#also i started this post hours ago & then got distracted and forgot to hit post. which is similarly‚ alas‚ on brand. anyway. go time.

[wizkiddx]

stop caring

yooo, so this is actually taken out of one of the sort of I guess series-esque things I’ve written, but it kinda just got shit at the end so I've given up and just wanted to post this instead. So sorry if some of the backstory isn't that clear or anything

tomhollandxfamous!reader

Summary: after your break up you bump into tom at a charity event and when shit hits the fan personally for you, someone who understands you is really what you need (angsty!!! maybe a bit of fluff too?)

TW: panic/anxiety attacks + mentions of assault

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3 months. 3 months you’d managed to avoid the boy that had given you the most joy in the previous years. 3 months without your best friend; of even when you’re with company feeling like a part of you was just absent. 

And you had been thriving. Well… that’s what everyone thought. That’s what you tried to portray, because no matter how ‘famous’ or ‘successful’ people perceived you to be - ultimately you were like anyone else. Making your insta pop off after the breakup. And so to the outside world, through the very very small lense of social media life was great. Parties, friends, work. 

You were a woman in demand - in all senses of the word. 

But of course, as is the 21st century world, it was a lie. Instagram showed only snapshots of what can be very long 24 hours in a day. Naturally, a select few obviously knew - your best friend, Y/f/n being one of them. Yet still you were missing that one support, that one person who would drag you back to reality whenever you got too much into your own head. It actually rather annoyed you, how dependent you had got on him, in every part of your life. 

And you really hadn’t expected to see him here today. You’d had your assistant check the guest list, he wasn’t on it. While getting ready, you had avoided all the products that reminded you of him; that soft nude lipstick he loved you in so much; your favourite (exfavourite) earrings. Had you known it, you would have worn these. Just because you knew it would get on his nerves a little bit. Nevertheless here you were, perhaps a little underdressed for the charity dinner in a dress you’d already worn before (because apparently that was a sin in the world of Hollywood). You couldn’t pin point from when, but it was simple yet elegant if you did say so yourself. A dark blue satin dress, that sat off your shoulders in a Bardot style; hugged your waist to accentuate your curves; then flowed outwards down to the floor with a slit up your right leg. It was simple compared to the sequin studded, diamanté jewelled dresses the rest of the women seemed to sport but it made you feel comfortable. 

Besides, that’s what you needed today. This was the first time after the breakup you’d attended a public event without your best friend-turned-assistant-turned-absolute-life-saver. Y/f/n had been the greatest with you all through your life but especially recently, she deserved the break to go back home and see her family. It was a pretty decent excuse too, her cousins wedding, so you were in absolutely no place to complain.

Evidently it just HAD to be this event then, while you were flying solo, that you’d be faced with…well with his face. His fucking gorgeous, perfect and oh so sweet face. 

Just seeing him, just seeing Tom fucking Holland, had the most intense burst of adrenaline course through your veins as you desperately scanned the rest of the room. Looking for an out, an excuse, someone to latch onto for the rest of the night. A distraction even. 

Never one to admit it openly, but really you knew your coping mechanism of the past months had been to sleep with who you wanted. Because the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else right? You knew it was stupid too. Not because of slut shaming or anything ( we aint got no outdated views here), but simply it wasn’t you. It wasn’t a good idea for you. It didn’t fit. 

Tom hadn’t seen you yet, so if you latched onto someone you’d likely be in the clear. So obviously, when your frantic glances landed upon Joe Keery, you literally sighed in relief. Joe was great, stranger things was a bit of a guilty pleasure for you - especially when you were in your trailer and bored. Just due to your line of work, you’d met a couple times, he seemed like decent crack and to you knowledge was single. 

Unsurprisingly then, you almost marched over to Joe, ignoring the slightly shaky feeling in your leg as your hearing seemed to focus completely on the sound of Tom’s bright laugh. 

It was your choice too. You’d chosen to end things. It was on you. Well really, both parties were equally guilty. Tom was the one who had been too tired and highly strung and exhausted to put effort into the relationship. Stupidly though, you were too in love to realise for so long, in doing so draining yourself in the process. The constant flying cross country to see him, when he couldn’t ever return the favour because he was too busy. It was chipping away at you, even if you didn’t notice. It took an intervention by your manager Davey and Y/f/n for you to see things for what they were. To see that Tom didn’t care as much as he used to. 

He tried to fight for it, of course Tom did, because he also truly and deeply loved you. Nonetheless though, it was too late. And that was it. You closed that book and returned it to the library. Something your mind occasionally drifts back to  and you think ‘huh that was a good read’ - yet that is the only space it occupies in your mind. 

OR that’s how it should be. Not you yesterday, comparing everything your date did to Tom and deciding everything was worse. Not you today, seeing him and nearly being floored by the way the suit was tailored to his body oh so exquisitely. Not you now, hearing his bubbly laughter and having to fight your muscles from taking you back into his arms. 

In short, you were highly strung and pining over a boy you’d killed your chance of happiness with. 

Not to blow your own horn, you knew Joe wouldn’t be against having your company for the evening. After all, you were a young, beautiful and upcoming actor. You were ,at the very least, self aware. And so for a good few hours you almost forgot about Toms presence, spending the time before the speeches sharing a ridiculously overpriced bottle of wine (or two) with him. He was funny. He made you laugh, even if he was pushing the limits occasionally and teetering just on the right side of socially acceptable. It was risky and in that moment, with the alcohol in your system, it made him seem more and more of an attractive shag. 

By the time the speeches started you were both overly giggly and had to keep shushing each other as the presenter called for quiet. Inherently, you knew exactly the location of Thomas - who he was sat around; the main he’d had at dinner; the brand of beer he’d been ordering.But that was subconscious. You were here with Joe. 

Under your voices, whilst getting some disapproving looks from the older, more mature, members of your table you and Joe sat through the first boring speech whispering jokes under your breath - making each other clamp their mouth shut to avoid bursting out laughing. Though tipsy, you were very aware of Joe inching closer and closer, while his hand was casually brushing yours or your shoulder or waist more often. You knew this was low, being so blatant in front of Tom. To be quite frank though, should you care? And did he care?

The answer in your head at least, was an almost certain no to both. 

One speech merged into another spent giggling away until Joe did something he didn’t mean. Heck he didn’t even know. His jesting quickly had toppled completely over into absolutely not category. Your brain felt like it was swimming as the name you’d avoided after that incident , almost ten years ago. The flashbacks came thick and fast. You an innocent young actor wanting to make a way in the industry. And him. A powerful, ridiculously important slightly overweight 50 year old with bad breath. That room in the corner of his hotel that you were completely lost in. 

You were going to be sick. 

Somewhere, distantly, you heard Joe saying something… asking you? Asking you if your were good? It was drowned out by a roar in your ears, you jerkily nodded your head. You knew your breathing was jilted, shaky and shallow. You knew your heart was exploding. It actually felt like a heart attack, the way it seemed to be beating as though it were going to break out of your chest. This time you really really needed an out. 

So without any words, leaving a bemused Joe, your chair screeched on the floor as you stood up, garnering the attention of the whole room. The heads literally swivelled to stare at you, judgement clearly there as you frantically half ran to the back of the room, pleading if your head fro the toilet to be nearby. You needed to be away from everyone and safe. 

Thankfully your escaped the room and the beady eyes, locating the bathroom where you threw a cubicle open, shakily locking it before collapsing into the wall in floods of tears, harsh sobs racking your frame as you clutched your hands to your knees and rocked slightly back and fourth. You dress being a full length ballgown was spilling out into the the nearby cubicles and under the door, but presumably you were alone in the loo - not hearing any other signs of life beyond your own sobs. 

This always happened when you had your anxiety attacks. It was like clockwork. Zone out, stop hearing, loose control of breathing, heart starts pounding, make a quick escape to a toilet, cry and then…

Well back before Tom, it had been to throw up. That was the only thing you’d ever found to ground you enough to get your body backorder your own conscious control. It was like a wave of relief after, like the drowning feeling in your lungs had just evaporated away. But the Tom happened. The first time he’d seen you panic he hadn’t a clue what to do either. SO he had just sat with you, not wanting you to be alone in that state and waited. That panic though, had lasted so long that you’d almost made yourself pass out from the hyperventilating. When that had happened, Tom had gone into emergency mode. He had been scared to touch you, in case that made you worse, but when he saw your body going limp he didn’t have a choice. He’d collected you into his arms, with your head against his chest. Being this close to calling an ambulance, the relief Tom felt when your breathing got more and more regular was unparalleled. 

Together, when he had you lying in his bed (recovered, if mortified and exhausted) was when you realised that you hadn’t been sick. And that was because of him. You’d grounded yourself on his heartbeat and breathing, listening to it and making yours sync up. Thats what had saved you that evening. 

Now however, Tom was gone. This was the first panic attack you’d had since he’d been gone. Of course while you were together you were rarely in the same place, even so you’d phone him. But not now. 

This all led to you sat clutching your knees as your mascara dripped down your cheeks as you had to fight to get enough oxygen into your body. You didn’t want to get into that vicious cycle of making yourself ill again. It really hadn’t been healthy.

Who knows how long you were sat there sobbing before you heard the door open and in response you clamped a hand to your mouth trying to stay silent. This irrational fear overcame you as you sat stock still, fearing the footsteps on the marble floor of the fancy function venue. Even the toilets were pretty posh. 

“Y/n?…. It’s-it’s Tom.” Oh. My. Fucking. God. That was all that was going through your brain as you bit you lip - presumably painfully, yet you didn’t really feel pain in your current state.  “Look I saw you leave and I know your on your own tonight… I-I couldn’t leave you on your own if your… well you know.” Everything was going so so fast in your brain, that it actually scared you into stopping crying, so much so you felt your hand flop back down to your side. “…I was waiting outside because I didn’t want to errr you know… but you’ve been 20 minutes so I need to know your good…..okay?”

The boy was too fucking good. And stubborn… he was too stubborn and you knew he wasn’t going to give in. It was also fairly evident that he knew you in here - there was no pretending you didn’t exist. 

“Y/n? Come on you gotta let me know.”

“I’m fine. You-you go.” Only when you spoke was it evident to yourself just how not-okay you really were. Tom just chuckled and spoke again.

“How long have you known me for? That’s just not going to happen is it.” You already knew this, but something about the way he said it made you realise a sad laugh, momentarily making you feel a bit more in control. He seemed to like that response, you heard him bend down and then saw the bottom of his tux as he sat down leaning against your cubicle door.

“Is …is this your first one… since?  You both know what he was talking about. Since you broke up. 

“Uhmm I-“ You swallowed down a fresh rise of nausea, somewhat determined to not throw up when you ex is barely a metre from you. “Yeh I suppose.” In didn’t seem a revelation to Tom, yet he still hummed lowly in response as the room drifted back to silence. 

“You… you wanna try to breath with me?… You don’t have to open the door just…”

Croaking a please in response because this feeling was really blood awful and you wanted it to end, Tom started exaggerating his breathes, as you shakily and eventually managed to start to time it with his. Without thinking, when Tom’s palm snuck half under the door you immediately grabbed and squeezed it - the contact helping to synchronise your body with his. 

It should be an alien feeling after your time apart. But no it felt oh so natural and so very right. 

Once you’d collected yourself and realised how bloody stupid this whole situation was  you withdrew your hand back, loosing the warmth as you shook your head in disapproval of yourself. So very fucking stupid. He was silent for a bit, letting you think things through whilst still sat outside your cubicle. 

“You good now?” You hummed in agreement and you felt Tom’s head fall against the door, looking up to the ceiling. “Want me to go?”

“If you want to” That was met with silence, but a very telling lack of movement that spoke a thousand words.

“You should get out of here… you wanna avoid the trigger again and I mean I know you’re exhausted.” The boy had researched panic disorder and attacks when he found out you suffered with it - he probably knew more of the psychology of it than you, whilst never having any first hand experience of it.  Annoyingly he was right, as per, after attacks you always always slept for hours - it was just a draining process. “I’ll get you a car if you want?…. I’d like to make sure you get back okay if you don’t mind.” With only your cold and empty residual feeling left, his words still managed to ignite a spark of warmth in your chest. 

“I’m not going to ruin your evening Tom.” You tried to refuse even if it was very very forced and very very hopeful he wouldn’t give in. 

“I was having a crappy evening. Sitting in the ladies toilet talking to my ex through a toilet door has actually been the highlight.”He chuckled playfully in a self pitying way, somehow again making you giggle. And so he had you standing on slightly unsteady feet, your black heels held in one hand because no wasn’t the time to put yourself through teetering around on pin needles. The shuffling outside the door meant Tom stood up too - before you unlocked the door and opened it. 

Prior to seeing Tom your eyes locked on the sight of your reflection, in the mirrors above the sinks opposite you. Perhaps the only way to describe it… it was a sight. The shock being in the juxtaposition between the elegant dress, which even having been crumpled on a bathroom floor had somehow managed to survive and still look near the off-the-hanger; but your face? Oh that was a shit show. You’d cried your makeup off almost completely, leaving your face blotchy and shining as well as the ever so telling smudged mascara under your bottom lash line. 

You had to laugh or you’d just start to cry.

“Don’t worry I’ve seen you much worse.” You saw in the reflection as Tom leaned in and whispered in your ear, making your eyes roll and head shake as you looked from him back to you. 

“I look like a paps dream.” Without instruction, Tom bolted into a nearby cubicle, wrapping layers of toilet roll round his hand before offering it to you as a makeshift wipe.

“This is the glamour of Hollywood don’t you know? Wiping your face with bog roll”Thankfully taking it, you offered Tom a thankful smile as he stepped back, giving you space as he leant against another cubicle pillar. Once you finished up blotting your face, Tom had already shrugged off his jacket walking toward you as he offered it out. Tilting your head to the side in a questioning manner Tom just shrugged, saying it’d help avoid the paparazzi just in case. In reality you weren’t so sure, but anyhow you still appreciated the gesture and draped it round your shoulders with a muttering of thanks. 

At this point his phone pinged, the car was outside, so without any words exchanged he led you to the door, checked the hallway was clearly before guided you back to the exit. There didn’t appear to be anybody lurking around, which you were oh so thankful for as you almost threw yourself in to the safety of the blacked out car. Tom followed and you both, almost comically as if scripted, released a sigh in unison as you melted into the seats. That had you chuckling dryly as you sat in silence. 

“You know we can’t move till you say where you’re staying?” Teasing you, Tom shot you that ever mischievous grin that made the blood rush through your skin. After you’d told the driver, the car pulled swiftly out the laibi.

“Did he…did he say something?” Tom’s demeanour had steeled up and you looked questioningly up at him. “Joe… you looked…close.”

“Oh”. You were taken aback. You should have seen this coming to be fair, him asking for the trigger this evening - and yet you were more shocked at his jealousy. How he looked pained to mention Joe by name. “Um no… well sort of…it was a joke. He didn’t mean it but it er…it took me back.” Tom knew your history, he knew what happened all those years ago and he nodded slowly , keeping his eyeline straight ahead. 

“He’s a dick.”

“No he’s not…. He- he was sweet enough . It was all me.”

“What?”

“I pushed myself on him. I-I saw you… I was spooked.” Tom left it to drift back to silence. He had a lot of thinking to do too. 

He’d obviously kept up to date with you. Call it a professional interest. That was the problem being in love with someone when you weren’t allowed to be. But it hurt like hell, especially when he heard what you were doing. Because he knew this wasn’t you. He knew you sleeping around wasn’t going to help you recover - in fact he thought (and quite correctly) it was the opposite. That long term it’d only cause you more and more pain. 

“You know, you don’t have to do this?… I-I know it isn’t you. I’m not insulting or anything I’m… I’m just worried.” You knew he was being truthful . And infuriatingly he was right. Which only made it even more annoying. 

“Why do you care though?” Looking out the window that was all you could think to say. That was your subconscious talking as you didn’t really want the answer. Or you desperately did but you knew it’d be hard to get over. 

“Y/n” He sighed, making you look across at him “I’ve not stopped caring… I’ll never stop caring.”

Wasn’t that just a knife to the heart. You held your breath momentarily, not knowing what to think (nervermind say) in response to that. Everything in that car seemed to freeze, Tom’s eyes piercing the deepest and darkest parts of your mind as he stared at you. You both really weren’t over it. You were both hurting. You missed each other.

And you were about to dive in all over again. 

But then the indicator ticked on. The car pulled to a stop. The ignition switched off by the driver. You were at your hotel. The journeys end - quite literally. 

Tom felt it too. He knew if ever there was a chance, however rogue and unlikely, of you two working things out it was within this journey. And he’d failed.

“I-uh…I-this is me” Stammering through, distracted by the way Tom’s eyes shone with disappointment. 

‘Yeh - yeh it is I guess.”

“Well er… thanks for, well you know… for saving me. You er-you really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to”

“Yeh well er thanks…. And er-Oh! Your jacket” You realised, already tugging the tailored suit jacket from your shoulders. 

“No no it’s really okay. I have loads anyway.” See?In Hollywood you really weren’t allowed to wear the same thing twice. 

“Oh-okay. Well er….I’ll see you around I guess?”

“Can I walk you to your room, just to-check no one bothers you?” Tom was trying. Desperately trying. He could feel you slipping through his fingers again, this time he wanted to put up more of a fight. You shook your head thought, a sad smile gracing your lips. 

“I’d say yes but I think I know where that’d end up…. And I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Defeatedly nodding, Tom just smiled in a tight-lipped fashion, equally as sadly at you. 

“I’ll errr I’ll see you around.” While gathering yourself and preparing to exit the car, your hand on the door handle. Tom responded with a ‘yeh’ but before you left you leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, before whispering under your breath..

“Thankyou Tom.”

part 2 ish of sorts --> link

[hobbitingryffindor]

Don’t respond after 9 pm

So I've never written fanfic before, but apparently, I'm pissed at Jane. Please be kind, but also let me know if I should continue. I have a few other rules and scenes in mind. I have no idea if this will grow into anything more. Constructive feedback would be great.

___

Maura was ruminating. It was never good when she couldn’t get through her Saturday morning yoga session, but these days, it was becoming the norm. So after she finished her cup of tea, she locked herself in her yoga room, rolled out her yoga mat, and settled in with herself.

She had rules. They were new, and it was hard to keep to them some days, but they were there because she knew better. She knows she deserves more. She may not have had an attentive family growing up, but she knows her worth, or at least she’s gotten better at reminding herself. She knows what they have goes beyond friendship. She also knows it will never be more. Jane just keeps holding back the final piece of the puzzle. She could resign herself to a lifetime of this sexually charged and emotionally mediocre but never fulfilling relationship OR she could take a step back from Jane and a step forward for herself. But last night she forgot. She forgot the first rule she put in place almost a month ago.

1 - Don’t respond to Jane after 9 pm

Recognizing the anxious feeling that started in her chest, she told herself that it was a slip-up and it wouldn’t happen again. But she couldn’t help but grab her phone and reread last night’s messages.

10:36: J - Hey, you still up?

10:42: M - Just finished Bass’ enrichment and heading up to bed.

It had been such a simple response, it just floated out of her fingertips. She was so used to just always responding to Jane.

10:43: J- Enrichment? You can just say that you were in the sandbox hiding food for Bass to find.

10:44: M- Fine yes, I was reading his namesake’s new foreword in “Skeletal biology and bioarchaeology of the Northwestern Plains” while bass dug up the cactus leaves and strawberries I hid in his sandbox.

10:44: J- You make my night of watching the Sox lose seem like an exciting night

10:45: M- What can I say? We love to party over here.

10:45: J- I don’t know when it started, but you’ve gotten really good at sarcasm

10:46: M- You must be rubbing off on me ;-)

As Maura reread that line, she couldn’t help but cringe a little. She really couldn’t stop herself from going there last night, it was yet another small slip up, that showed how their friendship was always a little more than friendship.

10:59: J- I feel like I haven’t seen you at all this week, is the morgue backlogged?

11:04: M- It’s no busier than usual. Actually a little less so without a murder yet this month.

11:04: J- Give it time, Boston can’t go more than 2 weeks without a new murder. Have you been in court on other cases this week? I went to see if you could grab lunch a few times and I never caught you.

11:05: M- We must have just missed each other, I did lunch out of the office a few times.

11:07: J- You going to fancy places without me now?

11:09: M - Really Jane, any place that doesn’t allow jeans, you label as fancy. But no, a friend from my residency, Erica, did a few guest lectures at BCU. I caught one of her lectures and we had lunch a few times.

11:09: J- I see how it is, replacing me with other genii.

Reading this for a second time feels like a needle in her chest, last night it paralyzed her, she didn’t know how to respond. She wasn’t replacing Jane, per se. This was also the point last night where she realized her mistake in responding to Jane’s late text. Even now, she still isn’t sure she handled it correctly.

11:18: J- Any plans for tomorrow?

11:20 M- While genii is correct, you can just say geniuses, you don’t have to try so hard. And, no I’m not replacing you. I was planning on browsing Newbury St in the afternoon.

11:21 J- Great, so I’ll pick you up at 2, I’ll carry the bags and then we can hit up Eataly for dinner? We haven’t been there in a while.

11:25 M- That’s okay Jane, I know you don’t enjoy my long shopping ventures, you don’t have to come. And I’ve got dinner plans, I’m sorry. But I’ll see you Sunday night for dinner.

After that, it was radio silence from Jane. Even after all these years, all the social cues Jane’s helped her learn, she still doesn’t know how to read the silence. Last night she was torn. She wanted to hang out with Jane but didn’t. Now she had to live with rejecting Jane’s plans, and what felt like a rejection of Jane herself.

That’s what brought her here, meditating as the sun was rising, or trying to anyway. Maura shook herself out and realized she was going to need a little help this morning clearing her mind. So she opened up the Calm app and resigned herself to a guided meditation. Maura went through the motions of her day, finishing off with an overzealous stop at Diane Von Furstenberg’s on Newbury just because. She still hadn’t heard from Jane and was trying to tell herself it was okay, they were okay, they were just both adjusting to this new normal. Maura hadn’t figured out what this new normal was supposed to be, but she knew she was unhappy with how Jane and she were a couple in every way, except in the way that mattered. Their friendship was unhealthy as it was. If they were only going to be friends, Maura was going to start making space in her life for other friends and possibly a lover or two. She can’t pinpoint when it happened, but her very active and healthy sex life seemed to slowly dry up the closer she and Jane got.

______________

Dressed in her new Midi dress, and a brand new pair of St. Laurent sandals, she waived to Angela across the courtyard as she headed off to meet Erica. Driving to the Chart House, she couldn’t help but reflect and acknowledge that Eric’s timing was creating a good distraction for her. She and Erica had done their residencies together, they hadn’t been best of friends, but she was always warm to Maura and tried to include Maura in her social circle. A few years after Maura moved to Boston, she reached out when she landed in Providence doing a Post Doc Fellowship at Brown. They’d do dinner a few times a year, trade interesting journal articles, nothing special, but it was nice to have a friend outside of BPD. When BCU invited Erica to guest lecture for the week, Maura decided she’d just drop in on the first lecture, which led to a couple of lunches earlier in the week, and a celebration dinner as Erica was just offered a tenure track faculty position starting in the fall. Pulling up to the valet station, she decided that this was just what she needed to expand her social circle a bit. She’d enjoy her evening, celebrate Erica’s new position and enjoy the late spring evening.

______________

Like clockwork on Sunday around noontime, the Rizzoli’s started to filter into her home. Angela always led the parade, bringing groceries and starting the prep process. Over the next couple of hours Jane, her brothers, little TJ, Frost, Korsak, Kiki, and even Susie sometimes would wander in and fill her house. When she invited Angela to live in the guest house almost 4 years ago, she never thought it was going to be permanent, nor did she think she’d enjoy having her there as much as she does. For all of Angela’s meddling and snooping in Jane’s life, she’d been nothing but respectful of Maura’s boundaries and privacy. Maura treasured how their patchwork family considered her house their gathering place, when it was full, it felt like the warm home she yearned for as a child. The amazing dinners, even if sometimes unhealthy, were a vehicle for that love and inclusion Maura had spent over 30 years searching for. She’d found it with Jane and her family, but she still craves more. She wants more than a patchwork family, she wants her own family.

As Maura was finishing up working in the garden beds Tommy and TJ arrived. By the time she’d entered the kitchen freshly showered and ready for Angela to put her to work, she saw Jane and Frankie had joined Tommy in watching a basketball game. Maura greeted everyone while looking at the TV, she noticed no one was wearing a green jersey so she knew Boston wasn’t playing, which usually boded well for her couch and rugs. TJ was in his high chair feeding himself some plain pasta while Angela sang to him. Maura and Angela quickly fell into their rhythm with this week’s batch of Ragu simmering on the stove. By the time the lasagna was in the oven, Frost, Korsak, and Kiki had arrived and, Angela and Maura joined the gang in the living room to snack on some arancini before dinner.

While Maura and Angela always cooked, the most relaxing part of Sunday dinners was when Jane and Maura cleaned up. Never fail the boys would head out not long after dessert and the games were over. And Jane in her way of appreciating her mother would kick her back to the guest house for an early night, while she took charge of cleaning up the kitchen.

“Another glass of wine while you work?” Jane asked Maura while grabbing the bottle

Maura just put her glass in front of Jane while nodding for more. The pots and pans were washed, the dishwasher had already started its cycle and Jane and Maura were moving to the living room to straighten up before settling in to catch up on their week. Normally all this happened with a comfortable level of conversation between them, but tonight, there was a little more silence than usual. With blankets folded and the remote located, they settled into the couch, each sitting against an arm, facing each other.

“You know mom asked me how your date went last night, I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone” Jane started.

“It wasn’t a date, I told you I was going to dinner with Erica, she’s just accepted an offer at BCU.”

“No, you said you had lunch with Erica” with a slight hint of annoyance that only Maura could pick up on. “I didn’t know you guys were doing dinner, I thought you might have been hiding a new boyfriend from me”

“No, no new boyfriend Jane. Although that would be nice or maybe a girlfriend, I haven’t dated a woman since I first moved to Boston”

Jane nodded, her eyes a little bigger than normal, sometimes Maura could swear Jane forgot she was pansexual.

“What about you? You seeing anyone new?” Maura asked, mostly to take the heat off of her. She didn’t know what was worse, talking about her lackluster dating life or trying to appear supportive of Jane's dating life when all she wanted was to be the person dating Jane.

“No, although Frost mentioned his old college roommate is single. I can’t believe I’m even entertaining the idea of letting him set me up.”

“You should at least meet him, if Frost is setting you up, I’m sure he’s a good man.” Maura grinned through a fake smile.

“I don’t know” Jane responded, Maura saw the walls going up “ I don’t want to talk about dating. Is Erica going to move to Boston? You know you’ve never introduced us, are you scared I’ll embarrass you?” Jane half-joked, changing the topic.

“No Jane, you have to stop with the self-deprecating humor, you know I’m not embarrassed by you. And yes, she needs to finish teaching a summer seminar at Brown, and then she’ll move up here.” The next words fell out of her mouth as soon as they occurred to her “I should see if she wants to come to next Sunday’s dinner.” Seeing Jane’s small annoyance grow into jealously, she redirected. “She can meet everyone, but please don’t interrogate her for college stories. You already know I was weird and awkward, you don’t need more things to tease me about!”

Jane took the bait “Ohhhh, I didn’t even think of that! I wonder if she’s got pictures!!

Maura just rolled her eyes, relieved that the tension was broken. She really did want Jane and everyone else to accept Erica, she remembered what it was like moving back to Boston and not having anyone. The rest of the night passed quickly, Maura kept the topics to mostly work or Boston politics. Jane could rant about local politics for hours and it didn’t put Maura at risk of gazing at Jane like she wanted to take her upstairs. A little before 11, Jane sighed and made her excuses about getting back to Jo before she relieved herself on the rug again. Pre-rules Maura might have made some comment about how much wine Jane had and how she should stay the night. Post-rules Maura kept her mouth shut. As Maura locked the door behind Jane, she couldn’t help but hope that just maybe, with some delicate balancing, she’d be able to move on from Jane and keep her as a friend.

________

Later that week Maura found herself at the Robber with the whole group, even Susie joined them. Maura was finding her new footing and it felt nice, it gave her a boost of confidence. Jane no longer acted as her interpreter when Frost made a joke, Korsak no longer felt the need to censor his dirty jokes and Susie actually had a pretty foul mouth once she had a few drinks. More than ever she noticed how breaking down her walls, allowed others to break their own down around her. She didn’t feel like Queen of the Dead anymore, she was Maura. As the night stretched on the table shuffled around a bit, Korsak left to meet Kiki, Frankie and Nina joined, Susie went home and Frost tried his luck with a pretty blonde at the bar.

Maura didn’t even notice how slowly Jane crept to her, close enough that her side was against Maura and her arm draped behind Maura across the back of the booth. But she did notice when the vibe between Jane and her started to mirror that of Frankie and Nina, right down to Jane ordering Maura another drink before checking with her. Maura and Jane were a couple, they couldn’t help it. The small touches, the laughing into each other’s sides, even the stolen glances. It no longer felt like hanging out, it felt like they were on a double date. It was too much for Maura, she excused herself to the bathroom to regroup. Looking at herself in the mirror, she scolded herself. She had to get out of there, she needed more distance. How could she possibly have her own relationship if she always ended up with Jane?

“I didn’t realize how late it had was,” Maura said marching up to the booth. “I’m going to head home. I’ll see you all in the morning? Those cultures should be ready by 10, I’ll page you when I have the report ready.” All of a sudden Maura infused a formalness into the air that wasn’t there before. Frankie raised his eyebrows but said nothing. It was weird for Maura to leave without Jane, or at least inviting Jane back to her house.

“I’ll leave with you” Jane started to get up.

“Oh no, that’s fine, I’m parked just across the street. I’ll be fine, stay, enjoy the rest of your beer” Maura responded with a slightly stern note. Jane nodded, “Party pooper, leaving me with these love doves” gesturing to Frankie and Nina, while they responded with mock offense. As Maura walked away, she didn’t see Frankie lean in and whisper to Jane.

Once Maura settled into bed for the evening she decided it was time for her to get out there. Even if it meant her joining one of those annoying dating sites. It was better to be trying than pining. Last week Erica had suggested How About We, it was worth at least signing up. She decided that it couldn’t hurt more than she was already hurting. While she hadn’t opened up to Erica about how frustrated she was with her’s and Jane’s relationship, she had expressed a desire to get out there more and Erica had offered a few bits of advice. If she couldn’t go to Jane about this, it was nice to at least have another friend to commiserate with about dating. As soon as she completed her profile, her phone beeped and a notification popped up on the screen.

11:17 PM

Jane Rizzoli

You awake?

Clicking her screen off, Maura put her phone on her nightstand and turned over for what would be a very uncomfortable night’s sleep.

