories, good and bad. how this beach marks almost every journey you and seonghwa went on together from first meeting, 

“you don’t talk a lot.”

his eyebrow raises at your comment, turning to look at you and the close eye-contact causes you to sharply inhale; he smells good, like the beach and cologne.

“neither do you,” he counters, “i don’t even know your name.”

your eyebrows furrow together, turning your neck to the side as you realize you haven’t told any of them your name yet. “i thought it was seonghwa,” he finds himself saying with a smirk, your confused gaze prompting him to speak again.

“you looked back when yunho said it yesterday.”

“oh,” you giggle awkwardly, remembering turning around in your flustered state and seeing him looking at you from your front yard. “no. my name isn’t seonghwa,” you tell him before telling him your real one.

he hums at the information, eyes roaming your face before his eyebrow quirks up again.

“so, why’d you come tonight, y/n?”

to your first kiss,

“...so i’ve never done this before.”

he hears the way nerves and embarrassment seep into your voice, looking at him wide-eyed with pink cheeks and now he’s really never wanted to kiss someone more in his life.

it’s why he takes your face in his hands, his palms cupping your cheeks and causing a breathy exhale to leave your mouth. “good,” he says, his thumbs stroking your face as he leans down and presses a feather light kiss to your lips.

it feels almost like nothing but still shocks you, not even having the time to close your eyes before you’re looking at him again; because that was one thing you knew, you knew you weren’t supposed to kiss someone with your eyes open.

“g-good?” you squeak after a few seconds, not even sound enough to feel embarrassed by the shake and waver in your voice.

“good,” he confirms and if the look on his face and smirk on his lips didn’t make you weak enough, his next words absolutely do.

“i wanna be your first.”

to your first confessions and vulnerable moments,

“i…don’t really know why you like me,” you say with a hiccup, “you could probably be with any girl ever who’s a lot prettier and more…experienced and-”

“don’t,” seonghwa growls lowly, his thumb running over your face sweetly. “no one’s prettier than you.”

your eyes widen and you want a laugh to bubble out of you but for some reason you can’t. you can only pout and look at him with your glossy eyes, your stupid little self feeling sad and insecure all of the sudden.

“that’s a lie,” you tell him softly as you shake your head. “no one thinks that. no one ever really likes me, actually.” you wanna say that not even your own parents or classmates like you, that no one has ever looked your way and actively cared about you felt.

“i do,” seonghwa hums, his heart hurting because he hates that you feel this way. “i liked you the second i saw you.” you look up at him and feel your eyes water, the softness and sincerity in his words causing a lump to form in your throat.

to even the heavier stuff, when you really weren’t sure if you two were gonna make it this far. 

“i don’t know what i want,” you admit quietly, confused because there’s the matter of trust at hand making this process incredibly daunting. but you also can’t escape the one fact you knew was true this whole time, no matter how much you didn’t want it to be because you were so sad and hurt.

“but i know that i’m still yours.”

he doesn’t think he’s ever felt the feeling that rips through his chest when you say that, an overwhelming, all consuming feeling that would’ve knocked him on his ass if he didn’t have some sort of hold on you.

he has to stop himself from completely breaking down in front of you, shaking his head and holding back a cry as he pulls you into his chest.

“you really shouldn’t be fucking saying that to me,” he mumbles against your head, his voice tight and throat constricting as he tries to keep his shit together. “i don’t deserve to hear that.”

you pull away and meet his gaze, his eyes wide and teary and full of such love you can see clear as day. you reach up with a small, sad smile and brush your hand through his hair, longer pieces of dirty blonde on the top such a contrast to the short, shaven ones he had during the summer.

“maybe not,” you say quietly, head cocking to the side as your wide eyes meet his. “but it’s how i feel.”

but you think that’s maybe why you’ve grown to love this beach town just a little bit more. 

because it not only shows the story of you and him but also of you as a person. someone who came here sad and lonely and a shell of a girl but was able to blossom into someone who, for the most part, was genuinely happy and content with life.

and you never thought you’d be able to say you were happy with your life. that you felt like you belonged anywhere or with anyone because you were just always in the way. 

but you see now that that’s not the case. you see that you were never the issue but your environment was. an environment your mind still drifts back to and makes your heart sink, wondering what went so wrong in your parents lives for them to act the way they do.

to never, not once, contact you or your aunt ever again to see if you were okay or adjusting well; but you try not to dwell on that. you try not to think about and dwell on things like that anymore. 

because you’re in a better place and have more than enough people who care about you and-

“you have a death wish?”

your head snaps back to see seonghwa standing a few feet behind you, his tall frame looming above you as he cocks his head to the side teasingly. you can only smirk at him with pink on your cheeks, your arm reaching out for him to come over and sit next to you. 

but he plops down behind you until you’re right between his legs, your back pressed against his chest and his lips mumbling into your exposed shoulder. 

“you okay, baby? i saw you sneak away.”

“yeah,” you hum lowly, taking his hand in yours so you can play with his fingers absentmindedly. “i just like it up here.”

he smiles against your head, pressing a kiss to your hair lightly as he watches you intertwine your fingers together. it’s something so small but it makes him bite back a smile, remembering when you were too scared or shy to initiate things.

but he’s watched you become more confident, not only with him but in general. the way you can hold eye contact now and your voice doesn’t always have a tremor. how you’ll kiss him sweetly before running off, like the action was so natural and immediate you didn’t think anything of it. 

he can only describe everything as easy; nothing is ever forced or feels fake. if you guys have problems now, you talk it out right away. you don’t throw his past mistakes in his face and he doesn’t ever push you to talk about something until you’re ready.

it’s at those moments you guys find yourselves here a lot, enjoying the usual quietness and tranquility of the dark beach. tonight, however, that’s not the case because even from this spot, you hear the distant screams and shouts coming from your crazy group of friends. 

“they’re so loud,” you hum quietly, seonghwa laughing against you as he nods his head and mumbles a string of expletives. 

you giggle softly and crane your neck backwards, looking at him upside down to see him already staring at you. you raise your eyebrows playfully and his deep chuckle sends your heart fluttering, his face meeting yours to place a soft peck on your nose. 

you giggle and pick yourself up, turning around so you can crawl into his lap. his arms wrap around your waist as he holds you to him, tucking a stray piece of your windblown hair behind your ear.  

“so...did you think about what your aunt said the other day?”

you bite down on your lip as you let out a sigh, knowing that you need to come to a decision but your heart hurting at both prospects. 

because when she first mentioned you transferring to the school here, you knew it made the most sense. it was only a seven minute drive and you already would have a small group of friends, hongjoong and yunho in your class and jongho in the year below. 

but then you’d have to sacrifice the school and environment you just got used to. you’d have to sacrifice your time with seonghwa and the other boys, your job at the cafe where you can’t imagine not ever working again. 

because who would work with san? you can’t let the blonde work there alone again, after seeing the after-school crowds and knowing how much he loved having someone to talk to there.

but the hour commute back and forth is rather taxing, depending on the day and traffic sometimes making it longer. and you can’t help but feel bad for seonghwa and your aunt’s gas bill - both of who never allow you to pay them back.

your aunt also thought it’d be a good idea to get a fresh start - away from a town and school full of bad memories and reminders of how life used to be.

“i don’t know,” you say quietly, pulling back from seonghwa’s shoulder to meet his gaze. “i know it makes sense to and i wouldn’t mind it,” you tell him honestly, “but...i’d miss it. i’d miss working with san and seeing the other boys everyday.”

“i know, love, but you’d still see them,” he says sweetly, “they’d probably drive out every fucking weekend for you.”

you giggle softly as you shrug, wrapping your arms around his shoulders before you look at him with the smallest of pouts. “but i wouldn’t go to school with you, either. i’ll reallly miss seeing you every day.”

a low chuckle leaves his mouth before he places a firm kiss right on your lips, the way in which he does it so surely and easily still surprising you after all this time. 

“like i’m not gonna stay here every night and make the drive,” he says lowly, amused that you think he’d actually go a week without seeing you.

“then i might as well keep going,” you whine, his look hardening because he’s truthfully with your aunt on this one - he thinks being away from that town littered with bad memories and trauma, some of which he himself contributed to, would be better for you. 

but it’s your decision after all. it’s gonna be you going through the two years, not anyone else - not him or your aunt or your friends. all of them can only give gentle encouragement and be supportive of what ever decision you make. 

“it won’t matter what you pick, we’ll be okay,” he says when you two stand up, his hand in yours as he runs a hand through your hair. “and if you’re scared about starting a new school, don’t. because you’ll have yunho and jongho and hongjoong and they’d be way too fucking excited to help you and show you around.”

“but what if i meet a mean, bad boy there?” you tease lightly, eyes glinted with amusement and a smirk pulling at your lips. “like right in homeroom or something, i don’t know.”

you watch his tongue poke into his cheek as he narrows his eyes at you, a giggle leaving your mouth as you wrap your arms around his waist. 

“just kidding,” you squeal, his eyes rolling before he pulls him into you. 

“not funny,” he says despite the humor laced in his voice and then his lips on yours. he slips his tongue in and you smile against him, only breaking away when you hear shouts and gags from directly below you. 

“can you stop making out for five fucking seconds and play with us!” 

everyone took the news of your decision to transfer schools...differently.

whereas jongho, hongjoong and yunho tackled you in a group hug and cheered in amusement, wooyoung, yeosang and mingi resembled children who just found out santa isn’t really.

seonghwa and san watched from the side, the two boys you consulted with most and eventually shared your decision with not all surprised by these reactions.

because despite how hard it was, despite how many factors you had to consider and people you couldn’t help but think about, you felt as if this was the right choice.

it was a fresh start and closer and just made more sense. even though you’d miss the familiarity of the other school and working with your best friend every day, you know it’ll be like you’re barely gone.

because seonghwa was correct in saying the boys would come every weekend to see you, the first idea coming from their mouths after their initial heartbreak and whines.

but it didn’t lessen the blow when the last day of summer did eventually come, when you sat around the pool with seonghwa and your friends and uttered dramatic goodbyes. 

“it’s only an hour away,” seonghwa grumbled, watching san and wooyoung cling to you for the past fifteen minutes. 

“you can say that because you’re-” 

“just shut up,” seonghwa says, a sense of urgency and warning in his tone that goes unnoticed to your ears. because the whole time you say your goodbyes and hug the boys, you’re holding back tears.

tears that don’t surface until you’re back in your room with seonghwa, watching from the balcony as yeosang and mingi stick their heads out the window and wave goodbye until the car is completely out of sight.

you turn around and seonghwa’s eyes soften upon seeing your expression, wide teary eyes and lower lip threatening to wobble from holding back cries. 

“baby, it’s okay,” he mumbles against your head, tightening his hold on you when you fully slump against him and let out a few quiet whimpers; because tomorrow, he’s gonna be gone too.

the feeling isn’t as gut wrenching and consuming as it was the last time you two separated like this but you still feel sad and a little scared. you still have to face a new school tomorrow, adjust to all the different teachers and classmates while also getting used to not having your familiar circle of people. 

you’re not gonna see him everyday when you first wake up, fall asleep to him kissing your head or the sound of his heartbeat against your ear.  

“maybe it’ll be good,” seonghwa mumbles against your head, the two of you now laying in your bed under the covers. “maybe you’ll like getting a break from me.”

“no,” you immediately whine against him, a small smile on his face as you push yourself up and straddle his waist. your fingers trail down naked his chest, making figure eights on his abs in a way that makes him groan lowly. 

“why?” you ask, cocking your head to the side with a pout on your face. “will you like the break from me?”

“fuck no,” seonghwa growls out, grabbing your hips roughly so he can put you on your back. “i’ll be surprised if i make two weeks before transferring.”

you didn’t even have time to think about that being a possibility before his mouth is on yours and he’s sucking hickies into your neck. trails his lips down your stomach until he’s slipping off your shorts and you’re moaning into the crease of your elbow. 

moans that turn to muffled cries into one another’s mouths, his cock steadily fucking into you until you both come in unison. your sweaty bodies and labored breathing fill the room, you on your back and seonghwa making his way into the bathroom to get a warm rag.

you hum at the feeling of it between your legs before you’re back in his arms, your head buried in his chest as you fall asleep to the sound of his deep “i love you.”

the same one that wakes you at five a.m., his hand softly running through your hair as your eyes fluttered open. 

“i gotta go, baby,” is all he says. but it immediately makes you frown and bury yourself further into him, mumble words he can’t quite make out besides little whines of “no.”

but you do eventually pry yourself off of him, after he presses soft kisses on every bit of your face until your nose is scrunching and you’re pushing him away from you playfully.

“okay, okay,” you whine, morning grogginess still in your voice and on your face. “please call me when you get home.”

“of course, baby, how ‘bout i come back after school? to see how your first day went?”

“mm it’s okay,” you mumble tiredly, knowing you have an hour and a half left before you have to get up and get ready. “just stay till i fall back asleep, please.”

and that tiny, whiney request almost makes him wanna drop the act entirely. but he sees your heavy eyes already threatening to shut and shakes his head, waiting until your breaths even to peck your cheek and he sneaks out of your room.

you wake later to the sound of yunho’s voice, his head peeking in your room before a sigh leaves his mouth.

“y/n! we have to leave in twenty minutes!”

he watches, and is totally not helpful, as you rush around your room to get ready quickly, his head thrown back in laughter in a way that makes you smack his arm lightly. 

but you all eventually get there with a few minutes to spare, the boys walking you through your schedule and introducing you to a few more people they’re friendly with.

“everyone’s really nice,” hongjoong tells you, hoping to ease your obvious anxiety. “you’re gonna think it’s suspicious but they’re all genuinely pretty good.”

“okay that makes me feel better,” you say with a smile, the five minute warning bell making your eyes widen and stomach knot even more. “oh no.”

“it’s fine,” yunho smiles softly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him. “i’ll walk you to homeroom, c’mon.”

he guides you through the halls until you’re standing in a doorway, the teacher in the front of the room greeting you with a small smile and saying hi to yunho. 

“this is my friend, y/n. she’s new and a little nervous so please be extra nice to her.”

the teacher rolls her eyes as she waves yunho off, warning him that he’s gonna be late just as the bell rings; she doesn’t even say a word as she walks over and grabs him a late pass, shoving it in his hand before telling him to move his ass. 

“so, y/n, was it?” she asks, looking over the paper in her hand with a curious gaze. “that’s funny, we were supposed to have two new students.”

your eyebrow raises at her statement and you think maybe you could befriend them. they’re probably just as scared as you, if not more because they don’t anyone at all. 

you think that would be nice, having another friend to get to know and help feel as ease and-

“oh, are you the other new student?” you hear the teacher ask, hearing footsteps slowly come up from behind you.

there’s a few beats of silence before chatter erupts from students, quiet mumbles about how he looks familiar and they’ve all definitely seen him before.

“yeah,” you hear the boy say and you immediately whip around at the deep voice you know so well, the handsome face that woke you this morning looking at you with soft eyes full of amusement. 

“i’m seonghwa.”

you can’t even hear the teacher welcome him or tell the other students to settle down, biting back a smile at the the way he so cockily and teasingly mouths ‘hi baby.”

complete

tag list: @chogiout ; @psshwa ; @yeocult ; @seongghwaa; @cherryeonii ; @chaoticbanqtan ; @8teenee ; @nczenniez ; @atinyarmyx1 ; @mingtopiaa ; @chubsluda ; @joongiebug ; @mochibabycakes ; @jisungity ; @skz-on-my-mind ; @nlost21 ; @myonlyaurora ; @closer-stars ; @kuaenam3g ; @byungaji ; @floweryjh ; @joeycheungg ; @lostscenarios ; @atinyxtopia ; @sanisms​ ; @kpopnightingale​ ; @simpforhyunjin​ ; @89staytinyzen21​ ; @lokicaramel​ ; @hwaxbum​ ; @sakura-uji​ ; @songsoomin​ ; @toffee-hwa​ ; @deobitiful​ ; @hyunjeansuniverse​ ; @chrryhwa​ ; @i-know-you-know-lee-know​ ; @tiny-whatsername​ ; @fairieofeternity​ ; @yixing-jaehyun​ ; @sleepyseonghwa​ ; @revehosh​ ; @atletino​ ; @yeol-wish​ ; @cxcxlxlee​ ; 

[oftenderweapons]

Not sure if this counts as a Drabble I’m not really familiar with it sorry! So you can ignore if you want but maybe you can do a list of BTS and the OC’s favorite kinks

[A/N: this took a very long time coming, mostly because it was a lengthy job. Sorry for the wait nonnie, I hope it’s worth it 🥴😉]

Okay! I sort of assembled this as a mix of short headcanons (there are six to eight each — also I got carried away with Jk, he’s got eleven but some are like, are more lowkey). They’re divided couple by couple and I’ve tried to be as realistic as possible, which means that some couples have some kinks in common, especially since I stayed on more well-known kinks and fetishes that represent each couple’s go-to. I do think they explore less popular kinks other than the ones I listed, however they might not go there that often.

You’ll be seeing some of these soon ;) [ILLICIT AFFAIRS WON I AM CRYING]

Uhm. Obviously there’s a lot of stuff I have to include in the trigger warnings, so bear with me. 

This is obviously 18+

TRIGGER WARNINGS: discipline (brat taming, sub training), impact play (spankings, paddle, flogger, riding crop; both on ass and breasts), marking, dirty talking, choking, masturbation (male and female receiving; mututal), squirting, several fetishes (uniform, shoes, feet, voice), cock worship, breast worship, powerplay (DDLG, daddy kink; domination; mommy kink; Primal/predator-prey dynamics, pet play), orgasm control and deprivation, role play, food play, cum play/cum eating, pain kink, sensation play, temperature play, edging and overstimulation, phone sex, cyber sex, bondage, torture play/forced masturbation, tickling, anal play (buttplugs, strap on, rimming, penetration), degradation kink, corruption kink, voyeurism and exhibitionism, outdoor sex, cockwarming, oral sex (male and female receiving; facefucking male receiving; mutual), sex toys (nipple clamps, dildo, vibrator)

Not exactly kinks, more like attitudes: experimentalism, intimacy, sapiosexuality

Check out my masterlist here 

Enjoy 💜✨

Namjoon and Vixen

Daddy kink; brat taming

I think it’s sort of a given, but it also needs to be included. Vixen’s first relationship was when she had just turned nineteen, with a man quite older than her. They were together for a couple years and he significantly shaped her needs in terms of intimacy and sex. Her parenting figures were really weak and she grew up with a nanny who taught her her second language, French. Namjoon — being always a very responsible very nurturing figure within the group, and somehow having the role of a mediator — is used to stubborn, hot-headed people and would probably be a bit bored with someone incapable of giving him a bit of attitude. This said, it comes quite natural that Vixen (although she is a very smart, very elegant young lady) looks for guidance in her partner, and after the responsibilities that come with her career, she looks for someone who can take decisions for her and even control her private life a little, like check that she eats and what she eats, or pick what she’s going to wear for the day. On the other hand, Namjoon likes being taken care of in other ways, namely cuddles and homecooked meals, which Vixen offers profusely. Her childlike, unconditional affection is exactly what makes Namjoon baby her, and such behaviour on his behalf encourages her to rely on him even more, letting him pamper her and spoil her. And in terms of bratting... Well, Vixen likes seeing him lose his cool — because a sick part of her (she knows it’s sick) gets horny seeing Namjoon angry. And Namjoon in returns gets even more cool and composed the more she gets feisty. He calls the shot, may she like it or not. The point is that with some cuddles, soft words (and a few good spanks) he always manages to tame her.

Spanking

Vixen likes getting spanked. And Namjoon is obsessed with her ass. He is an ass and thighs man. Fight me on this one. Nothing turns him on more than seeing her flesh quiver after the impact of a good spank. Vixen likes it simply because it condenses three of her favourite things, discipline, punishments and pain kink. Spanks are delivered both as a reward and as a punishment, and Namjoon knows how to make a distinction between the two cases, although he much prefers delivering them as a reward, since he hasn’t got much of a pain kink, and painful activities are a soft limit for him, both in terms of giving and receiving. He approves that kind of pain that is simply aimed at enhancing pleasure. Vixen really likes spanks delivered with the bare palm of a hand, since those are the one that she perceives as the most “educational”; however she also likes the paddle, the hairbrush and other more tricky devices (that you will discover soon *wink*).

Marking

Namjoon is crazy for marking Vixen. He is very jealous of her and their relationship staying on the low means that he can’t actually claim her publicly. They both try to protect their relationship for as long as possible, and I can quite see him deciding to keep it private until he’s been married to her for a while. But he’s gonna mark his baby, especially in spots that are only his and hers to see. His absolutely favourite spot would be her hip tattoo, of course, where he always places the first hickey of the night; next her inner thighs, her crotch and her breasts (lovely tiny cherries, he loves them the most). When she allows him, he also leaves hickeys on her neck and chest. Obviously her butt too. He also likes biting, especially her ass (until he leaves bruises and/or actual indentations) and her inner thighs — the softer parts. Vixen also marks him when he’s not on a schedule, when they’re on vacation and they can let loose a little. He especially likes it when she leaves scratches on his back and shoulders, but he also enjoys hickeys on his chest and thighs when she’s on her way to giving him head.

Sapiosexualilty; dirty talking

We all know these two have filthy tongues. They’re sapiosexuals, so they’re turned on by mind games, smart use of language, verbal sparring etcetera. They’re both readers and intellectuals, which means they enjoy a polished, often obscure use of language. They’re the most likely to send each other texts (or even emails) where they simply wax poetic about fucking each other. They can literally send a text at nine am about some spicy play they intend to do later that night, let excitement build all day long and — as soon as they get home — they wait and see who’s the one that surrenders (spoiler: usually Joon because Vixen is a brat and brats are tough eggs to crack). In bed, Vixen loves listening to Namjoon’s voice, no matter if he’s talking about how good it feels to be inside her or if he makes romantic love declarations in midst of a rowdy fuck. Also they might argue while they have sex or pick stupid fights just to release some tension (totally the type to start a discussion as they choose the mirror for the bathroom, Vixen picking round while Namjoon picks rectangular, embarrassing the shopping assistant as they get into hard bickering heavy with sexual tension).

Choking

This is a new one, to both of them. Vixen had never toyed with it before, since she risked drowning when she was a child so she’s not a fan of anything that involves breath control. Still, she didn’t imagine she could be turned on by choking her partner. The first time Namjoon grabs her wrist and brings her hand to his neck she freaks out a little, but then she gets a grip (haha) and realises that seeing him that fucked out, and hearing him moan like that is something most definitely turning her on. Namjoon has a sensitive neck and chest, so having Vixen touching him there makes his soul leave his body; furthermore, the level of trust required leads us right onto the next kink.

Intimacy

I realise this is not exactly a kink, however it is a necessary condition for things to get sexy between these two. Namjoon and Vixen need special closeness for things to work out. Talking, flirting, but also sharing physical closeness and affection, occupying the same mental space. They don’t need to be making love for things to be very emotional. Even the angriest, rowdiest of fuckings to them is actually a very fond way of saying ‘I love you’. I think that out all the kinks this is the most difficult to explain. I suppose this is what makes them incredibly talented even at good ol’ plain vanilla.

Mutual Masturbation

I think these two just do that a lot. They’re extremely comfortable with having the other watch as they touches themselves. I think it started with Vixen being her shameless, teasing, kinky self and Namjoon being incapable of holding back, and then it naturally evolved into both him and her openly touching themselves for the other to see. I think they learn by watching so observing the other and seeing how they do it is how they master their technique.

Lingerie and shoe fetish

Namjoon is obsessed with Vixen’s sexiness, how she carries herself, how much charisma and self confidence she can muster when she is almost naked. I’ve always seen Namjoon extremely attracted to Vixen’s body and seeing it there, with the bare necessities covered by expensive and lush lace and silk, or even in funny cotton drawers with innocent prints is a ticket to Nirvana for Namjoon. I bet you can imagine Vixen lounging on the bed, provocatoriously clad in black lace as she reads a book, and Namjoon entering the room, ready to pounce on her with predatorial intents.

Jin and Angel

Cockworship

We all know that Jin comes from several vanilla experiences, during which he always kept his basest instincts at bay. Once Angel gives him the green light, he’s not letting go. Angel loves celebrating his virility in all ways possible, showing how much she appreciates a part of him that he has felt ashamed of, in some ways. And Jin gets extremely turned on by the simple view of Angel kneeling before him, looking at him as he touches himself, begging to touch and/or kiss his cock. He gets wild with it, especially if you sum that up with Jin being especially interested in discipline. Watching Angel worship his cock with her hands, mouth, tits gives him that sense of power and authority that enhances his dominance and turns him into a cocky, power-hungry beast, ready to do anything to quench his thirst, fulfill his desires and almost entirely ignore Angel’s needs — don’t worry, she actually gets off to Jin getting what he wants on whichever terms he deems necessary.

Power play

Jin likes having power. Being more powerful than Angel is one of the mental tricks he uses to keep himself from going vanilla. The powerful position is what allows him to call the shots, choose what to do and actually claim what he wants and needs. Watching Angel kneel in front of him, with her eyes low until he calls for her attention is one of his biggest turn-ons. And Angel is way more than okay with this: watching Jin take control and knowing that she is pleasing him, that any activity they’re getting into is bound to make Jin loud and messy and fucked out, is the strongest aphrodisiac. When in a vanilla mindset, Jin can’t quite understand (yet) what pushes Angel into pleasing him and how much his pleasure means to her, as they’re still at the beginning of their sexplorations. The more they get familiar with each other’s roles and needs, the more Jin finds pleasure in ruling over Angel and watch her stare at him with her big, beautiful, hungry eyes.

Orgasm control/deprivation

Jin’s need for power manifests in different ways. The fact that Jin comes from several years of vanilla and self control, and Angel has gotten used to their calmer approach to intimacy and sex, makes them both quite good at sexual deprivation. He can easily deprive her for weeks, or deprive himself: when he’s depriving her, his favourite activity is having her kneel on the floor, naked and touch himself until he cums on her breasts; when he’s depriving himself he likes eating her out for at least two or three rounds, until she’s begging for him to fuck her, completely desperate and on the verge of tears when he denies her. Regardless of who is being deprived, when she gets whiny and emotional, he always makes sure to reassure her and remind her when the period of deprivation is going to end, telling her what he plans to do to her as soon as he allows himself to. About orgasm control — Angel needs training. And a very stern one at that. She is not used at that level of control, mostly because she’s used to a very loving, very attentive Seokjin who wants her pleased and pampered all the time. Orgasm control is most definitely the thing she hates the most out of all her training; the only factor keeping her from truly hating it is how Jin turns soft once she manages to complete a task successfully, praising her and letting her have more control — either turning the scene into vanilla lovemaking or letting her turn the tables and ride him until she’s happy and sated.

Role play

Jin sometimes needs help getting into an aggressive, authoritative mood. Luckily, he is a great actor and he know exactly how to get into character. He would often assume a role out of the blue, letting Angel choose what position to occupy — although his all time favourite is teacher-student. It allows him to get into the strictest, harshest forms of impact play, having lots of fun watching sweat, drool and cum stain Angel's uniform, or watching her breasts burst out of her schoolgirl blouse. On a minor note he loves using a paddle or a riding crop on Angel, making her bend over the edge of the bed and flipping her skirt up, spanking her until she's begging, only to sit on the bed and put her head between his legs, tugging at her pigtails (but never letting himself go too deep — he has no interest in seeing Angel gag on him, it's his own hard limit before being hers). Other types of roleplay he likes are doctor-nurse or doctor-patient, landlord-maid, pilot-hostess and obviously chef and waitress, which leads us right to next prompt.

Food play

Angel loves Jin's cooking. She loves watching his wide shoulders in front of the stove, she loves hearing him hum when he tastes something good, she loves him leaning over the table and offering her some food from his fork. She especially likes seeing him so passionate and dedicated, and she loves showing enthusiasm for a hobby that is so dear to him and on which he puts so much effort. Food play is mostly a way to set the tone for passionate, steamy lovemaking, where he worships every inch of Angel's body with his lips. Angel has developed an involuntary reaction to seeing his special cookbook on the small prop by the stove. Wetness coats her thigh as soon as she sees his messy handwriting on the page, signaling that he is indeed preparing a sauce or cream for kinky play. He really likes playing with frozen fruit and ice cream or watching Angel squirm as chocolate sauce tickles her while dribbling down her breasts. He is wicked. And also awfully gluttonous. Angel spoils him and is spoiled with this specific kink of theirs. It was the first kink they explored even when their relationship was still vanilla.

Pain kink

Not much explaining to do. Jin goes absolutely wild with riding crops and paddles. There’s nothing more exciting than watching Angel push her chest towards him, trying to convince him to remove her nipple clamps as she writhing underneath him.

Cum play

There’s nothing more exciting for Jin than watching his cum stain Angel’s breasts, or pulling out at the very last second to cum on her belly. Another thing he loves is to jerk off and make Angel wait with her mouth open, ready to welcome the head of his cock as he finally reaches his climax and spills inside her, telling her not to swallow and open her mouth to show him how much she loves the result of his pleasure before closing her mouth and swallowing, and showing that she took every single droplet of it.

Yoongi and Kitten

Sensation play

Kitten is a bad bitch. She gets off at having Yoongi moaning, squirming, whimpering and groaning underneath her. And Yoongi is so sensitive. It would be a shame not to toy with that. She likes giving him head and edging him, putting him through the absolute worst. He gets weak whenever Kitten blindfolds him, pours warm massage oil on him and procedes with the most relaxing touches and caresses. He gets whiny and desperate whenever she chooses to bring ice cubes to the bedroom and he gets absolutely wild whenever her bullet vibrator is aimed at him instead of her. Kitten is a menace — and maybe a bit of a sadist — but it always feels so sweet once she finally offers him release. Yoongi might consider it torture, but in the end he really, really loves that.

Choking kink

There’s not much difference: choking... being choked... both are okay with giving and receiving. Kitten has a sensitive neck and chest, which means any action there is a huge turn on. Her sensitivity there means she usually covers her upper torso, since it being even slightly exposed makes her feel vulnerable; plus she often needs to hide hickeys and bruises anyway.

Oral fixation; face fucking

Kitten loves giving blowjob, Yoongi loves placing his mouth anywhere on Kitten, especially on her lips, her chest and between her legs. Yoongi has given hints about... Uhm... Oral skills. I think he'd be glad to spend hours between Kitten's legs, and since she wasn't entirely confident with receiving oral sex (her ex was a prick), he is more than happy to take things slow and help her rebuild enough confidence to literally have her climb him while he's laying on the bed, and unashamedly sit on his face and ride it.

Voice fetish

When Kitten and Yoongi met, both were attracted by each other’s voice and throughout courtship and dating they both loved listening to the other talk. Yoongi knows his voice is attractive, and he is incredibly attuned to Kitten’s slightly deep, very soft and quiet voice. She has a velvety timbre that is so relaxing and exciting at the same time. He could get wild at her whispering in his ear, feeling her lips graze against the shell of his ear. However, Kitten would be equally weak if he did that to her.

Phone sex

Since they both enjoy listening to each other’s voice, and since Yoongi travels a lot, they are really into phone sex when they’re too far apart, or when Yoongi needs to stay at the dorms or if they feel extremely needy in the middle of the day. Even when he’s on tour, they prefer phone sex to kinky video calls.

Breast worship

This kink, paired up with Yoongi’s oral fixation, Kitten’s sensitive chest, and cumplay just explains how much exploring there is toward this direction. There are no limits: sensation play with ice cubes or warm massage oil, wax play, food play, boob jobs, a lot of nipple teasing… Kitten is open to experimenting and Yoongi is more than aware of what could feel nice and what would be utter torture. And he wants to try it all.  

Cumplay and Cum eating

Yoongi is not afraid of things getting messy. He likes having Kitten’s juices all over his face, licking them off his lips and fingers: he doesn’t need her to taste like watermelon or smell like rainbows and unicorns. He wants a woman, real and messy. He loves the salty taste on his tongue, and he can tell when she’s close to her period for how the taste of her changes. Plus, he loves cumming on her breasts, especially if his semen accidentally marks her pretty, lacy bras. 

Hoseok and Giggles

Handjobs; squirting

Hoseok’s hands are a blessing. But his fingers are a gift of the devil. They were made to sin and torture. Giggles is very sensitive on her own account. That paired up with Hoseok’s skills makes for wild nights of soaked sheets — luckily enough they buy an impermeable blanket pretty much at the beginning of their relationship.

Impact play; flogger

Not only Hoseok’s hands are a blessing, but those wrists are stretchable. Fluent. They’re perfect for cracking a whip. Or a flogger — he is a bit afraid of using a whip, and it takes a lot of space… However, floggers? He smiles wickedly whenever Giggles gets close to him on Thursday or Friday and casually sits on his lap, hooks an arm behind his neck and leans in close. “I don’t have my Monday shift… Do you think we could… Play with the flogger?” She asks, a bit insecure. He usually plans scenes for Saturday night, so he can have all the aftercare equipment ready and he can spend all Sunday taking care of Giggles. If he can comply to her request, he hugs her close to him and reassures her as they start planning more details.

Bondage

By now it is canon that these two have taken lessons, that they have personalised ropes that Giggles had to prepare personally. Although she’s more precise and diligent in knots, Hoseok is also very attentive and prepared; they often discuss bondage scenes, even over dinner, talking about how the scene will play out, which types of knots to use, how to secure the rope, et cetera.

Experimenting

As I said, they are both absolutely okay discussing stuff they want to try. It isn’t uncommon for them to be watching a movie and suddenly something appears — even something as banal as a clothespin or a makeup brush —  and suddenly one of them is going: “We could use that in bed”. It isn’t uncommon for them to discuss kinky stuff during the week, planning scenes over dinner, or while they’re chilling, or whatever.

Torture play; Overstimulation; tickling

Hoseok likes seeing Giggles writhing and tossing underneath him. He likes torturing her with overstimulation, giving her orgasms back to back or making her squirt so many times that she passes out — it only happened twice and he made sure she drank almost two litres of water afterwards to make sure she didn’t get dehydrated. He also loves her laugh and her nickname comes from the lovely, happy sounds she makes when he coaxes a laugh from her. He loves tickling her to tears, her silvery voice erupting in chuckles that fill his heart with joy.

Shifting positions; multiple rounds

Hoseok has stamina and flexibility. He can go for three rounds without even blinking. He’d manoeuvre Giggles in and out of positions, directing her, helping her put her body in place, following her movements as she shifts. She’s not always happy with all the moving around, especially when she finds a good position and Hoseok decides he wants to change it; however, he can be extremely convincing and he happens to remember all her favourites, putting them in a smooth, easy sequence whenever he wants to reward her — which is at least twice a month because Giggles is the most perfect little bubble.

Jimin and Princess

Exhibitionism

Jimin lives to be watched. His mannerism and elegance make him a performer, even in the plainest tasks. When Princess is watching him, he only exists for her eyes and her eyes only. Nothing gratifies him more than the loving, passionate glances she throws at him when with their friends, or the obscured and raptured ones when she’s dominating him, or the desperate, imploring ones when it’s his turn to call the shots.

Pet play

Jimin is a huge switch. He likes following his whims and is overall a brat, who just does whatever he likes. So, when Princess comes out of the bathroom before bedtime and finds him lounging on the bed naked with a pair of cat ears, his collar and her riding crop waiting on her bedside table, she knows exactly the kind of treatment he’s trying to get. Nevertheless, when in that mood he turns into the most obedient little kitty, so vulnerable and frail that Princess knows she shall treat him with velvet gloves (haha). Literally.

Edging and overstimulation

Princess likes it when Jimin gets messy and whiny and loud. She likes listening to him whimpering and whining while she uses her vibrator on him and makes him cry. It makes her feel powerful. It also makes her ten times softer afterwards and she just loves it when he hits subspace so bad he starts calling her mommy and begging for her to make him cum.

Anal play

Both Princess and Jimin are okay with giving and receiving. Princess is especially in love with double penetration. Jimin is very okay with rimming and putt plugs.

Spanking

Jimin has never really had the courage to try getting spanked before. He had his first experience with Princess, directing her thought the scene. He had learnt basic directions in case he ever needed to teach his partner, but he never thought it would actually happen. From there he and Princess get more comfortable with spankings and get even more involved in impact play, still spankings stay Jimin’s favourite.

Degradation

When in dom mode, Jimin can be vitriolic in his remarks, praising Princess with the dirtiest taunts. Some name calling happens, but Jimin never lets that get too deep. He usually opts for a patronising behaviour that questions Princess’ ability to live without him, and usually avoids anything outright insulting.

Breast worship

Jimin loves Princess’ chest. He likes touching her breasts, more than anything else, but this doesn’t mean he won’t slap them, suck them and fuck them every now and then.

[Sorry if I didn’t write much, honestly I’m still figuring these two out. I think it has a lot to do with Jimin being just so... mercurial. I can’t find another word. He is the least “steady” character in my head. I don’t know. I’ve always had problems with understanding Libras. He’s just so moody and so... It’s frustrating. I just have so many vibes coming from him it’s too much.]

Taehyung and Lace

Voyeurism; exhibitionism

While Jimin lives to be watched, Taehyung is all about the art of watching. Taehyung needs to watch Lace. It doesn’t matter if she’s putting on her lipstick or washing the dishes or brushing her teeth or sucking his cock. He will study her like a painting hung in a museum until he can close his eyes and imagine her exist like a hologram in his head. He loves watching her during sex and he indirectly loves being watched by her too. Lace has never felt so beautiful. 

Outdoor sex

I think they wouldn’t mind trying outdoor sex: the lack of available locations in Seoul initially discourages them, but as they start going on holidays together, geographic remoteness and private outdoor spaces start becoming characteristics these two actually look for in their ideal resort. Yes, they’re the type to fuck against a tree in the woods — or maybe on the beach, under the stars (with Lace taking the utmost care in making sure nothing goes wrong in terms of safety both to their healths and Taehyung’s career).

Cyber sex

With Taehyung travelling because of his job, it isn’t uncommon for him and Lace to become cyber sex experts. Not only he has videos of her safely stored away in a memory card he has basically stitched to his skin — he is hyperaware of it and they are extremely careful of anything that could possibly link the video to the two of them — but he's more than willing to plan videocalls where they can get carried away in front of the camera for the other's viewing pleasure.

Cockwarming

There’s nothing more relaxing and intimate to Taehyung and Lace than being physically connected after sex. After being so close, so together even for a rough, brief quickie, it is traumatic for them to part too suddenly, so usually Taehyung stays inside her for at least a bunch of minutes.