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Bolin x female airbender (Tenzin’s daughter) Part 2

You and Bolin continue sneaking around as your relationship progresses but after a dangerous development the relationship between you, Bolin and your father becomes even more strained and changes permanently

Part One here

Your POV

Ever since your dad caught you in Bolin’s bedroom he had watched you like a hawk. He didn’t bar your windows like he promised (your mother forbid it as a fire hazard) but he did have the air temple island guards incorporate your room into their patrol routes, which meant you had soldiers pass your window about fifty times a day. He also disovered you were using Pabu to send messages to Bolin and made the fire ferret wear a bell so he could hear him at all times. He even enrolled your younger siblings into keeping track of you. Jinora wasn’t too interested but Meelo and Ikki posted themselves in the hallway between your and Bolin’s rooms and would yell anytime either of you left them. With all this you’d think you and Bolin would get disheartened or put off trying to see each other but it only made it all the more fun. You’d soon learnt the patrol routes and worked out the times you could leave out of your window undetetced. Pabu got really good at sneaking around will holding onto the bell so it didn’t ring and you enrolled Jinora to distract Ikki and Meelo when needed. Which you’d done today, you were supposed to be in your room but had paid Jinora to keep everyone away from your room so you could sneak out to see Bolin’s first probending match of the season. You’d asked your dad to go see it and when he told you no you’d taken it upon yourself to disobey him and go see Bolin.

The operation was tricky, there were two active patrols, multiple windows and a sea to cross to get to the stadium but for Bolin you took it all on. When you finally reached the arena you smiled and made your way to the fire ferrets training room. You knocked and the door was opened by non other that Bolin. “Y/n!” Bolin cried seizing you in a hug that, with the height difference, turned into him picking you up “I didn’t know if you’d be able to make it”. “Of course I would” you smiled as he put you back down “it’s your first match of the season, no way my dad could make me miss that”. You took Bolin’s hand and he stared at you with pure adoration. “Maybe we should...” Asami coughed pointing to the door and Korra nodded “yeah let’s go get some waters or something”. “But there’s water right here” Mako protested but Korra yanked his arm dragging him out of the room, leaving you and Bolin alone. “So how are you feeling?” you asked “nervous?”. “A bit...” Bolin admitted “we’ve been out of practice for a while”. “Don’t be!” you cried “you, Mako and Korra are an amazing team, you’ve worked so hard and you’re the best earth bender in this whole thing, you’re going to smash the competition, literally”. Bolin grinned bashfully “you think so?”. “I know so” you smiled and took a t-shirt out of your bag. It had the fire ferrets in writing across it with a picture of Pabu as honorary mascot. Bolin cheered in glee grabbing it from you “this is amazing! Where did you get it?”. “Had it made” you smiled “turns out my uncle knows a guy so I had him make me a batch”. You tugged it over your head and turned back to Bolin “how does it look?”. “Amazing, you’re amazing, you being here is amazing”. You grinned as Bolin drew you into a hug burying you against his chest. It had been a while since you’d been able to just be alone together and not have to worry about your dad or anyone catching you. You forgot how much you missed him, just being with Bolin and smiled. “You’re pretty amazing too” you smirked blushing and Bolin’s smile grew. He leaned in and you met him half way and wrapped your arms around his neck to reach his lips easier. Bolin smiled against the kiss but soon became transfixed by the sensation of kissing you. You also hadn’t been able to kiss Bolin in a while and especially not like this so took your time enjoying it. Bolin did too and he carried on kissing you, the intensity growing as you both got more and more passionate. “erm guys...” a voice called beside you and you both opened your eyes to see Korra waving awkwardly with Mako and Asami by the door. Water in hand and in full view of you and Bolin. You both blushed and Bolin let go of you “sorry...we didn’t hear you”. “Yeah well you were pretty busy” Korra smirked and you blushed even more as did Bolin. “We have to go now or we’re going to be late! I knew we shouldn’t have gone for water” Mako cried and Asami rolled her eyes. Korra and Bolin hurried to finish getting ready and Bolin put his helmet on and turned to you “how do i look?”. You retied the straps of his helment, ensuring it was on properly, and smiled “perfect, now go win”. You pecked his lips and Bolin grinned before going to stand beside Mako and Korra. The three of them were pushed onto the stage by the moving platform and you took your seat beside Asami. “So you and Bolin seem good” she smirked and you nodded sighing happily “we are, he’s perfect” you smiled watching him on the stage. “If only my dad would but out and leave us alone”. Asami noticed how quickly your face turned from joy to fury and frowned, she’d never heard you talk about your dad so negatively. "You know your dad’s just looking out for you right?" Asami asked you and you sighed "yeah but it’s so over the top, i’m not a little kid, he can’t stop me from dating just because he doesn’t like it and i could do a lot worse than Bolin". As if to prove it at that moment Bolin knocked the opposing earth bender off the platform into the water and you jumped up cheering for him. Bolin grinned glancing over to where you were when his smile turned into a frown. You were confused when you felt a presence behind you. A hand grabbed your arm tightly "what do you think you’re doing here young lady?" Tenzin asked and you groaned. "Answer the question" your father glared "you know I forbid you from coming here". "But why? Korra’s here and it’s the first game of the season! You can’t punish me forever for what happened with me and Bolin it was weeks ago!". "Ow I think I can and it’ll be for a lot longer now too" he glared "now go home this instance". You sighed glancing to where Bolin was getting ready for round two but nodded, if you didn’t go your dad would probably drag you there himself. "Fine" you glared at your father and left the training room.

You exited the building and headed to the docks for a boat back to air temple island. You were so angy at your dad you didn’t even realise there were people following you. You didn’t become aware of them until they were right behind you. You’d taken a wrong turn and ended up at dead end. They stood at the opposite end of the street blocking your exit. When you locked eyes they sprang into action, running towards you and you went in panic mode. You ran forwards and used your bending to propel yourself upwards and then altered your air stream to push off of a building and touched down behind them. You had no idea who these people were but didn’t want to wait find out, you ran. Not really paying attention to anything besides the people chasing you, you shot around every corner rapidly, jumping over fences and under any barrier you could, using air bending to help you in any way but it didn’t seem to do much, they were still hot on your tail. If anything more people appeared to chase you until finally you rounded a corner to see a man waiting with his back to you. The man turned and you saw a white mask on his face. It was Amon, the famous chi blocker who could take a benders power away and wanted to ruin the air nation, apparently starting with you. You went to turn around and run the other way but his men were blocking it, having caught up with you. You frowned knowing you couldn’t let them capture you and went to airbend upwards anything to get away but the man spoke. "I wouldn’t do that if i was". Ignoring him you tried it and were met with a flurry of wires latching onto you that sent you crashing back down hard. You hit your head hard and were barely conscious but the last thing you remembered was the masked face coming closer.

12 hours later

"This is all your fault!" Tenzin yelled at Bolin who frowned. Bolin had been out all night looking for you, he was sleep derpived, out of his mind with worry for you, hadn’t eaten in over 16 hours hours and was bruised and aching all over due to his probending game. So while normally he wouldn’t have talked back to your father he was too exhausted to control his mouth "my fault?" Bolin asked "how is it my fault?". "She snook out to come see you! She was there because of you! She’s missing because of you it’s all your fault and if anything’s happened to her I will blame you and only you" Tenzin yelled. Pama and Korra frowned as Bolin’s face crumpled but Tenzin didn’t care "I never should’ve allowed this in the first place, I want you out of my house immedietly! You’re a bad influence on y/n and I won’t have you dating her anymore". Tenzin was cut off when the door was thrown open and Mako appeared with you. You were walking but had one arm around Mako’s neck to help you. "Y/n" everyone cried and your parents both got emotional over your bruised face and slumped posture. Your eyes were red raw and they asked you a thousand questions but you didn’t answer any. You turned away and they looked to Mako confused. "I found her by the docks unconscious, it was Amon’s men". "That scoundral!" Tenzin yelled watching as you walked soundlessly to your room. "That’s not all" Mako said as Tenzin went to follow you "she told me...she tried at the docks but she couldn’t...he took her bending". The whole room went silent and they jumped as you slammed your door, sending shock waves through the house.

Hours later you still hadn’t spoken a word. You wouldn’t answer your mother or father’s questions, or eat their food, or allow korra to heal you. You just curled up in your bed and stared at the wall. It seemed nobody remembered Tenzin’s harsh words after Mako’s bombshell, Bolin especially. He was the first to offer words of encouragement to your parents, the first to offer his condolences but also to remind them you were okay, you were alive, that was all that mattered. Your parent’s worry wasn’t easily washed away though and they hovered in your room fussing over you in every way possible. Pema thought you needed space to process but Tenzin refused to leave your side. Bolin itched to rush to your side and be with you but he knew Tenzin wouldn’t allow that, so he sighed and sat on the floor outside your room waiting. He heard as Tenzin tried everything to break you out of your silence, soothing tones, hugging you, begging you, even being harsh and raising his voice but nothing worked. Exhausted Tenzin fell asleep on a chair beside your bed, while you stayed awake not moving or talking just staring at the wall.

When Tenzin woke up hours later you were gone and the plate of food beside your bed empty. "Pema" he cried jumping up and his wife rushed to him "Tenzin?". "Y/n she’s...". "She’s fine" Pema told him. "She’s eaten?" Tenzin cried showing her the plate and Pema shushed him. She waved her hand and Tenzin followed her to were you were in the living room. You were curled up on the sofa, knees against your chest, beside Bolin fast asleep. Bolin was asleep too, sat upright with an arm around you. You were curled up into his side wrapped in a blanket, what of your face was exposed was pressed against Bolin’s side. "She’s...i don’t understand". "When you fell asleep Bolin tried with her, he convinced her to come and eat, Korra healed her injuries while bolin sat with her and then she fell asleep next to him on the sofa". Tenzin felt a stir of anger and Pema rolled her eyes "don’t you dare get angry! You didn’t see all that boy did, y/n was in shock and he was so kind and patient, she talked, he got her to talk! And to eat and even sleep! She’s woken up a few times scared and whimpering and Bolin wakes up too and calms her back down. If you can’t see how good that boy is to our daughter and how much he loves her then you’re an idiot Tenzin". Tenzin gaped, Pema never spoke that strongly to anyone and never him but his wife was dead serious. “I...I just don’t understand, why him? Why does she feel safer with him than us?”. Pema frowned “because he doesn’t see her like we do, like you do...”. “What do you mean like I do?” Tenzin asked and Pema sighed. “When y/n was born I saw how much attention you paid to her, how you watched her every move right up until the time she first started air bending, I’ve never seen you happier than the day she started airbending and I get it, on that day you were no longer the last airbender anymore, there were two of you but Tenzin she’s your daughter first and sometimes I don’t think that you see it that way, she’s your future, your whole next generation of airbenders”. “Now hold on...” Tenzin started but Pema carried on “I know you love her but I saw your face when Mako said her bending had been taken away”. Tenzin went quiet feeling guilty and Pema frowned. “But Bolin...I didn’t mean to overhear but her first words Tenzin were “”my bending””. After all the trauma, the physical and mental pain she suffered her main shame was losing her bending. She was ashamed of herself but do you know what Bolin said to her? Without missing a beat he told her she was more than her bending, her bending didn’t define her, she was amazing with it and she’ll be amazing without it, I don’t think either of us have ever told her that”. Tenzin frowned looking at you so content with Bolin and nodded “you’re right, I see her as my daughter the airbender...i don’t mean to but it’s hard”. Pema nodded hugging Tenzin’s arm “I know you don’t mean it but y/n notices, she’s had those expectations on her shoulders since the first time she used airbending but Bolin doesn’t see her like that, he doesn’t treat her like an airbender and she noticed that too, that’s why he soothes her, thats why she sneaks out to see him, that’s why she’s do anything for him...he sees her Tenzin”. Tenzin frowned feeling teary and nodded his head “I was wrong about them”.  

The next few days Tenzin was amazed to see how much better you’d become. You were not your old self, you jumped at loud noises, didn’t smile as easily and of course couldn’t airbend but you no longer looked so sad. Sat next to Bolin you physically brightenned and relaxed. Tenzin noticed how attentive Bolin was to you, how concerned he was with your wellbeing and knew he had to apologise to him. He managed to catch Bolin alone and gestured for him to follow him. Bolin did so nervously and Tenzin led him outside. Bolin stood beside him a few feet away as if worried Tenzin would yell at him again. Tenzin wanted to show him this wasn’t one of those talks but didn’t know how so just started talking. “When Y/n was missing I blamed you” Tenzin coughed “I unfairly put all the blame on you and i am sorry, that was not correct, I shouldn’t have said that to you”. Bolin frowned “You don’t have to apologise, I know you were just worried and I mean you were right" Bolin said sadly "she got hurt because of me, that’s why i’ve got to help her recover, it’s all my fault". Tenzin could see the boys eyes were filled with tears and shook his head. "No i wasn’t right at all! She was there for many reasons but I was one of the reasons, she snook away because i banned her from seeing you so she had to be sneaky, not to mention i sent her home alone late at night..." Tenzin sighed "i know you’d have walked her home and would’ve protected her, you’d have never let her get hurt". Bolin seemed shocked but nodded his head adamantly "of course sir". "But that didn’t happen because of me. I was so scared and so fixated on protecting her from irrational things like you and because of that she got hurt". Bolin frowned "it wasn’t your fault either, you didn’t know what would happen". Tenzin nodded but didn’t believe the earth bender "you’ve been a big support to her, the most helpful, you got her to eat and sleep and walk and smile and even laugh" Tenzin sighed "she feels safe with you" Tenzin told Bolin "she trusts you, more than anyone". Bolin blushed and smiled looking back into the house "yeah well...i trust her more than anyone too, she means everything to me sir, honestly". Tenzin nodded his head "i’m starting to see that, i’ve been treating you like the enemy, a threat to my daughter’s safety when you’re my biggest ally there, you only want what’s best for her don’t you". "Of course" Bolin nodded "i lov.." before he trailled off going red "i care about her". Tenzin stared at him before nodding his head "go back inside to her". Bolin looked at Tenzin shocked. He expected this talk to be Tenzin kicking him out of the house but now he was literally inviting him inside. Tenzin repeated himself "go inside, you’ve proven yourself, i shouldn’t have needed you to do it so drastically and i’m sorry for that but i trust you son, i can’t think of anybody better for my little girl and i know i don’t need to threaten you about hurting her because i think you’d beat yourself up more than anyone could if you hurt her". Bolin nodded his head "totally". Tenzin smiled "you have my blessing". Bolin grinned thanking him and went to go back into the house when Tenzin grabbed his arm "but still if you hurt her...the air in your lungs won’t be safe from me, got it?". Tenzin watched to see the boy’s reaction but Bolin only grinned. "Trust me if i hurt her i’ll give you all the air from my lungs voluntarily I promise!". Tenzin frowned thinking the threat didn’t really work if Bolin was okay with it but the boy was already back inside the house

Bolin’s POV

"Y/n you’ll never guess what" Bolin called coming into your room but stopped seeing Ikki and Jinora sat on your bed with you. Bolin had forgotten tonight was the big sister sleepover but smiled to see how well you were getting along with both of your sisters. "Hey, what is it?" You asked getting up and Bolin smiled. "Hi girls, I just got back from a conversation with your dad...". "Ow no, i’m sorry..." you started but he shook his head "no it was okay, great actually". "Should we go?" Jinora asked but Bolin shook his head "no it’s okay, don’t worry i won’t be long" before turning back to you "he gave me his approval y/n". Ikki and Jinora got what Bolin meant before you did and gasped. "He did?" you asked glancing back at your sister’s dramatic reactions and Bolin nodded. "I know i couldn’t believe it either! He actually thinks i’m worthy of you". "Of course you are" you smiled "you’re the best guy i know". "Me too" Jinora added and you smirked at her over your shoulder. "That means a lot thank you" Bolin smiled at you all "but i just can’t believe your father approves of me, this is so great! No more sneaking around or hiding, we can be seen and honest with each other! I don’t have to hide how much i like you". You nodded blushing and Bolin paused. He looked like he wanted to tell you something but looked at Jinora and Ikki and decided not to smiling instead "so i just wanted to tell you that". You smiled "that’s great news i’m really pleased but you know i always approved of you anyway right? I didn’t need my fathers approval to know how great you are". "Of course" Bolin nodded "i just never wanted to come between you and your family, i’d hate to be the thing making you unhappy in any way". "That’s really sweet but you only make me happy" you replied and Bolin’s face lit up. "That’s amazing to hear" he smiled looking at you like you were the best thing in the world. You blushed and Bolin shook himself out of his trance "so i’ll be going, I know it’s the big sister sleepover so i’ll get out of your way, goodnight girls have fun!". "Goodnight Bolin" Ikki and Jinora called and you smiled "night Bolin". He hugged you and you smiled closing your eyes. You seperated and Bolin’s smile mirrored yours "i’ll be right next door if you need anything...anytime". You smiled "thanks but i think we'll be okay". "Okay good" he smiled before closing the door.

Your POV

Bolin’s visit apparently made an impression on your sisters too. "I like Bolin" Ikki told you as you got ready to go to sleep. "Me too" you smiled and Ikki continued "he’s so strong and handsome but also so sweet and kind" she sighed wistfully. "Yeah, how did you get such a great guy to love you?" Jinora asked in typical annoying little sister fashion. You shrugged “honestly I don’t know" you smiled "but i love him too". "Awww" Ikki smiled "you should tell him". "Yeah i think it’s about time i did" you agreed. Ikki’s eyes closed and you drew the quilt around her more. "I didn’t mean what i said you know, i was just teasing" Jinora told you "you’re both amazing". You smiled "thanks". She smiled at you and you closed your eyes. "I heard him telling you how our bending doesn’t define us" Jinora whispered "not even dad told us that y/n, Ikki’s right he’s really special". You smiled thinking back on the memory "he is isn’t he?". Jinora nodded "i’m glad you’ve found someone so lovely, i hope i do". "You will" you smiled tucking her hair behind her ear "i promise". "Thanks y/n" she smiled hugging you and you held your little sister. "Also if you don’t tell Bolin you’re in love with him soon I think Ikki will beat you to it". You chuckled and sighed "don’t worry i’m going to tell him first thing tomorrow".

---

I wasn’t planning on doing a part two but you guys seemed to like the first one a lot and who doesn’t love more Bolin?

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Don’t Treat My Love Like a Habit Part Fourteen

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Pairing: Santiago Garcia x Reader Rating: Mature (this may change) Warnings: Cursing; angst... And well.... Y’all will see Notes: Set before the movie. Not beta-read. Reina is Spanish for Queen. I hope everyone’s having a good week! 💜 Summary: You’d spent the last few days checking all of the cameras we had available for Hernandez, but you hadn’t been able to get another fix on the man.

The tracker stopped giving off a signal somewhere around El Eden, outside Jericó. There was no way for you to know if it had been knocked loose, or if it had been found, but it gave you a direction. It also put Hernandez in range of one of the last in-person sightings of Lorea, down by Las Minas.  “So I’ll drive down--” “I don’t know if you should be driving anywhere. You haven’t even gotten your stitches out yet,” You gave the phone a withering look, willing Alex to feel the power of the stare from the other end. You and Pope were at the office, looking down at a readout of all of the places the tracker had given off a signal before cutting. You’d spent the last few days checking all of the cameras we had available for Hernandez, but you hadn’t been able to get another fix on the man. Pope told you that he hadn’t gotten anything else about Hernandeze’s whereabouts from his informant, either, and that she hadn’t even expected him to be in the car that night.

The two of you had taken to calling Alex when we were in the office and having him on speakerphone when we were talking over status updates that day. You tended to go by his apartment at least once a day to check on him, make sure he was eating properly and helping out if he needed it. Pope had gone with you a couple of times, and they had been… Amiable. “Fine, you drive,” Alex retorted. You shook your head. “I’m still looking through these feeds. I get that we may get something closer to where the tracker cut, but-- I don’t want anyone going anywhere until we have something more firm. If the tech just shat the bed, or they found it and broke it, going down to El Eden isn’t going to solve anything, it’s just going to waste time.” 

“Pope, your informant doesn’t have anything?” “She didn’t the last time I spoke to her,” Pope turned his head toward the phone to answer, his eyes still set firmly on the map, “But I have a check-in with her in a couple of hours.” A check-in. You were pointedly not thinking about what that might entail. “Look, soon as we get something that looks like Hernandez--” “What if we don’t?” Alex asked. You went quiet. It was a fair question. The man had slipped up once; he’d be raising his guard, making sure nothing like that happened again. You and Pope had both been twice as cautious that week, double- and triple-checking that the door was locked before we went to bed. “We will,” Pope answered. You turned to look at him, taking in the set of his brow, the way his lips were pulling down. He meant, ‘We have to’.

--

You hadn’t had a quiet night alone without Pope since the office had been broken into. It was… Odd. Not eerie or anything, but just like something was missing. You’d briefly, stupidly, wondered if Pope felt like this when you’d stayed with Alex at the hospital. It was Pope’s apartment, he was used to being there alone. Well maybe not alone, but at least without you there-- You huffed, closing the fridge door for what had to be the fifth time that evening. Pope hadn’t told you when he’d be home back when he’d left to meet with his informant. “You gonna tell me what her name is, or should I call her Isabella 2.0?” You’d tried to tease. He’d cast you a dour look as he’d tugged jacket. “What’s it matter what her name is?” He’d asked, and the words had left him with such tired irritation that you immediately felt stupid for saying anything. “No, it… It doesn’t,” You’d mumbled. He’d just grunted, said he’d let you and ‘Brano know if he got anything, and left.

Maybe he hadn’t sounded that irritated? Maybe you’d just been thinking about it too long. Being in the apartment alone gave you a lot of time and silence in which to overthink things. You’d texted Frankie and the guys to see how they were doing, but Benny had a fight that night, so you wouldn’t be able to distract yourself with them for at least another few hours, and by then, Santiago would be home. Hopefully. Hopefully Santiago would be home. Back. Hopefully Santiago would be back. 

-- 

Hernandez is hunkered down in Las Minas. You’d jumped at the sound of your phone, and now you were just staring at the text that had come through from Santiago. Lorea? Was Alex’s answering text. Unclear, Pope’s response came through in seconds.

Las Minas, you could work with that. First thing in the morning, you’d go in and start working through the camera feeds that you could access from Diego’s office. You opened your separate texts with Santiago. Coming back soon?

You watched the screen for a few moments before setting the phone aside. A few more minutes, nothing. He’d answered Alex so quickly. You looked around the apartment, stomach churning. Maybe you wouldn’t wait until morning to head into the office and start combing through those camera feeds. 

-- 

You left him a post-it, of course. 

--

“So I’ve got five possible targets, there are like three that I’m ready to rule out, but I wanted to get your read on them before I dropped them completely,” You said, not even bothering with a ‘hello’, instead pointing to a map on the wall with printed-out imagery from the cameras you’d been able to access pinned to it, “The red tacks are the ones I think are the most likely, blue are the ones I wanna ditch.” “Have you been here all night?” Pope didn’t bother with a ‘hello’, either. “Where else would I be?” You returned your hand to the keyboard, eyes still on the monitor. “I don’t know, with Zambrano?” He said it like it was obvious, like you were over there all the time, beyond helping the guy since he was wounded. “Just stopped by after work for a bit.” “And then?” “Would you look at the map, please?” You didn’t mean for it to come out as snappy as it had, but you were… Tired, and annoyed - more annoyed than tired. Santiago had never answered your text, nor had he texted you when he got in, which you’d asked him to do on the post-it. To top it all off, he was asking if you had been at the office all night. So, presumably, he hadn’t gotten in, had spent the night elsewhere, and… And you’d gotten a tip out of it. Anything else that happened didn’t matter, and you didn’t care anyway, and this game of emotional whack-a-mole was really starting to take it out of you. 

You didn’t dare look at Pope, didn’t want to know whether he was looking at you or the map in the stilted silence that followed. But after a few moments, you heard his footsteps trail away from your desk, over to the wall, and you let yourself glance over your shoulder. Same jacket as yesterday - but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. You lowered your head back to your work, shaking your head a little. What he was wearing, what he did last night or didn’t do, none of that mattered, none of it-- “Ditch the blue.” Pope’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you grabbed the pen you’d set aside hours ago, crossing them off of the list that you’d compiled. “Too conspicuous?” You asked. “Yep.” You tossed the pen back onto the desk and glanced over at Pope, watching him look at the two remaining targets. They weren’t terribly far from one another, but they couldn’t be monitored by one person. “I’ll get Zambrano, drive down, hit them today,” Pope said, pulling his jacket sleeve back and glancing back down at his wrist, “He can drive. We won’t engage if we see anything, it’ll be strictly recon,” He added, glancing back at you.  You turned back to your computer, nodding and wordless. You didn’t like the idea, but you knew that the tip that Pope had gotten would need to be moved on quickly. “You should go back to the apartment, get some rest,” Pope added, heading for the door of your small office space. “I’ve got some stuff to wrap up here,” You shook your head. “Reina.” You looked up at Pope then, raising a brow and waiting for him to speak. He hesitated before he sighed, shaking his head. “I’ll grab walkie-talkies, Zambrano and I will radio when we’re in position.” “Fine,” You nodded, and were on your way to adding, “Be careful,” When you found yourself speaking to the door. 

-- 

“How was the fight?” You asked, leaning back from your monitor and stretching your back over your chair as you spoke into your chair. “What fight?” Alex’s voice crackled through your headset. “Mic,” Pope’s sighed over Alex’s question. “Shit, hang on, ‘Fish-- Sorry, guys,” You apologized before tapping the mute button on your headset - the controls were so damn sensitive. You’d already accidentally knocked them half a dozen times. You raised your phone back to the ear you’d pushed your headset back from. “Sorry, Fish.” “Late night?” Frankie chuckled. “... So how was the fight?” You repeated, not in the mood to touch that just yet. “It was great. Benny kicked the guy’s ass.” “Atta boy,” You grinned, pushing yourself out of your seat, “How’ve you been?” You listened to Frankie catch you up on what you’d missed the last couple of weeks, checking your phone screen now and again for any texts from Santiago or Alex, just in case. “You okay, Q?” “Fine, why?” “You sound a little...Dead.” “Forgot what a sweet-talker you were, chulo.” “You know I don’t mean it like that--” “I’m teasing, Frankie,” You smiled a little, grabbing your mug and walking over to where you’d set up the coffee maker in the back office that Diego had allotted you and Pope, “I’m fine, just… Yeah, late night. Work, you know.” You hesitated as you set your mug down, thinking. “...Frank?” “Yeah?” “Let’s say… Hypothetically… That there was a, like… Snowball’s chance in hell that there was some truth to all the teasing you’ve done about me and Pope.” “How big a snowball?” “You know that boulder that chases Indiana Jones in Raiders of the Lost Ark?” “Oh, no!” Frankie laughed, and you couldn’t help but smile a little bit at the sound of it -- it was so light, and after the mental hell you’d been putting yourself through, it was nice to hear someone laughing about it. “What’s going on?” He asked. You looked down at the coffee pot, trying to cobble your thoughts together. “It’s just-- Ugh, hang on,” You reached up, adjusting your headset as it began to slip, your hand brushing the controls as you did, “It’s just that-- I don’t know if it’s because I’m staying with the guy, or-- Or what, but I can’t get him out of my head. It’s bad, Frankie. And I mean, it’s not new, either, I’ve had feelings for Santiago since… Since before I took this job. I mean they weren’t always serious, not like they are now, but there’s always been something there for me--” Now that you were admitting it, you couldn’t get the words to stop; they were spilling out like unorganized tupperware from a hastily shut cupboard, “But fuck, it’s just been so much-- Worse isn’t the word, I mean, noticeable, maybe. Fuck, I’ve been living with the guy, we sleep in the same bed, and he’s cuddly, and I like it way too much. I spent half the night looking for new apartments because I just… I can’t do it anymore. If I don’t get out of there, I think I’m gonna fall in lo--” “Hey Q?” Alex’s voice crackled in through your earpiece. “Hang on ‘Fish--” You sighed, raising your hand to your headset. But before you could even touch it-- “Your mic is on,” Santiago’s voice was quiet, almost regretful. Your heart slammed into your rib cage with the force of a freight train. You reached up with a shaking hand, tapping the mic button on your headset again to mute it. “...Francisco, I’m going to need to call you back.” Tag list: @justanotherblonde23​  ; @revolution-starter​  ; @emurlemur​ ; @badbitxhbuckybarnes ;  @supernaturalcat7​ ; @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​

[peanut-in-the-goal]

1. I apologize for the long paragraphs this was supposed to be a short like 3 sentences but nevermind 2. I got distracted and forgot to hit post after writing this like an hour or two ago, also the ending is rushed 3. I might finish this later 4. characters are haz’s as always ( @lumosinlove )

O’knutzy soulmate au

Your soulmates don’t always line up, when they do it’s supposedly a true pair. There’s this old myth that those who don’t find their soulmates, or choose someone else who isn’t their soulmate, then they are destined to live alone or suffer within the relationship.

Some people don’t believe in the myth, some old tale that they chalked up to folklore. But there are some families that have never broken the tradition, like the Blacks, the Ristens, the Tremblays.

They’re set on finding the “right” person, the one that is picked up and given to you. Even if your heart belongs to someone else.

Everyone has their soulmates name someone on their body. They’re born with it, but as you get older, the writing because clearer and less smudged. It’s often around age 11 or 12 when you can finally read it.

Finn’s soulmate is Logan. His name is written out in black ink on the inside corner of his elbow. It’s fancy, cursive writing imprinted into his skin. He’s ecstatic the day that he meets Logan. They were at Harvard, shaking hands on the ice. A friendship was immediately sprung, the two of them hit it off as soon as they played together the first time. The pucks slid easily between their sticks, back and forth to each other. The communication on ice was something the other players strived for. Finn just wished that the could move that communication off the ice, and be something more that friends. But that couldn’t happen, not with the Tremblays holding up tradition, and Finn’s name not being the one that wrapped around Logan’s wrist.

Logan’s soulmate was Leo. The three letters wrapped his wrist like lace. The dainty font looking so simple but at the same time far too noticeable. That was one of his least favorite things about hockey. The lack of privacy that came with locker room and the showers. At some point everyone was going to see the name you were assigned with, the word that marks your skin. It’s not fair that everyone gets sent on some wild goose hunt to find their soulmate, especially when you have eyes on someone else. That annoying redhead called Finn was getting under his skin. Not in a bad way, more of an every minute your near me makes it harder for me to stay away. He couldn’t disobey the family tradition. He’s never even dated anyone, or kissed anyone. Refused to do anything with meaning because once you let someone in, it was so much harder to get them to leave.

Leo’s soulmate was Finn. The four letters intricately woven together on his left ankle. He was excited for the longest time to find Finn, always thinking of the stupid nicknames he could give them. Fish, Fishy, Nemo, anything that had to do with water. Although Leo was 18 now, all of his friends has at least found someone that had the same name as their soulmate. And logically he knows that you don’t have to find your soulmate, or even look for them. His parents aren’t soulmates and they’re the kindest people he knows. Though part of him wants to find his soulmate, meet them and see what they’re like. See if they even like him at least. He was leaving for Gryffindor soon anyways, leaving NOLA behind and going somewhere new. He can’t help but be worried that he’s also leaving his soulmate behind too. But maybe... Maybe he wasn’t leaving anyone behind, maybe he was going to find someone there. Leo was quickly welcomed to the team. They became his family away from home. One of them was named Finn. He had red hair and was covered in freckles. He thought... He thought he had gotten lucky, that is until he saw Finn in the locker room one day. It was just after a game, everyone was stripping and heading off to the showers. Finn sat their in his padding, a dark line visible on arm. If Leo squinted then he could kinda read it. It started with an L, okay, good, that good right? He looked a little closer... that wasn’t his name, it was Logan’s. did he really want to risk a friendship to steal someone from his best friend?

[violetwolfraven]

Willie Headcanons

So I actually came up with this like a month ago and forgot to post it. Anyway enjoy my headcanons about our favorite sk8er boi. Be ready for feels.