Oral fixation

Both Taehyung and Lace like putting their mouth on the other. Lace could live with Taehyung’s cock in her mouth, while he especially loves to bite her flesh, pretty much anywhere, or stare at her face while he suckles her breasts like a little boy. He could literally fall asleep while they’re facing each other, on their sides, suckling at her nipple while she handcombs his hair, the pressure slowly decreasing until he lets go completely, sound asleep.

Foot fetish

Both Taehyung and Lace are new to this and they're more than willing to explore. Expect Taehyung to grow increasingly addicted to them playing footsie underneath the dinner table, but also to get exceedingly turned on by having Lace's feet laying on his lap or crotch.

Squirting

Taehyung knows exactly how to touch Lace, massaging her after a long day, relaxing her whole body before his fingers end up inside her. His strong, sinewy fingers seem to be programmed to please her. Nevertheless, he is not prone to use this as a form of torture; he'd much rather use it to amplify Lace's sensitivity and help her reach further states of pleasure.

Anal play

I think Taehyung aims at possessing every inch of Lace's body, and of course he wouldn't mind one bit to rim, finger or fuck her ass. He'd be absolutely fine with buttplugs and double penetration. And don't think he would mind wearing a butt plug himself — I think he's the most likely to wear a tail-buttplug, probably. I also think he is by far the most comfortable with the idea of getting pegged: he knows his power and he knows it could never be undermined by Lace fucking him with her strap on.

Jungkook and Candy

Predator play

May it be playful or absolutely ruthless, Jeongguk loves hunting Candy inside his apartment. He loves playing hide and seek, he loves the rush he feels when he spots a hint, and he loves even more the adrenaline coursing through his body when he chases her down the corridor and picks her up, throwing her body over his shoulder — oh, and most of all he loves ripping her clothes off and taking her whenever he manages to catch her.

Corruption kink

Jeongguk’s predatory instincts get even louder when Candy is acting innocent, being her happy, playful, bubbly self. Go figure when she’s sleeping and her face is so soft and young and she has a slight pout and squishable cheeks: Jeongguk can feel his blood flood to all the right places, arousal and adrenaline mixing up, while his brain tries to stay calm, wake her up gently and ask for her consent.

Marking

It’s not that big of a thing to him, he might leave hickeys down Candy’s chest, but that’s mostly it. He’s shy and he’s not all that comfortable with other people seeing them. However, I decided to place this kink right here because bunny wants to be marked. He loves indentations and scratches coming from Candy’s medium-short nails. His all time favourite are scratches down his back, and small crescents on his shoulders and ass. Also lowkey scratches down his abs and thighs. He might go crazy the moment he’s not promoting or shooting and he can finally let Candy cover his chest in hickeys.

Degradation

When absolutely fucked out, Jeongguk starts rambling the most saccharine, degrading sentences to Candy. He has a rich collection of dirty pet names, sometimes with a patronising or humiliating undertone. He doesn’t do it coherently, he’s just not thinking and it feels that good. Of course he always apologises afterwards, but Candy has no shame whatsoever. He might apologise for calling her his fuckdoll, but she’s not ashamed of it, that’s exactly what she is. Hearing him speak those nasty words always gets her going since it shows how fucked out she’s getting him.

Praise

Jeongguk wants to be praised. His ego bursts when Candy praises him, openly or not. Candy whining while he hits the spot is one of the strongest praises she can offer him. He direly needs to be praised when in sub mode, matching the encouraging words with soothing touches and loving glances.

Mommy kink

Yes. They’re exploring a few things after it turned out Joengguk wanted to try. Apparently he’s enjoying way more than he expected. Especially when he’s playing chase with Candy and she grows tired, stomps her foot to the floor and gets her harsh tone on. He starts obeying in seconds. Overall a well.behaved baby, if a little lively and energetic.

Breast worship

Another great fan of boobs. He really loves fucking Candy’s tits, especially while she’s laying down and he’s sitting on top of her, straddling her ribs. His obsession worsens once she gets a nipple piercing: it becomes his favourite place to put his hand on before sleep.

Oral sex

Candy is the absolute grandmaster of blowjobs. She’s the non plus ultra. Blowjobs become Jeongguk’s favourite reward, especially when paired up with her cunt grinding against his face. He could die a happy man like that. After helping Candy get rid of her insecurities about being eaten out, Jeongguk decides he’d do that at least three times a week, almost planning a schedule to make sure he didn’t skip a day. He lowkey asks Yoongi for tips, trying to find new positions to test Candy’s resistance.

Cockwarming

Jeongguk gets very emotionally vulnerable after sex. He needs to talk about his insecurities and doubts, since he always feels so connected to Candy right in the aftermath. At the beginning, cockwarming is actually a consequence of him not realising he hasn’t pulled out as he rambles about everything that is going on inside his mind; however, as he gets used to that, he begins to do it willingly, feeling too naked and cold without staying inside her.

Multiple rounds

Jeongguk has a very high stamina. He can last two to three rounds — four if he’s going wild —, then go for some food, some water and/or a nap and be ready for more in a few hours. Candy is absolutely okay with it: he’s usually the one moving her like a puppet, so even if she’s exhausted, she doesn’t need to worry, he’ll do all the work.

Rough/animalistic sex

Jeongguk is not exceedingly into powerplay: any kind of power imbalance comes naturally, without any kind of planning or negotiating and what the others express in more niche activities, they simply express in very rough, very intense fucking. Especially when Jeongguk has just come home from the gym. Rather than using fancy toys or sophisticated practices, they much rather jump each other bones and fuck like rabbits (haha).

[loth-wolffe]

About that Fox post: i absolutely love you for writing it, thank you for that

Also, for your consideration:

- Where were you during the zillo beast attack?

- throwing a surprise birthday party for him?

- going shopping together

- I have a scenario that him dating an investigative journalist would be very chaotic, any thoughts?

- what's the friendship with his brothers like?

- why do i fell he would be good with kids? Like your nephew or something

- on that note, does he get the dad genes from Jango?

- post-war AU? in the timeline where Palpatine chokes and dies like he's supposed to

- Getting!! Married!! (eventualy)

many Fox thoughts today, many thoughts

sorry this is so long, I have little self control and a lots of love for fox. i love u so much for asking this and letting me explore what a life with fox would be like.

also I apologize for being a h*rny bitch and not controling myself, so nsfw thots are marked like this so if u wanna skip that's fine.

and uh, first I'm gonna answer the investigative journalist hc and base everything about this in that solely thought because that's a galaxy brain thing to say.

I have a scenario that him dating an investigative journalist would be very chaotic, any thoughts?

AHDJSJ I LOVE THIS. okay okay but I feel like because of this job this is exactly why you guys met, like you needed some info and you asked some shiny but he didn't know a thing and you were like "is there someone I can talk with about this?" and when he's about to reply, Fox enters in action and he's like "need anything?" but sO COCKY.

he hates journalists mostly because some of them treat the clones very badly and never talk about the casualties or that kind of stuff about war, right.

like, it would turn into this-- banter filled with sexual tension that would've ended up in a make out session if 1. fox didn't have that much of self control and two if he weren't wearing his bucket.

it'd be like

"listen man-"

"it's commander for you." a pause, "or sir."

or like

"i need to do other things if you don't mind."

"i can think of a few you could be doing right now." and the way your eyes run through his entire body, even if he's all covered in plastoid but damn you if he isn't the hottest man walking, and he actually shivers, and gulps, because it's not like he wasn't thinking about that either, pushing down your pants and railing you right then and there in that fucking filthy alley. he is well aware how his suddenly codpiece feels too tight, but you only smirk and go, "you know, like giving me the information I need?"

KDJSJ IMAGINE THE POWER. THE POSSIBILITIES.

it'd be so ridiculous, but you also caused this impression on him that when you turned away to go on your business he was dEVASTED, but he didn't want to let u know he actually liked you. He's stubborn, that man.

So by some miracle when you're investigating something, you guys run into each other bc he's on patrol or something and he's GIDDY. but also frozen in place bc he didn't think he would ever see you again, mostly because Coruscant is big and has too many people in it. and you're like

"ah, commander fox, isn't it?" and he quickly resumes to say something that shows how aNNOYED he pretends to be, but he ends up tagging alone because "these parts are not safe"

"oh?"

"you'd need protection."

and the smirk you have is sO ARROGANT because it's not your first rodeo.

"you wouldn't want to have a civvie getting killed or something on your watch now, would you?" and he clears his throat and nods sharply. and you give him this innocent eyes and bat your lashes, "my hero."

and if you think those words didn't do aNYTHING to him, you're mistaken u hear me, he's instantly hARD.

so anyways after that YOU ask him out, and he's like, stuttering and saying yes and all.

now some random thoughts on this magnificent hc.

• if it can't be himself, he would always have the men he trusts the most going on patrols around the zone you're around in case something happens.

• he lOVES when you rant about something new you discovered, and when he asks for mOre info bc he's a, how do you say chismoso?, he loves gossip??? anyways and you're like "nu huh, you gotta wait till tomorrow, foxie"

• he aLWAYS makes sure to read/see your job, either if you work for some newspaper, magazine, etc or if you're on the TV he nEVER misses it.

• if you work for the TV, his brothers are always like "fOX YOUR GIRL IS ON THE HOLONET LIKE RN!!!" and he gives them this bitch face because he kNOWS THANK YOU.

• alright but imagine going on dates with him and being like "did you know there was an investigation last year around this part that–?" ROMANCE AT ITS PEAK.

• if his shift ends before you even think of going home, he definitely joins you on your investigations.

Where were you during the zillo beast attack?

uhh, I think you'd be home, like maybe you turned in early and fox maybe didn't know, so he was almost in tears when he called you after the whole thing happened because he was so worried.

of course, during the attack, he tried to push the thought aside, bc I think all clones have this, uh, switch, that makes them not worry during missions that much? just like, have this thought here and there but nothing serious that would make them paralyzed and have a panic attack right there. but every second he thought of you and hoped you were alright.

unlike you, that were worried sick because you saw the chaos unfold, the troopers arriving in shuttles and the jedi doing whatever they were doing and you just heard destruction. you DID cried a bit and when fox called you, you cried even harder. and he was like "it's alright, I'm alright baby."

that night he hold you SO tight, whispering sweet nothings on your ear and never stopped kissing you once. you barely got any sleep because you were so afraid of waking up only to find out the other died on the attack and it was all a dream.

throwing a surprise birthday party for him?

AAAAAH THIS IS SO CUTE.

now, clones don't exactly have a birthday???? but he did all these nice things for your birthday (he and the boys baked you a cake that was sO UGLY and tasted a bit weird) so you thought you could surprise him too.

it's most likely he gives you the date when he graduated from Kamino or something and for all the years you're with him, you never miss his "birthday" at first you did something quiet, like a dinner at your place, bought him something nice, gave him a bath or something and spoiled the shit out of him.

so for the second year, you threw him a party in his office, made him this cake or whatever and decorated with red and white balloons and invited a few troopers that wanted to help you and he was stoic for a moment, but then you were like "hAPPY BIRTHDAY!" and hugged him so tight and he relaxed under your touch and whispered this small "thank you baby"

everyone congratulated him and he was a bit awkward but when they start telling all these stories of them and fox on the job, he starts to loosen up a bit, so while everyone is eating cake he hugs you from behind and chuckling lowly in your ear as he listens to his brothers.

he dOESNT like pda like I said but he forgets for a moment because he just loves you sO SO SO SO MUCH. it's also easier for him to whisper filthy things into your ear and mumble how good you are for him, that he doesn't deserve you, that he can't wait for everyone to leave cause he wants to have his present (you) nipping your earlobe and making u all hot and bothered and would def fuck you nice and hard on his desk. yup

going shopping together

imagine, jUST IMAGINE, he'd look like your personal bodyguard 😭😭 like, he'd be behind you carrying most of your bags and people would look at you wondering who are you, why are you sO important to have the commander of the Coruscant guard with you???

but like, you don't care and fox doesn't even notice, and he'd be so attentive, faking to be both annoyed and uninterested but he'd see this nice shirt or dress or whatever and grumble something like "you'd look good on this" i just-

and like when you pass by the lingerie store, dUDE, he'd make you model for him, him sitting like he fucking owns the place, getting harder and harder every time he sees you in a new pair of underwear and when you show off this cute little red set. damn.

if you go to the market or something, he'd always love to show you these things like "look at that" or just pull you towards this stall and you'd adORE to show him stuff like, "ohh, fox here try this" or "what you think about this?" and stuff like that.

what's the friendship with his brothers like?

i think it'd be very easy-going and light, they would tease you sometimes, but they really like you, mostly because they see fox isn't as stressed as before and they see how happy he is when around you.

they think he deserve it, to have somewhere where he's free and loved, so yeah.

they sometimes ask him about you and never miss a chance to say hi when you stop by the office.

the boys absolutely ADORE you.

why do i fell he would be good with kids? Like your nephew or something. does he get the dad genes from Jango?

HE WOULD AND HE DOES.

like, I think at first he'd be very hesitant when it comes to children, like he'd be nervous when you introduce him to your niece and when you ask him if he wants to hold her, he says a quick no and just prefers to watch you, heart feeling funny when you make faces at the little baby in your arms.

at some point he dOES hold her, with such care and a gentleness that makes your heart flutter, and he coos softly as she sleeps soundly in his arms, rocking her with a delicacy you thought impossible from such hard man, and when he looks at you his eyes shine with this flash of something you can quite place but makes your heart skip a beat and think of how much you'd love to have this, with him, a little family, a baby that has his curls and maybe your eyes, a mix of your skin color with his and maybe his stubbornness completed by your charisma. a perfect little thing for you two to hold and care and love.

he'd be such a good dad, but then again every clone would be the most fantastic dad bc it's literally in their genes.

if you have a nephew that is, u know, older but still a kiddie, like 5 or 6, the lil boy would be aMAZED by fox, he'd love him so much, like imagine, always asking for the commander, wanting to play with him, asking fox to carry him eVERYWHERE, and at first fox would be like, shy and uncertain and he wouldn't know how to act until he accepts the fact that this little boy really likes him and looks up to him and fox becomes The Cool Uncle™

post-war AU? in the timeline where Palpatine chokes and dies like he's supposed to and Getting!! Married!! (eventualy)

well, in my post-war AU, clones get Rights™ and get paid and have vacations and stuff, sO, maybe you get to have Fox for a little more time and his schedule isn't as bad as it was during the war, so maybe after the war you get home to a nice dinner and fox using this silly apron and sometimes you come home early just so you can cook with him.

maybe you go on holidays to these nice places, going to the beach or the woods and finally settling somewhere quiet, start a family in this nice house or if you don't want kids then it's just the two of you and maybe a few pets.

i think the wedding would be officiated in Coruscant, of course, so his brothers and your fam can go, he'd definitely cry when he see you walking down the isle or when you put the ring on his finger and he'd be so so so happy, dancing with you all night, being so clingy because he's just Over the moon, y'know, kissing your cheeks and neck, whispering how lucky he is and how much he loves you, and how good you look, never leaving your side and always leaning over with pouty lips for you to kiss him.

when he proposed it was during one of your sweet, soft times with him, maybe in the aftertaste of your sexy times, as he holds you close to his chest, fingers running up and down your skin, as he stares at the ceiling and the question comes out as if he were talking about the weather, his heartbeat is slow and steady and it's one of those times he feels confident and sure.

you have talked about a future together, so he knows you'd say yes.

it's more a statement than a question, really.

"marry me." he would say, so quietly, almost a whisper. and when you look up you only find this beautiful emotion filling his eyes.

"what?" you just want to make sure you heard right, he'd smile softly, cup your cheek and as his thumb caresses your skin he'd whisper.

"will you marry me?"

you oBVIOUSLY say yes while ugly sobbing.

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Noona, Do You Have a Boyfriend? | Part 1

Genre: Smut 

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: You hate brats. Jisung is a brat. So why the fuck are you blowing him in a dirty bathroom in the middle of a concert? A/N: I hope this is better than the clusterfuck that was Born Sick. This is supposed to be a small series but knowing me, who the fuck can tell? 3racha don’t read this!

Warnings: femdom, sub!jisung, brat!jisung, dom!reader, dancer!au, dancer!reader, very mild dub-con, jisung doesn’t ask for permission before he does something and you should always ask for permission.

Part 2 Han Jisung is insufferable. The boy didn’t know how to take no for an answer. He was always bothering you, using any spare moment he had to hit on you or try to seduce you. He would do the craziest things to try to get your attention, ranging from dropping the cheesiest pick up lines on you to giving you what basically amounted to a lap dance. It’s not even that you didn’t find him attractive, he certainly was. He might not have the stunning good look of Hyunjin or Minho, but he possessed an abundance of charisma that just drew people to him. The only problem is that he knew that too well. As someone who thrived on praise and received it from everyone, everywhere, it was natural that he’d know how attractive he is and use it to his advantage, but it seriously got on your nerves how arrogant he could get sometimes. Guys who think they’re the shit are so off-putting to you—you’d take a well-behaved baby boy over a brat like Jisung any day. The only problem though was that Jisung is right, he really is irresistible, try as you might to deny it. He got away with displaying a multitude of opposite charms because he embodied them so carelessly. When he’d do aegyeo—puffing his cheeks out so he’d look even more like a cute squirrel—his awkwardness would make it endearing instead of cringey, and the stupid kissy faces he’d make at you would be almost too tempting to ignore. You wouldn’t guess it by looking at him, but Jisung could be real suave when he wanted to. He is shameless and he is cocky and that was a recipe for one very rude boy who would stop at nothing to seduce you. As a backup dancer for JYP, your job allowed him ample opportunity to get physical with you. You frequently had to stay late at the practice room with him in order to teach him dance moves that you knew he was messing up on purpose so he could get you alone and make his moves on you. Those late night dance sessions were filled with heated gazes, unnecessary lip bites, and overly sexual dance moves. Han Jisung is nothing but an undisciplined boy who doesn’t know how to take no for an answer. So why the hell did you think it was a good idea to blow him a bathroom right in the middle of a concert?