Tw: death, car accident mention, emotional manipulation.

...

In my mind, Willie had a good relationship with his parents. They were supportive and everything. They both loved Willie very much.

And Willie has youngest child energy so I’m saying he has a sister who’s 2 years older and a brother who’s 5 years older. Their names are Delilah and Austin.

AND ALL THREE OF THEM ARE ADRENALINE JUNKIES.

Seriously imagine the worst possible combination of head empty only skateboarding and you’ve got Willie, Delilah, and Austin.

Austin started skating when he was 7 and got Delilah hooked on it a year later.

Their parents kinda didn’t like the idea of it but those two had already started teaching Willie basic stuff by the time he was 3.

But... the other two had other interests. Delilah was into art (painting) and Austin played piano (like, really well).

For Willie, skateboarding was his thing. And it always was.

He had fun with it when his big brother would put his hands on his and teach him to play a bit, or his sister would give him some paint and a spare canvas and they’d doodle together, but it wasn’t like skating.

As far as I’ve seen (which admittedly isn’t that far) it’s widely accepted that Willie has ADHD so I’m leaning into that here.

And Willie inherited his brain from his dad, who had a bad experience with meds and so wouldn’t let any of his kids go through it.

So Willie grew up unmedicated but probably better off for the time period. His dad taught him coping mechanisms. Him and Austin. Delilah didn’t inherit it but she was taught to empathize with her brothers and recognize when they needed her help with something.

She’s a badass who can and does beat up anybody who’s mean to her brothers for missing social cues.

But anyway while Austin had piano (and skating as a side thing) Willie got even more hooked on skateboarding than either of his siblings because his brain latched onto it from a young age and couldn’t let go.

We all have our outlets. The chaos in our brains has to go somewhere. For Willie it goes into skating.

When he’s young he and his siblings will skateboard to school and then after school they’ll skate all around Hollywood for hours.

They do their homework in random McDonalds and Denny’s and tbh become local cryptid customers. Like they’re just these 3 super friendly skater siblings who tip really well and visit every fast food place within a 20 mile radius of their house with varying frequency.

They also find e v e r y skatepark, empty pool, and vacant lot in that 20 mile radius that they can possibly find.

Their parents have to bail them out of jail for trespassing and the occasional vandalism every so often.

Sometimes one of them has stuff to do and it’s just two of them out skating but if two of them are busy the other one never goes out alone cause it’s dangerous. We’ll get back to that later.

So anyway when they’re 17, 14, and 12, Delilah comes out as a lesbian.

And the family is supportive of course because they’re a good family.

But her coming out gets Willie thinking. About how some of his friends have crushes on girls but he just... doesn’t see the appeal.

Like he has a couple friends who are girls and they’re great and he likes hanging out with them at recess but he doesn’t get the hype. They’re just more friends. So he doesn’t really see what his big sister is so interested in either.

In my mind Willie actually is from around the same time as the boys (dying in like 1999) so one day while nobody else in their house is home he and Delilah are watching Star Wars: Return of the Jedi and Willie’s again wondering why people think Leia is so hot cause she’s cool and all but Luke is right there and he looks really good and—

Willie: I think I might be gay.

Delilah: Yeah I know.

They talk about it and Willie does decide to tell the rest of the family but he’s a bit wary about anyone else because he saw how some of Delilah’s friends turned on her after she came out. He doesn’t want that to happen to him.

He does end up telling a few of his friends but he doesn’t quite not care what people think of him the way his big sister does.

Austin is the only straight one and he’s like. So awkward about it but in a sweet way.

Austin: So, Britney Spears is hot, right?

Delilah: Stop.

And

Austin: So I saw you hanging around Chris the other day are you two..?

Willie: ...no...???

Austin: Cool, yeah I didn’t think so. Just had to make sure. Not that I’m doubting your ability to get boys but I’d have to shovel talk him if you were.

Willie: If I ever do get a boyfriend, please don’t.

He tries. He’s a himbo if that wasn’t clear. Where did you think Willie learned it?

So anyway fast forward a couple years and they’re 22, 19, and 17. Austin and Delilah are both in college and Willie’s the last one left at home and things between their parents start getting... tense.

Like they don’t fight exactly but they’ve fallen out of love and things are awkward.

Even Austin and Delilah can tell and they’re only home on breaks and some weekends but for Willie it’s right there and he’s watching it happen. He has no option but to see.

They used to have a rule that they don’t go skating alone because it’s dangerous but Willie just can’t make himself stay home so he goes out skateboarding.

At first it’s never too far from home or anywhere where there’s too much traffic but as things get increasingly awkward at home he goes out farther and farther, chasing the adrenaline high he used to get from going anywhere and everywhere every day after school with his siblings.

Then his parents officially tell him they’re getting divorced and

And it’s not like he couldn’t see it coming, but... it still hurts.

And neither of his siblings are coming home any time soon so

So he goes out skating on his own, way too far from home. He keeps going until he doesn’t even know where he is anymore.

He isn’t really paying attention the way he should but that’s not why he runs into trouble.

The driver of that red pickup is drunk and he rounds the corner out of nowhere.

If Delilah or Austin had been there they could have yelled for Willie to jump out of the way, or maybe up on the hood so the impact wouldn’t be as bad, but he’s alone.

So he gets hit, and the car was going fast enough that he’s dead before he even hits the pavement.

After that there’s a lot of confusion but once Willie figures out he’s a ghost... it’s too painful to think about going home, so he just... doesn’t.

He doesn’t want to see his family mourning him, so he just distracts himself, skating everywhere he couldn’t before without getting busted.

Plus some old routes where he used to go with Delilah and Austin, just for something that’s familiar but not too familiar.

He’s on one of those more familiar routes a few weeks after his death when he’s skating down Sunset Boulevard one night, singing along to Toxic by Britney Spears blasting from a nearby club and a man dressed in a purple suit comments on how he’s got a good voice.

Honestly Willie is just so relieved to have someone to talk to that he forgets about stranger danger completely.

Plus he recognizes an Elder Gay in Caleb and assumes he can trust him because the Elder Gays he met at pride that one time he went with Delilah were so nice and understanding of how reassuring it was to see queer people of older generations who got a happy ending.

Caleb barely even has to try. He just lets this 17-year-old obviously-queer ghost rant at him for a few minutes, asks a few questions and finds out that he also can play piano, and convinces him to come to the Hollywood Ghost Club the next night.

From there it’s not like Willie has anyone to save him so of course he has to join the club.

At first he’s completely alone because the other performers scare him almost as much as Caleb does.

Then slowly, he sees how they give him space because they know he’s scared of them. How they turn a blind eye when he leaves the club without permission. How they don’t critique his mistakes with the same sarcasm they show each other.

Willie starts to realize that the other performers are doing their best to look out for him, and he starts being less afraid.

They’re all too concerned with their own survival to really protect him but if they draw some attention to themselves occasionally so Caleb doesn’t notice Willie being slow to pick up some tricky choreography, that’s not too risky.

The others are all like 21 at the youngest and they really don’t appreciate Caleb tricking a literal child into working for him no matter how talented said child is. (Cause Willie is good at singing and piano. It’s just not his passion.)

The twins are 22 but they died in 1925 and before that they were performing to support a younger brother who they never got to say goodbye to so maybe they see Willie as a kind of second chance.

Lyssa (what I decided to name drummer woman because I don’t know her real name if she has one) is 25 and she died in 1984. She had a daughter who’d be about Willie’s age now and... who knows? Maybe they were friends.

Fuego is 24 and from 1951 and he had a childhood best friend who enlisted and died in WWII that he thought he might get to see when he died but that boy moved on and so... well, Willie’s just a little younger than his friend was the last time he saw him.

In short Willie becomes everyone’s baby brother and they do what they can to look out for him even if they’re just as scared of Caleb as he is.

And the better adjusted Willie gets to (after)life at the HGC and the better they get to know him, the guiltier the others start to feel about him being stuck there.

Eventually a combination of guilt and worked-up courage leads Fuego tells him about the whole unfinished business thing, in hopes maybe he can figure his out and get away from Caleb.

It doesn’t take Willie long to think of his family, how hopeless he felt about the divorce, how worried he was it would change everything and then how scared he was to see his family in pain because of his death.

He realizes his unfinished business is probably seeing them. Letting himself say goodbye.

He almost gets away with it.

Caleb catches up and stops him in the driveway of his house and poofs them back to the HGC.

He convinces (gaslights) Willie into believing that saying goodbye was never his unfinished business and even if it was it’s not like it would matter because Caleb wouldn’t let him do it.

The next morning he ships the HGC out to Tokyo. They stay on the move for a long time and when they are in town, Willie is basically locked in his room.

The next time he’s allowed out in Hollywood, his parents don’t live in their old house anymore and he has no way to find them.

As a coping mechanism, he just starts making the best of a bad situation. Becoming better friends with the other ghosts. Helping soften the blow whenever someone new comes along.

None of that means he stops checking the faces of passing skaters or keeping eyes on restaurants his folks used to like, but it does mean he more or less gives up hope.

That’s what he’s doing when he bumps into Alex.

Look, Willie loves his friends at the HGC. He really does. But there’s a big difference between 17 and 20-something. Like the others will drink alcohol some nights and technically Willie was born over 21 years ago but he still feels weird enough about it that he doesn’t drink.

He hasn’t talked to anyone his age in a long time so Alex is a breath of fresh air.

Also he’s like. Really cute. And sweet. And funny. And shit, Willie’s fallen for him before he even has time to think about it.

He keeps thinking about how Alex doesn’t seem like he’d be physically capable of hurting someone on purpose so Austin would approve and every once in a while there’s that sarcasm that pops out which means he’d get along great with Delilah.

In general Alex is the kind of guy he would’ve loved to take home to meet the family. Them not included, he’s kind of... everything Willie’s missed about Hollywood in the form of one person.

Then they hang out more and Alex is still everything he’s missed but he’s also so much more than that and...

It almost feels like a part of Alex is still alive. And for the first time in years, a part of Willie feels alive, too.

They’ve known each other for like a week tops and Willie is already in love.

Not that he’s admitting that to anyone, because he’s learned the hard way that anyone you care about can be used against you.

Still... when Alex asks for help getting revenge on Bobby, he can’t bring himself to say no because he needs to keep Alex in his (after)life and the only way he knows how to do that (or to make people be nice to him in general) is to be as useful as possible.

That turns out to be a big mistake, because Caleb sees right through him in an instant, targets Alex to confirm it, then immediately starts the process to trick the boys into committing to eternity at the HGC.

Willie feels like an idiot for thinking he could actually get away with it. Doing something good for someone he cares about.

He hadn’t thought Caleb would be interested in them because he’d never actually heard them play. The assumption was that he’d make them do some small favor and then let them talk to their bandmate for 5 minutes. A clean deal where they never have to commit to anything. Willie forgot to take magic into account.

He almost manages to convince himself it was all a bad dream, but when he seeks out Alex and his friends to check on them, he can almost feel the jolts himself, and seeing Alexthem in pain feels terrible.

Willie knows that theoretically they could figure out their unfinished business and cross over, but that all depends on finding it and doing it fast enough and if they failed...

People you care about can be used against you. And Willie does not want to be used against Alex again. He doesn’t want to see Alex used against him.

So he keeps his distance, in hopes Caleb will think he lost interest. He’s pretty sure once the boys find out about the stamp they’ll hate him, anyway.

And plus, as he’s been taught by his friends at the HGC, you have to look out for yourself because no one else will do it for you. Maybe you hurt somebody by not standing up for them, but you can apologize later and hope they forgive you. You can’t apologize if you’re gone, and it’s not like it would make a difference anyway because Caleb is too powerful for anyone to beat.

The thought of how spending eternity with Alex might not be so bad even if it has to be at the HGC does come up, but ironically that’s what makes Willie decide to screw his courage to the sticking point and tell them.

Because he has seen what decades at the club has done to his friends.

They’re all great performers, and they perform happiness well even to each other, but Willie knows them enough to know how tired they all are. How they have been doing the same thing over and over again for decades and they are sick of it.

They’re young, talented tragedies lost to drug overdoses, or AIDS, or accidents, or suicide, and they should’ve gotten to rest after everything they went through in their lives. Instead, they got a curse disguised as a blessing. They got to stay on a stage, got to keep performing and soaking up applause, never got to stop.

Willie has been there a shorter time than most of them and he feels it. The exhaustion, because ghosts are supposed to haunt for a few years then figure out their unfinished business and move on. They’re not meant to be trapped for decades, used as party tricks.

A part of Alex still feels alive and being trapped in the Hollywood Ghost Club for years on end would kill that part of him.

Willie can’t let that happen, so as hard as it is...

He tells the boys what’s wrong with them. And by that hurt, betrayed look in Alex’s eyes, he’s honestly expecting him to never forgive him.

But then Alex does. And that almost hurts worse because whether he figures out his unfinished business or not, Willie doubts he’s ever going to see him again.

He honest to God almost cries when Alex hugs him because... shit, he hasn’t gotten a hug since he was breathing.

He goes back to the HGC and tries to go about his day, and keeps replaying how good it felt to have Alex’s arms around him, hoping that memory will get him through the next few decades on his own.

The ghosts at the club do actually gossip a fair amount and by this point all of them know about the 3 dead members of Sunset Curve.

So when Willie admits to Helen (what I’m calling one of the twins) that Alex hugging him was the first time he’d gotten a hug since he died, she hugs him tight for a good 20 seconds, telling him she’s sorry he has to lose him, and if Willie closes his eyes he can almost pretend it’s Delilah.

The next thing he knows, he’s locked in a closet.

Caleb comes to talk to (intimidate) him a few hours later, saying he knows what Willie did.

He’s magically locked in his room alone for a couple weeks after that and it’s essentially psychological torture.

Helen, Anna (what I decided to call the other twin), Dante, Fuego, Lyssa, and everyone else tell him not to test Caleb for the next couple years, but Willie has a heart full of love and a head full of fuck it, so he doesn’t listen.

He gives it exactly one day of being/acting scared and obedient, then goes out without permission again, fully intending to scream in a museum alone to let out all his feelings.

Remember: Willie didn’t see the Orpheum performance. He doesn’t know the boys didn’t cross over but by Caleb’s mood he has a feeling the outcome of that scenario was not in the magician’s favor.

He gets there and it’s literally this comic by the very talented @williessweatycherrysocks

He can’t stay long but he and Alex scream in each other’s faces, talk a bit, maybe sing a duet.

After that, they sneak to see each other when they can but don’t get to see much of each other for months.

It’s hard on both of them but they don’t give up on their relationship.

Through long and complicated events which I will outline later, Willie eventually gets free of the HGC, hugs his friends goodbye already making plans to take down Caleb for good to free them, too, and promptly declines an offer to stay in the Molinas’ garage.

As much as he wants to be close to Alex he’s done being confined to one place.

He still comes and visits like every day tho.

He knows a lot more about ghosting than the other boys do so he and Carlos get along amazingly like:

Carlos: So do you know who Jack the Ripper was?

Willie: No? How old do you think I am?

Carlos: I dunno but I thought it might be Caleb cause that would explain how he never got caught.

Willie, taking notes in his Things To Potentially Use To Take Caleb Down notebook: You’re a tiny genius.

No one was expecting it but everyone is in awe of how well he and Carrie get along. Between the two of them they know so much celebrity gossip. (and it’s definitely a good thing he’s on good terms with her cause she and Alex are close)

On the angsty side, Willie also bonds with Nick over how they both know how it feels to be manipulated and used by Caleb.

Also it takes a long time before he’s able to trust him, but he does get adopted into the Molina clan by Ray.

Ray reminds him a lot of his own dad, once Willie’s able to see that he’s nothing like Caleb.

Ray’s honestly just 100% happy to Dad™️ anyone who needs a dad so it works out great once Julie and the boys figure out how to make Willie visible.

But anyway back to important stuff.

Now that they don’t have to hide for any reason, Willie and Alex can both breathe a little easier. Or... they both feel better. Ghosts don’t really breathe.

Willie can finally let himself get used to feeling alive again.

The whole ghost gang goes (invisibly) to the Los Feliz Homecoming dance and maybe it should make him feel a little on-edge with the kind of club-like environment but...

He’s got Alex there, and they’re dancing to some corny pop love song from the 90s that Flynn probably put on because she knew the ghost boys would be there so how could he feel anything but safe?

For a minute it almost feels like actually being alive and there’s yellow and pink and blue lights coming from everywhere reflecting in Alex’s eyes and Willie is suddenly very aware of the fact that though they’ve been together for a long time now, they haven’t had their first kiss.

Then the Cha Cha Slide starts up and the atmosphere switches and Willie totally forgets about the whole romantic tension thing because it’s the Cha Cha Slide everybody has to dance along.

Dirty Candi performs towards the end of the night and the ghost boys cheer the loudest despite how Julie’s laughing at them. They don’t care that Carrie can’t even hear them, they’re being supportive!!!

Everybody screams even louder when Flynn runs up on stage and kisses Carrie and Willie feels a big burst of affection at how Alex shouts ABOUT TIME!

Then he gives Willie a quick hug and leaves cause he and the rest of Julie and the Phantoms have to go get set up for their performance.

Since Alex was able to flip Carrie’s hair in All Eyes on Me I’m saying that ghosts can touch lifers if they focus and believe it will happen hard enough, so the ghost gang has developed a system for alerting their non-Julie lifer friends to their presence.

So while they’re waiting in the crowd Willie taps Carrie on the shoulder like: • - - one short tap, two long taps, a Morse code ‘W’ and Carrie lets Flynn know that he’s there.

(Nick can see him too but Nick’s off somewhere with his date {one of his lacrosse teammates you know the one})

Anyway so Julie goes out and starts up the song and then the rest of the band poofs in but

Something’s unusual.

Cause it’s not Luke on the lower main vocals.

It’s

Alex

Singing while he plays the drums and fucking killing it.

Willie totally bluescreens for a second but then when he actually focuses on the lyrics...

It’s a new song about beating the odds and being with the person you love in spite of the challenges that come with them.

And yeah there are Julie elements in there, (and she’s definitely making heart eyes at Luke even as he sticks to backup vocals) because of course there are since she has to start the song up, but

But Willie might not have any formal music training, but he was at the HGC long enough to know his stuff about music and recognize different artists’ styles.

And there’s a time signature switch on the bridge that’s a little off from how Luke would write it. There’s a swing to the melody that’s a bit more ‘pop’ than the band’s usual songs. Julie’s harmony doesn’t go as high as it normally would, as if whoever wrote the song didn’t have as high of an upper range to work with as she does.

The song is so unmistakably Alex that no one else could have written it.

Flynn and Carrie are quietly making smug comments on what they bet his face looks like right now but Willie’s not listening to them.

On the last chorus, Alex fucking winks at him right before poofing out.

Willie has whiplash like how did they go from him having to psych Alex up to break into a museum even when there’s zero chance of getting caught to Alex openly flirting with him from the stage?

He poofs backstage right as the boys get back from dropping their instruments back in the Molinas’ garage and he honestly doesn’t know what he even wants to say to convey how amazing that performance was.

Then Alex just smiles at him.

Alex: So I take it you liked the song?

Willie: Can I kiss you right now?

They both kinda freeze after he blurts that out and Reggie goes wow really quietly before he and Luke poof out to give them some privacy and whoops now they’re both flustered but

Alex: Wow, didn’t expect that. That’s... um, wow. But yeah.

They kiss and it’s a total romcom moment.

And the story’s far from over, but to Willie this definitely feels like happily ever after.

[writer-k-pop]

Letter to You

난 그 감정들을 지키고 싶었어. I wanted to protect those emotions.

Description: You find a letter Wonwoo wrote to you about the day you two first met. Warnings: None Genre: FLUFF, BF!Wonwoo x Reader Word Count: 1.4k

Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

Dear y/n,

Today wasn't a good day. I've seen a fair share of bad days but this has to be the worst I've seen so far. I don't know what was wrong and until you're ready, I know not to ask. I didn't know what to do. I got home and you were crumpled up on the couch with tears cascading down your cheeks. All I could think was to hug you and tell you everything was okay. Even now, I'm praying that it was enough.

You're sleeping now. After sitting, wrapped up in my arms for a few hours, you just passed right out on the couch. So I carried you to bed, something I haven't done since the early days of our relationship. (Which reminds me, please let me carry you more often.)

Though I don't know if you'll ever read this. I'll probably put it in a drawer or box or something and then forget about it cause that's what I seem to do best. But maybe one day we'll be cleaning out our home and it'll fall out of somewhere random.

Even if you don't read this, I'm writing it because you had asked me why I wanted to stay with you when you were such a mess. I wanted to remind you of why I stay with you. It's a story. The story of the day I first met you. You always tell everyone I tell it better so I'll tell it to you to see if that statement's still true.

Let's see. It was during my time at the University. I had a favorite cafe that I would go to consistently, like almost weekly. You also frequented that cafe but I had only known you as the chick who always took the good corner table with the outlet. Though that's a detail I would never say to anyone else. Anyway, it was nearing the end of a semester and I was in total panic mode cause, you know, finals. I got to the cafe, ordered my usual and found the next best seat to the one you had already taken. The seat I found that day conveniently had a nice view of you reading possibly the largest book I have ever seen.

... You know, now that I'm writing this out, that sentence sounds creepier than I intended...

Moving on.

The barista had called out my drink order so I got up and made my way towards the counter. I got distracted by a text as I got closer and when I blindly reached for the cup, I grabbed it along with another hand wrapped around the cup. Turns out, you had ordered the same thing as me and you had ordered first. We exchanged some words that I don't remember. So then, not only did I embarrass myself in front of you, I had to do the walk of shame back to my table while the whole cafe watched. That should've been clue #1 that the day would be filled with you but of course, I missed it.

A few minutes later, the barista did called out my actual drink and up I went again to the counter. Though this time I wasn't distracted by anything so I clearly saw the post it note stuck to the lid. I still to this day have no idea how you got that post it stuck there without me noticing. And yes it's possible you did it while I was sitting distracted at my table but some of the details still don't add up. And you still won't tell me. You just giggle every time I ask and say "it's a secret." One day, one day I'll get it out of you.

The post it had your number and name written on it. When I got back to my table, I glanced at your table and I could tell you were trying so hard not to look at me, which only made me chuckle cause damn, it was cute. I quickly added your number into my phone and then, like an idiot, didn't text you right away. I don't know why I didn't. Maybe it was my notes staring me down or the looming embarrassment from our first encounter but whatever it was, I still regret not texting you right then and there.

Eventually I somehow gained the courage to actually text you. I think I sent something lame like "Hey." I hit send and then a tsunami of worries suddenly hit. So in a nervous trance, I glanced up at you just as you pulled out your phone. I watched you smile at my little text but before you could text me back, somebody walked up to your table and you became distracted.

Slightly disappointed, I went back to my studies but my mind was pretty occupied with you. I tried, please trust me when I say I tried to get through my studies but I chose the wrong day to procrastinate my studies. I gave up like halfway through I think and decided to give myself a break.

I just happened to glance over at your table where you and your acquaintance were still in deep conversation. Your eyebrows were scrunched together and your mouth was hanging open in shock. Then in the span of, I swear, only a few minutes, you went through so many emotions that I lost count. If I can remember correctly, you went from shocked to annoyance to sadness to determination to joy. I'm sure there were more but I can't remember them anymore.

But anyway, as I watched you go through all those emotions, I made a decision right then and there. I wanted to protect you and make sure that sadness never took over your features completely. That is if you let me. (Which thankfully you did.)

I guess I had been staring a little too much cause you looked over at me just after I mentally made that declaration and gave me the sweetest smile and giggled. I nearly had a heart attack in that cafe seat. That smile, that was the one I wanted to keep on your face forever.

Obviously, life has other plans and doesn't always follow what we want it to do but my declaration to myself still stands. Though sadness does cross your features every so often, I try to do everything to whisk it away and bring back that smile that I love. And even though you feel you don't deserve me and you wonder why I'm still with you, I hope you know that I will continue to protect you because I love you every day of every year.

I hope I can show you that you never have to question that ever again. Then again, you will probably never read this so you won't actually know about any of this. But hey, I'm your hopeless romantic so I'll hide things like this until a really sappy moment.

Well, it's getting late and you're starting to toss and turn in bed. Your arms, I think, are searching for me so I should probably go and join you before you wake up and find me writing this.

I love you, (y/n). Every single part of you, every single day.

Love from your hopeless romantic,

Wonwoo

My hand floats over the written words, nearly trembling. The last thing I expected to find shoved in the back of the closet was this. I was packing up clothes for mine and Wonwoo's move to a new house and out slipped this letter enclosed in an envelope.

"How's it going in here?" Wonwoo asks walking into the closet.

"When did you write this?" I ask, turning and showing him the letter.

He stares blankly at the paper in my hand and I can see his gears working as he tries to remember what exactly I'm holding.

A few seconds later, his face lights up and he snaps his fingers. "That! I wrote that like two years ago. I totally forgot, wow, that's where I decided to put it?" He wonders incredulously.

As he runs his left hand through his hair, the light catches the ring on his ring finger. Nearly 6 months married and moving house and he's still showing me new sides of himself.

"You know, you did mention you would forget where you would place it." I smile, walking up to him.

Wonwoo opens his arms and wraps me up, "Anything else I said that still is true?"

"That you love me." I mumble into his chest.

His chuckle rings through his chest, "That most definitely is still true."

[ace-oreos]

You must be so sick of alpha and Fordo asks but you’re latest fic has given me angst potential- maybe a one-shot with alpha working with the bad batch to find Fordo post order 66 an him just breaking at the seams when he finds his Vod because he thought he lost Frodo like he lost Sev. Tears and man hugs ensue

Oh I am NEVER sick of Alpha and Fordo asks - they’re such a fun chaotic duo to write for. :D Also, Alpha working with the Bad Batch is something I never knew I needed until I saw your ask and I would absolutely write something with all of them again. I cannot express how difficult it was to not go off on a tangent about Hunter.

In true Sev style, I chose Kashyyyk as the main location for this one. It’s just so useful for these kinds of things.

Also. Y’all. I did not realize until I was four pages into this that I forgot Echo. So uh... whoops?  😅 😂 With that in mind, let me warn you that this is WAY longer than the other fics. I have no idea what happened. I have no idea what I’m doing.

Also also, thank goodness for Wookiepedia lmao

Edit with tags: @dudewhynotthis @merspots @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @delta-the-mando (taglist is open!) 

“Captain.” The sergeant keeps his distance even now, face inscrutable as he surveys Alpha. 

“Alpha,” he corrects half-heartedly, more for the sergeant’s sake than his own. 

“Alpha,” Hunter amends. “We’ll be entering the Mid Rim soon - maybe an hour, hour and a half tops.”

“Good to know.” Alpha knows he sounds despondent at best, but he’s hit enough dead ends by now to know all too well this will likely be a fruitless endeavor. There’s nowhere in the galaxy safe from him - not when his brother’s life is hanging in balance.

But it’s a big galaxy, with little regard for individual yearning or emotion. Alpha can vow to upend the galaxy as much as he likes, but the fact is they’ve only so much time, and only so many resources, and...

And maybe Hunter picks up on that, in that way of his as he observes Alpha without further comment. The sergeant is as much his vod as anyone else Alpha has encountered. Still beyond him sometimes, a little too other for Alpha to ever fully mesh with him or his brothers, but he’s a good soldier. A good man. 

“We’ve always got room for another,” are Hunter’s parting words as he makes his way back to the cockpit. 

If you find out your brother was dead all along. 

Alpha doubts it was anything less than a genuine offer, but it isn’t the only route. Not until I’ve exhausted every other option. And even then....

It doesn’t do, to let himself become so intertwined with a brother until he isn’t entirely sure he knows who he is without the other. He’d tried, both for his brothers and for his own peace of mind, to put a stop to it before it went too far. And maybe that was Jango getting in his head more than Alpha ever should have allowed, but he’d thought it was the right thing to do.

Sometimes I can’t help but wonder...

________________________

“ - you know as well as I do we’ve been going in circles for weeks now - ”

“Yeah, you might’ve mentioned that once or twice…”

“You said it yourself - we’ll get ourselves killed if we aren’t careful.”

“So we’ll be careful.” Hunter’s voice holds a note of finality. “We can keep rehashing this conversation, or we can help a vod.”

Alpha doesn’t catch the muttered reply, but it’s hardly amenable, if Hunter’s sigh is anything to go by. He can’t blame them, really - Fordo isn’t their brother, and outside of combat they’ve little common ground. And it’s only natural for Crosshair to raise the questions none of them are yet ready to face. Alpha thinks he could learn to like the man, given time. 

He reigns in his thoughts before entering the cockpit. The least he can do is put on a rational front. This whole thing isn’t at all rational, but the Bad Batch seem to understand better than others. It runs deeper than brotherhood here, whatever it is, and Alpha is irrepressibly reminded of Fordo, somehow - 

(And osik, does that thought burn, dig under his skin to remind him once again that he failed, that should he redeem himself it will be not on his terms but likely an inconsequential whim of a galaxy that cares nothing for them or everything they’ve fought so hard to hold on to - )

“Y’know, I’m not sure we’ve ever been to Kashyyyk,” Wrecker muses. “That’s a first.”  If he’s trying to divert Alpha’s attention from Crosshair, it’s a skillful effort that almost takes Alpha aback. “‘Course, I only remember the fun parts,” he adds as an impish afterthought.

“Anything with explosives, you mean?” Alpha asks drily. 

Wrecker grins. “Something like that.”

You and Fordo would get along fine.

What leaves his mouth is, “I don’t suppose anyone has any relevant information about this place?”

Right on cue, Tech pipes up from his position alongside Crosshair. “Actually…”

Tech is just as much of an efficient distraction in his own right. It’s not exactly the height of strategy on Alpha’s part, but once again it redirects attention. He has no doubt Hunter sees right through it; still, the man has enough tact to refrain from commenting.

You understand, I think, Alpha decides, watching exasperation and amusement play across Hunter’s face in turns as his brothers’ bickering fills the cockpit. You would go to hell and back for them, wouldn’t you, Sergeant? 

Hunter casts him a wary glance. Alpha holds his gaze.

There’s too much we can’t say. It’s okay, vod - I think I’m starting to understand too.

________________________

Kashyyyk is dishearteningly vast, all sprawling jungles and endless island chains set on a swath of ocean that dissects the planet’s hemispheres. Getting in was no easy task, what with the Imperial blockade cutting off the planet from others in its sector. But Tech’s adroit piloting had come through, and they’d slipped past the blockade with little disturbance.

“You really think your buddy is here?” Crosshair asks dubiously, surveying the area with a distinct air of displeasure.

“I’ve seen the records,” Alpha says, as much to reassure himself as the other man. “The Empire’s tighter with the book-keeping, I’ll give them that. Fordo’s unit lost contact not long before Order Sixty-six went down. If they made it out, it would be on record somewhere.”

“And if they didn’t?”

Alpha battles his temper into submission before replying. “Then they would be confirmed KIA. But they’re still listed as missing as of two weeks ago.”

“Sounds like you’re leaving an awful lot to chance,” Crosshair opines. There isn’t malice in his voice so much as an unmistakable note of disapproval. “What’s your plan if it turns out they were just waiting for reinforcements and pulled out days ago? That leaves us here in the heart of Imperial occupation.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Alpha says grimly. “But if they lost comms before the order came through, then there’s a chance they aren’t with the Empire. Their main focus would be survival, not falling in line nice and neat like Palpatine expects.”