They boys were on a short break in between sets in which they could catch their breath and get seen to by the stylists in case they needed to get anything fixed. But as soon as they went off stage, Jisung ran off to the bathroom and locked himself in there. It was none of your business. As far as you were concerned, the more time he spends in there, the less time he has to bother you. Unfortunately for you though, Jisung’s ceaseless attempts to hit on you were known to most of the staff by this point and, after multiple unsuccessful attempts by other people to get the boy to come out of the bathroom, the head stylist asked —i.e. ordered—you to give it a try, hoping that Jisung would hurry up whatever he was doing in there and come out so he could bother you a little before the next set begins. You were totally against it, a man’s bathroom time is his own and even though he annoyed you endlessly, you didn’t want to embarrass him. But the woman was adamant and you couldn’t say no to a senior staff member so you, begrudgingly, accepted. Clearing your throat awkwardly, you knock on the door, and call out for him. “Noona! What are you doing back here?” Jisung answers in a panicked voice that immediately raises suspicion within you. You understand he could be embarrassed about taking too long in the bathroom, but his tone was less embarrassed and more freaked out.  “Siyeon-unnie asked me to come get you… what is taking you so long anyway?” “Nothing!” He answers too fast. Realizing how squeaky his voice sounded, he coughs and tries again, this time in an unnaturally deep voice, “Uh, nothing. I’m just… fixing my… hair.” You roll your eyes, “Oh, yes, because you don’t literally have an army of stylists whose entire job is to fix your hair for you. What is really going on, Han?” He’s silent for a long time, clearly hesitant to tell you which only piques your curiosity further. You hadn’t been interested before but now you certainly were, especially after what he says next. “If I tell you, you’ll beat my ass up.” “That’s very possible.” “Noona! That’s not funny.” “It is, but okay, I won’t hit you or whatever, just tell me what’s wrong.” You hear the sound of the door unlock before the round-cheeked boy sticks his head out to say, “Promise you won’t hit me.” You roll your eyes and mockingly hold your pinky finger up, “I promise.” As the door creaks open to reveal a bashful Jisung cupping his hands over his crotch, you could almost smack yourself for not realizing the problem sooner. Of course a horndog like Han would pop a boner right in the middle of a damn concert. He seriously is hopeless. “You promised you won’t hit me.” He quickly reminds you, probably seeing the annoyance on your face, and you sigh. “Han, we have no time for this. Just jerk off or something.” “You think I haven’t tried!” He exclaims in exasperation, “It won’t go away. It hurts, noona. I can’t—” And then something curious happens—Jisung whimpers—whimpers!—and his expression settles into one of pain and desperation. It was an entirely new look on him—a vulnerable, soft side that you’ve never see on him before and honestly? The rush of arousal that shoots down to your heat at seeing him like this almost makes you pass out. The Jisung you knew was always so cocky and bratty that you’re ashamed to admit that you’ve touched yourself to the thought of breaking him—making him so damn needy that he’d take anything you give him and say thank you. It was the ultimate guilty pleasure that you never intended to actually act upon. It was just an outlet for all the sexual frustration he put you through and all the your pent up sadistic impulses that you’re too afraid to indulge in. That’s why Jisung was so dangerous; he makes you want to wallow in those tendencies. He makes you want to tease and punish him, and tease and punish him, until he apologizes for everything and begs for mercy. So yeah, you try to avoid that at all costs. But could anyone really blame you for pushing him inside, locking the door behind you, and getting on your knees to give that hellboy the suck of his life when he finally acts just a little bit subservient? You think not. Maybe this will help you flush out your desire for him. You know, getting over something by letting yourself be consumed by it? That’s a thing that works, right? “Noona, what are you doing?” Jisung gasps when you reach out to pull his already unbuttoned pants down. “You want this to go away, right?” He stares at you dumbly as if his brain short-circuited and he couldn’t figure out what you meant and you sigh as if you didn’t fucking adore this new side of him. “Do you want me to suck you off, Han?” “Do I…” His mouth hangs open, making you worried that drool would start leaking out, before he snaps out of his dim-witted haze and stumbles to answer, “Holy shit, yeah. Fuck yeah!” You chuckle and lower his pants and boxers down, revealing the painfully hard member that was causing him this much trouble. As soon as you wrap your hand around it, he jolts and cries out. “Shh, be quiet or you’ll get us in trouble.” Despite your rebuke, you don’t hesitate to start a rapid pace with your hand on his cock, aided by the fact that he was slick and lubricated already. Boy must’ve been trying for a long time. To his credit, Jisung tries to listen, biting down on his lip to keep quiet, his moans coming out in muffled whimpers. He only lasts for a few seconds though, because when you flick your wrist, your palm sweeping over the leaking slit, he breaks right away, moaning out your name. You know, just in case whoever catches you won’t mistake your identity. Clearly, he was too wound up and horny to be expected to actually follow orders—not that he would’ve listened either way— so you quickly take him in your mouth, figuring that you’d get him off faster this way, hopefully before anyone catches you. But it wouldn’t be Jisung if he didn’t find another way to cause trouble for you, and when you start sucking him off, he not only moans super loudly but he starts talking too. “Shit, shit.” He groans, watching you with blown out pupils as you take more and more of his cock in your mouth. He was fucking living for this. “Ah, fuck, noona’s mouth feels so good around my cock." That little shit. Why did he have to sound so sexy saying that? No matter what, you can’t let him know how much this is affecting you—how his cock feels so good in your mouth too, all hot and hard and oh-so-very responsive. He was moaning and squirming at the tinniest brushes of your tongue, and leaking so much precum that you could literally taste the need on him without him needing to say it. “I’ve wanted this for so long. Why did you have to be such a tease, noona?” 

You grip the base of his cock just a little too tightly, and pull away to snap at him, “I’m not a tease. You’re just a brat. Now, shut up or I’ll stop.” “No, no, don’t stop. I’ll shut up. Just please put your mouth back on my cock.” He says, clearly not shutting up, and grabs the back of your head to push your face towards his crotch, thrusting his hips slightly to press the head of his cock against your lips, silently demanding to be let in. 

“I will if you don’t stop being a brat.” You threaten, using your tight fist to give him a rough jerk that is just on the painful side of pleasurable. Of course you wouldn’t actually leave him like this, you needed to see how he looks when he cums almost as much as he needed to cum. It would be great fodder for your nights of shameful masturbation at the thought of this boy. But he didn’t need to know that, and with the way the wet heat of your mouth is now wrapped just around the very tip of his dick, you don’t think he’ll be figuring it out soon. Instead, he asks you the stupidest question in the history of questions.  "Can I take a picture?” Your jaw almost dislocates from dropping so low. What the fuck is wrong with this boy? “I won't show it to anyone. I promise.” He quickly adds on, as if that might convince you. “Are you crazy or just stupid?” The frown on your face was so intense, you think it might actually scare the boy for once. Truth is, you find the fact that he wants to save this moment so he can get back to it later—just like you undoubtedly will—so sexy. It makes a new gush of arousal coat your already drenched underwear. But you would never let him do that because you’re not a dumb horny teenager, no matter how much Jisung is forcing you to reconnect with that long-forgotten side of you. But even as you glare at him, he presses on, “Please, I don’t know if I’ll ever get you like this again.” It’s only when you start to get up that he finally backtracks. “It’s just a polite request! I’ll stop asking. Please, don’t leave.” “No, you’ll stop talking.” Slipping off your underwear, you mentally congratulate yourself for choosing to wear a skirt today, and stuff the fabric in his mouth. You hoped that your makeshift gag would finally shut him up, but even through the fabric, you could heal his garbled voice saying, “That’s hot.” You sigh, getting back on your knees and taking him into your mouth right away. You start bopping your head up and down his length again. Jisung wasn’t big, but he was a bit thick and it made it a little hard to continue taking in more of his length when he reaches the back of your throat. But you keep going anyway, the thickness of his cock only adding to the pleasurably tight sensation for him. When you’ve fit his entire length inside, the head nestled snuggly down your throat, you swallow. It hurt, but it was worth it to feel the way he spasmed under you and cried out loudly even through the panties in his mouth. You don’t give him a break after that, alternating between licking up and down the underside of his cock and taking him down your throat and swallowing around him, all while your hands played with his balls and your fingers rubbed the sensitive patch of skin between them and his asshole. Your pace was fast and hard, making Jisung approach his high very rapidly. It was all going so well. He was so, so close and he was finally being nice and pliant for you, letting you do what you needed to do to get him off. But then someone knocks at the door, and a voice that you recognized to be Chan’s calls out for Jisung. You quickly yank the now drool-covered scarf from his mouth and gesture for him to answer, hoping beyond hope that the lust-dazed boy won’t give you both away. “Yes?” “What the hell are you doing in there?” Chan immediately pick up on the way Jisung’s scratchy voice trembles. “What’s going on? And where the hell did ___ go? She was supposed to fetch you—you know what? Never mind all that, It’s almost time to get back on stage so hurry the fuck up.” “I’m trying to!” Jisung whines, pouting down at you like this was all your fault. That brat! Narrowing your eyes at him, you press his cock against your mouth and sink down on his length in one go. He almost screams your name, but for once he had the good sense to bite down on his tongue as soon as the first letter came out.  “Seriously what are you doing in there?” Accusation was clear in Chan’s voice, and you realize it probably wasn’t helpful to try and push Jisung right now, no matter how much of a brat he was being. So you move to pull away but he stops you, his hands grabbing the back of your head and pushing your mouth all the way down his length again. “Shit,” He curses quietly, before calling out to Chan in a louder but clearly strained voice, “I’m almost done, man. Just go and I’ll come quickly.” You would roll your eyes at the double entendre but you were a little short on air right now. Before Chan’s receding footsteps can no longer be heard, Jisung tugs your head back, pulling his cock out of your mouth so far that you think he’s gonna let you breathe, but just when the tip is at the edge of your lips, he slams his hips forward again, stuffing his length fully down your throat and choking you with it. “You’re always so—ah—mean to m-me, noona.” He cries out, fucking your mouth none-too-gently. You would bite his dick off if his moans didn’t sound so damn delicious, so whiney and broken and high-pitched. You could sit him and let him use your mouth however he wanted for hours just so you could hear the sounds he made, but you were starting get dizzy. Not to mention that the little brat didn’t even ask for permission before he went ahead and made your face into his own person blow-up doll. So to get back at him and get some much needed air, you use your long nails to claw at his skin harshly, digging bright red trails down his thighs. You expect him to scream and try to get away but, to your surprise, he does the exact opposite; his hold on your hair gets even tighter, his fingers yanking the strands right at the root while he rams his cock in and out of your mouth. He only lasts a few more seconds before he cries out your name and empties himself in your mouth, but damn were they brutal on your poor throat. You’re gasping for air as soon as he pulls away, which—unfortunately for you—only makes you choke on his cum that was too much for you to swallow. So there you lie on the dirty bathroom floor, throat burning and hair stinging, gasping for breath through the tears, cum and saliva that were staining you face. “Holy shit, are you ok?” Jisung kneels down next to you, looking comical with his flaccid cock out and a dazed look on his face as he tries hard to concentrate, apologize and make sure you’re alright all at the same time. “I’m so sorry for being so rough… But also, that was so fucking hot.” He holds your head in his hands and uses his thumb swiping up some of the mess on your chin which he then presses to your lips, probably trying to get you to lick it off. You smack his hands away, furious. “You brat!” You hiss, your voice hoarse and gritty, something that Jisung apparently also finds ‘so fucking hot’ if the way he licks his lips and stares at you hungrily is any indication. He really was a horndog. “You don’t deserve my kindness. I should’ve let you go up on that stage hard and horny.” “I’m sorry, noona.” He cowers, pouting and trying to make himself look cute and small so you’d let him off the hook. “It just felt so good and I needed to cum fast before anyone caught us.” That still wasn’t enough of an excuse but you didn’t have the time to tear him a new one right now. You both needed to try and make yourself look presentable enough for the next set, which should be starting any minute now. “Whatever.” You dismiss, getting up to wash your face in the hopes that it will make you look less like someone who just had their face fucked by a horny teen. Jisung stand up too, but instead of fixing his own clothes, he just watches you. “What now?” You scowl at him through the mirror. For a millisecond, you think he looks a tiny bit embarrassed that you called him out. But then he opens his mouth… “So that’s still a no on the picture thing?” “Hey, you said no hitting!” He squeaks as you pinch his ear and drag him to the door, throwing him out. “You better fix yourself up quick because if someone finds out about this you’re dead.” •❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•  The entire remainder of the concert, Jisung couldn’t keep the shit-eating grin off his face . He looked ten times cockier than ever and he threw suggestive looks at you every fucking chance he got. Every time he did something to make the fans scream, he’d turn to you, chest puffed and an arrogant smirk on his face, showing off. You wanted to slap him right there on stage. When the concert ended and you all went backstage, he heads straight to you, wearing  a lop-sided grin that is somehow made even more infernal by his squirrel teeth. “What did you think, noona? How was that for a first concert?” “It was great. You guys did so well.” Your tone, despite being cheerful, had an edge to it intended to let Jisung know that you weren’t in the mood for his shit right now. But as always, he completely disregards you. “Who cares about them? I’m asking about me.” Jisung quips, and god help him, you know he doesn’t actually mean that. He cares about his members immensely but the boy was just too dumb to think his words through before saying them. “Did you see me on stage? I think I gave the best performance of my life out there. One fan actually took off her bra and threw it at me.” “That’s great, Han.” You deadpan, willing the conversation to end. You were still so sticky from the ordeal in the bathroom and you couldn’t wait to go home and wash your fuck-up away.  But your fuck-up was incredibly tenacious. “Maybe I should bring her backstage.” He prattles on. “Uh-huh.” “But why go through all that trouble when you’re right here, noona?” He steps up to you, placing his hands on your waist and bending down to whisper in your ear, “Plus I owe today’s performance to you. It’s only fair that I return the favor.” You poke a finger at his chest and push him away in disgust. “Yeah, thanks but no thanks.” “Why not?” He pouts, stomping his foot. Rejection always had a way of making him revert to his more juvenile ways. “You’re not my type.” He snorts, “Oh yeah, and what’s that?” “A good boy who knows how to listen.” Jisung throws his head back, laughing, “You mean a boytoy who will let you do whatever you wanted to him. What’s the matter, noona? Scared of a little challenge? Are you worried that you might actually end up under me?” You look around to make sure no one was paying attention to you, then you lean in to whisper, your tone menacing, “No. I’m worried for you. Bad boy who don’t bend, will break.” “You can’t break me.” “Yeah? Maybe try to say it without shivering next time and I just might believe you.”  •❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•  A/N: As always, feedback is greatly appreciated.

[lexicals]

EPISODE NOTES COMING AT YOU RIGHT NOW RIGHT NOW

THIS EPISODE CLEARED MY SKIN WATERED MY CROPS CURED ALL MY MENTAL ILLNESSES YOU KNOW. ALL THAT GOOD STUFF

LESBIANNSSSSSS

This first part is as usual gonna be completely out of order. Anyway

VESPA WAS SO SOFT THIS EP ;; I lover her sm I love her and buddy I love them communicating I love vespa comforting buddy who is allowing herself to be vulnerable for once

Speaking OF, aside from just the fantastic character development for buddy and the point abt her being a narcissist needing to listen to Her Own Goddamn Advice

The parallels between her and nureyev were more prominent than EVER this episode!! Jet suggesting that she leave him in command!! Her bit about her persona only ever having been a mask!! Saying that she's one of the best equipped people to spot an act in progress because she's done it herself for so long!! The obsession with being Good Enough and keeping up that flawless persona!! LIKE MOTHER LIKE SON GIVE ME THIS CONTENT

NUREYEV HATERS GET WRECKED

He had so much good shit this episode. First of all he actually sounded like capital N Nureyev, not ransom or anyone else. Second of all he was so willing to put himself in harm's way for this heist!! He's acting so much like he was when he was younger, desperate to get the job done, insisting he can do it even when it's obvious he's overreaching because he wants it so badly

SPEAKING OF JUNO GETTING HIS SHOOTING ABILITY BACK AAAAAAAAA

I'M SO PROUD OF HIM. HE SOUNDED SO HAPPY. HE SOUNDED SO EXCITED

Also vespa calling nureyev selfish and saying that she bets he's never sacrificed anything in his life?? When I say I shouted OUCH out loud jesus christ

Like okay do I think the debt subplot is gonna come to a head next episode (juno's episode)?? Absolutely. Do I think that nureyev is gonna try to make a break for it with the four items now that they've finished the heist? YUP. Do I also think he's doing it because he's scared and is trying to do as little harm as possible while trying to protect himself? YEAH.

His speech about symbols being all anyone has and just,, ooooof god. God. Someone give this poor man a hug

Also he deffo stole the knife right at the end there huh. "Lost" my ass

Juno being a fucking first rate detective once again mr steel I love you I love you you dumb whiny baby

I love buddy and vespa being so jokingly disparaging of them all T~T They're family and they give each other shit and they love each other!!

Vespa called juno by his name!! Not by steel!! Admittedly I'm p sure it was only to buddy but Still

"You're not the only one on this ship with medical secrets" vespa???? Hello????? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

Nureyev quoting buddy's line from the end of man in glass a YEAR after she said it to him and after he spent all of MiG quoting mag?? One hit KO to my heart. She's as much a parent and mentor to him as mag ever was and I need SO much more content of the two of them bonding & being mother & son

I definitely need to listen to this ep again at LEAST once. Jesus. Spent the whole thing bouncing up and down and screaming. In fact I think I have given myself a headache by overheating my brain so I will add more to this Later

Thoughts after the fact:

What vespa was saying about nureyev acting differently..... could be read as him being nervous but I can't help but think with him having been talking in his own voice all episode, what if he just wasn't putting up a persona? I don't think it would be much of a leap to think that nureyev in actuality is much quieter than the personalities he wears, but idk, just a thought

This is further to discussions that were had on the tpp adults server but uhh juno is So smart and should have been listened to earlier not just in this episode, but like going back to part one he's been pointing out buddy's questionable decisions she's made to put off this heist for almost the whole year!! Listen to juno challenge cb crew smh

I know..... that jet has been lined up as buddy's successor...... but like idk I feel like that's not a role that suits jet rly?? Yes, he's calm and steady and logical but he doesn't have buddy's strategic mind or charisma, and yes I am saying this because nureyev does and I want this to be plot relevant besides making for interesting parallels

LET NUREYEV TAKE UP THE MANTLE 2020

Second listen notes:

I just. Love buddy sm the way she speaks is so fun to listen to

“How are your children? Which is to say your car”

Nureyev is like, legit so loyal to buddy? He defends her a lot and clearly respects her immensely. Pls kabert can we have mother and son bonding

Buddy and jet’s relationship....... I cry I cry I cry

Like I literally cannot pick out my fav lines from this ep bc there’s SO many of them I’d just be quoting the whole thing

I love. Hearing buddy and vespa just talking though. Ragging juno and nureyev, being sweet with each other, laughing together..... vespa being like “one thing first - I love you :>” healed me

“If our places were switched, what would you say to me?” [CRYING CAT EMOJI]

Juno��s little “Yes, yes! Yes” just, T~T

The fact that buddy gets her advice referenced from every crew member...... jet, vespa, nureyev, and then rita..... not juno though? Idk if that’s because we just haven’t heard from juno yet or ??? idk. Weird though

Listen not to go back to this but jet does NOT sound like he wants the captain role...... and like, even on a meta level I’m not so sure he suits it but like buddy says he hates it when she says it and LET NUREYEV SUCCEED BUDDY 2020

Vespa is so excited abt the prime ;; Like SO excited, which is so sweet, but also I’m very very interested in that writing on the bottom

She’s so SOFT with buddy as well, and so calm...... I’m cry I’m cry she’s just like “okay, so you’ve got a problem, let’s fix it then”

“We’ve all had to put up with juno and ransom [acting like newlyweds] long enough” YELL. The fond family ragging of it all but also jupeter confirmed for completely insufferable

Couple of additional things:

I find.... nureyev’s little speech abt symbols and stuff rly interesting. Idk my running theory abt his debts is that his name is being used as leverage against him with the stipulation being “if you don’t pay, we’ll release your name and face to the public” meaning not only will he be in danger, but brahma as well, if we assume that the GAS has been deactivated since he left. The symbol he left behind is the only thing keeping the citizens of brahma safe - and not even that tbh, it’s only providing the illusion of safety, if this is actually the case. Idk I really wanna get my hands on the script now I think that speech says a lot abt his mental state rn

WHO ELSE ON THE CREW HAS MEDICAL SECRETS VESPA?