It’s clear there are a number of objections rising to the forefront of Crosshair’s mind, but the man keeps them to himself. There’s a conflict brewing there, Alpha knows, but that’s a matter to address at another time. 

“There’s an area south of here where all comm signals go dead,” Tech announces, tapping furiously at the device mounted on his vambrace. “According to intel, the Wookies call it the Black Forest.”

“Sounds inviting,” Hunter says. “What’s the deal with it?”

“A prison ship crashed there centuries ago,” Tech relays. “The Wookies believe it’s cursed, so they avoid it whenever possible. It’s possible Fordo and whoever was left were driven back by the Seps - or it was a desperate bid and he was banking on the droids not following somewhere they can’t maneuver well. But why cut himself off from allies…?”

“The forward operating base was set up in Kachirho,” Alpha muses aloud “There was another commando squad deployed here, but they were retasked shortly after Order Sixty-six. If Fordo’s here, I doubt he would hang around anywhere with high Imperial activity.”

If he were operating alone, the decision would be simple. But he has the welfare of four other men to consider now; one wrong move, and they’ll all end up on the business end of a blaster.

With that in mind, Alpha looks to Hunter. “Sergeant. What do you think?”

“It’s your call,” Hunter answers. “If you have reason to think your brother is hiding out here, then I think it’s worth taking a look. So long as we go careful, I don’t see why the Imperials should notice us.”

Wrecker’s chuckle fills the comms. “Famous last words.”

_________________________

For all that they have a reputation for being unorthodox - a reputation that is doubtless justly earned - the Bad Batch can pull off stealth pretty well, too. It comes as a bit of a surprise, if Alpha is being honest, but if nothing else the overarching threat of Hunter’s wrath is enough to keep them in line. 

“Keep an eye out for slavers,” Tech warns. “The whole planet has been a hotspot for them ever since the CIS first let them in.”

It’d be just our luck to run into slavers, Alpha thinks wryly. Individually they’re not much of a threat, but a group of Trandoshans spells trouble for anyone. Even without the training to back it up, their brutality can overpower even an ARC trooper. ‘Course, it’d be just like you to get into a mess like that, Fordo…

“We’ll be a bigger target if we travel as a group,” Hunter says. 

“If we split up we might as well ask for a death sentence,” Alpha cautions. Typically his first choice would be to operate alone, but between the slavers, the Imperials, and the remnants of the Separatist forces, he’s starting to think their strength might lie in numbers this time. 

Alpha mulls it over. Greater numbers means slower going. If we split up, we’ll be able to cover more ground. It’ll be risky, but - payoff is worth it. 

“We’ll move faster this way,” Hunter says, echoing Alpha’s thoughts. “Wrecker, Tech, you’re with me. Cross…” He fixes his brother with a stern stare. “Don’t do anything stupid. Alpha has my full permission to stop you by any means necessary.”

Alpha rewards the sergeant with a wolfish grin. “I’ll hold you to that.”

He can’t read Crosshair half as well as the others, but the sniper doesn’t appear altogether displeased. He merely shrugs when Alpha jerks his head towards the route they’ll be following, and trails after him without argument.

Silence lays thick over the jungle. There’s an odd rustle here and there, interspersed with faint growls from time to time, but progress is relatively smooth. Alpha takes pains to remain on guard; just because he can’t see a threat doesn’t mean they’re in the clear. 

Before long the silence is disconcerting. Given the planet’s Wookie population, there should be regular movement around them, or some sign of existence. But this stretch of the jungle is oddly lacking. 

“This doesn’t feel right,” Crosshair mutters. 

“Guess no one’s home,” Alpha answers absently, scrutizining the terrain. “Look - there’s no sign of a fight. Maybe no one was here to begin with.”

“Kachirho isn’t too far from here,” Crosshair points out. “You don’t think it’s a little odd that this path hasn’t been used at all?”

“It is,” Alpha allows, “but look at it this way. We’re traveling the way we’ve been trained to in this kind of setting. The Wookies probably have their own methods for getting around.”

“It’s still weird,” Crosshair decides. “And if your brother really was here, we’d have found evidence of that, too.”

He isn’t wrong, but it nonetheless stings to hear the man voice the doubtful thoughts that have been creeping up on Alpha. Still, we’ve come this far. What have we got to lose?

(More than he’s willing to surrender. But Crosshair doesn’t need to know that.)

“Let’s keep moving,” Alpha says, sharper than he intends. 

“Hang on,” Crosshair says suddenly. “Contact - ”

Alpha pivots in time to see a Trandoshan emerge from the surrounding foliage. The lizard is taller and more solid than he previously anticipated; instead of hitting it head-on like he initially planned, Alpha redirects in order to avoid being gutted on the lizard’s knife. 

He hears the shot and the telltale thump of the lizard falling to the ground. As Alpha picks himself up, Crosshair scans the area through the scope of his rifle. 

“Oh, shab,” the sniper hisses. 

It doesn’t take long for Alpha to locate the cause of Crosshair’s disgruntlement. A group of Trandoshans lurches towards them. Alpha does a rapid assessment: each lizard is packing some sort of ranged weapon - including slugthrowers, he notes unenthusiastically - and most are carrying an assortment of knives.

“Ideas?” Crosshair asks tersely. 

“They’ll just follow us if we run,” Alpha says. “It’ll save us trouble in the long run if we take them now.” 

“I can see why Hunter likes you,” Crosshair says, oddly nonchalant considering the circumstances, and fires. 

With Crosshair covering ranged attacks, Alpha elects the more up-close-and-personal option. The slavers have the advantage of size, but Trandoshans aren’t renowned for their intelligence. As long as he stays in motion the risk of having his throat slit is greatly reduced. 

Alpha targets a straggler first. He hits low, knocking the lizard off balance and sending it staggering into another. The other makes a grab for him, but Alpha is already ramming his vibroblade into the first slaver’s exposed neck. Using the limp body as a buffer, Alpha pushes against the other lizard, trying to force it onto its back foot. 

Just as he feels his opponent’s defense start to give, another three descend on him. Cursing, Alpha throws himself aside before they can hem him in. One of the slavers has enough presence of mind to bring his knife down on Alpha’s unprotected back; the force of the blow has him crashing to the ground. 

Alpha scrambles for a foothold, but one of the lizards seizes his leg in a vicelike grip. He writhes instinctively, kicking out with his other foot. He feels the impact more than sees it and wrenches himself free. 

Just as a third lizard fills the other’s place, there’s a crack from Crosshair’s rifle, and the lizard topples. Alpha springs to his feet to avoid being crushed by several hundred kilos of Trandoshan. The others are wary now, trying to divide their attention between him and Crosshair. 

Alpha doesn’t give them time to choose. This time he uses his blaster to put a round through the closest target. It’s not quite enough to put the lizard out of commission entirely, so he follows up with a quick succession of bolts. 

It’s not exactly an even match, but things aren’t going as badly as he first feared, Alpha thinks. No sooner does the thought cross his mind than his helmet flashes a warning. He turns to deflect the attack coming from behind, but he moves too late and steps directly into the strike. 

The slaver’s curved knife skids off Alpha’s breastplate and sinks into his bodysuit in the gap between the cuirass and the shoulder bell. Alpha manages to pull away, but not before the knife catches the underside of his arm and slices a gash halfway down his bicep.

A line of pain sears through his arm. There’s no doubt the Trandoshan cut deep into the muscle. That arm is effectively useless now; Alpha grimly switches his knife to the other hand. 

He doesn’t have eyes on Crosshair from his current position, but the rasping breaths and occasional curses over the comms suggest the sniper isn’t having an easy time of it either. Time to fall back and reassess.

“Let’s pull back. We might be able to lose them.” Alpha bites the inside of his cheek to suppress a hiss of pain when his wounded arm is jostled. “We can’t take them now, at any rate.”

“You might want to rethink that, alor’ad…”

Crosshair jerks his head to indicate the slavers pouring into the area. There’s a slim chance they’ll be able to slip by, but not without risking serious injury. Slowing down to accommodate a bad hit would mean certain death or capture.

Pinned down. Shabla brilliant. 

Alpha makes an effort to keep his rapidly rising alarm in check. “We’ll have to hold them off, then.”

“There’s no way,” Crosshair objects. “We’re outnumbered eight to one.”

Alpha sends a slaver sprawling rather than answer. He can see it as plainly as Crosshair, but he’s not going to lay down and die, not when his brother is still out there somewhere, not when there’s still a chance they could pull this off -

He hasn’t been this close in weeks and it isn’t his place to gamble anyone else’s life but his own, but even now he can’t bring himself to give in and he understands in a sudden flash of clarity that this is where he will always fail - because he has a foothold, now, and even though all logic points to turning back for once he can’t give in - 

An arm clamps around his neck. Alpha thrashes, trying to throw his attacker off, but now that he’s been caught off guard the lizard has an advantage. His vision begins to blur at the edges and he redoubles his efforts, fueled in no small part by panic at being unable to draw breath. 

He doesn’t know where Crosshair is anymore. He can hardly see beyond his own hands, scrabbling desperately at the arm locked around his neck. 

No sooner does his vision begin to fade than the crushing pressure on his neck abruptly loosens. Alpha hits the ground gracelessly, coughing violently as he tries to inhale. His breath rattles in his throat, but his vision gradually returns. 

He lurches to his feet and assumes a defensive stance as best he can. He’s lost track of how many slavers are still standing - too many is his best estimate.

But the man standing before him isn’t an enemy. He’s -

“Vod,” Fordo says softly. 

Alpha can only stare at his brother in stunned silence, momentarily deaf to the ongoing struggle around them. Fordo....

“Later,” his brother promises. 

______________________

“So how’d you end up running with them?” Fordo asks with a nod towards the Bad Batch. 

“It’s complicated,” Alpha says lightly. “Too much to unpack now, at any rate.”

Fordo laughs. He’s battered and weary, with something lurking in his gaze Alpha can’t quite decipher yet, but it’s Fordo, and that’s more than enough. 

“It’s quiet here,” Fordo remarks. “I like that.”

“‘S nice,” Alpha agrees. 

They’re still hovering just above the surface. Tentative. It’s not exactly what Alpha is accustomed to, but for Fordo’s sake he lets his brother take the lead. 

“Everything’s gone sideways, hasn’t it,” Fordo says suddenly. 

“It has,” Alpha admits. There’s no use pretending otherwise. “But we’ll find a way through.”

Fordo flashes a small smile. “You’re good at that.”

Alpha merely shrugs. There’s a thousand other things he wants to say, but he hasn’t the faintest clue where to begin. Finally he ventures carefully, “Y’know, for a while now I thought this mission did you in.”

Fordo lets out a long sigh. “I was starting to think it might, myself.”

“I…” Alpha breaks off, startled by the sudden pressure behind his eyes. It worsens when he tries to continue. “I don’t know what I would’ve - ”

He falters again. I care more than I should. I never should’ve let that happen, but even now I don’t know if I regret it.

“Alpha,” Fordo says softly, and pulls him into an embrace.

Alpha doesn’t know how much time passes before he finally disentangles himself from Fordo as gently as he can and scrubs at the hot trails on his face. He can’t quite bring himself to feel any shame over it. He’s never been given to such displays, but… Fordo is his vod. 

“So what’s the plan, alor’ad?” Fordo asks with a familiar note of mischief in his voice.

Alpha smiles despite himself. “It’s a big galaxy.”

“We’ve got time.”

“Yeah,” Alpha laughs. “We have time.”

[alexawynters]

TW

Venting. Don’t take this too seriously it’s fine I’m fine.

So my recent ex gf of 8 months (I count the time we were fucking around as well as dating bc let’s not lie I caught feels early because I’m pathetic) who broke up with me a little over two months ago is now hooking up with one of my closest friends.

Its cool. I still cry myself to sleep, have nightmares, and wake up crying throughout the night but it’s fine. I spend more time drunk than sober (I had been doing so well! It was two years since I was last an alcoholic) and replaying every red flag, every moment where I thought to myself “you know, I don’t think she really likes me, you don’t treat the people you like this way right?” And then my dumb desperate ass was like “no we’re going to overlook this because surely she would tell me right? Besides I’m asking for too much, I should just be grateful she even expressed any interest at all. Stop being needy. Stop asking for anything other than what she is giving you because you’re lucky she’s even with you, what’s wrong with you?

Like. The first two months we were together? I called my besties every other week crying because I felt like a human sex toy. She didn’t even seem to want to do relationship things. I didn’t understand why she even asked me out, I had told her before we got together if all she wanted to be was fwb that was okay. But she asked me out so I was like okay cool. You want to date me. As in be in a relationship. I’m excited for this. Let’s do relationship things. We didn’t often do relationship things. We did sexual ones instead.

Then after two months suddenly the sex all but stopped. I thought to myself okay cool every relationship hits a plateau, and levels out. This is normal. Little did I know that was the slow death of us. The. I was calling my besties every other week again, still crying, begging to know what I was doing wrong. Why wasn’t I good enough? Why didn’t she seem interested but was still with me? What was I doing wrong? What was I not doing enough of, or too much of, or just not doing right? What was wrong with me that I couldn’t seem to interest her beyond the bare bones minimum?

I found myself begging for her to spend time with me. I lived with roommates who were our friends, and it always felt like she wanted to spend more time with them than me. I had to ask her if we could have some “just us” nights which, rarely were ever actually just us unless we went out. There were times she would literally, every five minutes look out the window to see when my roommates were home, and I was like ???? Do you not want to spend time with me? She would go to the kitchen to get something and be gone for twenty minutes to an hour at a time, having gotten distracted and hanging out with them. Which isn’t inherently bad to be clear but it happened so often and I wondered. I never forgot about her when I was leaving the room and got stopped for a conversation. If I knew I was going to be long I would text her to invite her or let her know.

I had even told her if she wants to just hang out with them, she could. I genuinely wouldn’t have minded that. Have fun with your friends, you should. I could hang out in my room and be me (I’m incredibly introverted, autistic, and have anxiety, and the living situation had me ~*stressed*~ out) but she didn’t want to do that.

If we were out on a date, she was almost always texting, or snap chatting somebody else. I always tried to make it a point to focus on us when we were in dates, but it never felt reciprocated. I brought it up and then felt like an asshole for already asking for just us time, and now to please not be on your phone when we’re on a date. She looked so sad, like I had scolded her. I would replay it over and over in my head - I tried to be gentle and polite, not accusing or angry. I checked my words carefully and ran them by multiple people to try to be as non aggressive and non accusatory as I could before I ever spoke them to her. Clearly I didn’t succeed.

She has OCD (nothing against it and I usually found it endearing) and would sometimes go into a loop. I always tried to help her but usually just ended up frustrating her. She snapped at me on occasions including in front of my friends and didn’t often apologize for it. Something my friends brought up after she did it in front of them, and I made excuses for it. She was stressed out, I would be too, stop being so hard on her.

She never planned anything with me, I always had to do it. I brushed it off as her having anxiety and not liking planning, but when she asked me “oh we’re still doing that?” for the trip for my nieces wedding in which I was taking her to meet my (extremely judgey) family, the trip that I had been updating her on weekly about the plans trying to get any input from her on, the trip that I had to pull in favors for and grovel to get the time off to go to? I should have said never mind and cancelled it.

She didn’t even help plan my birthday. My best friends did, and showed me the texts where they were getting frustrated with her lack of input on it because she’s my girlfriend and surely she would want to participate in that? Want to help surprise me? It was my first surprise party ever. I told her thank you and she acted like she had absolutely had a hand in planning. Meanwhile my friends all got together while she and I were gone to vent about how pisses they were at her for her lack of effort.

I have some childhood trauma and I don’t like to be touched sexually. I’ll touch my partner and even enjoy it but I don’t like being touched. It triggers me. But she said no less than three times to different people “yeah I’ve still never gone down on a girl or anything” which made me feel like I wasn’t being a good enough girlfriend. So I got sex therapy. I worked through it as best I could. Not for me. I didn’t want to be touched that way but I wanted my girlfriend to be happy. I wanted to do right by her and give her everything she wanted or needed in a relationship. Right about this time is where the sex stopped. She also stopped flirting or doing things she used to do before we started/right as we started dating that were clear indicators that she liked me. (I am an oblivious idiot)

I started to get worried. Why was I working this hard if she didn’t actually want to touch me? I was happy not being touched, but now I was starting to think something was wrong. I was starting to feel like she didn’t even want me. I started asking for sex as reassurance that she was still interested. Still attracted.

She called me a horn dog.

Not just to me but also later to my best friend. I was so mortified I wanted to jump out of the window and run into traffic. *I* was a horndog? All I wanted was affection and reassurance. She said her love language was physical affection and so was mine but she rarely gave me the cuddles I needed. I would ask her for “pets” - where she would play with my hair or just run her hand up and down my arm. This for me is intimacy. I had no problems doing it for her ever but she would get annoyed when I asked, saying it was hard for her to focus on the tv.

Okay? So? I’m not asking much, I didn’t think. I stopped paying attention to the tv when I was petting her. I made her my whole focus so she would feel loved. I mean unless it was like Harry Potter but I would be mindful to alternate so she wouldn’t be left out.

She only introduced me to one of her friends (who I thought was pretty cool but I worry she hates me so I just don’t talk to her now). At first I thought this was because she was in the closet. To be clear I never had a problem with that. I would never push someone to come out before they were ready and I hate movies and media that have the partner doing that. It’s shitty and dangerous. If she felt safer in the closet more power to her. I actively went to bat for protecting that secret for her. Sometimes our friends would forget and tag her in shit that would out her. I would be in their texts and calling them immediately explaining the situation and asking them to untag or take the post down. I’m not saying that as any sort of bragging. That’s literally the least I could do. I’m saying it to illustrate that I don’t have a problem with her being in the closet. But then she told me her friends knew about us. So I was like okay cool you’ve met all of my friends and are part of the group. I’d like to meet your friends. “Um.. they’re just really busy”. I mean. Yeah so are my friends and I didn’t mean like right now I just meant maybe mention it to them and we can some time schedule a hang out. “They’re just really busy”. Red flag but okay. Gonna just. Overlook this one too. It’s fine.

I spent more nights when she visited waiting for her to fall asleep so I could cry myself to sleep over how worthless I felt. Why was I doing this? Everything hurt but maybe I was just asking too much. Had my expectations too high. I’ve been told that before. Usually by people who have left me, those who stay (and my therapist) insist I’ve been asking for the bare minimum. To this day I still don’t know. If all you get is nothing , surely you are nothing? You don’t deserve to ask for more.

By June I started thinking she’s not happy with me. I’m not the one she wants. I don’t think much of myself. I don’t think I’m worth anything. I wrote her a letter that sat in my desk at work, basically saying that she deserved to be happy. She deserved to be with someone who sparks excitement, joy, and romance in her. Someone she wants to introduce to her friends (that she’s out to). Someone that she wants to spend time with and forgets about anyone else (within reason obviously, not like actually forgetting the world friends and responsibilities). Someone she is actually excited to spend time with and looks forward to. Someone that makes her not want to cancel every other date. She shouldn’t settle, even if it’s for me.

It broke my heart to write that letter. I was going to give it to her after her birthday because I didn’t want to be a sick and break up with her right before/on her birthday. Turns out she beat me to the punch and dumped me after I took her home.

I don’t know why I was surprised. The entire relationship things didn’t feel right. I always felt like I was doing something wrong. People in my life always seem to like the idea of me and then when they get to see the real me suddenly it’s like oops too much I’m out. Or alternatively they just.. they think I’m interesting and then lose interest.

My birth mother rejected me not once but twice. My adoptive mother was thrilled at the idea of me until I got to be about 4 and she realized something wasn’t quite right. My dad doesn’t care enough about me to stop drinking. Almost every single best friend I’ve ever had growing up has left usually because of some stupid shit I’ve done or because they’re embarrassed of me. Cheryl thought I was some monster out to hurt my friends (even when said “hurt” friend who was actually there went to bat for me and confirmed that I was literally just in the wrong place at the wrong time). Holly stopped caring. Brie never cared. Johanna only cared when she could use her affection of me to hurt someone else she was being petty with. Lissa only wanted someone she could bully, and even once she had me it wasn’t enough. Jerika definitely didn’t want me, and even my closest friend of 17 years Amy left for three months in which I genuinely thought she wasn’t coming back because I had the audacity to try to help her out of a panic attack. Jocelyn couldn’t stand me for more than a week at a time and roxii didn’t have the time of day for me after Americorps.

I feel like my whole life has just been a game of measurements that’s found me wanting. I tried. I tried so hard and I know I didn’t succeed I know there were things I could have done differently with my latest ex. Things I could have done better. I’ve never wanted anything to work so much in my life. Never tried so hard and still I wasn’t enough. I’m never enough.

I watched her, the woman that I was in love with, slowly lose interest in me over the course of about 4 months. Do you know what that’s like? What that does to you? The more I tried, the quicker she seemed to fade. I kept thinking if I just try harder, I’m just not doing, saying the right things. I read every book on relationships I could get my hands on (blatantly ignoring the parts that told me I should see the red flags for what they were and step away). I took notes. I watched therapy videos. I put to work every therapy technique I had ever learned. I wasn’t perfect but I was going to give this everything I had. Just once I didn’t want anyone to be able to say I didn’t try. I wanted to be as healthy, loving and supportive of a partner as I could because I loved her and didn’t want to hurt her. I knew that I had a lot of personal growth that I had been working on before I met her and I wanted to really ramp that up while I was with her to be good to her. To be good for her.

I’m not even mad. My friends say I should be. They’re mad on my behalf and I’m the one telling them to be nice, and defending her. Part of me thinks they’re right but mostly, mostly I think I’m just a steaming pile of shit and I deserved this.

I wasn’t enough. I’m tired of not being enough. I’m tired of fighting the universe showing me over, and over, and over, and over, and over again how absolutely worthless, not shit I am.

When she broke up with me I told her I felt like I was losing one of my best friends. She said we’re still friends I’m still going to be in your life and we will still talk. Turns out that’s only if I initiate and usually shortly after she shuts it down. So. I guess not.

I asked her one thing and that was when (not if because obviously when, I mean if you saw her you would understand) she moved on if she could just not bring the new person around for the first few months so I didn’t have to see it immediately I would appreciate it and she was like yeah for sure. I told her I wanted her to be happy and I meant it. I just didn’t realize it was going to be barely over 2 months and with one of my good friends.

To be clear she can date whomever she wants. I just thought there might have been more time between them showing up publicly and honestly? Even if her friend was single, interested in me, and I interested in her, I wouldn’t have dated her friend. Even if the positions were reversed and I actually broke up with her first, I wouldn’t have dated her friend. I would imagine that would hurt and I never want to hurt her. Ever. I just.. I wouldn’t have done it. And then she told my one best friend to not tell my other best friend or me and I’m like?? So you know this is a little shady and you’re still gonna?? Like you literally couldn’t wake a couple more months? Just til after Friendsgiving so I don’t have to come to a group event and plaster on a smile when it makes me want to stab myself in the heart.

Alright. Well. Good for her. And I mean that. I just.. can’t see that right now so I’m not seeing any of them. I heard the song Reminds me of you by Kim petras today “cut off all my friends because they remind me of you” and literally felt punched in the gut. Like yep. Too right. Because what am I supposed to go go hang out with my closest friends, where she and her new partner are, and fake a smile? I’m barely holding it together. There’s literally not a day in which I don’t want to kill myself.

Not because she broke up with me. Because I’m tired of being worthless to everyone I care about. Like why the fuck am I even here? Is this what I was born for? To be trash? To be used by people until they find someone better? Or to be someone’s quirky new friend until they find out my quirks are not an act? Or for people to think Im interesting only to slowly realize that I’m not and want nothing to do with me?

I think about all the things I’ve survived that I shouldn’t have and get frustrated because wHY? Why couldnt I just have died and been done with everything? I said to Nathan the other day that at some point I have to realize that the common denominator here is me. Clearly I am the problem. Clearly I am worthless and it’s time to fucking accept that. His reply was that it’s easy to think that you’re the common denominator when it’s your life but that’s just because you’re stuck in it. Idk man. I don’t think I have just extraordinarily shitty luck. I think it’s just me.

I am worthless. Not shit. To anyone. There are some who have stayed but it’s literally just a matter of time until they leave. It’s inevitable, and I’m tired of trying to pretend it’s not. I’m tired of trying to pretend I’m worth something to anyone. I’m tired of begging people to care about me, family, friends, partners. I’m just tired. So tired. Im tired of being tired.

Fuck my life insurance policy. The majority of the people on it don’t care about me anyway, so fuck it if it doesn’t pay out. It wouldn’t be my problem. Sitting here trying to think of ways that wouldn’t traumatize my roommates, would be guaranteed, relatively pain free, and wouldn’t put anyone else at risk. And then I remember I’m a coward and if I fuck it up then there goes what little I have made of my career, I’d lose my job (not that I’m thriving anyway), I’d probably be permanently damaged in ways that would then make me a burden to my parents.

Maybe I can’t kill myself, but somebody else sure could. I could find somebody abusive and just throw myself into that until one day they take it too far. That’s about what I deserve. And then my policy would pay out and the people I live most would be taken care of, regardless of how their treatment of me makes me feel. Maybe I could do some good in this world. The only good I’ll have ever done but it has to count for something right? Who am I kidding nothing I do counts for anything but I’m crazy and keep doing the same things expecting different results.

It’s funny. The one person who wants to leave me the most, can’t. I wish I could though.

Don’t take this too seriously I’m venting. it’s fine, I’m fine.

[prettygirlcore]

fall - hwang hyunjin

a/n: i think i’m gonna start putting summaries on my posts, but don’t expect them to be good because i suck at that.

i also used like a million pet names because i find them really sweet and endearing. hyunjin’s a boy i want to protect, ya know?

warnings: fainting, hyunjin overworking himself :(((, and just overall sad vibes.

summary: hyunjin’s worried about being good enough, so he starts to work harder; that doesn’t end well.

hyunjin’s rarely late. being on time is usually something he holds himself to and when he knows he’ll be late, he’ll text you and let you know. but you haven’t heard anything from him since morning and he’s an hour late to your scheduled date. admittedly, you were just going to eat dinosaur chicken nuggets in your pajamas and watch tv, but all your stay-at-home dates are memories that you really cherish and value.

so you call him. and he doesn’t answer. at this point you’re more worried than annoyed, so your next resort is to call chan. hopefully you didn’t have to resort to calling jyp themselves.

“y/n? what is it? is everything okay?”

“chan, thank god you picked up, do you know where hyunjin is?”

“he’s still in the practice room. we told him he should get home to you, but he said that you’d be gone so he doesn’t have anything better to do but run through his sets a few more times,”

“Uhm no? i’m at home?? waiting for him???”

“maybe he forgot?”

“hyunjin’s capable of forgetting many things, our weekly dates isn’t one of them,”

“do you want me to get him for you?”

“no, just… let him be, i guess. whatever he’s doing is important to him, anyway,”

“y/n-”

“bye chris,”

you said before hanging up the phone, not giving chan a chance to finish. it was so incredibly embarrassing to think that hyunjin probably knew you were waiting for him, but didn’t care. maybe he was with someone else, since he was in a position where he’d be alone for a few hours. god you felt so dumb. chan felt pity for you and your stupid, dumb idea that hyunjin actually cared to make it to your stupid date.

you sit there, scrolling through a bunch of different apps, trying to distract yourself from how horrible you felt for a good twenty minutes, when...

your phone is ringing again.

chan is calling you again.

you watch his face light up your phone, you can hear the ringtone, and yet, you don’t pick up. maybe it was the underlying rage you felt towards hyunjin, or the absolute hatred you felt at chan’s pitiful voice when you almost broke down crying during the first call.

chan’s call fades out as you officially ignore his call and send him to voicemail, but he calls again.

you still don’t answer.

he calls you again.

once again, you can’t find it in you to answer.

he calls you a good five more times, maybe more, you don’t remember. all you know is that this ringtone is starting to annoy you. you move to put your phone on do not disturb, but before you can hit the button, you were getting another call.

guess who it was?

wrong.

you think to yourself if minho, of all people, is calling me, maybe i should answer it.

so you do.

“minho-”

“yah! what the hell? why weren’t you answering chan’s calls?”

“minho i don’t want to talk about it right now-”

“oh my god y/n for one minute stop thinking about you and your feelings! for just once in your life! hyunjin’s at the hospital!”

hospital?

hyunjin was at the hospital??

you were shocked, stunned into silence that you completely disregarded minho on the other line until he brought you back to reality.

“y/n?”

“a-ah, i’m sorry, why is he at the hospital?”

“they think he fainted from a combination of a lack of sleep and dehydration. he’s not awake right now, but the doctors assume he will be soon. he took a pretty bad fall when he fainted, and because he was all alone, nobody knew anything had happened to him until you called chan about him,”

“did he break anything when he fainted?”

“no, he just has a pretty nasty bruise on his side. agh, why am i explaining all of this to you? just get over here, okay? he’ll want to see you when he wakes up,”

completely disregarding all the irritation you had felt a second before, you thanked minho and grabbed your car keys, heading over to the hospital. you were driving faster than was safe, but it didn’t matter. hyunjin has fainted when you assumed he was cheating. what an asshole you were.

seeing him in that bed, all pale and weak-looking, truly made you think. had you paid any attention to hyunjin these past few days? you were sure he was fine just the other day, if a bit tired looking. he did also seem weaker. but you just took that as something sleep could fix.

maybe the last time you had seen him was yesterday, but you haven’t really seen him since maybe a week ago, your last date. he’s been so busy, you just assumed he was sleeping at the dorms when he wasn't sleeping next to you. was he really not sleeping at all?

you were pulled from your thoughts when his hand started to squeeze yours, a telltale sign he was waking up. you looked over at him, and his eyes were closed but you could tell he was drifting out of sleep.

“don’t try to get up, sweetie, you’re a bit weak right now,”

“y-y/n…? where am i?”

“you’re okay, you’re just at the hospital,”

“o-oh, um, look i’m really sorry for causing so much trouble and for missing our date, i didn’t mean to i just got caught up in practicing-”

“practicing doesn’t come before your health, jinnie, you know that,”

“i know but i was so worried about this past comeback and i feel like i didn’t do my best and you know jyp never gives us a break and i just have to be better-,”

“hyunjin,”

“y/n i have to be more than just a pretty face. i can’t be remembered as just a visual, i have other talents! i promise that i’m just working harder so i can show that there’s more to me than my looks,”

“stop, please, just stop,”

“y/n-”

“do you think i’m okay with seeing you like this? do you think the boys are okay with seeing you like this? what about stay? do you think they could fully enjoy anything you’re making knowing that you had to resort to unhealthy habits like not sleeping and forgetting to drink water?”

“i mean no i guess not, but this wasn’t supposed to happen-”

“what was supposed to happen, hyunjin? were you just going to keep carrying on practicing day and night, destroying your body, all while not talking to me about this?”

“you shouldn’t have to deal with-”

“that’s not up to you to decide what i should or shouldn’t deal with! because i’m here now, dealing with the aftermath of what you did,”

“... you’re right, i’m sorry, y/n,”

you suddenly realize that you’ve stood up from the chair you were sitting in. you’re also towering over him, since he’s laying in a hospital bed, and your angry expression and pointed finger in his direction probably didn’t help. he does look kind of scared of you.

“ah, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you. i was just really worried, i felt really helpless when i first saw you laying there, so i’m sorry if that was too much. i’ll check in with you doctor and see when we can get you home, sweetie,”

you say with a kiss on his forehead, and suddenly he’s alone again. like he was in the practice room. he didn’t like to be alone, more specifically, he didn’t like to be without you.

the doctors do plenty of tests to make sure there wasn’t anything else that contributed to his faint, but hyunjin is soon in the comforts of your arms and bed finally. he cuddles up close to you, resting his head against your chest. he feels safe when he heard your heartbeat.

“jinnie?”

“hmmm?”

“can we talk?”

“y-yes, sure,”

he looks like he doesn’t want to move, so you don’t force him to. his voice is slightly muffled but you can still make out what he says, so it’s not a big deal.

“you said you started practicing more because you were worried that you didn’t do good enough,”

“uhm, y-yeah, that’s why,”

“jinnie, darling, what made you feel that way?”

he looked at you like a deer in headlights, before resting his head in your lap. you run your fingers through his long hair, but it’s not enough to calm him.

“i… i see the things they say. i know it shouldn’t get to me, that i shouldn’t let it get to me, but it does. i can’t just tell myself to stop thinking about their criticisms like you want me to, it doesn’t work that way,”

you were almost taken aback by his slightly aggressive attitude, but you let it go. he’s not in the state of mind to care to watch what he says. with all that he’s feeling, it would be selfish to put the spotlight on you.

“i’m sorry, jinnie. i can tell it’s hard, so much more than i know. i can empathize and try to help you but i’ll never know what it truly feels like,”

it’s silent for another minute or two, the silence isn’t unbearable, but it’s awkward.

“how can i help you, jinnie? what would make your life easier right now?”

he’s quick to dismiss you, say you don’t need to do anything, but you speak up again before he can respond.

“and don’t tell me i don’t need to do anything. i want to help you,”

he smiles, somewhat sadly as he looks down to avoid looking you in the eye.

“just…”

“yeah?”

“...please be there for me,”

he looks up at you with watery eyes, and before you crush him in another hug, he speaks once more,

“please be there to catch me if i fall,”

[lesbianbooradleypsued]

The Etherian Party Bus: Point Zero

Fandom: She-ra and the Princesses of Power Pairing: Adora/Catra  Word Count:  6,898

Summary: As Darla approaches the point of no contact with Etheria, Adora thinks about how they got to this point. Just 7 months ago they'd won the war, and now she doesn't know if her little crew will ever return. Or After the defeat of Hoard Prime, Catra and Hordak were exiled for four years. Adora and Entrapta refused to accept being separated from them for that long, and loaded the two of them on Darla and then set out for parts unknown in space. Adora is currently considering everything that has happened to get them to this point as they are about to leave contact range with Etheria. Catra joins her on the bridge.

Notes: So this is just one part of a series. They'll be posted out of order with the time stamps at the beginning. Haven't written in a long while so have mercy on me. X-posted to AO3 as well. 

Tags: Smut, Porn With Plot, Rough Sex, Biting, Scratching, light bdsm aspects, Top Adora, Bottom Catra, Blow Jobs, Adora Has a Penis, Recreational Drug Use, if i forgot a tag tell me, Fluff, Not Beta Read

Seven Months Out

The rhythmic thump of heavy bass from two floors down on Darla thrummed through Adora's relaxed body like a second heartbeat.

She was shamelessly lounging on the bridge in her Captain's chair in a pair of baggy grey sweatpants, a white tank top, and the comfortable black slip on shoes she wore day to day around Darla. Her right leg was draped over the plush arm of her chair and her left leg was cocked out, resting comfortably on the floor. Her right arm was folded behind her head and her left was lazily holding onto a glass filled with shimmery dark purple liquid that rippled in sync with the bass.

The bridge was dark save for the few ever present blinking red lights on the various dash boards and panels surrounding the six strategically placed seats that now comprised the ship's bridge. All Entrapta and Hordak's designs. It was just those lights and of course the large windows filled with the brilliant kaleidoscope of stars that were reflected in Adora's peaceful hazed over blue eyes.

She was lost in reflection.

In front of her were countless galaxies filled with countless lifeforms and Adora wanted to meet and learn about them all. And hopefully quell that insatiable drive in her that'd been building steadily for the last four months of the exile to just keep going.

Adora finally knew what a passion was now, something not born out of circumstantial upbringing or a sense of duty, but something you do because you want to. She wants to explore further every day just to find out something new, chart new stars, learn about a different species cultures. She wants to see what Catra feels like in her arms there with her through every new experience, so far removed from their prior life. Untethered. She knows very little about the First Ones, most of it not great, but she does know they were explorers. She figures that's where this passion must come from.

Behind her, falling further and further away every second is Etheria. It's so far away now it's no longer visible even at their highest scanning capacity.

After seven months in space, the last four of them spent finally finding out what kind of person she was outside of child soldier/She-ra, Adora's feelings about their abrupt, messy departure from their home planet had managed to settle down between resignation and dull betrayal.

It's still a very tender spot. Her logical brain understands that Catra and Hordak couldn't just escape any type of punishment for their literal war crimes. It wouldn't be fair to the countless lives forever changed by them. She also will begrudgingly concede that it would have been a slap in the face to every citizen of Etheria if Glimmer had just gone against the public demand and pardoned them. She is also begrudgingly grateful that Glimmer had ordered the most minimal punishment she had within her power as Queen.

But four years exile still seemed so long. Too long. Even longer now that she knew what her and Catra actually had. She thought she had loved Catra at seventeen, but that feeling was hardly a single star in the quadrant compared to the way she felt about her now. And she knew that with every day that passed, the feelings were just getting more and more intense. She couldn't imagine going four days without the magicat, four years was absurd.

Less than an hour after the sentencing they had left Etheria in a messy, absolutely traumatic scene on the front lawn of Brightmoon. Two of them were convicted criminals who had just been exiled from Etheria and two of them were Princesses who refused to just accept being parted for four years, the need to rebuild Etheria be damned. And as an extra spicy surprise they found out a couple of months in, that Double Trouble had stole'd away on Darla for reasons Adora was still unclear on. Something about drama and possibly being wanted.

The first few months in space had been a disaster Adora acknowledged, taking a sip of her drink and savoring the smooth herbal flavor. They had been blindly chasing the idea of restoring magic to the universe like it was their assigned mission, and not just a distraction from their current situation.

The immediate space around Etheria, it turned out, was not nice to begin with.

In the month since Prime's demise a power vacuum had opened up in the area. Entire planets were without the resources to rebuild themselves and were more than willing to fight for them, and there were opportunistic ships filled with bandits everywhere. It was chaos.

And they had flown into the middle of all that and loudly pronounced they had killed Prime and were magic.

Que a three month long shit storm.

They all just suffered.

Entrapta retreated into herself, barely coming out of the engine room unless they were under attack or broke down. She had been shaken to the core by her sudden loss of confidence in the friendships she had tentatively built over the last three years. Friendships she thought were built on mutual respect for their unique abilities and qualities. Entrapta knew she was the smart one. But only Adora, Scorpia, Wrong Hordak, and Catra had spoken on Hordak's behalf even though Entrapta provided sufficient evidence that by killing Prime in the way She-ra had, it had changed Hordak in fundamental ways. Yes he was responsible for what he had done, took responsibility for it, but he was also literally a new being.

When She-ra knocked Prime's ass out of Hordak's body and vanquished him, it was like being baptised, exorcised, and reborn simultaneously. All the clones had experienced it. Hoard Prime could not control them even again, could never take control of them again. An order coded into their very DNA that demanded them to conquer all for Prime was obliterated. That drive, an instinct really, had been as deeply ingrained into them as breathing was.

Hordak was not really washed anew like the other clones though. He didn't go from a mindless drone in a hive mind like the others, no, he'd spent thirty years waging war in Prime's name on Etheria. He was now without purpose. He was overwhelmed with emotions he did not know he was capable of that lurched violently from happiness to guilt and more often than not ended up at rage. He spoke very rarely to anyone but Entrapta unless it was to loudly argue with Adora or Catra or both of them.

Adora had spent those first few months just absolutely drenched in anger and bitterness. Her mind circled around all of the hurt that had been caused during the last three years. So much of it was Adora and Catra's. They were hit with traumatic event after traumatic event for three years, after a traumatic as fuck childhood. And against all odds they had escalated and pushed that stalemate of a war to an end where everyone won. And now because apparently they couldn't have nice things, and Adora was not smart, they found themselves in a big galaxy filled with unexpected dangers. And what were they doing? Chasing and dodging said dangers because they were just barreling ahead under her command asking every being they met if they needed their magic topped off. She was being absolutely reckless and every near catastrophe circled back to two thoughts. I'm not good enough and how could Catra love me?

Catra had felt horrible that Adora had just given up her life on Etheria so she could stay with Catra. But she felt downright evil that she had selfishly agreed to it with very little argument. Adora had pointedly told Catra that this was what she wanted. How could she deserve this? After everything that had happened Adora had chosen her? Wanted her by her side to explore this precious thing they'd started? How could she say no? It was hard for anyone but them to understand how much it meant for Adora to say those words aloud. She wanted Catra. She could not actually believe it still. Fought herself against the notion in fact. She spiraled in self hatred and guilt. Which of course meant she lashed out at Adora because that's what she did.

Adora and Catra got stuck in a vicious cycle of fight, avoid, apologize, rinse, and repeat that went on for two months. And then finally after a truly shitty day, even by those early standards, it came to a head. Catra gathered all three of the brain cells aboard Darla and had a big "aha moment". They actually had their first real mostly calm and open discussion about their feelings and baggage in their lives. They also had sex for the first time. It was a really big aha moment.

Adora hadn't thought it was possible to fall more in love with the magicat but she did. After the incident, Catra began opening up in earnest to Adora. She whispered confessions of love and attraction into her ear, began to slowly become more physically affectionate towards her. Adora's focus started to shift from saving the universe to saving them. If Catra was safe, she was calm enough to be vulnerable for Adora, and it turns out Adora needed that vulnerability like fucking oxygen. It made her better, made her feel like she could do anything in the universe she wanted. It made Adora believe that Catra loved her for her, and not for what Adora could do.

So less running around space with her whole ass showing; ending them up in dangerous situations every other day, and more let's just go away from that situation and see what's over there.

But not enough because they all nearly died in a fiery blaze three months in.

Adora had snapped after healing Catra's broken ribs, pointed Darla in the general direction of far away, and gunned it. They'd cleared the small cluster of planets nearest Etheria that they had been nervously darting around for three months, getting their asses handed to them, and just kept going. She just put the whole magical quest on the back burner indefinitely. It wasn't working, was actively endangering them in fact. It was not conducive to a vulnerable safe Catra.

When they were a safe distance away she had hidden the ship in an asteroid field and Meelog cloaked them. And then Adora had turned to Catra and asked her what she thought they should do next. It had been a very wise decision.

Catra had taken control immediately. First she encouraged/ordered Entrapta and Hordak to use their combined intelligence and any means necessary to get Darla up to date and better suited to surviving four years in space. They absolutely ran with it. They'd practically completely redesigned the layout of the ship and had even managed to expand its size over the last four months. Darla was taking on the character of a jigsaw puzzle with all the different colored materials covering her hull now. Double Trouble called it Junker Chic, Adora said she had character.

After that, and another near death experience for Adora, the magicat had proposed becoming diplomats of sorts for Etheria. Space was dangerous Catra pointed out, and that danger would likely come for Etheria again eventually. Having strong ties to planets already established in the quadrant has leaders could only be helpful.

And as her last decision Catra had released Adora from any responsibility except for occasionally parading She-ra out when the situation called for it. Her girlfriend had poked and prodded at the new ember of passion in Adora's heart until it was a raging fire.

It had been an amazing change in their lives.

Still seven months in space and in her heart, Adora was still so raw from the sheer trauma of the entire trial, convictions, and absolutely cataclysmic immediate aftermath. She'd had to carry Catra aboard Darla because the magicat was crying so hard. She felt...betrayed? Somehow used in a way she couldn't express? She had nearly died over and over and over again for Etheria. She nearly lost Catra forever for Etheria. And all they got were two weeks before everything went to absolute shit and strangers who didn't know the full story started demanding Catra's permanent exile. Some had even called for execution despite Etheria not having a death sentence. "Make one" someone had said. Adora had nearly ran them through with her sword.

Adora knows if they are ever gonna return at the end of the exile she's gotta heal more. Has to get to a place where she wants to go back. They all do.

Two decks down, in Darla's expanded cargo bayn the wildest party this side of Etheria was raging on at, what her body believed to be, very very late at night. The beat changed suddenly, becoming more powerful, and it startled Adora out of her musings. The tempo sped up and the bass pounded harder and Adora released a throaty chuckle. Her groin tightened, partly from the vibrations and partly from the effects of the drink coursing through her blood. She took a long swill of her glass and moved to rest her right hand firmly on her lap, rubbing her hardening dick through her pants and sighing in contentment.

The thing Adora lovef most about this aimless explorer diplomatic lifestyle they'd gradually slipped into was the culture they'd shared with scores of different species. The drink in her hand was supplied by the fourteen Chix'eks currently onboard the ship at the moment, who were also supplying the music.

Of all of the species they'd met so far, the Chix'eks are by far Adora's favorite. Tall and willowy bipeds, their shimmery smooth bichromatic scales come in countless color combinations and their facial features remind Adora of a bird of prey. They were also the most sincere, friendly beings Adora has ever met, and their language was beautiful. When Adora had been downstairs with them earlier she had taken her translator earpiece out and just listened to them. It was like glass windchimes in a steady breeze. They also were absolute party animals. Like having a pretty good time was in their specie's nature.

They'd been traveling with this group for the last two weeks for no other reason than they were all going the same direction for a bit.

The Chix'eks were highly intelligent and eager to share their knowledge and learn from Hordak and Entrapta's own wealth of knowledge, Catra and Double Trouble practically fed off of their clever sharp wit and general "we're always at a rave" vibes, and Adora just loves listening to their intricate music and sampling the various mind altering substances they have crafted over several millions of years of inherited knowledge.

Medicine was a specialty craft amongst their species. Their medicine was arguably the furthest advanced in this quadrant of space. The fact that the plants that grew on their home planet could affect every species they had met so far seemed fantastically impossible to Adora. But she had experienced it first hand when she'd contracted some kind of alien plague virus from hell and almost died. It was not a great time. Catra had new nightmares for several weeks. But by chance a group of the scaled beings had happened upon them and saved Adora just cause they could. And then offered to make some introductions to other friendly worlds in that part of space. They'd sparked that explorative vibe.

Oh yeah, and their passion for making addictive free, highly specialized, mind altering substances was a huge bonus.

She was glad they were on board right now providing her strange crew with comrade and the drink in Adora's hand that has allowed her to sit and think in total peace for the last hour. It would probably be one of those nights otherwise. Outside of the moments she spent wrapped up in Catra's arms, where nothing else existed but them, Adora still couldn't ever just relax. It was a little easier these days, maybe because now her mind was usually racing about exciting things, but tense situations brought out her worst self destructive habits.

And they were in a tense situation, party aside.

They were almost at the point in space where they wouldl no longer be able to contact Etheria and Etheria will no longer be able to contact them. Entrapta officially called it Point Zero. As it was, the contact they did have with home had a two week delay. They'd hovered around this point for the last month. They'd even recorded a message telling Etheria they'd be leaving contact range for a while. It was an open-ended goodbye disguised as an update, just in case.

Adora knew the decision to venture out beyond this point was on her shoulders.

Entrapta and Hordak would have loved nothing more than to gain new scientific knowledge so they could continue their shared passion for turning Darla into a flying impenetrable fortress. As well as collecting new tech to bring back to Etheria to modernize the planet.

Double Trouble wad having the time of Their fucking life expanding Their repertoire of mimicry far beyond the limits of Etheria, and raising hell in Their wake for the drama of it all. Their gift for espionage had been especially useful on several occasions as well, either to get them all out of a tight spot, or just to gather information for Adora's research.

And Catra. God Catra had absolutely burst like a supernova away from Etheria. Gone was the self loathing, guilt ridden magicat who was immediately resigned to being torn away from Adora and tossed onto Beast Island because she thought she deserved it.

Catra is thriving in space, completely free of the demons that plagued her on Etheria. She's still as snarky and sharp tongued as ever but nowadays she smiled more often than not. Her eyes were brighter. She purred almost constantly. And they hadn't fought about anything more serious than what to eat for dinner in months.

Catra had slipped into the not exactly legit role of Etherian Ambassador like a second skin. Her skill for strategy and diplomacy were nearly fully responsible for Adora's continued ability to study other species without coming across as some insane space tourist. They'd made real diplomatic ties with other planets because Catra was a strategic genius. All she asked of Adora was to bring out She-ra when the need for "oohs and aware" occasionally arose. A smiling eight foot tall muscled goddess with a sword really topped off a presentation.

Adora had never in her life seen Catra so happy and carefree.

But still all that aside, Catra had made it very clear that where Adora wanted to go, she wanted to go. They were in sync now more than they'd ever been in their lives, more than Adora suspected they could have achieved on Etheria. Their bond seemed impenetrable after seven months of constant reliance on one another, cohabitation, and working through most of their shit. When they moved these days, they moved as one.

Just thinking about her lover made Adora's heart race in her chest and her dick jumped, going from a semi, to rock hard in seconds. She inhaled deeply at the sensation, and downed the last of her drink.

The drink wasn't usually this potent. Adora had been drinking a much lower dosage of it every morning at breakfast for a couple of months. It helped her to concentrate during the day, helped to keep her thoughts from spiraling when things were tense or she felt like she'd messed up. Entrapta had explained brain chemistry to Adora briefly, she got the gist of it. She didn't need to have an in-depth understanding of it to get that it really helped just manage everything.

Tonight's drink though was not about mental health management and all about that really good Chix'ekian time.

She set the empty glass on the small table at her side and shifted so she could pull her hardened cock out of her pants. The drink had a massive effect on her senses and her libido. Everything was so intense. It felt like she perceived time slower.

For example her sense of smell was so heightened now she could smell Catra, knew she was making her way down the hall to the bridge. Her heady earthy aroma was addictive. Adora had only been minutely aware of it growing up, when they were pressed up against each other in their bunk, or claws to sword in battle. She'd never stopped to examine the nature of it, why Catra had such a distinctive scent compared to everyone else. She hadn't understood pheromones. She didn't understand the magicat instinct to mark and claim. She understood now though that Catra was different on a very basic level from Adora. It made Adora love her more.

The door barely made a sound as it opened and closed. Adora stroked herself lazily as she listened to Catra pad softly across the carpeted floor, her eyes still drawn to the wild unexplored space in front of them.

She felt Catra move around her chair and her eyes turned away from the view to watch her girlfriend kneel in front of her lap, rest her head on Adora's thigh, and begin gently running a clawed hand over Adora's exposed stomach, inches away from where Adora was stroking her own dick.

Catra's eyes were wide, pupils blown, and her voice when she spoke was practically sinful. "Hey Adora," she rasped out looking up at Adora as she scent marked her inner thigh. Adora took a deep breath and her lips curled into an absolutely love drunk smile.

"Hey Catra," Adora replied, her free hand immediately going to Catra's cheek and scratching behind her ear.

Her gaze drifted down to Catra's neck, and the thick white collar affixed with a golden o-ring she was wearing. This was a rather recent addition to their relationship and Catra had only ever worn it in their cabin. But she smelt of the woodsy incense the Chix'eks liked to burn and the herbal blend they'd created for Catra to smoke. Which meant Catra was wearing it at the party. Her dick twitched in her hand.

Catra purred at the affection and movedn her hand from the blond's stomach to swat away Adora's hand from her straining dick and began softly stroking it herself. The fine furs on her palms felt amazing to Adora's overly sensitive cock and she groaned with pleasure, head lulling back as she buried her hand in Catra's wild shoulder length hair.

"Those Chix'eks really know their stuff," Catra hummed as she shuffled closer and higher on her knees so she could press a small kiss to the base of the blond's length.

"Feeling good?" Adora asked, chuckling. She tightened her grip on Catra's mane slightly and kept her in place against her dick. She moaned when the corner of Catra's lips pressed momentarily against her balls.

"Feeling great," Catra said before beginning to lick at the hot flesh in front of her face "I'll be bummed when they break off to go home."

"Oh my god same," Adora said laughing and breaking out into a wide smile. Gently she pushed Catra backwards and sat upright in her chair, kicking her shoes off and to the side.

"You know," Catra said as Adora pulled her back towards her lap, "we're about ten minutes till we're out of range."

She might have said it conversationally but Adora knew Carta was nervous about Adora's decision. But Adora was not. Just like she wasn't nervous when she leapt into the darkness in Prime's ship, just like when she chose to spend some well deserved time with the love of her life over "duty", and just like the time she gave Catra control of their situation.

Adora pushed Catra back, leant forwards, and cupped both of Catra's cheeks, fingers immediately curling around her ears. She kissed the magicat on the forehead and deeply inhaled her scent. "Kitten I sent the message and set the course for straight ahead when I came in here an hour ago. I want to see what else is out there." Her blue eyes flitted up hungrily to the stars and then back to Catra before she reclined back into her chair.

Catra didn't look up, but she did release a suspiciously watery chuckle before she shifted forwards and wrapped her perfect lips around the head of Adora's cock suddenly. She took it deep down her throat so fast it seemed effortless. Adora groaned obscenely and buried her hands in Catra's hair, her grip tight and immediately desperate.

Adora's cock wasn't exactly small. Fully erect as she was now it was eight inches long and thick as fuck. And Catra just kept sliding her lips further and further down her length until they were stretched taunt and her breath was coming out in hot, fast puffs against Adora's abdomen.

"Gods, fuck Catra," Adora groaned out as Catra's head began to bob up and down in her lap. The blond watched Catra's throat greedily as the muscles contracted to deep throat her over and over again. They were strained against her collar.

Adora felt a sudden sharp sting at the base of her dick and hissed loudly in pleasure. Occasional knicks on her dick were an unavoidable experience when the woman sucking it regularly had needle sharp fangs. Adora relished in the familiar sting, craved it actually.

Adora's fingers tightened roughly in Catra's hair and when the magicat made to bob up, Adora forced her back down until Catra's claws pressed into her thighs, easily piercing through her sweats and into her skin. The magicat sputtered around the cock firmly blocking her airway.

Catra let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a yowl as she struggled to breath for a second. And when Adora pulled her back up she sucked in a ragged breath before a deep growl rumbled in her chest. Her bi-colored eyes were completely blown and she pulled against Adora's hand, trying to take the blond down her throat again.

"Fuck you're so desperate to choke on my dick, aren't you Kitten?" Adora slurred out. She didn't even wait for a response, just shoved Catra back down as her hips jolted up.

She began fucking Catra's throat in a slow but firm pace. Push Catra down and hold her there for a few long moments and then yank her up. Catra was growling nearly non-stop as she fought to keep her lips firmly wrapped around Adora and the vibrations from it made Adora's toes curl into the carpet.

She could happily cum like this, just release herself into Catra's eager mouth like she'd done plenty of times before, but she was suddenly starving for more. Catra's body was practically writhing on the floor, her hips jerking forwards repeatedly, and her thighs pressed firmly together. The sight of her girlfriend so fucking turned on from sucking her dick made Adora feel godsdamn invincible.

"Up," Adora ordered, not waiting for Catra to respond before she was leaning over and practically ripping the magicat's leggings off. Catra was too far gone for words or to be much help, and Adora practically had to pick her up to get the pants and underwear off her feet. She made quick work of both of their shirts too. "Come on," she growled, pulling her writhing girlfriend into the chair with her.

Adora pulled Catra forwards at the hips, pressing her down until Catra's dripping pussy was pressed against her abs. Immediately Catra started rubbing wantonly against against her, spreading her slick up down Adora's stomach. Her mouth found Adora's neck and she began pressing possessive needy kisses against her.

"Fuck you're so sexy," Adora groaned as she held firmly onto Catra's hips and watched her grind against her. Adora didn't need heightened senses to know even after multiple showers, she was going to smell like Catra for days.

"Mine," Catra growled out territorially as she made new marks to Adora's already colorful neck.

"All yours Kitten," Adora agreed. She loved feeling Catra move against her like this, but her dick was begging for relief.

It was difficult to push the writhing Catra back enough to enter her. Her girlfriend was nearly completely gone, operating on her most base instincts and desires, but Adora managed to grab her hips in a bruising grasp and lower her further down her body.

Her own hips were jerking violently upwards on their own volition and it was a frantic moment as she tried to hold Catra still enough that she could stroke up into her. "Hold still," she ordered, her blunt nails digging into Catra's hips demandingly. Catra let out a frustrated growl but stopped fighting against Adora. Adora grunted as she shifted their bodies, lined up, and slammed her dick hilt deep into her girlfriend.

Catra let out a guttural sound from deep in her chest and her claws raked through Adora's hair, pulling their foreheads together. "S-so good f-fuck Adora," she stuttered through clenched teeth as Adora began slamming up into her roughly.

Their eyes were wild and locked onto one another's. The room was filled with the thumping bass, the lewd wet sounds of their thighs slapping together, Adora's harsh ragged breathing, and a constant rumbling growl from Catra.

Every time she bottomed out in her lover Adora's heart skipped a beat. Catra's pussy was clenching around her cock almost in sync to the music and Adora felt like she would die if she couldn't get further into Catra. She wanted to live inside the woman in her lap.

Catra's head fell to Adora's shoulder and she began rambling out adoration and praise for Adora as she sucked, licked, and bit at Adora's neck repeatedly. "Fuck s-soooo fucking good. You fuck! You're f-fucking me so g-good Adora Fuck." Her body was becoming pliant above Adora, allowing the blonde to drill up at her own pace and pull Catra down on her like a toy.

The praise combined with a bite hard enough to draw blood at the juncture of her neck and shoulders had Adora howling. Adora was like a woman possessed as she heaved both of their bodies up and then down onto the floor. Catra began to scramble up when Adora pulled out of her but frantically got into position when Adora started to forcefully roll her over into her hands and knees.

This was Catra's preferred position to get fucked and Adora wasted no time before slamming back into her girlfriend. She leaned over Catra until her front was flush against the magicats silky back and braced herself on her right arm. Her left hand shot up to Catra's neck and her fingers dug in between her collar and fur.

"Fuck!" Catra howled as Adora began violently rocking against her, pushing her further to the floor each time. Catra's claws were fully extended, digging grooves into the carpet and scraping at the metal beneath it. "I love you," she growled out, giving up any control she had left and just letting Adora pound into her.

"Y-you're my, my fucking whole world," Adora managed to gasp out as she lurched above Catra. "I w-want to be inside you forever."

Catra trilled below her and her pussy began to clench so hard around Adora's cock it felt nearly impossible to pull out. She felt like Catra was sucking her into her. They were almost completely down on the carpet now, with most of Adora's weight fully on Catra.

"Mine," Catra growled desperately, her eyes were clenched shut and her body had begun to violently tremble. Her claws were locked several inches down into the floor beneath them.

"Yours. All yours. Everything I am is for you," Adora gasped out. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest she felt like it was about to explode and her focus had completely narrowed to the feeling of Catra's pussy gripping her cock like a vice.

She could feel a scream building up in Catra's chest below her and Adora latched onto her shoulder with her teeth. She bit down hard and Catra's head snapped back as she screamed Adora's name and tipped over into her orgasm.

Adora's balls and upper thighs were drenched as Catra's pussy spasmed and squirted below her. The feeling of Catra's white hot release was it for Adora. She slammed down once, twice, a third time, and then her body went rigid as her own orgasm ripped through her. The blond's back arched and her head snapped back, eyes open and wide, her vision filled with porta literal stars as she emptied her balls deep into her girlfriend.

Below her Catra writhed and rubbed up into Adora, her pussy was milking Adora's dick for every last drop of cum it could. Adora felt dizzy from her violent release and she pressed them both down against the floor, barely managing to not rest completely atop Catra's petite frame.

They laid there together like that for a long while. Taking greedy breaths and shaking against each other. Adora was still buried deep inside Catra as the woman's pussy contracted around her. Finally when Adora started to come back to herself she eased out of her lover, chuckling lightly at the disgruntled whine Catra let out.

"Ssh baby," Adora cooed. She kept a hand on the small of Catra's back and stroked her fingers through the thick fur as she straightened up on her knees. Her back gave a satisfying crack at the stretch and she sighed looking down at Carta whose fingers were starting to dig into the floor rhythmically. Her hips were raised trying to get as close as possible to Adora's gently scratching hand. "Come on baby," Adora murmured softly as she picked Catra up.

Catra was practically boneless in her arms but Adora managed to get her knees locked around her waist and her arms over her shoulders before she hoisted both of them up off of the floor. She took a moment to get her bearings and wrapped an arm more securely under Catra's ass.

Catra had almost immediately started purring after Adora picked her up and now it was turning into a loud rumble as she nuzzled her face in Adora's neck and started to scent her. "Bed," she grumbled out against Adora's skin as her claws started to kneed the blond's shoulder.

Adora chuckled and gently butted her head against Catra's. "Yes bed time now," she whispered softly as she spared one last glance to the star filled windows in front of her before focusing on the task at hand.

By Adora's estimate she had about five to ten minutes to get Catra to the privacy of their cabin before the magicat would be forcefully holding Adora down regardless of where they were. Catra's after sex hormone driven instincts were always pretty strong and were Adora's absolute favorite moments to witness. She knew they'd be intense tonight with how hard they'd fucked and Catra still riding the high of that Chix-ekian herbal blend she'd smoked.

"Okay," she murmured taking stock of the situation. This was not her first naked Catra on the bridge rodeo. She knew there was no way she was going to be able to put Catra down long enough to get their clothes back on, the possibility didn't even cross her mind. Still, in an attempt at civility she toed their discarded clothing into a pile and mostly kicked it under her chair.

Adora took a few steps to Catra's chair and grabbed the large fluffy blanket folded up in it. "Hold tight baby," she whispered, waiting a second for Catra to tighten around her body before shaking out the blanket and wrapping it around their bodies.

She grimaced a little at the ten rivets cut into the floor at her feet. Double Trouble would have a field day with that. She shrugged because what could she really do about it now? Quickly she checked Darla's readings before heading off of the bridge. Out in the dim hallways of Darla she could just slightly make out the sounds of music and laughter and it made her smile impossibly wider as she tightened her grip around her purring girlfriend.

She had just reached their door when Entrapta swung around the corner laughing. She just managed to stop herself from running into them and snapped back. Hey smile was sweet as she observed them. "Hi Adora," she managed to whisper out despite her obvious excitement.

"Hi Entrapta," Adora giggled lightly, shifting Catra's weight to her other arm.

"I've noticed we have continued on at our current trajectory Adora," Entrapta whispered, her hair expressing her obvious delight with the way it rolled around her body.

"Indeed," Adora whispered and then smiled widely when Entrapta had to cover her mouth with her hair to keep her excited shriek down.

"Goodnight Adora," Entrapta whispered, and then leant towards Catra and whispered even quieter "goodnight Catra."

Gently Entrapta patted the area between Catra's ears with her hair, and Adora had to push down a delighted gasp when Catra's tail came up and curled around the end of the hair. Adora honestly felt like she could cry at the way Catra's tail intimately held onto Entrapta, swirling around her hair for a few seconds before dropping back down to tuck under the blanket. That gesture from Catra held more meaning than any hug could and it was clear from the happy smile on Entrapta's face that she understood that. The princess waved before barreling back the way she'd come from.