I don’t like the sick nureyev theory tbh but ):

[violetwolfraven]

I already asked this in the @s, but I’ll ask it here too, javid with either 28 or 23, (I don’t really care) pleaseeee :0

We adopted a kid/kids.

and

What if we kissed because we were arguing and I really wanted you to shut up but we both enjoyed it? Lol jk... unless..?

How about kind of both? Lol. Get ready for a canon-era Something to Believe In scene rewrite with a side of The Truth About the Moon! Also, this gets corny as fuck towards the end FYI.

...

Davey was at home and he couldn’t decide if he wished he wasn’t or not.

He’d helped out at the Lodging House, comforting the others, as long as he could, but eventually, almost everyone was already asleep or dead on their feet, and Race just gave him a look that said he saw how drained Davey was, and told him to go home.

Besides, he needed to get Les to bed and tell Sarah what had happened, as she wouldn’t have heard with her factory job.

So, now, he was out on the fire escape with his twin, while their mom put Les to bed after he cried himself to sleep.

Davey wished Jack making Les cry made him angrier.

“Maybe he had a good reason, David. Maybe he—“

“Shut up, Sarah.”

His tone was barely above a whisper, but Sarah stopped talking for a second.

“David,” she said slowly, “We don’t have all the facts. We know Jack... we know he scabbed on us, but...”

She trailed off, seeming to realize there was no good explanation for this. There were no facts either of them could think of that would make this better.

“The point is, we don’t know what was going on in his head,” she said finally, “Jack’s smart. Maybe there was—“

“Shut up, Sarah!”

Davey turned around, ignoring how now that he had, she would see him trying not to cry.

“Saz, we both know there is nothing you can say to make this better, so why don’t you shut the hell up?!”

She only stared at him levelly, “Is it really me you’re angry at?”

Davey shook his head, “No. No, it’s not. I should be cursing Jack’s name; not yours. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not angry at him, either,” Sarah realized, “You can’t be. You’re angry at—“

“If you finish that sentance, I’m going to say something I’ll regret.”

Sarah stopped talking.

“Look, Saz... just... go. Please go.”

She sighed, “David, things don’t always have to make sense. Feelings rarely do, and... and that doesn’t make it better—in fact, it probably makes it worse—but... damn. I don’t know how to explain this. Just... I’ll go inside if you want me to.”

When Davey didn’t tell her to stay, she climbed in the window and left him alone.

Davey sighed. He was so messed up right now. He was so messed up because... because he wasn’t angry at Sarah. He wasn’t even angry at Jack. He couldn’t be, because...

Long story short, he was angry at himself, because he couldn’t be angry with Jack.

Davey looked up, seeing the moon shining above. At least one thing still made sense.

“Latin name: Luna,” he muttered absentmindedly, “Hundreds of thousands of miles away from here.”

He remembered reading about this. Thinking back on every fact he remembered about the moon was certainly better than thinking about his own emotions.

“No signs of water, or life, or atmosphere.”

At least facts never changed on him. They made sense. Davey wished everything could.

“This is the truth about the moon. The facts are black and white.”

He smiled, despite himself, thinking about only a few days ago, when things were simpler and nobody had gotten hurt yet.

About a boy who made it so not everything had to make sense, because you felt good when he smiled at you, and that was enough, even if it didn’t make sense. Facts didn’t have to matter.

Davey couldn’t deny what he was feeling, even if the facts didn’t make sense.

Jack was a boy.

Jack made Davey feel like no one ever had.

He smirked at the sick sense of humor the universe had and mumbled his thoughts to himself.

“Shall I try to deny all I know from moments that’s gone? Would my heart let me be someone different from me from now on..? No.”

Davey wished he could be angry, but he couldn’t. Because even if it didn’t make sense, he knew how he felt.

And he was completely, stupidly, still in love with Jack Kelly.

That handsome, charismatic, dime-novel cowboy who still believed in a fantasy called Santa Fe.

As confusing as they were, Davey still had some facts about Jack, and he might as well try to organize them.

“Given name: Jack Kelly. Someone who seems to get by with a smile.”

Jack was smart in his own way, could even have a way with words, sometimes, but he had never gotten an opportunity to go to school, or sit down and read a book, and often made his points by appealing to emotion instead of logic; something that was the opposite of how Davey had always done it, yet somehow was still effective.

“Having no substance, he compensates with style.”

It was so effective that he had everyone believing what he said. He had Davey believing in what he said, when he said he cared, when he said he wouldn’t give up.

The truth about that boy was that he was a leader, a protector, or at least everyone thought he was, and he had the kind of eyes that drew you in. That made you want to keep on looking at him and make him see you, too.

Davey still couldn’t quite be angry, but bitterness definitely crept its way into his tone.

“And if I first thought he was who he claimed he was, it’s just because that kind of boy must be good at what he does.”

Davey was so stupid. Jack had admitted that he had a way of improving the truth. He had proved that he didn’t have a problem with lying to survive.

The problem was that he was so good at improving the truth that everyone believed his truth was the real, actual truth.

Revising a previous thought, he lied to survive or to get what he wanted.

And he was too stupid to see that despite all he said, his dream was really of a home, of a family, and it was right in front of him. Santa Fe was nothing he didn’t already have and if Jack still couldn’t see that after throwing away what he had, then... then let him throw it all away and fly away to Santa Fe.

“Santa Fe,” Davey mumbled sarcastically, “You’re the scene of a dream, not a plan.”

A lovely, dream, sure, but nothing that was really out west, that was really real anywhere but right here in New York.

“The dream of a boy, not a man.”

Davey took a deep breath, realizing that he wasn’t close to tears anymore. Sorting through his thoughts and facts, about the boy and about the moon, had worked, for the most part.

He looked up. The moon was still there. It always would be.

“Latin name: Luna.”

He wished the boy was, too, like he’d made it seem like he would be.

It was what had made Davey fall in love with him, how he was clearly always there for his friends. His family.

He remembered that first day, how a few different kids had come up to him and Jack had hugged them, suggested how to fix a problem, helped patch up a scraped knee, all with the patience of a loving big brother even with no blood tying him to the others.

As much as Davey had loved his charisma, his fearlessness, it was that softer, gentler side that he’d really fallen for.

Maybe it had just been an act, but Davey was still in love with him, no matter how much he wished he could just be angry and hate him.

“Lovely name: Jack.”

“Davey?”

Davey reeled back towards the window as he realized who was climbing up next to him.

“Dave, wait, please.”

That tone in his voice, the broken, almost-crying one, was what made Davey pause.

“Give me one good reason not to go inside and lock you out here.”

Jack sighed, “I... I don’t have one. Not for me. I don’t blame ya if you never want to see me again, but... here.”

He held out a paper, and Davey took it, reading with suspicion.

“Katherine wrote it,” he explained, “Pulitzer has an old printin’ press in his basement we can use, and the idea is to pass these out to all the workin’ kids of the city. If we play our cards right, it might just work, but... but I can’t do it alone. And I know Race. I know he won’t so much as talk to me right now, but we need him to get the other fellas to help. Kath’s busy gettin’ some friends who know how to work the press, so... so I need you to get through to him. He’ll listen to you.”

“And who’s fault is it he won’t listen to you?”

Davey hadn’t thought he would be able to summon that much ice in his voice, but he was glad he could.

Jack took a shaky breath, “Mine.”

As he finished reading it... the article was good. Really good. It might actually work, if this was for real.

“Jack Kelly,” Davey warned, “I swear to God if you are bullshitting me right now, I will let Spot Conlon push you in front of a carriage. He already offered to do that, by the way. Race declined.”

“I’m not bullshittin’ you,” Jack promised, “I swear on my life, I—“

“What’s that worth?” Davey snapped, not meaning a word of the angry rant he stepped forward, getting in Jack’s personal space, “Two days ago, you told me you’d give your life for this strike, for these boys, and you betrayed them! You broke their trust, Jackie! You broke my trust!”

“I know, but—“

“No!” Davey shouted, “You don’t get to voice an opinion! You’re supposed to be the one that protects everyone! You know that more than a few of them cried on my shoulder tonight because they saw you as a big brother and you abandoned them? What—for a city you’ve never seen?”

Jack looked like he was going to cry. Davey tried to act like that didn’t bother him.

“Ya know what? Kath is right. You’re crazy, Jack Kelly. You paint a place you’ve never seen and call it home. You say you want a family and ignore the one right in front of you. And you are a goddamn idiot for trading your family in for a place where you will never find what you’re looking for.”

“I... I didn’t do it for Santa Fe.”

Davey scoffed, “Then why?”

Jack’s eyes still had something broken inside, but some of the strength from before everything started to go to hell was starting to come back.

“I did it for you.”

“What?”

“I did it for you,” Jack repeated, louder, “Pulitzer threatened you, by name. He mentioned Crutchie and Les, too, but he said he’d come after you and... dammit, I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let you go to the Refuge.”

“This was always going to be dangerous, Jack. That’s not good enough.”

“You don’t know nothin’ about the Refuge.”

“I knew the risk when I signed on to this strike with you!” Davey argued, “I knew from day one it could end in me goin’ to jail getting hurt or even dying, but I don’t care.”

Jack glared at him, and as he took a step forward, his voice sounded haunted and strong all at the same time.

“You have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

“What the hell are you—“

Davey stopped as Jack turned around, having pulled his shirt off most of the way, revealing...

Deep, criss-crossing scars across his back. More than Davey cared to count and certainly enough to shut him up.

“Snyder thinks it’s funny,” he said bitterly as he put his shirt back on, “First time was when I was 13. I got out the next night, but he got me again when I was 15, then again when I was 16. Each time, I barely made it out alive. Do ya think I would ever let one of mine go through that if I could stop it?”

“I ain’t one of yours,” Davey tried to argue.

“No, you ain’t,” Jack grumbled, “Mine let me protect ‘em.”

“I don’t need your—“

“Davey, don’t you get it?” Jack yelled, grabbing Davey’s shirt as he got all up in his face, “Pulitzer knew exactly how to get at me! He knew who to threaten because you won’t let me protect ya, but you’s probably the one I wanna protect the most! So hit me if you want, but agree to the Children’s Crusade because we don’t have time for this!”

Davey grabbed Jack’s wrists, “I ain’t gonna hit you, Jackie.”

“Just do it!” Jack shouted, “I know I deserve it! Kath already punched me in the face and she apologized but we both know I don’t deserve that shit because I’m a traitor and I hurt everyone including you so just—“

That was when Davey kissed him, needing him to shut up shut up shut up. To stop talking about getting hurt like he deserved it, to just be okay.

Jack gasped against his mouth and Davey almost pulled away, but then Jack was desperately kissing him back, gripping his shirt like it was a lifeline and half-sobbing as Davey let him pull him in closer.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as they pulled apart enough to breathe.

“We don’t have time for that,” Davey whispered back, “Be sorry later. Rally the troops now. I’ll meet you at the Lodging House.”

“Wait,” Jack said as Davey was about to climb in the window to grab Sarah and Les and let his parents know where he was going, “Wait, Dave. What... what’s this about?”

Davey knew he wasn’t talking about the strike.

“Am I... am I kidding myself, or is there really something..?”

Davey rolled his eyes in exasperation, “Of course there is.”

“Well don’t just say it like I happens every day!”

“Jack, I—“

“No! I’m not an idiot! I know boys like you and me...” he sighed, “I know we don’t get happy endings, but... standin’ here right now, lookin’ at you... I just wanna grab hold of somethin.’ Make time stop so’s I can just keep on lookin’ at you.”

“I know what ya mean, Jackie. But we have work to do, so we should just—“

“Wait,” Jack insisted, grabbing Davey’s arm, “Please. Can we just... can we talk? For 5 minutes?”

Davey could see how badly Jack needed reassurance. How bad he needed to see that no, this wasn’t just his imagination, a pretty painting in his head. This was real.

“Look,” he said quietly, grabbing Jack’s hand, “You snuck up on me, Jack Kelly. I never even saw it coming. Till the moment I found you, I thought I knew what love was. But now I’m learning what is true. The world finds ways to sting you, and then one day decides to bring you something to believe in for even a night. And if you’re gone tomorrow... what was ours still will be. I have something to believe in now that I know you believed in me.”

Jack nodded in understanding, “We was never meant to meet. And then we meet—who knows why? One more stranger on the street, just someone sweet passing’ by. An angel come to save me, who didn’t even know he gave me something to believe in for even a day. And if I’m gone tomorrow...”

He trailed off, and Davey grabbed his face gently to make him distract him.

“Do you know what I believe in?”

He hoped Jack could just look into his eyes and see.

They almost kissed again, but Jack pulled away at the last second.

“If things were different...”

They both knew what he was really saying, but neither of them said it.

“If you weren’t still chasing Santa Fe...”

Because he was. No matter how stupid that dream was, Jack couldn’t give it up just after a 10-minute talk.

“If Kath’s father wasn’t probably going to kill me.

“Wait, what?”

“Oh, it turns out Katherine is Pulitzer’s daughter. Don’t worry, though, she’s on our side.”

Davey decided to process that later, “You’re not really scared of Kath’s father.”

“No... but I am pretty scared of you.”

Davey slapped his shoulder gently, “Don’t be!”

“Well...” Jack smiled, finally, “I have something to believe in, now that I know you believed in me.”

Davey couldn’t help it. He kissed Jack again, quickly, then backed up.

“I’ll wake up Les and Sarah and meet you at the Lodging House, okay?”

“Yeah. And by the way, if we’s together now... I should probably warn ya that I might not always have time for ya. I’ve been sorta takin’ care of all the other fellas since I was 14, so...”

Davey rolled his eyes, “Jack, I’m already stuck with Les. I am more than happy to adopt all of your siblings, too.”

“Oh. Okay. Ya know they ain’t actually my siblings, though, right?”

Davey shrugged, “You always act like they are, so it’s close enough.”

“Fair. Guess ya have been helpin’ take care of ‘em these last few days, so the change shouldn’t phase ‘em too much.”

“Yeah, they’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

“So... you’re sure you’re in for... whatever this is? Cause there ain’t no goin’ back in time, so... are ya in for sure?”

Davey nodded, “For sure.”

Luckily, that seemed to put Jack’s mind at ease enough for him to leave.

[bestworstcase]

Sugracha for the character ask, if it’s not too late?

it’s never too late to talk about my GIRL

What I love about them:

i could probably write a whole ramble about how the disciples are an evil mirror of the main trio even though tts failed abysmally to take advantage of this bUT suffice it to say sugracha is just evil rapunzel™️ and i love that for her. actually no not suffice it to say because i need everyone to understand that i am absolutely dead serious about this and it goes WELL beyond them both being artists -

1. they approach their art in diametrically opposed ways rapunzel is all about expressionism and has a very loose, colorful style whereas sugracha is exacting and detailed, approaching art as a way of seeing - we could also get into how painting is for rapunzel a means of processing the past whereas for sugracha it’s a means of determining the future tbh. the point is they stand at totally opposite ends of the artistic scale.

2. rapunzel’s friendliness and genuine love for people is hampered by her lack of social skills, understanding of societal mores, and poor empathy/inability to really listen to people - this is a recurring thread. sugracha’s friendliness is made sinister by her malicious intentions but she has the charisma and keen understanding of what motivates people to successfully lure people in - she has an insightfulness that rapunzel does not which enables her to succeed in ways rapunzel could not.

3. rapunzel’s passion is exuberant and unrestrained and indiscriminate: she is excited about life and people and learning new things, she wants to see the world and experience whatever life throws at her. sugracha’s passion is singular in focus and tightly controlled, which i would argue makes it more potent because she can channel the full force of it into pursuit of a single goal, which again is not something i think rapunzel could sustain.

4. the obvious reading of PB is rapunzel as a representation of choice and sugracha as her natural opposite but i find it very interesting that sugracha specifically uses the phrase “making difficult choices is part of life” and rapunzel ultimately rejects this by saying “making difficult choices is what makes us who we are” (i’m paraphrasing here so this is not an exact quote). because! quite apart from the whole mind control issue, rather than being a compulsion vs choice issue i like to read this as a choices are imposed by external forces (life itself demands that we make choices) vs choices are motivated from within (our intrinsic desires demand that we make choices) aND.

4a. this distinction imo is what defines their relationships with zhan tiri (this is getting wildly into headcanon territory with sugracha but please bear with me): rapunzel views zhan tiri as a force or being antithetical to the world she wants to live in and must therefore repeatedly make the choice to stand against her because to do otherwise would be to deny the demands of her own heart; meanwhile sugracha views zhan tiri as a natural, inevitable force and the choice to resist that—to not embrace zhan tiri and what she stands for, to not be consumed with obsession for her—is to her just as unthinkable as submission is to rapunzel.

5. which is an interesting contrast because rapunzel as a character is incredibly passive - she is a reactive protagonist throughout all three seasons and seldom if ever takes the initiative to drive the plot forward herself, with most plot progression coming from either the assistance of secondary characters or from the attacks of villainous ones - whereas sugracha is incredibly active - the instant she’s released she constructs and executes an intricate plan to free zhan tiri.

5a. what i’m getting at here is i think rapunzel’s intrinsic motivations are very weak which leads to her not acting unless she is acutely in distress or otherwise in crisis, whereas sugracha’s external motivations are so profound and all-encompassing that she has no choice but to act.

ANYWAY. all of this to say that i really do think sugracha represents the worst extremes and excesses of rapunzel’s flaws: even the externality of her art and her choices are in a way reflective of rapunzel’s passivity - where rapunzel relies on intrinsic motivations that only compel her to action when the situation feels truly dire or when other people force her to make a decision, sugracha is focused so thoroughly on exterior goals and passions that her intrinsic desires don’t even matter…so unlike rapunzel she is literally incapable of complacency or being paralyzed by indecision, both of which are things rapunzel’s weak intrinsic motivation and hesitancy to commit to choices lead her to struggle with.

and i am just…completely obsessed with all of this i think about sugracha CONSTANTLY

What I hate about them:

why in the FUCK was she only in one episode

Favorite Moment/Quote:

“my dear, whether or not they fall is completely up to you. finish my spell, and i’ll spare them. the choice is yours.” bonus points for the fucking SICK animation as she transforms from her ghost form into sugarby again.

i also love the way her voice sinks and unfolds out of the cutesy old lady voice she affected as sugarby when she reveals herself as sugracha i hear “please, sugarby was merely the vessel i chose to suit my purpose” and i go bonkers every time

What I would like to see more focus on:

i would like it if LITERALLY ANYONE BESIDES ME wrote about her. 14 fics on ao3 and two of them are mine and seven of them are weird kink fics with a gazillion characters tagged -__-

What I would like to see less focus on:

no 💚 ask me again when more people have given her the attention she deserves

Favorite pairing with:

i’m very fond of gothel as sugracha’s shitty ex i think it’s very fun

also like she definitely crushed hard on zhan tiri back in the day we’re all in agreement about that right

Favorite friendship:

they literally do not interact in canon but she and tromus both have such strong personalities that the evil brotp basically writes itself

NOTP:

do people ship her with tromus. he is a man and she is a woman so i can only assume that someone somewhere thought ‘i bet they were tOgEtHeR’ and. no 💚

Favorite headcanon:

*crazed waving at the third act of benighted*

[kingreywrites]

33.         “Welcome back. Now fucking help me.” With Mac and Jack for the prompt if you want 😚

Thank you for the prompt! I’m sorry I didn’t specify but you can absolutely hit me up with a prompt if you want ;)

Fandom: Macgyver

Disclaimer: I haven’t watch season 4 so this is all based on spoilers I’ve seen and my assumptions, I hope I’m not too off ^^’

Words count: 2311

Warnings: violence, minor character death

The first thing Mac noticed as he woke up was the sickening smell of smoke permeating the air. Trying to scrunch up his nose is a mistake, though - pain exploded all through his head and the smell took a second place to the urgent desire to puke. Mac coughed, a harsh thing that sent tiny knives in his lungs, then coughed again, and again, until he feared he might just die from the pain alone.

It took a long time for him to notice the hand circling his back soothingly, or the whispered words of comfort above his aching head, said with a texan accent he could recognize anywhere.

"Jack," Mac called, his voice a painful croak immediately drowned by his coughing. His eyes were still closed but, for a moment, he imagined that his partner was back, taking care of him and making sure everything would be alright - a pipe dream that Mac liked to indulge in. Jack was gone though, had been for a long time, and Mac was alone. Alone even when the room was packed with people, alone in his pain because there was no one to share it with like he had done with Jack - alone, especially now that he made everyone but Riley believe he was a traitor, that he worked for Codex…

Codex…

With a gasp, Mac opened his eyes and jerked upright - but a strong wave of pain made him hunch right back into his hands with a groan. There was smoke everywhere, and Mac knew that he was the one to set the fire, but the memories were vague and fleeting. He knew there had been a problem; he knew he was outed as a double agent, and that his aunt had confronted him; he knew… No, he was missing time, and the blood on his hands spoke of a head wound he did not remember.

Movement to his right made him raise his eyes again in panic. Through the dizziness, the confusion and the fear, the fully geared agent in front of him was still easily recognizable.

"Jack?" Mac breathed, meeting his friend's concerned eyes with disbelief.

For a second, Mac could see inside his partner's eyes something different, that he had trouble identifying - there was worry here, and sadness, but also something fragile and vulnerable. Jack was quick to conceal it though, his features hardening as his hands went to rest on his firearm.

"Welcome back," he bit out. "Now fucking help me!"

He gestured to the weird contraption in the centre of the room and it came back to Mac with a flash - the Codex bomb, being made as a traitor, his aunt… He made an explosion to distract but she had seen through his tactics and it all went wrong from here and-

Swallowing, his head turned to the back of the room and there she was - Gwendolyn Hayes, all that was left of his family, eyes open and unseeing. Images of their struggles flashed through Mac's head, and he remembered desperately trying to push her and her knife off him, frantic in his panic until she fell and didn't get up - the knife he hadn't tracked embedded in her back. Then, there had been an explosion that Mac had set up himself, and if she wasn't before, it certainly was the last straw for her body. Mac wanted to be sick.

"She's dead," Jack confirmed, even if it was quite obvious, "and we'll be too if you don't help me and defuse this bomb, so I don't care if you went crazy and betrayed Phoenix-"

"I didn't," Mac whispered, scooting closer to the bomb, feeling queasy from the concussion he certainly had and from the guilt burning in his stomach, only worsened by Jack's obvious anger.

"You sure?" Jack growled, "'Cause I came back very happy to see my team and I was told that not only my best friend went completely nut, he also dragged the closest thing I have to a daughter into this-"

"I didn't!" Mac yelled, ignoring the jab about not being the closest thing Jack had to a son - or, better yet, turning it into resentment and anger. "And you would know that if you stayed instead of going on a two-years mission with no contact!"

"So it's my fault now? You were okay with me going!"

Mac laughed, an ugly and tearful sound wrecking his body, but didn't answer, because he didn't think he could. Had he been okay with it? He knew he had pretended to be, for Jack's sake, secretly hoping that he would see right through him and stay home - but that was selfish, and he couldn't really blame Jack for not reading between the lines. He wanted to, though. Wanted to tell him about the growing loneliness, about losing his dad and realising that he was all alone, everything he thought to be permanent and safe in his life now gone. His relationship with Desi was unstable, his with Riley was changing, Bozer was growing more distant - or maybe he was the problem once again, the common variable that was to blame for all it destroyed.

He wanted to tell Jack all that, but the worst thing was realising that he couldn't - that his relation with Jack had changed too and that he didn't know the man in front of him as well as he knew his partner. He wondered if Jack was seeing the same thing.

"Is Riley alright?" Mac asked after some minutes of tense silence, still trying to make sense of the bomb. "I asked her to go but I'm not sure she listened."

"She's outside, Desi took care of it," Jack answered gruffly, his hands leaving his weapon as he relaxed a fraction.

He didn't ask again about Mac's betrayal, but the question was still hanging between them, visible in every tense muscles and every suspicious glances Jack threw his way.

"I didn't- I didn't betray Phoenix, I'm a double agent."

"That no one knows of?"

"Riley does," Mac snapped back, before deflating, feeling adrift in his conflicting emotions. He tried not to look at his aunt's body, but its mere presence behind his back made his body shake with nervousness. Or maybe that was the bloodloss. "Who did you talk to?"

Jack frowned. "Weird guy, not as funny as he thinks he is, kinda want to punch him... Ross?"

"Russ," Mac corrected absantely, wiping the blood off his eyes. "Ross is the guy from Friends."

"If the shoe fits..."

Mac snorted and regretted it, his head still pounding with his heartbeat. Jack's hand went tentatively to his arm and the blond stiffened - it has been a long time since someone touched him. Riley had taken his hand, last time, but that was it.

"Kid," Jack started, the nickname so achingly familiar but which didn't seem to fit quite as well as it did before.

"I don't think I can disarm it completely," Mac announced, ignoring the tentative. "And- And I don't have much time, but if I want to make the explosion less devastating, I need to stay there. You should go," he ordered, hoping that the cold and rational charisma his father always exuded was hereditary for once.

Jack shook his head, tightening his grip on Mac's sleeve. "You know that's not happening."

"Do I?" Mac laughed, heart in his throat. "Didn't you leave once already? Just do it again."

"Kid-"

"Don't call me kid!" the blond yelled, ignoring the nausea and the pain to glare at Jack's too serious and too concerned face. "You think I'm a traitor anyway," Mac spat, focusing back on the bomb, "so act like it."

He told himself that the silence was good - that Jack getting up was good, because that's what he wanted, wasn't it? He wanted his friends safe, even if that meant that he had to be alone once again, and forever in that case. There had been a time when he had been sure he wouldn't die alone, but like everything in his life, certainties had been fractured and destroyed.

Jack walked on the other side of the bomb and plopped back down, his dark eyes meeting Mac's.

"I am not leaving," he enunciated harshly. "I'm sorry I made you think… I'm sorry, alright? For what I did, and for not being there for you when you obviously needed. And for how I thought you were a traitor, I'm sorry for that too. I'm not sure how I can make it up to you, hoss…" Jack's voice cracked and, numbly, Mac noticed the tears gathered in the ex-Delta's eyes. "... but I know that I'll spend what's left of my life trying. Even if it only last ten minutes."

"No."

The word had escaped Mac before he could really think about it, but even with his muddled mind, he understood how much Jack had to go.

"I'm staying and that's final," Jack repeated.

"No!" Mac growled, ignoring the fire in his eyes and the fire in his lungs and the fire ravaging the building they were both in - ignoring it all, in favour of sending the most hateful look at Jack. "Don't you see? If you stay, you'll die and, with my damned luck, I know that I will survive!"

The tears gathered in his eyes fell, and the smoke made it painful, but Mac didn't think about it - he couldn't think, couldn't breathe, could only see the image of Jack's body he had already thought about a billion time, and had already dreamt about a billion others. His voice was hoarse, full of an emotion Jack had never seen in him.

"Charlie is dead. My dad is dead. My crazy terrorist aunt is dead, and I'm the one who killed her." Mac took a deep shaky breath, seeing that the countdown was getting close and knowing that it was Jack's last chance. "Don't… Don't make me lose you too, please."

He was begging at this point, pleading with Jack to see reason, to leave him here like he himself had to leave his dad - because it had been the right choice, hadn't it? His dad heroically sacrificed himself and Mac had to leave, so now Mac could do the whole sacrifice thing, and Jack would leave.

Jack didn't move.

Mac closed his eyes, his hands trembling too much and the bomb as inoffensive as he could make it anyway with the materials he had. He couldn't even think about what else he could do - he was too numb, too empty to feel the same excitement he did before. He could only think about the overwhelming grief he had tried so hard to keep at bay, and which was now rearing its ugly head, making him think that soon, Jack will be part of his body count.

Mac didn't want to be there for that. He didn't think he could live, if Jack was dead because of him.

A hand gently uncurled his hands, prying his nails from his already broken skin. There were still tears falling on their entwined hands, Mac noticed as he opened his eyes, each drop chasing the blood and the grime covering them.

He was exhausted. Had been since his dad died, and he didn't think he could ever get better.

Jack pulled him into a hug, and Mac melted, feeling like he had finally found an anchor in the storm that turned his world upside down. They had mere seconds left and nothing was fixed, nothing was back to the way it was before, because it could never be.

But Jack whispered "You go kaboom, I go kaboom" and, through the beating of his heart, Mac heard the comfort for what it was - at the end of the day, no matter how much we have changed, I'd still lay my life for you and I know you'll do the same.

The bomb exploded, and Mac's last coherent thought was the overwhelming hope that he'd get the time to mend things with Jack.

-----

Mac hadn't expected to wake up. He had hoped, for sure, but actually feeling the sheets on his body and hearing the voices floating around the room was a surprise. A welcomed one, weirdly enough, because he needed to talk with Jack and-

Jack.

His eyes flew open and even the piercing pain of the sunlight wasn't enough to make him close them again. He tensed, despite the fact that his entire body was screaming at him - he even welcomed this pain, because that was one thing that could always ground him. Jack couldn't be dead, he couldn't be, especially not if Mac wasn't right there with him and he needed to find-

Oh. There he was, on an hospital bed too, arguing with Riley. Jack looked exhausted - Riley too.

"You need to be honest about your pain," she exclaimed, raising her arms to the ceiling. "Stop being so damn stubborn!"

Before Jack could voice the protests he had so clearly thought of, the door opened and Bozer entered, two cups of coffee in his hands. Mac would have laughed at his timing if he didn't feel like he might pass out again any second - and, with a start, he realised it had been a long while since he last wanted to laugh. Maybe it was the overwhelming relief of seeing that Jack hadn't been an illusion, and that he hadn't died on Mac like everyone else.

"Welcome back," Riley ground out in direction of Bozer, "now fucking help me get Jack see reason."

This time, Mac snorted, thinking back on the same line being used against him not too long ago. Like father like daughter, wasn't it? Riley and Jack called his name with the same obvious joy and relief on their faces, and Mac smiled - a tiny, insecure, but finally there smile.

[aniallating]

BALANCE ACT | an Eliot playlist | listen here

a mix for when u fuck up something really important and go thru hell for a chance to correct it, or, i love and would die for eliot waugh. relevant lyrics/timeline under the cut!

01 selfish / this providence ・ i've got this selfish craze, a lavish taste for a brightly lit stage / infamous and famous, they are one and the same / so we drink tonight to my impending fame ・ i've found the perfect disguise: impossible charisma, charisma ・ you might deny it, but you're tied to your desires / yeah, you're selfish / you're selfish, so drink up

02 sunshine riptide / fall out boy ・ the world tried to burn all the mercy out of me, but you know i wouldn't let it / it tried to teach me the hard way, i can't forget it ・ take all your possibilities and throw away the limits / take your ideas and throw away the gimmicks / i do the best with what i have

03 the future / san holo ft. james vincent mcmorrow (post-mosaic) ・ so call me up, we go out / realize, not what you thought / sick of luck, sick of trying / remind myself of when i was old enough to let you down ・ run my mouth right through your lungs / i think too much when i think about your future

04 you could be happy / snow patrol (the rest of S3) ・ all the things i wished i had not said are played on lips til it's madness in my head ・ you could be happy, i hope you are / you made me happier than i'd been by far / somehow everything i own smells of you ・ do the things that you always wanted to without me there to hold you back

05 hold my breath until i die / tegan and sara (mid-monster) ・ when you asked me who, i should have said 'it's you' ・ shame on me, cause i can't help falling at your feet / it makes me mad to see you leave like that / i'm so lost, running circles in my head / if i jump, will you catch me in your arms? ・ i said i'm sorry / does it bother you? why does it bother you?

06 don't take the money / bleachers (happy place) ・ somebody broke me once / love was a currency, a shimmering balance act / i think that i laughed at that ・ i pray for everything we lost, buy back the secrets / your hand forever's all i want, don't take the money ・ when you're looking at your shadow, standing on the edge of yourself, praying on the darkness / just don't take the money

07 electric indigo / the paper kites (happy place) ・ distance never made me stronger, it tore us apart / and i know i left you questions and a lonely heart / but you've been waiting long enough to let it go / i'll do you right ・ all i know is that i want you, so heavy on my mind

08 i'll be good / jaymes young (post-monster) ・ i never meant to start a fire, i never meant to make you bleed / i'll be a better man today ・ my past has tasted bitter for years now ・ i've been cold, i've been merciless, but the blood on my hands scares me to death ・ for all of the sparks that i stomped out, for all of the perfect things that i doubt

09 delicate / taylor swift (4x13 who?) ・ my reputation's never been worse, so you must like me for me / we can't make any promises, now, can we, babe? but you can make me a drink ・ is it cool that i said all that? is it too soon to do this yet? cause i know that it's delicate, isn't it? ・ do the girls back home touch you like i do? long night with your hands up in my hair, echoes of your footsteps on the stairs / stay here, honey, i don't wanna share / cause i like you

10 i like me better / lauv (post-s4 or whatever) ・ to be young and in love in new york city, to not know who i am but still know that i'm good long as you're here with me ・ i like me better when i'm with you

icb the universe gave eliot a break after s4 and now he and quentin live together and have time to relax and heal! thanks for coming to my ted talk

[fandom-strumpet]

Warehouse Weakness

“Dean listen, we want to HELP you. I know there is a part of you that cares in there somewhere that’s listening. Come with us and we can do this the easy way.” 

Summary: You and Sam have finally tracked Demon Dean down to a warehouse in hopes of capturing him to turn human again. The plan goes sideways, and the reader finds herself in between a rock and a hard place trying to rescue her love.

Characters: Demon Dean, Sam, Bobby, female reader

Pairing: Demon!Dean/Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,549

Warning: swearing, violence, brush with death

You and Sam had just pulled up in the Impala to the massive steel warehouse by the docks. “This is where Dean went. I’m sure of it. Bobby said he would be here soon, just needed to grab some stuff. We’ll have to be careful, there’s bound to be more demons lurking around. ” Sam said. 

 “I agree, which is why I am going to be the distraction and you find Dean as fast as you can.” 

“You? A distraction? Are you sure that’s a good idea Y/N? It’s not smart taking on more demons than you can handle. You know he’s not going to come with us without a fight--”

“It’ll be fine Sam, we’ve gone over this. Do you have the paint for the devil’s trap?”

“Yes but-”

“Alright lets go, we have to be quick about this.”

As you both enter the building you signal Sam to go left while you walk straight down the middle aisle. Your black combat boots thud against the concrete sending echoes through the tall and deep building. You sigh and pull out your phone- pulling up “fight playlist” first off- ACDC. A Dean approved playlist. Dean. You miss his warmth, his cheesy charisma, his heart stopping smile and the smell of him in that leather jacket. Demon Dean wasn’t the same. There was no emotion behind his eyes when he flirted with you and you hated it. You hear a rustling in the next aisle followed by fast footsteps. You freeze upon hearing a low growl that turns into a demon’s voice sending chills up your spine. 

“Well, look who finally decided to show up. We’ve been waiting for you.”

“I’m sure you have you fucking sick demons.”

You look around slowly trying to place his voice. 

“You’re a fool for trying to face us alone. You’ll never get past all of us to the oldest Winchester.”

“Watch me.” 

*Cue badass fight music* 

A massive fight scene ensues, the angel blade flashing back and forth resulting in demon blood everywhere. It’s going to be a bitch cleaning this up. You managed to kill 3 demons but not without taking some minor cuts on your legs and arms. The gash really bothering you was on your lower left side causing you to kneel for a moment. Hurry up Sam. You give a grunt and heave yourself up noticing one last demon running away, too far for you to get him. “Damn it! That will come back to bite me in the ass later.” Suddenly your phone rings, it’s Sam. 

“Y/N, I’ve got Dean. We’re at the back of the warehouse by the doors leading out to the docks.”

“I’ll be right there, don’t let him out of your sight.”

You snap your phone shut and start to do a fast walk to the back of the warehouse. It had been months since you had seen the real Dean and even seeing Demon Dean would give you hope for his return. Once you arrive at the back, something feels off. Where the hell are they?  It was too quiet. “Sam? Sammy? Where are you?!” You hear a muffled hmmmphhmmm! To your right and you rush over to see Sam bound and gagged. 

“Dammit Sam, you had one job.” 

You start cutting the ropes holding him and pull down his gag. He’s sporting a fairly large bruise across the side of his face. Suddenly, you feel a presence behind you.

“Y/N, behind you!” 

Sam’s warning came too late. The first punch hits you hard on the left side of your face as you turn to see Demon Dean towering above you. His punch sends you sprawling to your knees. You scramble up fast expecting another blow, and sure enough one comes. You duck just in time feeling the breeze from his swing blowing the hairs on your head. Demon Dean gives a growl that was scarily less than human, his eyes glossy black, giving you the chills as you stare into them. 

“Dean listen, we want to HELP you. I know there is a part of you that cares in there somewhere that’s listening. Come with us and we can do this the easy way.” 

He grunts and swings again, this time hitting your upper abdomen. There’s a snapping sound and you can feel the pain blossoming with heat which could only mean one of your ribs is broken. You wince and try to catch your breath while muttering “The hard way it is then. Sam! Get Bobby now! We’re going to need his help for this.” He nods and sprints off towards the front of the warehouse where Bobby had just arrived. Sam knew you could handle Demon Dean...At least for the moment. He tackles you hard resulting in you both alligator wrestling on the floor. You’ve no doubt cracked another rib at this point. After several moments of struggling you end up on top straddling him, placing the silver gun from your waist band to his head. 

“Dean stop!” you roar, “I will shoot!”

Your voice quivers when you say it though and he senses it. Demon Dean gives a malicious side grin.

“Oh really? You’re willing to kill the Winchester boy? I thought you loved him.” His grin spreads, “Unfortunately for you, he doesn’t feel the same. Maybe you’re better off killing him.”

Your hand is quivering now, “You liar! You don’t know what you’re talking about and all you know how to do is lie you filthy bastard!” 

You take the gun and hit him in the face hard. He spits out blood and chuckles darkly.

“Do it. Shoot me. Shoot him. Do it!”

“I- I can’t do it. Please.. Dean just come back to me, I know you’re in there somewhere. I just can’t…”

Before you knew what was happening, you are flying across the room, gun flying in the opposite direction and you hit the concrete wall with another crack. Stars float across your vision as you sink to the ground with a moan. You try to pull yourself up but can’t find the energy. You feel blood trickling down the side of your face. 

“Crap..” you mutter as the taste of copper starts to rise in your mouth. 

You start to stumble towards Demon Dean and the gun but with one swift movement he punches you in the side where the gash is, making you collapse with a cry of pain onto the cold concrete. Now it’s his turn to straddle you.

“You know, I rather liked it when you were on top.”