A sharp, pointed nip at her shoulder made Adora chuckle and she turned and walked them into their cabin. She shrugged off the blanket wrapped around them and headed into their little bathroom, Catra still in her arms.

In a clearly practiced routine she ran a washcloth under warm water and brought it up between them to wipe at the sticky mess between Catra's legs. Catra was starting to purr like a skiff motor now and rub her face in earnest against Adora's neck and shoulders.

Satisfied that Catra's fur wouldn't mat Adora headed back into their bedroom and turned out the lights. A light glow from the baseboards was all the light Adora needed to walk the few feet to their bed. She turned around and carefully lowered their bodies down, her muscles tensed to keep them from tipping back. They had picked up the unique bed a few planets ago after Catra had fallen in love with the design. It's sides raised up gradually creating a deep pocketed area in the middle. It was a little tricky to get in and out of, but being nested down in the middle with Catra was absolutely worth it.

After some practiced maneuvering Adora laid down and stretched out her legs, a deep sigh releasing from her chest as Catra wrapped her body around Adora's. A big goofy smile split Adora's face in half as Catra started to rumble on top of her. A moment later her kneading started back up and she began to lick gently at Adora's bruised and scraped neck.

Adora was absolutely blissed out with contentment as she buried her fingers into Catra's furr, one hand right above her tail, the other behind an ear, and started scratching. The rumbling and purring kicked up several notches and Catra began to lick at her skin in earnest.

She'd learned a lot in the last seven months, but the most important lesson had been figuring out all the ways Catra had been saying "I love you" since they were toddlers. She hadn't gotten it before the heart, hadn't thought it was possible because Catra had never said the words out loud. But every purr, nuzzle, and kneed Catra had let out just for Adora had said it for her. Adora was so fucking glad that circumstances aside, she'd finally gotten the chance to figure this out.

The room was absolutely silent but Adora could still feel the light soothing pulse of bass. They laid together for a long time as Catra's rough tongue laved over Adora's neck and upper torso. Adora kept up her diligent scratching, shifting whenever necessary to give Catra easy access to her body. The sounds coming out from Catra were honestly favorite sounds in the universe, a constant deep purr that was laid under a rumbling growl.

Catra was apparently satisfied with her grooming job because she started to settle against Adora, her purr has toned down into a lazy idle as she gently rubbed her scent glands against the splotchy skin of Adora's neck

"I love you so much," Catra murmured, shifting up to press gentle kisses against Adora's face. Her eyes blinked slowly.

"I love you too," Adorab breathed out before pulling Catra down to settle her head on Adora's chest. Adora kept gently stroking behind Catra's ears up until the moment sleep claimed her, warm and content, wrapped completely around her lover.

Darla cruised quietly through space for parts unknown.

[hteragram-x]

Firefighter AU [again]

New story for the AU. This time about Virgil wondering who the hell is Logan. Also, apparently, Virgil’s main personality trait in this universe is thinking that Remus is very pretty and then being like: “hey! who said that?!”.

If it’s the first time you see this AU I think you can still understand what’s going on without reading older posts, but in case you’re interested: [HERE] is the introduction, [HERE] are some general HCs, over [THERE] you can find a story where Remus and Virgil met for the first time, and [HERE] is previous story :>

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Word count: 2240

Relationships: technically Dukexiety, but they’re not there yet; Creativitwins

TW: mentions of fire (what a surprise), small injury, mentions of blood, some animal bones, swearing (because I’m mentally 12 and think that swearwords are fucking hilarious)

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Because Logan Said So

             Over the last four months Virgil has learnt a lot about his new co-workers. Not every information he managed to gather was particularly interesting or even worth remembering, but having that knowledge helped with making the new workplace more familiar. And familiarity brought comfort.

           He learnt, for example, that their janitor – Jeremy – was the most grumpy and easily annoyed person in the entire firehouse despite being the youngest janitor Virgil has ever met. It was relatively easy to avoid him most of the time, but if he wanted everyone to know about his problems with something you would be informed that he’s unhappy regardless of your own involvement, or lack thereof, in the situation.

           Virgil also learnt that Anna was pretty helpful when it came to failing equipment and technology. They weren’t employed to do the repairs, but it didn’t stop them from trying to fix everything anyway. The guy with very short hair, whose name Virgil could never remember, was leaving his helmet in unexpected places and had three kids that he talked about all the time. Alex was often late, but always stayed at work longer than anyone. And that one girl everyone called Apple for some unknown reason was currently building a house and you couldn’t escape hearing about it, no matter how much you didn’t want to at the moment.

           Talking to Virgil about issues he wasn’t that interested in seemed to be the common thing among most of his co-workers.

           Pretty standard stuff. Nothing out of the ordinary.

           What was also not out of ordinary was the bird skull lying on his desk this Tuesday.

           “Remus! Is this a gift or are you just leaving your stuff all over the office again!?”, he half-yelled knowing that the younger twin had to be somewhere in the building at this hour. Not that he memorized his schedule or something. He just knew…

           Suddenly a head with a mass of unkempt hair and spider webs on top of it popped from under his desk. It was not the first time Remus was staying there, but Virgil still winced seeing the man crawling from the tiny space. It cannot be comfortable, he though for probably fifteenth time.

           “There’s no way it’s comfortable in there,” he pointed out, also for fifteenth time.

           “It isn’t”, Remus said, like he always did and smiled, stretching his long arms above his head. Even without his shoes – he always walked around the office in just his socks, because of course he did – he was still much taller than Virgil which somehow managed to fluster him more every time he noticed the difference.

           Virgil decided to ignore the futile argument instead pointing at the skull and a couple of sticks he’s just noticed next to his computer.

           “Can you keep your mess out of my desk?”

           “You didn’t even say ‘hi’ to me today”, Remus pouted.

           “I’ll say ‘hi’ when you take your stuff from my space,” he sighed.

           Remus groaned, his arms hanging loosely at his sides in resignation.

           “God… you sound like Logan.”

           A-ha! There he is. This mysterious “Logan”, whoever he was.

           Over the last four months Virgil has learnt a lot about his new co-workers. But no other person was as interesting and worth knowing as Remus himself. The number of weird quirks Virgil has memorized about the guy was unmatched by any other person working at the firehouse which was in no way a surprising score given the circumstances in which they’ve met.

           He was weird in so many ways that it almost seemed normal again. And according to Roman he used to be even more chaotic and unpredictable when the twins were younger. At first Virgil was pretty nervous around the guy – with all of his jokes about violence or with his creepy staring – but now this… interesting behaviour became just a normal and entirely expected part of his days.

           If Remus run into the room and didn’t stop until he hit the wall… fine. Virgil just checked if the guy was okay and went back to work. If he bit the bar of soap… also fine. You just had to make sure he didn’t swallow it all and forget about it for the rest of your day. When he left some of his most disturbing sketches on the fridge, you just commented on his skills as an artist or flipped them, so the picture was facing the door of the fringe, if the drawing was particularly disgusting.

           A standard day with Remus.

           Apparently talking about some “Logan” that no one ever met was also a standard part of his character. And Virgil was very annoyed at himself knowing how jealous he sometimes felt because of this mysterious guy. The jealousy, however, seemed to weaken a bit when he realized that Roman was also bringing the name up almost every day. It started to sound like an inside joke that Virgil was too nervous to ask about.

           “Okay! Your desk’s just as clean as my legs yesterday when I jumped into the river to find a shiny stone, but it was a broken bottle, so I got glass stuck in my hand!” Remus smiled even wider, showing a little too many teeth and lifting his palm with three fingers covered in bandages.

           Virgil pinched the bridge of his nose.

           “Why do you have zero self-control?”, he asked, very much aware that the question was pointless.

           No one knew. And if someone did know, it definitely wasn’t Remus.

           “Sounds like a question Logan would ask”, said Roman who has just appeared out of nowhere behind Virgil. The shorter man shivered a little, not expecting anyone except for Alex who was finishing his shift to be in the room with them.

           “It does!”, Remus agreed poking the bandages with a finger. Knowing him, Virgil assumed he wanted to check if it’ll make the wound open and colour the fabric with blood. “And like I said, I just cleaned up your desk.” The firefighter moved much closer to Virgil towering over him with some different kind of smile. He really was smiling a lot for a person, who wanted to appear at least a little scary most of the time. “Where’s my ‘hi’?”

           The shorter man glanced up at him, suddenly feeling a little overwhelmed with the whole situation and all of his conflicting feelings. It definitely wasn’t the first time he found himself in a position like that. He should have got used to Remus being annoying and invading his personal space long ago. Or maybe he did get used to that and he was just confused by the fact that he really… didn’t mind?

           “Hi,” he said finally, the corners of his lips lifting slightly.

           “Hello,” Remus answered with something twinkling in his green eyes.

           There was a minute of silence. None of them seemed to want to move.

           “You’re both gross,” said Roman decisively and ruined the moment by rolling his eyes and walking right between them to the adjacent kitchen.

           Virgil felt blush creeping up his neck. He completely forgot about the second twin being in the room with them. Wouldn’t be the first time he got distracted like that.

           And he couldn’t even get mad at Roman… that was a little bit gross. …In a good way.

           “You can keep the bird skull if you want to. I planned to paint it and add to my new sculpture, but I have plenty more to use instead.”

           Virgil was more than grateful for the change of the topic.

           “No, thanks. But show me the sculpture once it’s done.”

           That was apparently a right thing to say, because Remus looked very satisfied with himself which was always nice. Virgil really liked to see him so cheerful, even when it meant complimenting some naturalistic painting or listening to his unsettling ideas. He was even more handsome when he seemed genuinely happy… wait, what?

           Virgil coughed nervously and quickly moved to the desk, putting his bag down and turning the computer on. When he was adjusting the headset and checking his microphone he looked back at Remus and gave him a little shy wave.

           “Don’t set yourself on fire today,” he said using their usual equivalent of ‘good bye’.

           “No promises!”, was a standard reply.

 ***

             Roman grabbed a bag of gummy worms from Remus’ hand preventing him from showing them all into his mouth at once.

           “Stop eating so much sweets. You’ll already too energetic today.”

           Remus shrugged and took a long sip of some energy drink he’d been hiding behind his back.

           “Don’t tell me what to do.”

           “It cannot be healthy for you!” Roman tried to grab the can as well, but Remus was sitting on the kitchen counter, so he easily lifted it out of his brother’s reach.

           “Why?!” he asked in a whiny tone.

           “Because Logan said so!”

           “No, he didn’t.”

           “But he would if he was standing here right now.”

           “…fine!”

           Remus jumped off the counter sending his twin annoyed look, but he put the drink away, only now noticing his slightly shaky hands. He hasn’t said anything to not give Roman the satisfaction and moved to the changing room to dress for their upcoming training.

           Virgil followed him with his eyes, not even trying to hide the confusion. Remus almost never did anything, because it was healthy or responsible. What was happening?

           Who the hell is Logan?

---

           “Roman! …Roman! ROMAN!!!”, Remus looked up seeing his brother sitting atop the fire engine with a book. It was his favourite place to escape the noise, people… and work. “Get down here, you lazy motherfucker! We’re moving the old hoses to the new room.”

           “Have fun then!”

           “They’re heavy! Come back here and help me!”

           “I’m busy…” Roman looked at Remus from behind the book, hoping he’d just get bored and walk away. “And you can lift them yourself, come on.”

           “No, I can’t! They’re packed in those bigger boxes. If I do this myself I’ll drop them on my feet or hurt my back and Logan said it’s dangerous!” Remus smirked, already knowing he won the argument. “And do you really want to leave me unsupervised?”

           “Okay, okay. I’ll help… It’s not your fault you’re a weak baby!”

           The rest of the conversation was too quiet for Virgil to hear through the open window from the garages below. The twins probably moved to the other room to finish the task. And Roman, who truly didn’t like this kind of repetitive labour, helped without much complaining… Strange.

           Who the fuck was Logan?

---

           “Roman, you forgot the scarf. It’s freezing. Logan said you’ll catch a cold!”

           “Logan would already give you a lecture for sleeping on a chair like that… At least move to the floor… I’ll bring you some blankets… Yes, I know it’s 4am. You think I’m happy about it?”

           “If Logan saw the mess you’ve made he be so disappointed with you…”

           “Okay, stop staring at cute boys and get back to work! Just imagine if Logan saw you right now. It’s pathetic. Oh… is my little brother blushing?”

           “What do you mean ‘why’? Just stay safe. Because Logan said so!”

           “Because Logan said so!”

 ***

             “Okay… who the hell is Logan?”

           Remus looked at Virgil from the axe he’s been sharpening on the office floor. He was clearly confused, not expecting anyone to talk to him after Roman left the room a few seconds ago.

           “What?”

           Virgil gripped the fabric of his trousers nervously.

           “I’ve asked who’s Logan.” There was a moment of silence. “You… you two keep bringing him up and I… I know that no one with that name works here and no one else is ever talking about this guy. If it’s a guy.” He stopped himself before he started rambling. “So… Who is Logan?”

           Remus was looking at him with a very weird set of emotions in his eyes. It was impossible to decipher what he was thinking or feeling at the moment which was pretty unusual for a person who was normally so open with what he thought or felt.

           Finally he went back to cleaning the axe lying on his knees.

           “Wouldn’t you like to know operator boy…” he said with a smirk.

           Virgil blinked, even more perplexed.

           “Y-yes! That’s why… Of course I want to know! That’s why I asked in the first place!”

           This time Remus openly laughed as if Virgil just told him a joke. It was one of his loudest and wildest laughs that most people learnt to ignore after working with Remus for a while, but it was still pretty creepy for anyone unfamiliar with the firefighter’s personality. Virgil would find it pretty pleasant to listen to if it wasn’t meant to mock him at the moment.

           “I don’t know what’s so funny…” he said defensively. He already regretted ever asking the question. Maybe it was a wrong moment? Maybe he should have asked Roman instead?

           “Of course you don’t! Oh, the irony…”

           He was very close to asking “what’s the irony”, but decided against it. Apparently he wasn’t getting any actual answers right now. Okay. He could wait and be patient when he wanted to. He’s already been waiting for months before the curiosity finally pushed him to say anything. There were other ways to get that information. It might be a difficult task, but he’ll learn the truth… eventually.

-

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General writing taglist: @imma-potatoo

Taglist for this AU: @isabelle-stars @wintersandsunshine

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist or removed from it :>

[bluerosewritings]

Tarts and Kisses | Riddle x Fem!Reader

[Originally posted on “The Heart Mirror” on Wattpad]

Riddle stared at his phone, biting his lip. The red head wasn't usually one for late nights - if things were going his way, he would have finished going over his notes half an hour ago and would now be sleeping. Unfortunately, things were not going his way.

Because of rule 373 of the Queen of Hearts - 'if one is unable to be near the person of their affection, they must partake in a form of communication at the 9th hour of the 5th night' - the two of you always called each other at nine o'clock every Friday. The two of you had also decided to alternate who called who each week, this week being your turn to call.

Yet you hadn't called.

At first, Riddle had brushed it off as you being distracted. Sure, he was a little annoyed that you hadn't properly adhered to the rules, but whenever you hadn't in the past you usually had a proper reason.

So when Riddle watched the clock hit ten, he began to worry. Surely you wouldn't have taken this long to call? As menial as the calls were, you'd told him often how you "loved just hearing his voice". Maybe you fell asleep? But wouldn't you have told him how tired you were?

Unable to take it any longer, Riddle left his room. As he passed by the dorm lounge, he caught a glimpse of Trey out the corner of his eye.

"You're back late, Trey," Riddle said, slowing down his pace, "are you finished with the food for tomorrow's Unbirthday Party?"

"Hmm? Oh, Riddle. Thought you'd be asleep by now." Trey replied.

"Unfortunately, no. I'm on my way to check on (y/n)," Riddle frowned, "she missed our Friday call, and I... need to make sure that she has a proper reason."

Trey smiled, knowing how soft Riddle could be when it came to enforcing rules on you. Then realisation dawned on him.

"Ah, Riddle, she won't be in her dorm," Trey explained, "I asked her to help me with the last of the Unbirthday Party food, but we had an accident... nothing major. But it probably distracted her."

"I see... thank you, Trey. Make sure nothing happens while I'm gone."

"W-Wait, Riddle...!"

—

You pushed the tart to the back of the fridge. After closing the door, you looked over at the other treats lined up on the cafeteria kitchen's windowsill. Trey had said that they would be better there instead of the fridge.

Next, you walked over to the oven and peered at the tray of cookies. Rows of hearts, spades, clovers, diamonds and roses were hardening nicely from what you could tell. Since you'd left them until last, Trey had said to just let them cool and he'd ice them in the morning. That just left...

You turned around and grimaced. The giant pile of flour and the wrapping they exploded from taunted you. Where did they keep the broom again...?

Before you could begin your search, a pair of arms wrapped themselves around your body. You turned around to see who it was only to have a pair of lips crash against yours mid-turn.

At first you panicked, then your eyes noticed a familiar heart-shaped cowlick. Relieved, you relax into the kiss, wrapping your own arms around your boyfriend. When you sadly pull apart, Riddle presses a kiss on your cheek. You smile and nuzzle your face into his neck, allowing him to press a third kiss on the top of your head.

"You worried me." Riddle mumbled, stroking the back of your head.

"Worried?" You frowned. "Why?"

Riddle sighed. "(y/n), it's nearly 11."

"Wait, what?" You pulled away from the hug and went over to your bag. Once you fished your phone out, you cringed at the time on the display. "Oh, Riddle, I'm so sorry..."

"As you had a genuine reason, I'll let you off the hook this time," Riddle said kissing your other cheek, "however, next time it'll be off with your head. Understand?"

You giggled. "Yes, my Queen."

Before you could lean in for another, the oven timer went off. Remembering the cookies, you cursed and grabbed the oven mitts.

Riddle watches as you start unloading the cookies onto a cooling tray, his eyes brightening with amusement as you start moving the rose-shaped ones.

"Did you do these one?" He asks.

"That obvious?" You chuckle, feeling your cheeks light up slightly.

Riddle shakes his head, smiling. "We don't usually have rose-shaped cookies for the Unbirthday Party, so I figured you must have thought of it instead of Trey. They're cute."

"T-Thanks." You stammer.

You push the rack backwards towards the rest of the treats. Riddle takes the oven mitts off you and puts them away as you make room for all of them.

"Is everything meant to be on the side?" Riddle asks when he's back by your side.

You nod. "Trey said only the tarts had to go in the fridge. Everything else was better off on the side to cool - I was just making sure the cookies were easy to reach, since they need to be iced in the morning..."

Riddle hums in response. "If you want, I could help you move everything to Heartslabyul. That way-"

"No!" Riddle looks at you, confused. "I-I mean, I don't wanna risk dropping anything! Since, y'know, w-we won't have any time to remake it..."

"Are you sure?"

You nodded quickly.

"Very well..." He said, not full believing you but deciding not to push it. Maybe you were just tired.

You sighed in relief. Riddle already seeing the rose cookies was already a bit of a let down, but as long as he didn't see what was in the fridge, it wasn't all for nothing.

Your eyes caught sight of the flour pile again. "Oh, shoot, I forgot about that... Riddle, do you know where they keep the cleaning broom?"

Riddle followed your line of vision and saw the pile. It was almost up to his ankles, with parts of their bags sticking out. This must of been the accident Trey was talking about - flour bags all exploding on the ground.

He took a look at your face and decided it was best not to ask. Now that he got a good look at you, there were bags under your eyes. You really were tired.

"Allow me." Taking out his magic pen, Riddle chanted a short spell.

The flour and paper bags lifted off the floor. With another flick of his wrist, two of the bins opened and the levitating items sorted themselves into them.

You let out a sigh of relief and kissed your boyfriend's cheek. "Thanks. I really didn't want to deal with that..."

Riddle chuckled, catching your hand in his. "I could tell. Was there anything else? Or can I walk you back to your dorm now?"

"You may." You say with a smile.

You threaded your fingers between his as the two of you set off. While you tried to listen to what you boyfriend was telling you, a mix of tiredness and thoughts of tomorrow were making it near impossible. Even as you kissed Riddle goodnight and waved him off, all you could think about was his future smile at your present.

—

The horns sounded off. "Our great leader! The Crimson Ruler! Announcing Dorm Head Riddle!"

"Dorm Head Riddle! Hip hip hooray!"

He really did look like royalty, you thought, watching Riddle walk down to the head table, crown balanced on his head and cape fluttering behind him. As according to the laws of the Queen of Hearts, Trey as vice dorm leader was to his left and you as his girlfriend were to his right. Not wanting to risk any chance of him seeing your gift, you shifted your legs slightly to block the bag as best as you could, Riddle luckily being too preoccupied with checking the decorations to notice your fidgeting.

"You all have your teacups?" Cater nudged you and you quickly grabbed your teacup's handle. "Today is nobody's birthday, so to this Unbirthday Party! Cheers!"

"Cheers!" Rang out across the field.

You took a sip - earl grey for this month - and looked over at Riddle. His gaze was directed towards the selection of tarts Trey had made; berries and cream, raspberry almond crumb, brown butter apple. You saw the flicker of confusion in his eyes. Figuring now was the perfect time, you placed down your cup.

You pulled the bag onto your lap. "Riddle?"

Riddle turned to you. "Yes?"

Surprise lit up his face when you emptied the bag. Carefully, you held out a strawberry tart towards him. The tart was slightly smaller than the others, with the strawberry slices carefully arranged into the shape of a heart.

"Sorry if I seemed a little off yesterday," you said as he takes the tart off you, "I just didn't want you to find out. You're always so kind to me, helping me out even when we weren't dating... I wanted to do something for you in return."

A soft smile grew on Riddle's face. You swear you could feel your heart jump out of your chest when you two made eye contact, the adoration in his eyes making you melt. The kiss he pressed against your cheek didn't help.

"Thank you." Riddle seemed to whisper in your ear.

Riddle pulled away and placed the tart on a plate. Carefully, he took out a knife and cut out a slice, placing it on his plate.

"Shouldn't Ace do that for you?" You asked, remembering the Queen of Hearts rule 41.

"I'd rather do it myself." Riddle replied, prompting a small blush grew on your cheeks.

While Riddle tried to keep his adult composure, inside he was like a gleeful child. Cutting away part of the tart, Riddle couldn't stop his heart rate growing at the thought of you making this especially for him. It tasted different from Trey's - a little heavier, but somehow sweeter. So sweet. It was addicting.

He glanced over at you. You were watching him nervously, smiling when he caught your eye. Spearing another part of the tart, he brought it to your lips.

"Say 'aah'." Riddle wasn't usually one for public affection, but he felt it was only right to share the tart with you. The red glow on your face was nice too.

The tart hadn't tasted exactly how you thought it would, but watching Riddle immediately return to finish off the slice before cutting off another. As he offered you another taste, you wondered if Trey would let you help with baking again.

[1234-waystodie]

The Israeli-Palestine conflict

*for the disclaimer - this message was written by an Israeli citizen who is following what happens in Gaza closely from news all over the world*

Thank you for reading this message. I will start with the fact that I’m not going to refer to the start of the conflict (who the land belongs to, who was here first) because it’s not relevant to the point that I’m trying to get to. This message talks about the present-day - Israel is a state, Gaza is not. Israel is a democracy, Gaza is being controlled by Hamas, a terrorist organization. Those are facts and you can look them up at Google if you don’t believe me. Okay so - let’s talk about the present conflict, “Shomer Hachomot”. It all started with what happened in Jerusalem. Frankly, I’m not going to get into this either because you can look at this both ways but I will say this - nobody shot anybody just because they were in a certain place. Jerusalem is a very complicated story and I’ll admit I didn’t really dig about what happened there. The fact is that after what happened in Jerusalem a group of Israeli-Arabs radicals who lived their whole life in peace with their neighborhoods, Israeli-Jews, made violent acts across the mixed cities (Lod, Ramle, Jerusalem, Haifa)... Cities that just a couple of days before were safe and happy for both sides became war zones - Arabs (again, radicals, there are a lot of Arabs that are against the way others act) lit things on fire, broke things across the city, tried and killed a citizen that was on his way home and made a lot of damage both to the city but more importantly to the trust of their neighborhoods who did nothing wrong.

Just for those who don’t understand how bad things got - my father bought a week before everything went down in Ramle meat from a nice Arab man who gave coffee and a warm welcome as my father was new to his shop. I used to get into Umm al-Fahm, An Arab village, to buy stuff. Now people are afraid to walk the street - a jew that lived all his life in that mixed city was killed when he drove through it, people broke his window, took him out of his car and hit him with a brick to his head and he died. Murdered.

So, as “support” Hamas started firing rockets from Gaza to Israel and that’s how “Shomer Hachomot” - the current operation started. Now, the drill is this - Hamas is firing rockets at the citizens of Israel. Israel tells them to stop and if they don’t they fire in Gaza and that’s the part you need to read closely. 

Israel is not firing at civilians. It’s a fact and if you don’t believe me you can look at videos such as https://www.facebook.com/ynetnews/posts/10159905254995572 Translation: “Check if there are any children here.” “There are kids here, they are moving fast.” “Wow, we think there are kids here. We are stopping this.” “Right? there is a big one and a couple of small ones.” “We are suspecting that there are kids and we will not do it, we wouldn’t risk their life.” “Yes.”

So, why Israel was planning to fire in that place in the first place? Simple this is the point that I feel that most of the world doesn’t understand. When Israel fires at Gaza it doesn’t aim at civilians. Hamas is firing missiles and building headquarters where the civilians are so when Israel will come and kill Hamas members the citizens will be in the crossfire as well and then they would say “Israel is killing civilians!” 

Now you would say “this is not an excuse they are still firing at civilians!” Wrong. 

Israel is giving a couple of hours’ notice before they are attacking a building with civilians in it. Just a couple of days ago a big news tour was brought down - one of the reporters, from the Gaza side, who worked there wrote a breaking story about how they got a short notice, about how he couldn’t get most of the things he holds dear out. About how people that are leaving there are homeless. What he ‘forgot’ to say was that the building was the headquarters of Hamas, and they were the target of this Israeli raid. All the citizens by the way are well and alive because, as I said, Israel always tells beforehand so that people wouldn’t get hurt. 

A couple of days ago we saw the picture and video of a young girl (6) that was rescued from the distraction of her home after an Israeli raid destroyed a building close to hers. Tragic. Again what the media left out was that Hamas build tunnels underneath the city so he could hide from civilians and Israelis alike and when Israel destroyed a building that was related to Hamas the tunnels underneath collapsed which, unexpectedly, led to homes of innocent civilians collapsing as well - hence what happened with this 6-year-old. Israel doesn’t want innocent civilians to be killed and there was no way to know this would happen - a thing that Israel by the way said and apologized for as it was not planned to happened.

I don’t remember when but sometime in this operation a rocket that was fired from Gaza and was supposed to lend in Israel landed in Gaza and killed kids. Do you know what the media in Gaza did? That’s right kids - they took pictures and posted that Israeli rid killed those kids. Because that’s easy to blame the enemy when the whole world thinks it’s their fault anyway so why not make things worst? Another point that makes people hate Israel is the Iron Dome. Fewer people in Israel are getting killed because of that - for those who don’t know what the Iron Dome is, it’s “is a mobile all-weather air defense system[8] developed by Rafael Advanced Defense Systems and Israel Aerospace Industries.[7] The system is designed to intercept and destroy short-range rockets and artillery shells fired from distances of 4 kilometers (2.5 mi) to 70 kilometers (43 mi) away and whose trajectory would take them to an Israeli populated area.[9][10]” (taken from Wikipedia)

That is the face of Israel - defend and protect citizens while Hamas is doing everything he can to attack Israeli citizens without thinking twice about the life of people in Gaza.  

Funny story, did you know that Israel gives Gaza food, fuel, electricity, medicine, aid, money, and far more? Every month? Yes, taxes from people like me and my friends go to Gaza to help them. My money goes to help Gaza citizens, my government tries to help Gaza citizens and it’s been happening for the last 20 years.

Now let’s talk about what happened world-wild. When things are bad for Israel do you know who the rest of the world blames? Jewish people. Notice how from anti-Israeli the hate became to be anti-Semite. In London, my favorite place on earth, people called out to “rape all the Jewish girls.” In Montreal people are looking to find Jewish houses to attack the people in the house, my friend told me that she knows a girl our age that is afraid to go out of the house. They called a mutual friend of hers who is Christian to threaten her if she doesn’t give them her location so they could hurt her friend. Only a month ago a citizen from my city was murdered in the US for being Jewish. He was there to celebrate the wedding of his family and was murdered. For being Jewish. 

Believe me when I say that non of the citizens of Israel are happy for how people in Gaza are suffering. It’s awful. But, and it’s a big but, it’s not Israel’s fault it’s Hamas. So yes, #freeGazafromHamas is the hashtag that needs to go around, it doesn’t have to be Israel VS Gaza, us or them, life if not black and white, it needs to be #IstandwithIsrael while also saying #freeGazafromHamas. 

To sum up - please read more than one source and don’t believe everything that the media is saying. I know it became a trend to hate Israel because a lot of celebrities see what’s on the media and decided not to question anything and hate a country that is just trying to protect itself. And please, god please, stop hating Jewish people who have nothing to do with what happens in the middle east. If you have any more questions or if you want to make a civil conversation you can always write me <3

[ddaenggtan]

black irises in the sunshine | kth

anger is everything. other gods tease you for the short fuse, but it comes with the territory. people have called you stupid, have called you dumb, oafish, useless, incompetent, insolent, rude, arrogant. all of it. insults and mockery flung at you, but even your skin isn’t thick enough to deal with constant abuse. it’s the exact reason you keep going to the underground, knuckles bloody and bruised, fighting anyone that dared enter the cage. it’s the reason you go to the clubs, surround yourself with mortals and their writhing bodies. it’s there that you see him the first time, voice husky as it rolls through the room. it’s there you find someone who treats you differently than the rest. you just never expected him to be one of the muses. | monsters and gods pt 3 (masterlist)

pairing | taehyung x reader

genre/warnings | greek god au, calliope!taehyung, ares!reader, theres a lot of violence and it does get descriptive so be aware of that, none of the main characters other than ares get hurt and its not uncalled for or anything in a narrative sense, so just be aware of that; there are mentions of other idols, but if you can guess them you get a cookie because they are Vague; suuuuper bisexual Ares, Ares Can Step On Me, like I am SO gay for her it isn’t funny; explicit smut ft: cunnilingus, taeHUNG bc hes got MASSIVE SCHLONG,  some body worship kind of and then just....regular worship? like? idk how to explain that? lots of praise and lots or orgasms

word count | 14k | cross posted to ao3

a/n | HOOOOOOO this has been sitting in my google docs for literal months waiting for an ending and i decided to try to get it out for tae's birthday bUT that didn't work because i have a Job and shit so YEET I GUESS HAPPY FUCKIN NEW YEAR??? LIKE??? YEEEEEEEEEEEEE this fic is very near to me because Ares is my sweet sad angry babie and i love her, and i love tae and i love suho and i love the muses and i just........lOVE this fic like i think this is currently my favorite of the mag series so!! i hope yall also enjoy it!!!! yall are welcome to send me messages about this even tho I'm terrible at replying to them in a timely manner!! thanks to everyone who helped me with this, and everyone who has expressed interest in it, and everyone who has ever read anything of mine, because you're genuinely the best people ever, and this is literally a gift to y'all because you deserve it. 