He lets the punches start to fly on your already bloody face. You can feel your nose break as even more blood starts to flow, some staining his shirt. If only you could reach the knife strapped to your thigh. Damn it. Taking your chance between blows your raise your leg and quickly grab the knife. As fast as you can with the grogginess starting to set on you aim for his face in hopes to get him off you. In a moment of true horror, he catches your arm as only a drop of blood is released from his face by the point of the knife. 

“Trying to play tricks are we?” He snarled.

He tightens his grip on your hand and you feel your bones start to crack. You scream in agony and it echoes through the building.

“Y/N?! We’re coming just hang on!”

You hear Sam shouting for you again. He’s too far away, he’ll never make it. Curse this damn building for being so big. Demon Dean pries the knife from you and slices you in one long swift movement from your chin all the way down your chest. It doesn’t help that your breath has become more erratic after all the hits you’ve taken. 

“Dean please-” you wince.

You are cut short when he grabs you by the throat and lifts you so only the tip of your toes touch the concrete. He walks you over to the edge of the dock to where you are almost dangling over the deep water. You eye it- its at least a 6 foot drop.

“Dean….don’t do...this…” 

You can feel your airways start to close off and your vision become blurry. Through it you can see Bobby and Sam running down the dock to stop him. But it’s too late, upon hearing them running he lets go of you. It seemed to happen in slow motion, Sam screaming,

“NOOO!!! Y/N!!!”

But he was drowned out by the roar of the waves below crashing into the wooden poles. You quickly lost sight of Bobby and the Winchesters. The shockingly cold water knocked the breath out of you. No matter how much you willed your body, you couldn’t bring it to swim or even move. You could feel the cold start to fill your lungs, this is how I’m going to end- at the hand of my love and the sea. Your body began to hiccup as a natural instinct kicked in, your body begging for air as the water filled your lungs. The light shining through the water above you grew darker and you closed your eyes embracing the cold and dark feel of death. 

[haloud]

the moon points to the sun

ao3

Michael probably ought to be flattered that he’s the last stop on the Max Evans Resurrection Greatest Hits Tour, but mostly he just doesn’t know what to expect when Max calls him out to his house near midnight about a week after he came back to the land of the living. Regardless, he answers the call because all his memories of Max right now are distant and shimmering and clouded behind the barrier of him floating lifeless in a pod. So he meets Max at his house, a twenty-minute drive through the clear, thoughtless night; he meets him right outside the shiny new French doors he put in after he, y’know, shattered the last set.

Max opens with “I’m sorry,” and it rocks Michael back on his heels.

“Apology…accepted?” He says, and he only restrains himself from shooting off finger guns by the sheer kinetic force of the awkwardness already prickling at his nerves. They don’t do apologies, Max and Michael. If they started, they’d never stop.

“No. You have to listen; you can’t…” Max swallows, and it looks painful, forced. Michael shoves his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunching ‘cause he learned a while back that Max is the kind of guy who doesn’t take comforting well. So while Michael might want to reach out and smooth everything over, it wouldn’t actually do Max any good.

“Alright,” Michael says, kind of helplessly, “Go on.”

“I’m sorry that I let Isobel think you were a killer.”

The air knocks right out of Michael’s lungs, and the breath that rushes back in is too hot and too cold all at once. With a bone-heavy weariness, Michael does not want to have this conversation, not now that it’s all over and done. But he can also tell in the tension in Max’s every muscle that this is something Max needs to say.

“I let you carry that weight for ten years. And I—I tore into you because I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror, and I left you with nobody—”

“Max.”

“Nobody, and taking care of you was every bit as much as my responsibility as Iz was, but I failed and god I am so fucking sorry, Michael—”

“Max!”

See, Max has always done this thing where he firms up his lips in a thin, hard line because if he doesn’t his bottom lip’ll start trembling and once that happens he can’t stop himself from crying. Maybe Michael just knows him; maybe to somebody else, Max might come off all strong and stoic with that straight-backed charisma that got him deputized two years after graduation. All Michael sees is that floppy-haired kid sticking a flashlight under his chin and making ghost noises when Michael had real shit going bump in the night. That kid—he couldn’t have ever understood the stuff that lurked in Michael’s nightmares. But that didn’t stop him from staying up every damn night and making the effort.

Michael snaps out his brother’s name to cut off the words, the confession, the prayer spilling out ugly and rotten between them. Max blinks wet eyes and dips his chin in some aborted half-nod. He holds himself like he’s bracing for a punch, and Michael is so goddamn tired of bruised knuckles.

“You gotta stop, man,” Michael says. “You gotta stop looking for original sin. Giving Iz somewhere else to look other than in those big dark places in her head? That was my choice. Not yours. I put that loneliness on my own back, and I put that guilt on yours, you hear me?”

Max starts shaking his head; he takes a step forward with his mouth gone even thinner and whiter, but Michael just barrels on.

“And yeah, you gave me your anger while you were passing down your own damn prison sentence, but you can’t keep living like this—hell, literally, because don’t think I couldn’t work out that you brought Rosa back and damned the consequences because you didn’t think you deserved Liz until you could fix every single thing that’s ever gone wrong in her life. Newsflash, hotshot—that’s not how people work! Life sucks sometimes, that’s how people work. And when life sucks, we’re supposed to get back up and push through. Don’t you think it’s time the two of us did that? Instead of looking for forgiveness in the mirror? ‘Cause I’m so tired of not having my brother, man. I don’t know what to do about my own mistakes, but I’m pretty sure I can forgive that kid. If he’ll let me.”

Michael ends his speech with his arms spread wide, as open as he can go. Talking to Max isn’t easy; he’s so good at acting like he’s got every little thing figured out that it feels like a crime to walk into his life and get dirt all over the rugs. Even as Michael opens up, Max shuts down. But right now…Michael can’t remember a time where Max ever looked small, but here it is. He stares at Michael for a long moment, losing the battle with tears, then he collapses into one of his deck chairs and drops his face into his hands.

“It can’t—It’s not that easy. It can’t be. You can’t just—”

“Why not? Why’s it gotta be hard?” His defensive heart curls in tight, still wanting his brother to have all the answers, but Max just shakes his head. Michael can’t help himself and steps forward, to grab his shoulder, to shake him a little bit, to make him respond; and Max must feel him getting closer because his head snaps up and the air goes a little static charged.

“Because every time I look at you I see that little kid!” He barks.

On instinct, Michael flinches back, and Max flinches with him, face twisting like he’s in agony.

“God,” he sobs, takes a deep breath, and continues, “When we first crawled out of those pods, you were the very first thing I saw. Do you remember that? I could feel Isobel, of course I could feel her, but I saw you. That’s the only thing I remember from that night. That’s my very first memory. You.”

Shakily, Michael drops into the dust next to Max’s chair. He doesn’t try to make it over to the other chair on the other side of the table, not when they spent fifty years just three feet away from each other. Those early memories are—hazy. Mostly Michael just remembers seeing that symbol every time he blinked. But…yeah. Buried deep, all the way back? A tiny hand reaches out to take his own and pull him out of the cave and into the world.

“I remember,” Michael breathes, and Max makes a wrenching sound halfway between a laugh and a sob.

“And then everything went so fast. I can’t remember any of it, just that suddenly there was Isobel and me and you were gone, and every night we’d sit on the windowsill and look outside and wait for you, but you never came and we—we didn’t have the words to ask why or how or even cry and—” Max clutches his stomach like he might be sick. “Four years later and I still couldn’t feel you, not like Isobel, and I felt so broken—I had to ask your name. You want to talk about original sin? That’s it, right there. Fuck, Michael, that’s why it can’t just be easy, because I don’t deserve—”

“Shut up about deserving shit, man. Didn’t I just tell you that’s now how the world works?”

Michael doesn’t know what else to say; hell, his mouth feels numb and he can barely tell what words he’s saying at all. They’ve never managed to have this conversation without twisting knives, and all he wants is to not fuck it up this time. Max has already been dead once; what if next time it sticks?

Michael says, “The past isn’t going to change, man. You’re not gonna stop feeling guilty; I’m never gonna stop feeling angry. At some point, you have to accept that kind of shit about yourself.”

Max nods, but Michael doesn’t let him speak and carries on:

“But if we don’t stop letting that be all we are to each other, nothing’s ever going to change.” He pauses, his gaze caught on their boots side-by-side in the dirt. Max knows the value of good shoes and keeping them in good shape; his job’s an active one, so he shells out for the right kind of footwear. Michael makes do with what he’s got, and sometimes that means eating light for a too-long while and boots that break down in a year or two.

Their lives don’t line up too well. But that’s an excuse that’s long since worn out its welcome.

“Why did you call me out here?” Michael finally asks, exhaustion creeping up inside his chest. “What did you think was going to happen? You don’t want me to forgive you, so then what?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Max replies heavily. He gestures out into the wide dark desert and laughs a single dead laugh. “Giving you permission to go, I guess? Go find something better, man. You’ve suffered too much already to stay tied to this place. You’re too much, too good, too smart to keep paying for my mistakes.”

Rage punches hot and sudden through the weariness, making Michael clench his teeth against the rising urge to explode, to shake the earth around them. “You have not listened to a single goddamn word I’ve said, have you?” He snaps, and his tone finally makes Max meet his gaze, eyes red-rimmed and shocked.

“I—”

“Seriously. You called me out here past midnight just so you could make yourself a martyr? You think I want that from you? God damn it!”

“Michael—”

“Just listen to me for one time in your life!”

Michael climbs back to his feet, towering over Max’s hunched body. Even at his angriest, his loneliness, his most bitter, he never wanted to see Max broken. And it hurts as bad as losing him again watching him breaking himself.

So he says the only thing he can, even if he can’t make Max hear it.

“If you don’t want my forgiveness, I can’t make you accept it. And hell, maybe you don’t deserve it. Does that feel better, hearing that? Maybe I do deserve a better home than Roswell; maybe I do deserve a better life. But even after everything Roswell did to me, after all the ashes blew away and I was left with the truth that there was nothing more out there worth running to? I made a choice. I chose this place, chose the trailer, chose the—the summers where the street signs fucking warp, the town that’s never going to see me as anything but a fuckup. And I don’t regret that choice, not when that choice gave me love, not when that choice let me finally feel like I had a home. The only thing that went missing was you, but now you’re here, and whether you like it or not I’m going to choose you too.”

The words die in his throat after that. Max still hasn’t moved; he’s not even shaking, even though the fine, honest tremors started up in Michael the second he opened his mouth. But Michael swallows down the hurt and confusion and want for everything to be okay, because not everyone believes with their whole body.

Say something, he thinks, eleven years old and scared nobody’s going to want him.

Frantic to fill the ringing silence, he says, “So that’s me.” His tongue trips and he starts again, “I’ll go if you want me to go. But I ain’t closing the door. I know a little bit about not liking yourself, so if you’re gonna need some time…I miss you, but like, I’m missing what we had at seventeen, and you don’t have to be ready—”

God, the words just won’t stop. His brain’s moving too fast, trying to come up with ten years worth of words now that the dam’s been breached. He presses his lips together to stem the flow; presses them all tight and thin. Just like Max.

Max, who just…loses the battle.

He pitches forward, hands on his knees, great heaving sobs rattling his whole huge frame. Michael staggers forward to catch him, stops himself, then chooses to keep going forward all the same. He thumps his brother on the back like he’s choking, not sure Max would accept anything else. Michael still hasn’t gotten the hang of healing with his hands.

How long do they sit like that? How long does Max spend shedding all that grief and guilt and hating into the dirt? Long enough that Michael’s back starts aching from the way he’s standing bent over; long enough for the high, bright moon to change angles in the sky. When he finally goes quiet, he ends it on a cough, on a shuddery inhale that fills out his chest. And it’s quiet again, only this time Michael used up all his words already, so he just stands there, helpless.

“Can we…try?” Max says, voice strained and dying. “’Cause I. I’ve been missing you for a long fucking time too, man. And maybe I don’t—” He almost smiles, and it’s a tiny goddamn miracle. “Gonna start just calling it the d-word like a middle schooler. After this one. Maybe I don’t deserve another chance, but maybe,” he does smile now, a real quirk of his lips, and Michael almost-smiles too. “Maybe…and you’re gonna like this one…maybe I need to stop thinking I’m the only person who gets to decide what’s deserved, huh?”

Michael has to laugh at that, throwing his head back like he could howl at the moon. Instead, he lets out a whoop of triumph, throwing his arms out wide and shouting into the night, “Hallelujah praise the lord—”

“Man, shut the hell up!” Max shouts back, and it’s still snuffly, he hiccups on the laugh that fights its way out of his throat, but goddamn if it’s not some progress.

“You gotta give me something or else I’m going to tell everyone,” Michael says, still loud and exuberant like he’s so happy, so hopeful he wants the stars to hear him.

“I’ll give you my guest room and pancakes in the morning,” Max says with a flicker of desperate light behind his eyes. Like he thinks Michael might still say no.

No way. Michael just grins, a little kid again.

“You’ve got yourself a deal. But those pancakes better have blueberries in them, or I might make you re-negotiate, lawman.”

“Oooh, that’s a hard bargain there, outlaw. I don’t know if I’m willing to negotiate with the likes’a you.”

“Maybe I let ya off easy this time outta respect,” Michael drawls, clapping Max on the back as he strolls past and consciously does not hesitate on the threshold of Max’s home. The chair scrapes the concrete patio behind him, and Michael swipes his hat off his head and hangs it on the peg by the door.

A year ago, he would’ve said he was too old, too bitter for cops and robbers and scary stories told by flashlight. But now, for all he’s not getting any younger, he’s gonna start treating that kid that’s still inside him, that’s inside Max and Isobel too, with a little more respect and a little more love. He’s making that choice.

And this time, it’s going to stick.

[sunnygaybitch]

@bookrockshooter I am having so many Thoughts about the Wesleyan AU and it is your fault so...here we go ghjj

Ok I've decided that they don't all end up at Wesleyan. I'm gonna say they all grew up in the East Coast, maybe not necessarily Maine or even the same state, but East Coast. Bev and Eddie fucked off as far away as they could while still being in the US, all the way to California, though I have no idea where they're going to school yet. Bill ended up at NYU, at the Gallatin School of Individualized Study.

Ben also ends up at NYU, at the School of Engineering. He transfers to another school after discovering his true love is architecture though. But while at NYU, he takes a creative writing course, which is where he meets and befriends Bill. Over time, Bill slowly realizes, "Holy shit, this guy is PERFECT for Bev" and starts plotting dfghj because Bill can and should be his ex-gf's wingman.

In the meantime, he introduces him to Patty one weekend (its 3-4 hours from their schools to Wesleyan), and she introduces them to Richie.

Stan and Mike, after months of listing pros and cons, decide to take a gap year together. They save up money the summer after high school and then road trip all across the country. They end up in California at the beginning of winter break for students at nearby colleges. They literally bump into Bev and Eddie (who are on their way to the airport to go see Bill and Patty) at a diner.

Bev's charisma and Mike's charm outweigh Eddie and Stan's instinctive reserved natures around strangers, and on a whim, Bev invites them to go see their friends with them. Mike nudges Stan and gives him a grin (the other three swoon a little because it's Mike and he's ATTRACTIVE and why don't more ppl talk about this) and Stan's just like *sigh* "Ok"

And there you have it: they're all in Midtown, Connecticut, because it genuinely is a cute little town leave me alone I liked the aesthetic. Anyway. The thing is, Stan and Richie don't meet that winter. When Stan, Mike, Bev, and Eddie arrive, Richie has already gone home for Christmas, because he got really homesick and wanted to be with his dad, mom, and little sister awhile.

When he comes back a week or two later, Stan and Mike have decided to explore the rest of Connecticut for a bit. He becomes friends with the rest of them and listens, amused, as Patty talks about how she thinks she and Stan had a real connection, and then makes her listen to him about how he thinks he's already half in love with Eddie.

When Mike and Stan come back, Stan happens to get a cold and he spends the last few days of winter break at the bed and breakfast he and Mike are staying at and refuses to see anyone because he doesn't want them getting sick. Mike is allowed in the room because Mike won't listen to his warnings. And thus, in those last few days, Mike and Richie meet (Richie tells Patty that he can't believe Mike isn't the one she has a crush on).

Then winter break is over and everyone has to go back to school and Mike and Stan continue their road trip. They don't lose touch though. Everyone gives each other their numbers and they all call frequently. Stan's thoughts on Patty in the brief time they hung out were, "She's cool and interesting, and I get the feeling she'll be important to me, but I don't know in what way yet."

As they talk more and more though, he also develops a crush on her and then quickly falls in love. They agree to start dating a little before her summer break starts, and she playfully tells him and Richie that this time there's no getting out of it: when they meet up with all their friends again, Richie and Stan HAVE to meet.

[great-master-airplane]

McHanzo with 20:”I think you’re just afraid to be happy” and 21 “Why are you so nice to me” I love me some angst

Sorry this took so long! Life has been a little crazy lately. Thank you for requesting and for your patience!

20. “I think you’re just afraid to be happy.”

21. “Why are you so nice to me?”

Hanzo’s limbs feltterribly heavy as he trudged from one end of the Overwatch base to the other. Hislegs were sore, his arms were worse, and he was fairly certain he would literallyfall apart if he had to nock one more arrow in his bow.

The away mission had beenmore than a little trying. Not only was the mission in Hanamura, but tensionshad been running high with Genji as of late. They spent most of the lastmission bickering, slinging accusations at each other and making the rest ofthe team uncomfortable. Hanzo couldn’t even remember why they were fighting orwhy it had been so important to be right.

That was his problem,usually. Always needing to be superior in every area: amongst his teammates,his tentative friends, his own brother, his relationship—

Hanzo stilled for amoment, leaning against the wall as he stared blankly down the hallway. Jesse.He’d been so wrapped up in arguing with Genji that he’d forgotten he’d also hada disagreement with his boyfriend.

He scoffed, pessimistic. If he could even call McCree his boyfriendnow. What had they even fought about? So exhausted, he struggled to recall whatit had been.

Abruptly, Hanzoremembered, and he winced at the memory. Jesse had asked if he wanted to moveinto his room or vice versa, cut down all the time they spent travelling backand forth when they both knew they’d end up in one room regardless. Usually, Jessespent the night with Hanzo; his room was the closest when they were leaving thelounge, so there they would stumble, usually half-drunk and eager to fall apartwith each other.

It would be foolish toexpect McCree to be in his room now. For all Hanzo knew, the cowboy was away ona mission, visiting with one of his many friends on the base, or just avoidinghim. Remembering the hurt and confused look on Jesse’s face when last theyspoke, Hanzo anticipated the latter.

Now even more reluctant,Hanzo trudged the rest of the way to his room. He just wanted to sleep. Sleepuntil somebody came to get him. Forever, even, if he was left alone. Why wouldanybody bother with him?  He and Genjiweren’t talking, he’d dismissed Jesse without a moment’s consideration, and—

And did it even matter?Hanzo deserved this. All he could do was bring pain. His hands were made tofell his enemies, his lips to speak cruel words to bring harm to those he caredabout most. Hanzo deserved to be alone; what had he even been thinking when hejoined Overwatch? He should have just ignored Genji’s offer.

Everyone would be muchhappier, Hanzo rationalized, his mood spiraling downward. Genji would not feelthe strain of seeing his almost-murderer on a daily basis. Jesse could give histime and attention to somebody actually worthy.And Hanzo—

Well. Hanzo would be alone.Like he deserved.