Fuck, that was too hard .

The guy across from you goes flying, hitting the chain link wall of the cage harder than you intended. Every nerve ending in your body is on fire, and even holding back, you've got a better buzz than even the best nectar can give. Your blood sings as the guy gets back up, and you almost wish you could remember his name, because he's put up a hell of a fight. For a mortal, anyway. 

He charges at you again, and time slows as your vision tunnels. You can see the feint as he decides on it, how he hesitates in bringing his left up. You wait, watching him get closer and closer. You start to dart to your left, letting him think he's got you, before you side-step and dart to your right instead. His punch goes wide as you steady your balance and move. The top of your foot connects with his ribcage and the resulting crack of bone is lost amid the cheers and yells of the audience. 

Your opponent steps back and you're proud of the way he doesn't show the pain. He doesn't wince, doesn't move to touch the spot you hit, just tightens his stance and clenches his jaw. It's only you that notices the hitch in his breath, the way he flinches with every inhale. Your eyes narrow at that, zeroing in on the rib. You'd meant to just crack it, had been holding back most of your strength to keep from hurting him too seriously, but as he steps forward, you can see the way he grits his teeth against the pain. 

The fight leaves you immediately, like a bucket of cold water straight to the chest, and you drop your hands. 

"Yield." He just stares at you, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Yield to me, and then go to the doctor."

"I'm not gonna yield," He says. He spits a mouthful of blood out onto the floor. "I'm not weak."

"Seriously, dude," You insist. "You're not gonna win this, and I don't want to hurt you more." 

His scoff has you seeing red. "As if a princess like you could hurt me."

Your fist connects with his face before either of you registers that you've moved. There's a voice in the back of your head reminding you that he's just mortal, he can't take the same kind of beating you can, but it's lost in the haze of fury. The next thing you know, the ref is dragging you away and slamming you into the cage wall. Your opponent is being dragged out - you still don't know his name - and he looks beaten senseless. Victory rolls through you accompanied by a sick satisfaction at the way his blood looks decorating the canvas beneath your feet. 

It lasts for less than an hour. It's always like this; the thrill of the fight, the burn of success, it's gone faster than you can blink. It's what drives you to keep fighting, to keep going to match after match, just to seek out the under-the-table stuff afterwards. It's never enough, not anymore. Back in the old days, they'd let you fight anything. Bears, bulls, lions, giants, anything they could get a noose around long enough to point it at a colosseum. That was a long time ago, though, before all the rights movements happened. You won't lie: you miss fighting beasts like that. The sheer power and strength they have, the survival instinct that makes them such fierce competitors, it's so much better than the rules and regulations of the mortal world now. Fights have gotten dull, rehearsed, more like a performance or a show than an actual fight. People make more money losing than they do winning and it's made the world boring. 

You flex your hand as you open the door to your favorite bar. Something caught it at some point in the last fight, a cheekbone or a tooth, and it stings a little. Doesn't hurt, not exactly, not for a goddess, but it did enough that you feel it at all, which means it couldn't have been anything but torture for the guy on the other end. The bartender waves at you and gets your usual ready as you sit, and you idly wonder if Busted Rib Guy will be okay. It looked painful, for a human, and you'd tried to hold back, but…

Well, you weren't really responsible for what happened to condescending little fucks, were you?

You sip the bourbon, enjoying the burn as it goes down. The lights are dim, tonight. You're glad. You don't want to deal with people looking at you, men coming over to talk to you, trying to advise you on how to properly bandage your knuckles or how to avoid the bruise on your cheek next time. If you had wanted to avoid it, you would have. You'd intended it to hurt worse, honestly, but that first guy'd had a weaker right hook than you expected. 

You look around, wondering if anyone here would provide a decent distraction for the night. There's a pretty brunette in the corner with carefully crafted braids, and as your eyes travel, you imagine what's hiding beneath the silk and leather. You're pulled from the thought by the sound of music, and you curse under your breath. You forgot that it's an open mic night and you'd meant to go to the bar across town instead. Irritation colors your vision; every open mic night is awful, full of lofty poets talking about their trauma and wannabe Taylor Swifts thinking they're on the same level as Sappho. Ah, now that was a girl with a set of pipes. You miss her, wonder what she would say to the butchering of whatever song you're about to hear.

The voice that comes isn't what you expect. It's smooth and deep. The world turns to velvet around you as the voice wanders from one speaker to another, creating a mesmerizing multi-dimensional effect despite the way the singer doesn't ever leave the stage. You turn, knuckles white around your bourbon glass; he's utterly magnetic, every eye in the room trained on him as he purrs into the vintage mic. Long fingers are wrapped around the scuffed metal, decorated with jewels that glitter in the dim light of the bar. You can smell the lingering cigarette smoke from the guy beside you and the Jäger from the girl two stools down and for once, you don't even care. He's captivating, voice travelling between speakers in the bar and coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. 

Your eyes don't leave him, and you wonder if you can memorize the way the blond waves fall against his forehead if you stare long enough. 

The red seeps away from you, slinking back into the corners of your mind, settling once more into a low thrum under your skin. It fades into the background of this man's voice, the charisma that rolls off him in waves as he pulls the mic in close just to push it to the side with a teasing smirk. It settles something in your chest that hasn't been calm since the fight in Athens so long ago. 

The music fades out sooner than you'd like, and he gives a slight bow before wandering into the crowd. You do your best to follow him, but the gold of his hair disappears almost immediately, lost in the throng of people around the stage waiting to speak to him. You turn back around, downing the next bit of bourbon that Suho pours you. 

"I know," He says with a grin. You cock a brow at him, not having said anything he could agree with. "He's good. That's what you were thinking, right? He's why we're so packed on open mics. Got the audio and lighting guy whipped, so he's got all these special effects, too. Drives people crazy.”

"He's alright," You mutter. You toss a few bills down on the bartop and step back. Suho gives you a courteous nod as you leave. The bouncer gives you a dirty look when he spots the lit cigarette between your lips, but he knows better than to try to tell you otherwise. You've taught him better. 

You lean back against the brick wall of the alley and take a drag. The warm smoke fills your lungs and you close your eyes. It's a different kind of burn than you're used to, a distraction from the crawling sensation that drives you to fight. It's calmer, more controlled. Feels like the smoke from Hestia's fires. Feels like home. 

"Never expected to see you here," A voice calls out. It's deep and startling in the darkness, but you don't jump. You just open your eyes, exhale, and look to where it came from. 

The singer stands before you in the same undone white button up and black tee he performed in. He doesn't have a cig, doesn't seem to have much of any reason to be outside. He moves almost lazily, as if he doesn't even need to, just wants to, and when his gaze flicks up to meet yours, your vision fills just for a breath with every opponent you've ever faced lying at your feet. 

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" The words slip from your tongue before you can stop them. It's not his fault, the voice in your head says, he didn't mean it that way, but still, your blood is thrumming now that he's here and you want to know what he's talking about. Want to know why he thinks you wouldn't be here when there's attractive people and good bourbon and you've never seen this man before in your life. Want to know why he already seems to think you aren't civilized enough to be at a bar, why he spoke but all you heard was Zeus' voice in your memories.

"Exactly what I said. Should I be clearer?"

"Yeah, probably," you spit. Yet another person that assumes you're stupid, that you don't understand basic languages, as if you haven't been speaking them since the ancient times. As if you couldn't speak circles around him if you wanted. "Unless you want your teeth on the fucking ground."

"Good to know the stories are true." He tsks and you're filled with a strange sense of disappointment and fury, both at him and yourself. Your vision turns red at the edges and the cigarette between your fingers is crushed in your grip. He pays no mind to it, just saunters past with a lazy, swaying gait that draws your eyes to his hips and then down the long leather-clad legs. "See you around, Ares."

"That's not my fucking name," You yell after him. He doesn't respond when you shout your actual name, the one you chose, on your own, as a middle finger to the Olympians. "Get it right next time, dickwad."

He turns the corner of the alley and the streetlight catches his face just enough for you to see the smirk he wears. For once in your life, you're torn; you want to smash his face in, yes, because how dare this random guy speak to you like that when you could kill him with one finger to the right pressure point. You also find your skin's hotter than usual, stretched too thin over your bones, and you want him to run his hands over you until it feels right again.

Until it feels like it did when he was singing. 

How did he know my title?

The thought comes unbidden, days later, with the desperate hit of a palm against your shoulder. You've got the woman in a headlock, patiently waiting for her to pass out completely so the fight can be called, and your mind is wandering. 

How did the singer know who you are? You hadn't thought anything of it at the time, distracted by fury and frustration, but with time comes a special kind of clarity. You've never seen him before, not that you know anyway, yet he didn't hesitate to call you Ares. The only ones who know of your kind are your kind, but you haven't seen any of your siblings among mortals in a long time. You thought you knew the other gods and goddesses, but maybe not. It has been a while since you stepped foot in the golden city.

The woman in your grip goes slack and you release her. You're still lost in thought as the ref calls the match and leads you out of the makeshift ring. The cheers of the audience are background noise at this point, akin to static or the buzz of electricity, and you pay them no mind as you head to collect your winnings. You didn't even get any kind of buzz from success this time, too immersed in the way the singer walked and talked and looked. The image of his smirk is burned into your retinas. 

"Yeah, you didn't hear? He just got out of the hospital. They had to keep him overnight because they thought he might puncture a lung. I heard that if it had been a little worse, they would've had to wire his jaw shut." You stop, fingers brushing over the stack of bills you don't even remember being handed. You look up, making eye contact with the guy whispering nearby. Your suspicions are confirmed when his friend smacks his arm and juts his chin in your direction before they both disappear into the crowd. 

You shove your way outside, frustration creeping through you and coloring your vision. You manage to keep it contained long enough for you to make it to the alley behind the warehouse, but it explodes from you in a rush of thrown dumpsters and sheet metal. 

Fuck , you never meant to hurt him like that. You told him, you fucking told him to yield, it isn't your fault he didn't listen. It's not your fault that he went and insulted you, acted like he was better than you just by virtue of being a dude, as if you weren't worshipped in the old days for the power you had and the blessings you could give. You'd held back, through all of it, you'd told him to yield, and he insulted you. It wasn't your fault. 

You slide to the ground, running a shaking hand through your hair. It isn't your fault , you repeat. You close your eyes and take deep breaths, the way Hestia taught you, willing the fury to dissipate. It's like a fire in your veins, burning and bubbling your skin until you can't resist anymore. You take another breath. It isn't your fault. You tried. You offered an out. It isn't your fault. Fuck, what was his name? 

With a growl that quickly morphs into a scream, you kick the dumpster once more before stalking off into the darkness. You need a fucking drink and you're gonna find a distraction in someone else if it's the last thing you do. 

The club is packed when you get there; you're not usually a fan of clubs like this, too full of people who are too friendly, but they're perfect for nights like tonight. You don't even need to wait in line, just slip the bouncer a 50 as you pass, and the bartenders are quick to spot you. You're pretty notorious in the city for over-paying, which means you're knocking back bourbon before you have a chance to ask for it. There are people everywhere, pressed up against both sides of you while the bass thrums in your throat, and it takes you longer than you're proud of to realize why. 

There's a band playing, apparently. They're not bad; the vocalist isn't anything like the singer from Suho's, but it doesn't make you want to tear your ears off, so you consider it a success. 

You're dancing before you remember deciding to. Everything's a blur when you get the itch in your bones, the need to make someone bleed. To feel something that isn't rage or condescension. People are even closer here on the dance floor, suffocating in their proximity, but there's a woman grinding her ass into you, and it sparks the dying fire in your gut. The beat of the music drowns your own heart, and it's all flashing lights and heat and a body pressed against yours that is all too willing.

She follows when you go back to the bar for another drink, and giggles when you lick salt from her wrist before downing tequila. Her hands are wrapped in the leather of your jacket as she kisses you, your own resting lightly on her hips. She laughs against your lips and says something you don't hear before ordering another drink. Something makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You take the brief reprieve to look around the club, searching for whatever it is that has you on alert. You find him on the upper level of the club, leaned over the balcony with a drink in hand. You can't make out his expression, exactly; it's too far away and too guarded. But you'd know him anywhere now. The singer knocks back whatever's in his glass, eyes never leaving yours. You don't know why he's here, if he comes here often or if the Fates are having a laugh at your expense, but you do know you want to make the most of it.

The girl is back, pressing a heated kiss to your lips and drawing your attention from him. You return it, nipping at her lips and getting a small gasp in return. You smirk and bite your way down her neck. She's breathy in your ear, hitched moans lost in the beat of the music, but you barely hear her as you suck bruises into the skin of her neck. He's still watching you. His drink is gone and he's gripping the bannister of the balcony, rings glinting in the light. You wonder if the cool metal could soothe the burn in your bones. You want to know if he can bring that calmness from before back, if he can soothe the frenzy in your mind with his hands the way he can with his voice. Just imagining it has you soaking through to your jeans.

The girl makes a particularly loud noise in your ear and you're brought out of your thoughts. As if he can sense it, the singer straightens. He gives you one last look before disappearing back into the crowd, and you wonder if you're imagining the disdain in it. You draw back from the girl's neck, about to tell her to find her friends when she slides her hands in your hair and tugs.

The burn in your blood is back, now, and you hope this girl is prepared for what awaits her.

"You're here early," Suho says when he spots you in the nearly empty bar the next night. He's not wrong, either; you skipped the fights tonight completely. There was no buzz last time, no relief, and you have no reason to believe there would be tonight. Not with the way the singer captivates your thoughts. 

Besides, you have enough money leftover from the previous few to last a couple days.

"What, did you decide not to kick someone's ass before getting wasted?" Suho doesn't wither at the look you give him, just pours you a couple fingers of bourbon and slides the glass over. "Or did they just stop letting you in completely?"

"I might change my mind if you don't shut up," You tell him. There's no real heat behind it. You've known Suho for years now, been coming to his bar for so long it almost feels like home. You're almost friends at this point. 

It helps that he knows when to bite his tongue so he doesn't get his teeth knocked out.

"Seriously though, I don't think I've ever seen you here this early. Especially not on mic nights." You're very careful in your lack of a reaction to his words. You'd seen the workers setting up for it when you came in, and even if you hadn't, you know when mic night is. You've spent enough time avoiding it.

"Does he sing every time?" You ask in lieu of an explanation. You don't look away from the amber liquid in your glass, letting the silence hang as the bartender does his best to follow your thought process. 

"Taehyung? Most weeks, yeah. It's been a nice change from the usual drunken karaoke. He goes around to some of the other places in town, too. Apparently he just likes to sing." 

"Taehyung," You repeat. The name rolls from your tongue a bit awkwardly. It's more than you expected, somehow, but you can't place exactly how . Just...more. "Is he always that good?"

"Oh, yeah. We have regulars now for mic night because of him. He's got a whole fan club and everything."

"Hm." You drain the rest of your bourbon and Suho refills it. He leaves you in peace then, serving some others that appear at the bar. 

The place fills faster than you can blink. That's what it feels like, anyway. It's like one moment there's you and a handful of other people scattered around, and now you're being jostled between some dude a million feet tall that definitely doesn't look old enough to be here and a girl with her tits up to her throat and surrounded by a cloud of perfume so thick that it starts a migraine behind your eyes almost instantly. She flirts with Suho a little, likely trying to score free drinks, and you roll your eyes. She pouts at him when he gives her the total, batting eyelashes that go on for miles, and for once, you wish Suho would just give in and comp the drinks. 

"I'll pay for them," You say. She was definitely saying something, maybe you should have been paying attention to it, but fuck , this migraine is only getting worse the longer she stands there. "I'll pay for your drinks."

"Oh, thanks," She says. Her smile is hesitant, and quickly turns apologetic as she takes in the boots and the ripped jeans and the leather jacket. "Um, I'm not...I don't, uh…"

"Do I look like I want to fuck you, sweetie?" She looks a little affronted and a laugh escapes you. You lean closer, letting your breath ghost over her cheek as you speak in her ear to be heard better. "If I wanted to fuck you senseless, you'd know it. And I can guarantee you it would be a hell of a lot better than the watered down rat piss this guy's giving you." 

When you lean back, her face is flushed and she's stammering. You smirk and hand her the drinks she'd ordered. 

"Too bad you’re not, you don’t, huh?" You tell her. The patronizing tone isn't lost on her, nor is your mockery of her earlier words, and she shuts her mouth with an audible click before strutting off. Suho glares at you as he pours more bourbon.

"Can you please try not to run off my patrons?" He mutters. "Some of us actually need money to live."

"Some of us would like decently timed refills and to not choke on perfume," You quip. "And better bourbon, for that matter." He hisses something about what he's giving you being top quality but you tune him out, throwing one leg over the stool Perfume Girl vacated. You'd like to keep just a little bit of personal space. 

Across the bar, you catch a brief glimpse of the girl from the night before and you wince. Her neck is thoroughly bruised, and you catch a peek of bruises and scratches on her back as she shrugs her jacket on. You didn’t mean to be so rough with her, even if she had been into it; you’re usually pretty good about remembering that the mortals are just that - mortal - and as such have to be handled delicately. They’re so fragile, it feels like they could break with a strong wind. Guilt settles in your gut and turns the bourbon in your glass to cough syrup. You’ve half a mind to just leave before she sees you, are about to turn and do exactly that, but the speakers screech to life and the deafening feedback from the mic keeps you glued to your seat. 

The crowd quiets even as the excitement ramps up, all talk silencing but for the occasional hushed whispers here and there. The first few notes of the song echo through the speakers, and a spotlight appears on him. 

He looks different this time, his hair dyed a vibrant blue that matches the glinting jewels in his ears and on his hands. He's an absolute vision and you wonder how Aphrodite has allowed him to live so long when he's so beautiful. His voice hangs in the air and calms you, the same settling in your chest as last time, the same freedom from the burn in your veins. It's addictive. 

The song doesn't last nearly as long as you want it to but the stillness inside you lingers long after he's done caressing the microphone. You place a few bills down for Suho and light up a cigarette as you head outside, ignoring the dirty looks from other patrons as you do. You're on a mission, the thrum of bloodlust returning with every second that passes, and you can't even be sure if he's still around or if he's wandered off already. 

You stand in the alley for what feels like hours, turning at every sound and smoking cig after cig just so you have something to do. You've almost decided to say fuck it when footsteps sound from the back of the bar, coming closer to you. 

His blue hair is visible even from the other end of the small alley, a giveaway similar to the light at the end of your cigarette and the smoke you blow into the air. There's no way he hasn't seen you, you think, you're making no effort to hide or be sneaky, and yet he's continuing forward as if he doesn't see you at all, eyes focused on a phone in his hand. You wait until he's just a few steps away before speaking.

"How do you know my title?" You ask him. He stops as if he'd always meant to and doesn't even bother to glance up at you or respond. The edges of your vision turn scarlet at the blatant disregard and you're speaking before you can even process the words. "I asked you a fucking question, pretty boy, you're gonna answer me. Unless you want that precious mouth bloodied up."

"And you wonder how I know who you are," He drawls, still not bothering to spare a glance at you. A scowl grows over your face at his sarcastic tone. "If you're going to hit me just get it over with. Otherwise, I have places to be."

He stands, waiting and expectant, but you don't move. He's humming, quiet and to himself like he doesn't even realize he's doing it, and the red seeps away from your mind until you're left clear-headed once more. You sigh, long and heavy, and crush your cigarette into your denim-covered thigh to put it out. It tickles. 

"I'm not going to hit you," You tell him eventually. "I just wanna know how you know me. And how you do it."

He cocks a brow at that, finally looking up from the phone in his hand to level dark eyes on yours. "Do what? Sing?"

"No." You swallow around the sudden lump in your throat. The words are harder to find than you thought they'd be, lost in the depths of his gaze, in the clarity you're so unaccustomed to, in the way you feel like you can breathe for the first time in days. "I don't care how you sing, that's not important, it's the...fuck, you know what, never mind, it doesn't fucking matter." You push off the wall and step past him to head towards where the streetlight gleams off the bar windows. 

"Tell me." The command has you stopping in your tracks, and you're again flooded with just wanting to know how. How he clears the haze, how he stops you, how he makes you feel real. You turn, hands stuffed into the back pockets of your jeans. "How I do what?"

It takes you several long breaths before you can answer, and you aren't even sure he can hear you over the sounds of people leaving the bar, and you find yourself disappearing into the crowd without waiting for a response. Your own words are reverberating in your skull, getting louder with each step you take, and you wish you could just turn it off . 

"How you make me feel like a person again."

You avoid the bar for a few weeks, going hours away from your usual area to an unfamiliar hole in the wall just to make sure you don’t see him. You’re more deadly than usual in your fights, victories coming quicker, injuries piling up along with the guilt, but you can’t bring yourself to return. It’s unnerving, the way everything goes quiet around him, the way you can think, but the worst is the way you can feel. Everything’s calm and steady and blue, and it only makes it easier for the regret and the guilt and the anxiety to curl around your throat and squeeze until you can’t breathe, to clog in your throat while the laughter of your siblings echoes in your ears, and you...can’t. You can’t do that, you can’t let it win, you can’t let them win, they can’t know that you’re everything they think you are and worse. 

You can’t let yourself drown in that, and yet you find yourself back at Suho’s, lost among the crowd while Taehyung’s voice surrounds you. The ache in your bones fades away, chased by the thrum of the fight that still lingers despite the hours that have passed since you felt your opponent’s femur break under your palm and their screams echoed in your ears. Everything is calm again, and the guilt nearly drowns you.

He hasn’t even finished singing before you’re outside, chest heaving as you gasp against the weight on your chest. You broke someone’s femur , and did you even really need to? The fight itself is a blur even now, snapshots playing through your mind like a montage. The way they’d darted at you first, how their foot felt connecting with the backs of your knees, the determination in their eyes when you went down, the jolt of shock as your hands wrapped around their leg, the dull throb of a barrage of hits against your waist as you pulled them down as well and bloodied their face, the blood-curdling scream as you snapped the bone like a pretzel stick.

Your breath comes faster in your lungs, forced out by the growing guilt that lodges there in its place. Images swirl in your mind, chased by a never-ending stream of thought and regret that you should be used to by now. Fuck, you didn’t need to, and you still did it; you lost control, you fucking hurt them, and for what? A couple hundred? Was it even worth it? Who knew when they’d be back into shape to fight, what if they needed the money? They weren’t even half-bad. They got you down, at least, shouldn’t you have gone easy on them? You don’t even remember their face, can’t remember what the announcer said their name was, words drowned out by the buzz under your skin.

Metal crumples under your grip and you spare a half-second to mourn Suho’s dumpster before you slam your knuckles against it. It tingles, not even real pain, and you don’t hesitate to repeat it. By the time the metal is disfigured completely, a distorted mess of paint and steel and garbage, you still aren’t in pain, but there’s a sheen of gold across your knuckles and you feel less like you’re drowning and more like you’re suffocating. The usual. You can handle that. You think. 

You don’t even realize that you’ve slid down to the ground beside the dumpster until the back door of the bar opens and footsteps echo through the alley. You wish you knew how long you’ve been here, how long you’ve sat among empty bottles and stale beer and broken glass, but you can’t be sure. The brief reprieve brought by Taehyung’s voice is long gone, chased away by the guilt and rage that still sits heavy in your chest. You hope you’re not noticeable here, that whoever’s left will just pass by and leave you to piece yourself back together on your own. 

Voices tell you that it isn’t likely, the deep baritone of one too familiar to ignore. The other is new, but you’re familiar with the tone, the inflection, the intent behind it. You've heard it before, in crowded clubs as a guy pushes too close to some girl who can barely stand, in a coffeeshop when a random customer can't take a fucking hint, at the local campus when some professor insists that there could be maybe one thing her student could do to pass. It makes everything in you curdle, the bourbon from earlier threatening to work its way back up; it screams predator , and you absolutely refuse to let anyone fucking talk to someone like that, like they have some right to whatever it is they want. 

You refuse to let someone talk to him that way. 

"Seriously, Kratos, didn't I tell you to leave me alone? Did Aphrodite not teach you your lesson last time you harassed someone?" Taehyung's voice brings a calm that's an unsettling match to the anger washing over you. You're used to the red at the corners of your vision, the tint to everything you see, but you aren ' t used to the way it all turns purple and focused and clear . 

There's no haze this time, there's no abrupt shift of you moving before you know you've done it. You can feel the glass crunching under your boots with every step you take, can feel the way the air has a chill that creeps down into your lungs with every breath, can almost taste the apprehension that's rolling off of Taehyung despite his relaxed stance. The only thing that gives him away is the tense set of his jaw and the mix of relief and fear when his eyes land on you. 

"I'm pretty sure he said no, Kratos." The god turns at your voice and you watch the realization wash over him as he realizes what - who - you are. 

"Been a while since anyone's seen you, Ares." He scoffs a little, not moving from where he has Taehyung caged against the wall of the bar, one hand pressed firmly into the brick. He's entirely too close, and you have no doubt that the stench of him permeates the very oxygen around them. 

"Been busy. Doesn't change the fact that the man said no. Take the loss, walk away." Kratos' eyes narrow at your words and he steps away, but only to move closer to you. 

"Why do you care so much? You've never been one to care about any of us before." Kratos inches closer and the hyper-focus that Taehyung's voice causes starts to melt away with every twitch of your fingers. You've never liked Kratos, all brute strength with no respect for the challenge, no appreciation of the fight, too focused on sheer power and exhilaration. He is the worst of the worst of the worst of your kind, of all the war-focused gods. Every bit of yourself you hate is every piece that Kratos loves about himself. 

"I care that you don't seem to be able to understand when someone doesn't want to be around you, you absolute piece of filth. Taehyung had a point though, I really thought the whole thing with Aphrodite would've taught you how to back off. Or should I pull the video out, I think I still have it saved for when I need a good laugh." Malice and fury twitch across the other god's face and you absolute revel in it. You can feel his anger prickling across you, like needles in your very pores, and you ache for it. It's been so long since you last had a good fight, a real challenge where you didn't need to hold back at all. 

Too long since you fought a god like yourself.

"You're testing my patience, cousin," Kratos spits. It's a little generous to call the two of you cousins - you're several times removed, at best, and potentially closer than that with your family's warped history - but you let him have it. It might make him feel better. "I'm having a conversation, that's all. And if said conversation means that we end up back at my place, then, well, can anyone really blame me for what might happen to this pretty little m-"

Your fist connects with his jaw immediately and the red floods you for the few seconds it takes to register Taehyung calling your name. The calm struggles for a second, warring with the rage, but it wins out eventually. The singer's talking, but you can't make out any actual words. You're too focused on Kratos, the way he's righting and readying himself for a brawl. There's a fire in his eyes that matches the one in yours and everything in you feels alive for the first time in too long. 

This fight is different than your usual ones. There's no blur, no warped sense of time that usually comes with the adrenaline. You're focused and controlled in a way you haven't had to be for centuries, careful and precise and deliberate with every swing and every kick. The red seeps back in slowly and every time you think you're about to lose it, you hear Taehyung, still pressed against the wall of the bar. 

Kratos lunges at you for what has to be the tenth time, clearly trying his best to knock you to the ground - he succeeded, once; you let yourself get distracted, too caught up in thoughts, but it didn't last long - and you sidestep him just in time for him to ram into the ruined dumpster instead. He looks pissed when he turns back around and something in you sings at the sight. He makes for you again and you dodge again, only to be dragged back towards him by the grip he has on your jacket. Fuck, should've taken that off , whatever, he's too close.

Pain explodes in your side and you're fairly sure he's busted part of your rib, but you just slide your arms out of the sleeves and twist to plant your knee straight into his gut and then slam your heel down onto his much-less-safe toes, and then back up to knee him in the groin. It's nowhere near enough to take him out, but his nose is oozing golden ichor and he groans with every shift of his weight, and you've got him pinned against the wall with your forearm pressing hard into his windpipe. 

"Now, you're gonna listen to me you steaming pile of dog shit," You hiss. "When someone tells you no, it's not a fucking negotiation. It means you fucking leave and find someone with loose enough morals or enough internalized self-hatred that they're willing to subject themselves to your absolutely pitiful fucking excuse of an existence for the thirty-two seconds it'll take for you to get off." 

Kratos doesn't respond, just sneers and spits blood at you. It's a miracle you don't actually try to rip his head from his body, because the thought crosses your mind for a second too long. Instead, you just press harder against his windpipe and enjoy the choked gasp that it draws. 

"You don't stalk people either, the way you did with 'Dite. Don't you know it's better to let them come to you sometimes?" You tsk, ignoring the way he claws uselessly at your arm. Gods may not need to breathe, that's a fact, but they feel pain, and there is no way this isn't absolutely excruciating for him when even you can feel the small bones in his neck cracking and breaking. "And if I hear even a whisper of you pulling shit like this again, then I'm gonna find you, you pigshit. And when I do, I won't hold back even the slightest, and do you know what comes after that?" 

His eyes are full of fear now, and only grow wide with terror as you lean in close enough that he can feel your lips against his ear as you whisper. 

"You are going to wish that you could die." 

When you do release him, he disappears instantly, with a cloud of acrid grey-green smoke curling around your ichor-spattered boots. He's only been gone a second when you slump, the adrenaline fading as quick as Kratos had left. Your side is throbbing now, your knuckles are bruised and broken and gold, there's a pain in your leg that you aren't sure what's causing, your head is screaming even through the high of the fight, your face stings in the crisp-cool air. Every breath makes the pain worse so you stop breathing. The brick wall of the bar is rough against your palms, but it's the only thing around that can keep you upright, so you'll take it. 

"Well," a voice drawls from your left. You'd jump if you had anything left in you, but every ounce of energy is gone, spent teaching Kratos what Aretha Franklin meant when she sang about respect - and really, there was another fantastic singer, you really should visit her sometime soon - so instead your head lolls to the side. You aren't sure what it is that jolts through you when your eyes land on Taehyung, fingers curled carefully around the collar of-

Your jacket. That's your leather jacket. You barely remembers shrugging out of it, but you're glad it's not on the ground, trampled and covered in the gold spatters that decorate the rest of your body. 

"Well?" You echo, wincing at the pain it causes. You've definitely got a busted lip, that's for sure from the way it feels different and swollen, and you're pretty sure there's a head wound, too, because you don't remember there being a golden halo around Taehyung before the fight. 

"Well," He repeats, slinging the jacket - your jacket - over a shoulder. "You should get that looked at." He starts walking, making his way to the entrance of the alleyway. He gets halfway there before he stops and turns and cocks a brow. "Are you coming, or do I get to keep this?" Your jacket waves a little, as if he's wiggling it, and it makes you feel like a stray dog being lured off with treats. 

You're never going to tell anyone that it works.

Taehyung's place is as nondescript as the car he parks outside. It's a plain apartment building on the outside - looks like maybe it was a hotel back in the 1930s, based on the outdated carpeting in the lobby and the grate on the elevator he steps into. Even the hallway is plain and unassuming as he leads you to the end and uses an old, tarnished brass key on an older, more tarnished brass knob. You aren't sure what you expected, you can't even begin to guess what Taehyung is like outside of the dirty alley or the stage where he sings, can't fathom what kind of decor he could possibly have. 