With a heavy heart, Hanzoentered his room, fully intending to collapse in a useless, pathetic pile ontohis bed and stay there. He wasn’t even going to change out of his gear. Just…sleep.

This plan was thrown outthe window when he realized that somebody was already on his bed. Jesse satthere looking anxious. He stood up when Hanzo entered, his hand rising toadjust his absent hat and instead running through shaggy hair that Hanzo knew tobe soft to the touch.

Hanzo ignored the longingto just go to his cowboy long enoughto ask, “Jesse? What are you doing here?”

“Listen,” Jesse began, allnerves and no charisma. It was strange to see him so far outside of hiselement. “I know you’re probably mad at me for pushin’ like I did.”

Hanzo stared at himwordlessly. Was he actually hearing what he thought he was hearing? SurelyMcCree wasn’t apologizing? Not whenhe didn’t have anything to apologize for? Not when Hanzo had been cold andcruel and said such horrible things to him?

“You like your space; Iget it. I’m real sorry about sayin’ anythin’ that might’a upset you. If it’sall right with you, I’d like to just… go on like I never brought it up. Iunderstand if you want some space, but I—”

Hanzo’s mouth moved beforehis mind caught up. “Are you an idiot?”

Anger flashed in Jesse’seyes, but he swallowed it down. He smiled a little, a hard curl of the lipsthat shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was. “’Scuse me, darlin’?”

“After I yelled at you theway I did, you still want to be with me?” Hanzo demanded, confusion turning intorage as he walked toward McCree. Impressively, Jesse held his ground and juststared down at him with eyes that betrayed no emotion, no thought. “I don’tunderstand you! Why are you so nice tome?”

“Maybe I just understandyou a hell of a lot more than you think I do.”

Hanzo scoffed. “What doesthat mean?”

“That I get it, Hanzo!” Jesse’shands, one strong and metal and the other just as firm and flesh, appeared on Hanzo’sshoulders, and Hanzo swayed toward him instinctively. He was so tired, so tiredof fighting and keeping up his ire. McCree was supposed to be his comfort zone,where he could relax, let his walls down and just breathe. Give affection and receive just as much in return. Thestruggle to keep from just collapsing against the cowboy filled him with suchan ache, he wanted to scream.

When Jesse spoke again,his voice was much softer, his drawl deep and enticing. Hanzo wanted to wraphimself in that voice, wear it like a blanket and bury himself away from theworld. “I know the way you think. That you have this thing about what you doand don’t deserve because of the past and shit. Hell, I think you’re just afraid to be happy. And I get it.”

Hanzo swallowed, unable tolook McCree in the eyes yet. His gaze settled on one of his flannel’s buttons,a bit darker than the others. He’d probably had to replace it at some point.The thought of Jesse mending his own clothes with the same hands he used tokill his enemies—the same hands thatcurled around Hanzo’s shoulders now—

“But you gotta realizethat I don’t care, darlin’.”

Hanzo’s eyes snapped up atthat, and he was stunned to find McCree smiling. “Yeah. You’re all kinds offucked up, but the thing is, Hanzo: I signedup for this. I knew what I was gettin’ into, and I fell in love with ya,anyways.”

Hanzo said nothing, notbecause he didn’t want to but because he couldn’t find the words to speak. Hestared at Jesse’s face, searching for any trace of a lie, but all he saw wasgenuine honesty. McCree meant every word, loved him even in the face of hisflaws. Hanzo wasn’t sure he could even processthis.

“Now, I’m willin’ to workthings through with you, but I’m gonna need some effort on your end. I’m gonnaneed you to tell me if I’m pushin’ you too far, and I’m really gonna need ya to not get so pissy with me when I do. If yougot boundaries, you gotta tell me, all right? Otherwise, we ain’t gonna work.”

Hanzo swallowed,recognizing the situation for what it was. McCree was leaving the decision upto Hanzo, whether he wanted to stay together or go their separate ways. If hethought they could work things out or just end it while they could still be ongood terms. It would be so easy just to push McCree away the same way he’d beencutting ties his whole life. For Jesse’s benefit. For Hanzo’s.

But Hanzo was tired offighting, of breaking every relationship he’d ever forged, and he decided itwas just as easy to give in, to nod his head and admit what he really wanted.

“I would like to workthings out.”

“Yeah?” Hope gleamed inJesse’s eyes, and Hanzo just had to smile.

“Yes. Yes, I….” He took adeep breath, lifting his hands from his sides to find comfort in the solidityof McCree’s broad shoulders. “I apologize. I should not have spoken to you likethat before. I was… afraid.”

“Must be big if it couldspook ya like that,” said McCree, an eyebrow raised.

Hanzo nodded. “Do you notthink you would grow sick of me if we shared the same quarters? What if you donot like my living habits? Or if you see too much of me and think it was all amistake?”

“Ain’t gonna happen,”McCree said with such certainty that Hanzo believed him immediately. “I couldnever get sick of you, Hanzo. Hell, what I really want is to see you more; that was why I suggested sharin’ aroom.”

“That… makes sense,” Hanzoadmitted, nodding. “Very well. Move in immediately.”

“Now, hold on—”

“You have changed yourmind?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Then what seems to be theproblem?”

McCree laughed and bentdown to kiss Hanzo. Oh. Oh, that was nice. Hanzo sighed, melting against hiscowboy as he’d wanted to do since he found him there. McCree’s hand slid intohis hair, untied his ponytail and combed his hair free, and Hanzo all butcollapsed.

“The problem is that you’redead on your feet, Han. I ain’t lettin’ you make any decisions while you’re sodamn tired. I don’t want ya regrettin’ anything.”

Hanzo grunted hisagreement. That sounded logical, and he wasn’t about to argue. No more arguing.Not with McCree. Genji couldn’t be helped, but perhaps Hanzo would apologize tohim as well.

For now, he was ready tosleep. He let McCree pull him over to the bed and start stripping him of hisgear, telling Jesse to just leave it all on the floor. That was a problem forthe Hanzo of tomorrow. The Hanzo of now just wanted to wrap himself aroundJesse, breathe in his scent, feel his heat—

“Stay?” Hanzo asked, fartoo vulnerable for his liking.

If Jesse noticed, he didn’tbring it up, just carded his fingers through Hanzo’s hair and promised, “No otherplace I’d rather be, darlin’.”

[cannibalisticskittles]

first impressions

notes: first impressions are everything. this one’s pretty shit. ao3 link.

If there’s anything Lucia can trust, it’s that anyone involved in politics is distinctly untrustworthy. Vampire politics don’t seem to be an exception to that rule.

Find a tape, Lu, it’ll be easy! No, you won’t have to beat off hordes of fleshy abominations to get it, and your reward for finding it certainly won’t be having to crawl through a filthy sewer system infested with a horrorshow of even more fleshy abominations, oh, heavens no!

Ugh, the things she does to avoid decapitation.

Given the state of the surrounding sewers, she’d sort of thought she’d be facing something dire when she took her plunge — tunnels flooded with those goddamn ankle-biters, or the bloody aftermath of such an attack, or… something.

But this is not what she finds. No, what she emerges into is downright cozy.

Strings of lights, neon signs, plush couches with signs of wear but no tear — she simply must get the name of their decorator when this sarcophagus business is taken care of — and a distinct lack of death. There isn’t even a hint of that cloying smell of decay that followed her through the sewers. Though… there are an awful lot of empty rooms. Where is everyone? Did those Tzimisce creations sweep through here already, or has she managed to stumble on some abandoned, if well-decorated, subsection of the sewers? If she has to climb back out that hole and start this godforsaken search anew…

But something — a flash of movement maybe, or a soft noise that she can’t attribute to the buzz of the lights or the echo of her own footsteps — draws her to an untried door, and this is how she meets ‘the resident tech-head.’

It takes several minutes of waiting around, twining strands of hair around her finger, to get his full attention, and then there is that dreadful, time-wasting business of introductions — ‘yes, I’m LaCroix’s errand girl, yes, I’m very interested in speaking to Gary, no, I’m not asking because I’m here for payback or to off him, LaCroix fucking wishes, what was that about a network?’

She leaves with a promise to check her email as soon as she’s out of the warrens, and the knowledge that the person she seeks is ‘just down the hall.’

— though, even with Mitnick’s directions, she ends up just a touch off course, and the owner of the room behind the next door she opens is…

‘Imalia, Imalia, now where have I heard that name before? —ah, did you ever do a shoot in Monaco? I worked with a guy who did the lighting for that who just raved about it the entire time we were arranging that gallery, it was all he could talk about for days. That you? Fantastique, lovely to meet you.’

She accepts a webcam even as she imagines all the ways it could break in between now and the next time she reaches the surface, with all that crawling through the sewers she’ll have to do. Still, she just can’t say ‘no’ to a pretty face.

Down the hall, down the hall, further and further, stepping lightly across the broken bridge, until she reaches a point where there is no more hall, just… a narrowing that looks suspiciously like the beginning of a tunnel. But at the end of it is a door, visible when she hunches, so on hands and knees, she continues forward. These tunnels were clearly not designed with someone of her stature in mind. She is going to have words with the architect when she gets out of here.

As she reaches the door, the tunnel widens enough for her to stand, thankfully, and she pauses before she pushes them open. Right. Primogen ahead. Gotta look sharp. First impressions are everything, no? There’s nothing she can do about the… unfortunate stench she’s picked up from swimming through sewer-muck, but she can at least rub the dust off her palms and brush wayward strands of hair out of her face.

And then she is… well, she cannot possibly look good. But this is, perhaps, as good as she’s going to get. She draws herself up to her full height, steels herself, and strides through the doors.

...into an empty room.

Ah. Well. That’s… rather disappointing.

The decor’s not bad in here, at least, though it could do with a good dusting. Skeletons placed in a ghoulish facsimile of life? A bold artistic choice.

She runs her fingers through the bright orange wig on the skeleton closest to her. Synthetic? Or just dyed human hair? That is one of those little details that can make or break a display. If she ignores the dust, it is smooth enough, so perhaps —

And then there is a voice, so close behind her that she begins to drop into a defensive stance and her fingers twitch towards the sledgehammer strapped to her back before she realizes herself.

Not your space, don’t offend, just keep your cool and get some answers so you can end these bullshit errands and get back to your life.

She lets her hands go slack and forces some of the stiffness from her stance. There is an apology ready and waiting on her tongue to smooth over the misunderstanding as she rises and turns — but there is no one there. No one at her side. No one behind her.

“Where…?” The word is faint. She has forgotten to breathe again. “Where are you?”

This time, there is a chuckle, just by her ear.

“Maybe I’m in your head,” breathes the voice, and she does react this time, arm jerking out in a wide arc. She touches nothing but air.

“Stop that.” A crack in her voice halfway through ruins the demand. Quavering is not conducive to an imperious air. “I’m not here for — for payback,” she says, recalling what Mitnick said. “I just want to talk.”

“We are talking.”

The voice comes from her other side now, and again, her fingers are met with only air.

“But you aren’t listening, boss.”

For the briefest of moments, she wonders whether this is some elaborate trap, and some new Tzimisce creation is trying to tangle her up in panic, but — no, no, no, that doesn’t make sense, other Nosferatu are just down the way so they can’t have reached the warrens, and those fleshy little monsters can’t talk, anyway. ...they had better fucking not be able to talk.

Tzimisce or no, though, she is being fucked with, that much is clear.

She makes a cautious loop around the table, peering under it and into the darkened corners, but she still can’t make out the source of the voice.

“...I don’t like games,” she murmurs.

“And you’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you, lovely?” Her lip curls at that tone. “People just love your charisma, your face. They eat your words up like rats eat the cheese from the trap. Oh, boss, where do you think you are?”

She hisses a breath out through her teeth. “I think I’m in some dank-ass sewers having a grand old time with some jackass who won’t show his face taking potshots at me,” she mutters — though not softly enough, apparently, because the next moment, she’s tripping over her feet as the voice returns, slipping over her like fingers tracing down her spine.

“Maybe I’m a ghost.” There’s a laugh as she stiffens. “Oh, c’mon. Don't tell me you just stumbled down here. What I need to know is, why you’re here.”

The fuck does he think she’s here for? “Come out and we’ll talk it over,” she says, aiming for diplomatic even as her hands clench into fists at her sides.

“I’m over here, boss! Wait, maybe I’m over here!” True to form, his voice bounces around her, following when she turns her head to track it. “Or maybe I’m behind you, with a hatchet in my hand.” Can you get motion sickness when you’re standing still? Because all this twirling and spinning and echoing is really doing a number on her head.

She settles herself on the edge of the table and tips her head back, squeezing her eyes shut. A grimy ass-print on his nice table is the price he gets to pay for taunting her.

“Or... did you ever stop to think that your fear, if given a voice, would sound... like... this.” That last whisper is close enough to make the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

“Stop it.”

“What’s the matter, boss? You scared? That’s good... shows you've been paying attention.”

Her mouth slants down sharply. Scared? He thinks she’s scared? Ridiculous. The idea sets her teeth on edge, fangs and all.

“What do you want?” she hisses — and then flinches back at the sudden contempt in his voice.

“I want to stick your lovely face in a piranha tank; I want to apply an acid glaze to your sculptured body; I want to throw your pocket mirror under a thresher and watch you fetch it.”

Her hands clench on the edge of the table, sawing little rivulets in the lacquer with her nails. Well, that’s — pretty fuckin’ personal. What’s she ever done to him, huh?

When he next speaks, his voice is almost cloyingly sweet compared to that delightful little confession. “But I’m no butcher, boss. Are you?”

And oh, but the urge to be one itches at her. It would be so easy to slam her sledgehammer right into the middle of his fancy little tableau vivant and turn this entire display into nothing more than bits of bone and sawdust. She lets her fingers flex, imagining the weight of the weapon in her hand and how satisfying it would be to put an end to this maddening little game — and then she crosses her palms carefully over each other. It’s only a fantasy. “I’m just here for the sarcophagus.”

“You don’t say. Wake up, boss! Who do you think you’re dealing with? Why else would LaCroix send you on this snipe hunt? Oh, that's right... I know you work for the prince.”

She has to suppress a snort at that. Who doesn’t know that? Only been a vamp for a week, and already everyone she’s met knows aaaaaall about her business. “Why even ask, then?”

“Because I like the sound of my own voice.”

And that — that growl, that trill — startles a laugh from her before she can stop it. The bastard’s having fun with this.

“It’s not every day we get visitors, boss. I needed to hear it from you. You’re a long way from home, and neither the prince nor Isaac nor Nines have any domain down here. Tread carefully.”

She kneads the space between her eyebrows. “Great, you happy? All my cards are on the table. Now just… tell me about the sarcophagus so I can get out of here.”

There’s a door over yonder. If she opens it, will he pop out like the wizard of Oz, bereft of his curtain? She pushes off from the table and stands, tempted to try it, but his voice ringing out once more gives her pause.

“You should’ve got here sooner. That lot’s been sold.”

“To whom?” she demands. She takes a step forward, moving on instinct towards the last place the voice seemed to echo from — the door she first came in.

“I like to discuss business face-to-face.”

Of course he does. And his voice is behind her, again.

“Then show yourself.”

“Are you sure, boss? You don’t want my image in your subconscious. It’s the stuff nightmares are made of.”

She bites back a scoff. “I’m dying of anticipation.”

“Careful what you wish for, you just... might... get it.”

He grows quieter and quieter until she can’t hear anything at all. Where, where, where…?

“Behind you, boss — boo!”

She whirls, and there, towering before her — no easy feat at her height — is the figure that has been taunting her all this time, and he is —

— not that fuckin’ bad looking. This is the face that’s supposed to haunt her nightmares?

The disconnect is enough to startle her out of all the things she’d planned to say — something along the lines of ‘you slimy-ass, smarmy motherfucker, where do you get off making my job harder’ but with just a touch more snarling — and what tumbles out of her mouth instead is far briefer and lacks much of the delicate nuance of her original plan for her soliloquy:

“Fucking incredible.”

His face twists in displeasure and a spark of delight flares in the pit of her dead stomach. Oh, this is much more fun when she can see his reactions.

So she gives him a slow, obvious once-over and raises her chin sky-high, a flippant gesture done solely to get under his skin. Would that she only had a pair of sunglasses to complete the mask of indifference.

“You sure are something, huh?”

A scowl appears on his face.

“En garde, Toreador. You vainglorious, narcissistic poseur!” Looks like that hit its mark. She bites back a grin. “How I loathe that determination of your kind to belie your true nature with Paris fashions and pomp. You are a dead thing — a creature of the shadows. Start acting like one.”

‘Toreador.’ People do seem to put an awful lot of stock into this whole ‘clan’ thing, don’t they? Should she assume that this is the reason for some of those lovely comments and he has not, in fact, divined the true nature of her soul from a brief conversation? How interesting. And how... informative.

“I,” she says, “am not going to ask who you are, because if I went through all this and you aren’t Gary, the disappointment might strike me dead on the spot.”

“What? You don't recognize me from the pictures? Gorgeous Gary Golden? Don't tell me you missed Pirate Town or Tap Hotel?” He tilts his chin up and angles his head as if to call to mind some iconic pose or image. There’s a self-satisfied twist to his lips when he next speaks. “Little before your time, eh, boss? Well, those days are long past. Nowadays, it's just Gary.”

Oh, this is definitely more fun now that she can see him. The expressions, those motions, all topped off by that voice — she just might look into those movies of his when she has a free moment. If only LaCroix didn’t have the sword of Damocles hanging over her head — but such is the way of things. And nobody does anything for free.

So: “I take it you have a favor or two lined up for me before you let slip whatever secrets you have?”

“Real original. You think that up all by yourself?” She splays a hand across her chest and grins, the picture of false humility. “Tell me, boss, you ever gone up against a Kuei-jin?”

Like that life-sucker Knox turned her onto? “Sure, I’m a regular Kuei-jin killing machine.”

That earns her a chuckle. Not a bad sound.

The bottom line is simple: head a rescue mission to retrieve a stray Nosferatu from Chinatown and she’ll learn the location of the sarcophagus.

Pretty straightforward. Still, she taps a finger against her lips, deliberating as though she really has any room to bargain. “Don’t suppose there’s anything you can give me to make this a little easier?”

His eyes narrow. “That thing behind that pretty face of yours is called a brain. If you want to survive in Chinatown, I suggest you use it. Or if all else fails, you could just use your pocket mirror to blind them.”

Her lips twitch up. “Merveilleux. Would’ve never guessed that without your expertise. I suppose all that’s left to do is get to it.”

“There’s a payphone in Chinatown. I’ll call you with the info once Barabus is safe.” There’s a particular sort of gleam in his eye when he says, “until then, you’ll never know where I am.” She’s inclined to believe that.

“Yeah, yeah… ‘don’t call us, we’ll call you,’ right? She levels a steady finger at him. “I will have your Barabus back by dawn. So you be ready for that phone call.” And she turns on her heel.

That side door she saw earlier, there’s decent odds that leads to another tunnel and not a closet, right? Because it’s hard enough to saunter in shit-caked heels — sue her, she was dressed for a glitzy Hollywood outing, not for slogging through sewers — and having to immediately wobble back the way she came would be mortifying.

But no — she pushes open the door and there is a path stretching out ahead of her. Thank god. Still, she pauses, one hand resting on the doorframe.

“By the way,” she says, “you keep saying such sweet things, and people will start to talk.”

She doesn’t bother looking back. She knows how that trick goes.