What you step into isn't anything you could have guessed. It looks like he has the entire rest of the floor to himself based on what you can see, but there's also a spiral staircase tucked into a corner, bookshelves built in under each step that are filled to the brim, and a fireman's pole in another corner, so there's at least one more level above this, but something tells you both the staircase and the pole continue past that. There's artwork everywhere, pieces you recognize and pieces you don't, several van Goghs and a couple from Matisse and you think in the corner you spot an actual fucking da Vinci sketch that's supposed to be somewhere in Europe. There's a gramophone beside a top-of-the-line sound system, an entire wall that's just a record collection, books upon books, framed bits of poetry - including an actual hand-written rupi kaur, a signed Maya Angelou print, and a signed cover of ain't i a woman by bell hooks that you would die to know how Taehyung got his hands on. It's a museum's wet dream and yet it retains a lived in atmosphere. There are mugs left on tables, blankets strewn about as if someone just got up from a nap, an easel propped up by a far window with what looks like an impressionist painting of the cityscape, books tossed down half-read with receipts and coupons and candy wrappers and everything but a bookmark tucked between the pages. 

It feels like a home and it makes your heart flutter in your chest at the same time that something in your stomach shrivels up into itself. 

Taehyung walks like he’s meant to be followed, so follow you do. You spy another man - older, you think, but it’s hard to tell, really - sprawled across a couch, blanket splayed across his lap as he watches some kind of dance show on a flatscreen hung above a warm and roaring fireplace, a couple of girls in what looks to be the kitchen, one sitting on the counter while the other stands between her legs and pretends not to notice the former stealing strawberries from her bowl as she taps at her tablet, and there are footsteps creaking above you, hidden behind walls even as Taehyung leads you up the staircase. They all look up when you pass, but only the man gives you a second glance; his eyes are a weight on your back that doesn’t leave until you’re upstairs and following Taehyung into a large, rather nice bathroom. 

It’s vintage as well, but it’s spacious and well-kept, like the rest of the place. Taehyung pats the marble counter by the sink and you bite your tongue against the urge to tell him you aren’t a dog. You don’t move though, instead watching him as he lays your jacket across a brass bar on the wall and then digs around in a cabinet for a minute or two. When he straightens up, he’s got a somewhat dusty off-white box in his hands, and he frowns. 

“Up,” He says. “I need to look at your ankle.” 

You don’t move, but you can tell he doesn’t miss the twitch of your nose at the thought of being commanded like an animal. Like someone who can’t understand. Like-

He sighs. 

“Please, will you sit on the counter, so I can look at your ankle?” You huff, but you do as he says. 

He doesn’t speak as he works, completely silent except for the odd command - “Roll it for me...alright, now flex that...deep breath...stop fidgeting or I’ll only make it worse…” - and the occasional hum under his breath. It seems to be second nature, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, and it endears you more than you’d like. His touch is gentle but firm as he lightly squeezes your ankle and wraps it, lifts your pant leg to rub some kind of cream into a somewhat worrisome golden bruise forming on your calf, darts under your shirt to quickly and painlessly set your ribs before wrapping those as well. He doesn’t say anything at all until he’s almost finished with the cuts on your hands, golden ichor long gone and wounds already on their way to healing thanks to some sort of mist he spritzes on them. 

It only stings once, as he’s spraying something over some kind of cut on your thigh where Kratos ripped through the denim there without you noticing. You can’t stop the hiss as the pain hits, though you regret it when he glances up at you. 

“Sorry,” He mumbles under his breath as he dabs lightly at it with his long fingers. 

“It’s fine,” You tell him. “I’m used to it.” Your voice is rough, always, but softer than usual. You don’t know why. You can’t decide if you like it.

The entire time he works, you wait. For him to tell you it wasn’t necessary, that he can fight his own battles, that he’s not surprised a brute like yourself got into a fight, that you’re no more than what the rumours say you are. You’ve got a million different curses and insults ready to spit back at him when he finally speaks.

“Thank you,” is what comes. It shocks the words out of your mouth, and you actually look up from where you’ve been watching him methodically wipe gold away from a scrape on your forearm. His gaze is concentrated on the injury and his lips are pursed and you wish you could figure him out. 

He must take your silence for the confusion it is, because he continues. 

“I mean it,” He says. “I’m usually not someone that lets other people fight for me, but we both know that I couldn’t have taken Kratos. He’s too strong, and he was counting on that. Until you showed up.” You don’t respond. “Is there a reason you left before my set was done? Or why you were sitting in an alley beside what is possibly the most gnarled dumpster I’ve ever seen?”

You don’t answer him, instead focusing on the way his hands feel as they tilt your chin so he can look at the cuts and bruises and scrapes that decorate your face. You focus your gaze just past his shoulder, content to memorize the pattern of his gaudy vintage bathroom wallpaper, and he doesn't press for more. The distracted humming picks up again every time he stops talking, and eases the storm of guilt shame rage pain hurt grief loneliness in your chest. 

"I fight," you eventually say. Your voice is too loud in the quiet of the bathroom, shatters the silence like a sledgehammer, and you hate the way it trembles. Still, Taehyung doesn't look away from where he's carefully wiping gold from your skin, just cocks a brow, and it's as if a dam breaks in your throat. "Like, real fights. Actual competition, with rules and shit, and...sometimes the bad ones, because they tend to fight differently, it's a different kind of fight, y'know, and it's never really fair, because I'm...I'm me, but I hold back, just for fun, y'know, and it's, uh. It's alright usually, I go in, do my thing, I win, I go drink, and it all gets, I dunno, easier, maybe, for a while, like I can think right, but, um.”

You hesitate for a split second and force yourself to focus on the way the alcohol-soaked cotton tickles the cut on your head. 

“Sometimes it's not...sometimes I can't control it as well, the anger, and I kind of just lose it on people, and a while ago this guy, he almost needed his jaw wired shut, but he was kind of a prick anyway, I guess, so whatever, but, uh, today, I...there was this girl and she was doing really well, actually, y'know, managed to get me down to the mat, which is rare and pretty impressive, and I'm pretty proud of her for it now, but then, I just. I just kinda lost it, like, I just kept swinging, I couldn't stop, and then I just...I broke her leg, for no real reason, just because I wanted her to hurt, and I don't...I'm not sure why I even did it, because I'd already won, right, like what was the point of doing any more, it wasn't even helping at that point, y'know, it's not like the buzz kept up any longer because I broke this kid's leg, and I love the fights, they help clear my head for a second, but I never wanted to actually-"

You words stop short, like there are too many of them to say in too short a time, and it's then you realize Taehyung's hands are in his lap and he's looking at you fully. His expression isn't neutral anymore, it's not the carefully crafted mask of a performer, it's real and open and genuine and all you see there is pain . For you. Pain and understanding and compassion you never expected to find anywhere but the deepest corners of your soul. Looking at him looking at you like that makes you feel like you can breathe again.

"You never wanted to hurt anyone." His voice is rough, like maybe there's emotion clogging his throat as well, and you aren't sure what that does to you, but something in you jumps at the thought.

Tears mar your vision as you nod and you curse under your breath before wiping them away. He catches your quivering hand in his and just holds it for a second. His eyes don't leave yours and there are a thousand things you expect him to say but what he says is: 

"I believe you."

And that...it's more than you can take, and you break, right there on his bathroom counter, sobbing into his chest while he just rubs your back and hums and you remember the face of every person you've ever hurt and the look in their eyes as you left some of them for dead. 

You wake up the next morning curled up on the most comfortable chaise lounge in human history, sitting up and shoving the blanket off of you in a rush before you remember where you are, why you're there. A glance around tells you that you aren't alone; there's two guys bent over a table that you think might also be a tablet, conversing quietly and pointing every so often at whatever they're looking at, a girl balanced along the edge of the staircase holding a lyre - which, wow, you haven't seen a lyre in that good condition in a while - and strumming lightly along it before she frowns and shakes her head and restarts whatever melody she's playing, and the same guy sprawled over the couch with a blanket strewn haphazardly over him while he watches a different dance video on the flatscreen. He's the closest and you don't really want to talk to any of these people but you think you might have to because you aren't really sure how Taehyung got you here last night but you know it was quite a drive. You'd just mist over to the bar if you really wanted to, but your ribs hurt like a bitch still thanks to that fucker Kratos. Anything as intense as misting is out of the question for the time being.

The man on the chaise spares you a glance that feels longer than it should, full of a judgement you have no doubt you deserve and yet somehow fires your anger anyway. 

He rolls his eyes before you even say anything and waves a hand towards the kitchen. You snap your mouth closed and shoot him an irritated look, but you storm in that direction anyway. Healing is exhausting, and you want nothing more than some meat to tear into and a cold beer. 

When you get into the kitchen, however, Taehyung is standing there already, as if he’s been expecting you any minute. There’s a plate in front of him, full of food you barely recognize, and he slides it towards you. 

“Eat,” He says. You grit your teeth, unmoving, and he sighs again. “Please sit, and eat. You need the strength to heal properly.” 

You resist for a split second, but there’s a softness to him now. Something you can’t exactly put your finger on, but that you know is different , somehow, and it changes things. It makes you want to listen, to do as he asks, because he is asking . He’s not telling, he’s treating you like an animal. 

It’s a request, not a demand, and that makes all the difference. 

Taehyung is quiet while you eat. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t watch to make sure you’re doing it, but you have no doubt he’s keeping an eye on you. It’s quiet, but not unbearably so; the air is broken by the sounds of the lyre and the television, as well as the soft chattering of the men at the table. It makes it comfortable, makes it soft in a way you’re unaccustomed to being, like the way people talk about lazy Sunday mornings or that voice they get when they see a cute animal.

It feels like home should be, instead of what yours is. 

“So why’s Pretty Boy giving me the death glare?” You eventually ask past a mouthful of food. Taehyung barely looks up, just glancing past you to the guy laying on the couch. You can feel his eyes boring into your spine, but it’s nothing new. 

“Taemin’s just protective,” Taehyung says softly. “Especially considering the stories.”

“The ones about me, you mean.”

A myriad of emotions passes through his eyes when he nods, and you wish you could more easily decipher them. Maybe in time, you will. 

Maybe.

“Those, yes,” He says softly. “But he’ll learn.” He doesn’t say it, but nonetheless, you hear the words as clear as day. Just like I did.  

Someone hums behind you and you glance over to see a woman - the strawberry thief - making her way into the kitchen. She gives Taehyung a look you don’t care enough to figure out, and they have an entire conversation in the span of five minutes. Something about it irks you, and it only gets worse when they start moving around each other, Taehyung handing her things without her asking. 

It’s ridiculous, and you know it, but the air gets heavy in your lungs and your head starts to swim and suddenly you’re suffocating. It’s too much, there’s too much here, and you can’t take it anymore. 

The force with which you shove away the counter would have slammed it into the wall were it not already attached. There are slight cracks in the granite tops, though, and there’s just enough clarity as Taehyung calls your name for you to feel guilty about it. It’s not enough to stop you though; you have to get out, you need to get out, before you do something worse, and the cracks in the granite are proof of that. 

You’re out the door in an instant, your form coalescing painfully back into solid matter as you reach the hallway. Your ribs ache, screaming with the effort of trying to mist away from this place, this home , and you lean against the wall in the hope that it will help steady you. 

The door opens behind you, the creak of the old hinges deafening in the silence of the hall. There’s a commotion behind it, voices overlapping each other and reverberating in your skull until they’re a twisted mockery of your siblings. 

You stumble down the hall, one hand clutching your ribs to keep them as still as possible despite your movement. It’s not lost on you that there are footsteps following you, but you can’t focus on them now. You’re not moving fast, and you need to be, you should be running , but you can’t. Your vision is already clouding slightly at the edges, the sudden spike of adrenaline waning now that you’re out of the apartment. 

Someone says your name and you swing. 

It’s instinct, the way your fist flies through the air; you can’t control it, not this, not when the red is all you can see even as it seeps away and turns lilac. It doesn’t matter anyway. You don’t make contact with anything but the wall, plaster crumbling around your fist and onto the carpeted floor. 

“That was rude,” Taehyung says softly. He doesn’t sound mad, though he should, considering you almost decked him straight in the nose. “I’ll take you back.”

He drapes your jacket over your arm and walks away, toward emergency stairs tucked into the corner instead of the elevator, and you follow. He hums as he goes, and he lets you lead the way down the stairs, keeping pace with your quick steps until both of you step out a side door into an alleyway. 

Out of habit, more than anything, you light a cigarette and put it between your lips. You don’t miss the disgusted scrunch of Taehyung’s nose, but you do ignore it. The smoke is familiar in lungs, comforting, and he doesn’t understand it, won’t ever understand it, but he doesn’t have to. 

“Sorry, Tae,” You say after a few minutes of silence. Taehyung shrugs one shoulder and moves to lean beside you against the stone of the building. 

“Are you okay now?” You nod, taking a deep breath, remembering how Hestia had taught you, so long ago, how her hand felt against your chest, the warmth and love it held. “Then you’re forgiven. And you can call me Calliope, if you want.”

You’re both quiet after that. He doesn’t make fun of you, he doesn’t judge you, he just silently drives you back to Suho’s bar, which is when you remember that he doesn’t know where you live. You’re fine with it; you don’t want to see him in your run down hovel. It’s not much, especially compared to his own apartment, but that makes sense, too. 

What could ever live up to the home of a Muse? Not even a muse, really. The Muse. The Head of the Nine Muses, the one called on most often by those in need, the one that everyone knew, the one that Hephaestus just put statues of in the gardens of Olympus, according to the rumors that Apollo sent you. 

The calm that he brings lasts until you get back to your apartment, nearly ten full minutes after you disappear into the alley beside Suho’s bar. It’s the longest the calm has ever lasted, and the view of the city tinted lavender is one you think you love. 

If you can love. 

Things get clearer, somehow. The weight on your shoulders lessens, makes you feel less like Atlas and more like you, how you were all those years ago in the now-ancient days when things made sense. When people fought for honor and glory and justice more than they fought for oil and death and greed. 

It could be because open mic nights are frequent around the city, and you’re able to figure out his schedule pretty well. You don’t go every night that he sings, just when it gets to be too much, when the scarlet haze starts to bleed into your irises like a flag in front of a bull. It helps, for a while, lets you settle long enough to pull the pieces of you back into a shape that vaguely resembles yourself. 

It could be because the fights happen every night, and Taehyung is no stranger to where to look to find them. He watches every one that he can, when he isn’t singing, and his presence anchors you. Focuses you, so that you can pull your punches just enough, so that there’s less hurting and more fighting. It doesn’t work every time, you still lose yourself in the rage and do more damage than you ever mean to, but it helps enough. And when it doesn’t, he’s there, to slide a hand across your shoulders in that exact same way that Hestia used to, that Apollo might if you let him close enough to know you’re alive, that Artemis would , were she anywhere but where she is. 

It’s a strange feeling. You’re not used to companionship, you don’t know how to have friends. You still say the wrong things and do the wrong things and he still speaks to you like he expects to be listened to, but you both are learning. You apologize more often, and he corrects himself quicker. It’s a slow, fragile thing, this friendship, but it’s there. 

Until the night when it’s not. 

You aren’t sure how it happens. It’s been weeks since you last saw Taehyung; he mentioned some project he was working on, something or another that would have most of his attention along with that of several of the other Muses. You had brushed it off when he said it, some snide remark about how you don’t need him there to win. 

You would take it back if you could. 

Because you were right, of course, you don’t need him there to win; you can do that on your own. And your control has gotten better, stronger, over the last few months, but complacency is what always leads to disaster. 

The guy deserved it, is what you tell yourself as you’re pulled out of the ring. He was a piece of shit anyway, you remind yourself as you call Apollo with shaking hands. He didn’t deserve your mercy, you tell the golden gold after you’ve begged him to help save the man’s life. Artemis would have done the same, you insist to him, long after he’s hung up the phone and left to follow the ambulance to the hospital. 

You don’t go to Suho’s. You can’t bear it, not when he might be there, not when he would read it on your face in a heartbeat. You don’t want to watch the disappointment crumble into something more familiar, something worse, you can’t watch him look at you with the knowledge that your siblings are right, that they’ve always been right, that you’re nothing better than a crazed animal. 

The club is packed full when you get there. The bartender starts to pour you a drink and you just take the bottle, leaving a too-thick wad of bills in return. The bourbon tickles as it goes down but it warms your stomach and distracts you from the haze in your mind, the repetitive beat of they were right they were right they were right they were-

“Whoops, sorry,” someone says, a second before they knock into your shoulder. You’ve been around long enough to know a fake fall, and you scowl as you glance towards them. 

He’s cute. Taller than you, with skin that would hide the marks you so love to create, and hair that looks like it would be soft in your hands. His clothes fit well, and they look like they were chosen for comfort over style despite the way he walks like a model in them, which you always find attractive. 

The smile that slips onto your face is familiar, as is the way you bring your hand up to rest on his hip in an effort to steady him. 

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” You tell him, not being subtle in the way you eye him. He looks soft; you love them soft. “You headed to get a drink?”

“I might be,” He says teasingly, a coy grin forming on his lips. 

“I’ve got something better, if you’re interested.”

His eyes roam along your body, his breath drawing somewhat quicker when he notices the scrapes on your knuckles. “I might be.”

It takes five minutes to get him to a corner quiet enough to talk. Less than three to get your lips on his. One and a half to start sucking a mark into his neck that makes him moan so pretty you can’t help but want to hear it again. 

One of your hands is up his shirt, playing with the pebbled buds and the metal pierced through them, while the other teasingly massages the skin of his hip when he’s torn away from you roughly. 

“What the fuck?” Your voice growls as you look up. The guy is standing there, looking for all the world like he’s ready to run, but he isn’t watching you. 

No, his eyes are on a familiar sight; Taehyung, his hair now a pretty lavender that makes you think of a home you don’t have, even as he doesn’t look at you. 

“Taken,” He growls, releasing the collar of the guy you had every intent to make cry with pleasure. The guy scurries off before you can stop him, though, and you don’t bother to hide your disdain. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” You demand, already lighting a cigarette as you head outside. Taehyung follows, pulling it from between your lips and crushing it in his hands before you have the chance to get your lighter out.

“Me? You looked like you were about to eat him .” He follows you all the way to the street outside and down the sidewalk, pulling each cigarette out of your hands before you can light it. He waits until you’re a decent distance from the crowd outside the club before he stops you, one hand lightly encircling your wrist. 

Your boots scuff against the ground as you stop, not turning to look at him. You’re too afraid to, too worried he’ll see it all on your face and just know that you’ve fucked up, maybe beyond repair. 

“Apollo called me,” is what he says instead. “Said I might want to find you tonight.”

You should’ve known. That little fuck, of course he would rat you out. 

“I didn’t-” 

The words choke in your throat. You want to say you don’t need him. You don’t need him to come running like you’re some scared little girl who can’t control her strength, you don’t need him to piece you back together because you aren’t broken, you don’t need him because you don’t need anyone, you never have. 

“I know you didn’t,” Taehyung says quietly. “I know he deserved it, I know what he did, and I know you didn’t mean to.”

Something inside of you breaks and you find yourself shaking. 

“He hurt her , Tae, I heard it, I heard her telling her friend about it on the phone, I saw her crying, I saw her clothes, okay, he-”

“I know,” Taehyung says, pulling you into a loose hug. “I know you did, it’s okay. He’s going to be okay. He’s not gonna escape his punishment from that, you didn’t send anyone to Hades today. It’s okay.”

The cloud struggles, for what feels like hours. Guilt settles like lead in your stomach, and you wish you weren’t so used to the feeling. The rage returns every time you remember what that girl looked like, what she sounded like on the phone, how you felt when you realized it was your competitor who had done that to her. 

There’s no honor in that. There’s no justice, no glory, in beating an opponent who was never aware they were in the ring, and it makes your blood boil all over again. Taehyung’s voice soothes you, slightly, makes the edges of your vision turn indigo, but it isn’t enough. 

It’s never enough. 

“I have to go,” You say, pulling yourself away from him. “I need- I have to find-”

“A distraction,” He finishes for you, too aware that you can’t find the words you need. “Some mortal that you can bruise and break and bang until you feel less like a monster?”

That’s exactly what you want to do, what you had been about to do with that guy at the club, and it’s only Taehyung’s voice calling your name in that soft, sweet way of his that makes you wonder if that’s not a good plan. 

“I’ll be a distraction, if you need one.” You whip your head around, staring at him, but he doesn’t flinch. “I’m sturdier than the mortals, I can take more. Let me be your distraction.”

“I…” You hesitate. You don’t know why. You shouldn’t even be entertaining this idea, it’s not a good one, but then...when have any of your ideas been good? “I can’t fuck in a house with eight other people.”

“You have an apartment,” He says easily. “Let’s go there.”

It’s a bad idea. You don’t do that, you don’t fuck people at your apartment, you don’t have people in your apartment, it’s your space. It’s a bad idea, it can only end in disaster. 

“Okay.”

Taehyung’s lips are soft against yours, yielding and pliant just the way you’re used to. His hands are big and warm against your ass, even through your jeans, and the feeling gives you the courage to slide your own under the ridiculously patterned button-down he’s wearing. 

He lets you lead the way through the door, kicking it closed behind you with slightly too much force. Your apartment is small, a studio with a bed tucked in the corner for the rare times that you need it. 

You push Taehyung onto it and slide yourself onto his lap, already grinding down onto the hard length you can feel there. He's not quite as enthusiastic, but his fingers are like steel against you, pulling you down with every rut of your hips. 

This, you can do. This, you're familiar with. 

You push on his shoulders, doing your best to get him on his back so you can have better access to the clasp of his jeans, but he resists. You try again, firmer, using a harsh suck against his skin as a distraction, but he still doesn't go. 

Frustrated, you pull back. 

"Not like this," He says. His voice clears some of the fog, and you frown. 

"Do you want to be on top, then? Because I don't mind, I just need it," You tell him. He sighs a little, but he flips the two of you over so he's kneeling between your open legs and your back is cushioned against the mattress. 

"How long has it been since you spent the night with someone who knows who you are?" He asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he sits back on his knees. 

You shift, uncomfortable. "A while. Why does that matter? Just fuck me."

"No," Taehyung says, voice gentle but firm. You cock a brow at him and move to get out from under him, but he stills you with a hand on your thigh. 

"You are a goddess," He tells you, trailing his hands down so he can undo the laces on your steel-toe boots and slide them off. "You have held Victory in your palms and set her free." 

His palms burn through the denim on your thighs, but you welcome it as he slides your jacket over your shoulders to the bed beneath. 

"You are the winner of wars. You are the one who grants battlefield wishes. You are the dead's escort to Hades." He leans down, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek and then down your throat. 

He pulls back as he gets to your collarbone, eyes blown wide with unfamiliar desire, and it makes your breath catch in your throat.

"You," Taehyung tells you, with desire in his eyes and belief in his voice, "Deserve to be treated like the goddess that you are, with the respect you have earned, and the care you deserve." 

As often as you fuck people, it's been a very long time since anyone wanted to fuck you for any reason beyond your appearance and the personality you show them. But this? This look in the muse's eyes as his hands settle on your knees as he waits? 

Taehyung wants to fuck you because you're you. Not despite it, not because he doesn't know . He has seen you at your worst and yet he keeps coming back, keeps showing up as you fall apart. Each time he stays, hands you a basket so you can pick the pieces of yourself up off the ground, holds the tape so you can mash it back together, and is ready to help steady you when you start to crumble again. 

He's here for you , to treat you in a way no one has ever treated you before. He's your friend.

He cares.

You nod, however tentatively, and his lips are on yours in an instant. They're firmer now, less pliable and more controlling, but you don't mind. Not this time. 

Not with Taehyung. 

His hands don't hesitate as he strips you both of your clothes, but you can feel it each time he checks to make sure you're okay. The way that he watches your expression, the tense of your muscles under him, the cadence of your gasps for air between kisses, he reads all of it as clear as if it's a book in front of him. He slows down before you can stop him, his lips drawing back from the kisses he draws across your thighs, and he speeds up as your thoughts start to drift, swiping his tongue and two fingers through your folds to tease and bring your attention back to him. 

His fingers bury themselves in your heat, crooking slightly to brush against that soft part of you that makes the world spin, and it's all too intense. His lips are hardly even touching your skin, just pressing gentle kisses against the skin of your thigh, a gentle complement to the way he glides his fingers in and out of you, slow and steady and delicious, but it's absolutely intoxicating. 

He's talkative, too; he gives you constant praise. He tells you how well you take his fingers, how good you look with his fingers inside you, how absolutely fantastic you taste on his tongue, how he'd live between your thighs if he could. 

It's too much, and you can't be sure why, not when your orgasm is approaching quicker than it ever has, not when your walls clench around him and you soak your sheets, not when he's cleaning your cum off his fingers with his tongue.

"Good," He purrs. "Now you're all warmed up." 

His mouth hits your heat without hesitation or warning, before the aftershocks are even finished, and your hips buck upwards. His arms slide underneath your thighs only to grip them and bring them back down. You can't move much in his grip except to grind your pussy against his mouth, which he seems to enjoy, if the muffled grunts that escape him are any indication.

He doesn't stop until his tongue is buried inside you with one finger drawing lazy circles on your clit and you're cumming again, hands gripping the soft strands of his hair so tight that you would be afraid of pulling it out if you could focus on anything besides the feel of him against you.

He lets you ride the aftershock, this time. Waits until your pants die down slightly, until you're back in your mind. 

"Good?" He asks you. His voice is deeper, rumbles instead of slides, but it breaks through the post-orgasm haze long enough for you to nod. “More?”

“More,” you agree, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and pulling him into a heated kiss. You haven’t been this clear-headed in a while. Every sensation is clear and crisp, every sound heightened, everything is simultaneously more while also being exactly what it’s always supposed to have been. 

Taehyung’s cock is everything you could have expected from a muse; thick, long, beautiful, and it fills you in a way that’s indescribable as he slides inside. He groans at the feeling, deep and throaty and beautiful, and begins his thrusts nearly immediately. 

It’s as slow as he was with his fingers; steady and forceful, but unhurried. As if he wants to take his time. As if he wants to savor it. Savor you . 

“Do you have any idea how amazing you are?” He mutters, almost as an afterthought. “What you look like right now, what you look like when you’re fighting, when you’ve won and you’re triumphant? It’s fucking addictive, seeing that confidence in you.”

“Shit, Tae, don’t stop-”

“It’s so fucking intoxicating,” He groans, pace quickening. Your arms wrap around him more fully, nails like claws down his back as you arch your back to get him deeper. “You get this look in your eyes, like you can do anything you fucking want to, and it’s so fucking brilliant, because you can , you can do anything and everything you ever fucking want to do, and no one can stop you.”

A whine you’ll never admit to escapes your throat, and Taehyung drives his cock further into you. 

“Let go, my sweet,” Taehyung purrs in your ear. “Let yourself relax, just this once. For me.”

His hand touches your clit and it’s so much, too much , you’re feeling everything so intensely that it takes a solid minute to realize you’re coming down from an orgasm. Taehyung has stilled inside you, unmoving but groaning as you flutter around him, and you push weakly at his shoulder. 

He slides himself out of you, looking entirely too proud of wet spot underneath you and glistening against his lower stomach. You wobble your way up to rest your elbows underneath you, and it’s like he can sense your words before they come. 

“No,” He says simply. “I don’t you to get me off with your mouth.”

“A hand then? I don’t want you to leave unsatisfied.” 

A frown pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he leans down just enough that your lips are almost touching, a not-there kiss that you can only wish for. 

“In what world is fucking you to the point of Elysium unsatisfying?”

The crowd around you is deafening; some of them are cheering for you, but the majority are rooting for your downfall. Such is the life of a challenging the champion, you suppose. 

You don’t know how Taehyung found this place; maybe Artemis had heard rumors, or maybe he searched for it himself. You can’t bring yourself to care, not when you’ve got someone worth fighting on the other side of the arena. 

The sand crunches beneath your feet. It’s hot, hotter than it should be since you’re still wearing your signature jeans and boots - without the jacket this time. You learned from that mistake. 

Your vision tints pink as you size up your opponent; he’s massive, not one to be easily defeated, and you relish the challenge. It’s been so long since you’ve fought a giant. Excitement thrums under your veins as he turns to you. He scoffs. 

If you had a little less control, you might be flying across the arena already. He clearly has no idea who’s standing across from him. Probably thinks you’re some demigod, come to challenge him for the fleece he isn’t supposed to have. 

He’ll learn. 

Something moves in the distance. It should blend in, considering how dark it is, but instead it draws your eye, and you don’t even question why. You would recognize him anywhere, have recognized him everywhere, and his presence calms you. Makes you remember a few nights ago, falling into bed in a hotel in Rome because the burn was to much and you needed him to help you release it. 

“Try not to be too quick, princess,” The giant across from you huffs. You cock a brow and send a look to your muse, who just rolls his eyes, despite the smile playing across his face. 

Violet rings your vision as you ready your stance. The announcer yells something that’s lost over the noise of the crowd. Taehyung leans forward, elbows on his knees, excitement and pride in his eyes. 

The giant swings. 

[kpersonkwriter]

Comfort Zone

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Oneshot (College AU, Established relationship AU)

Word Count: 5840

Genre: Smutttttttt, some fluff

Warnings: Smut, temperature play (ice cubes), blindfold play (male receiving)

A/N: Written at 2 in the morning because insomnia is a whole ass bitch. But stay safe lovelies.

 Anyone who knew you well knew that you were an enigma in itself. You were full of oxymorons – both hot and cold, both an extrovert and introvert and both a believer in the sciences and maths yet a believer in religion and the likes of astrology. You were a photography student, preferring to capture a story through the lens rather than be the focus of said lens, yet you were calculated, you always had a plan and thought things through before you did them. You hated parties – or any social interaction to be fair – preferring to coop up in your room with your camera and trusty Netflix selection. So anyone who saw what you were doing that night you met your boyfriend would have thought you were crazy and have told you to get checked out.

For one, you had gone to this party voluntarily, shocking your friends, and had even been the one to suggest going in the first place. You were the one to host pres in your room for your friends – Hwa Young, Ji Hye and Yoon Ah – before the three of you took an Uber to the house where the party was being held. One of your friends – although friends was a stretch – whom you had met on your course was throwing a congratulatory party and had invited you in one of the last lectures of the term that you two shared. You being you, of course hesitated, trying to come up with a socially acceptable excuse rather than “sorry I don’t know you that well to hang out at a party with you” for that seemed a tad rude. However, it was during your last lecture that following week that you had a change of heart and decided to go to the party anyway. Maybe it was because you too were fed up with the dissertation as well or the fact that you recently saw an Instagram post of your ex-boyfriend with his new girlfriend. It caught you off guard since he had been the one to bring up the future, including marriage, yet decided to move on less than a month after he had broken up with you. You scoffed thinking about it, he had been tearful and said that he just didn’t love you anymore and that he had felt sorry for stringing you along. Complete and utter bullshit. The naïve you at the time was distraught yet your dissertation had to be completed and the party to finish it all of seemed to be a worthy distraction, and you supposed, a welcome change than sitting in your dorm room by yourself as the smell of flatmate’s weed seeped through the cracks of your door.

It was two and a half hours into the party when you became tipsy. Ji Hye and Yoon Ah having left with their respective girlfriend and boyfriend, as you stayed with Hwa Young, both of you currently engaged in a beer pong battle with two members of the football team. Hwa Young had asked if you were sure when you suggested this but honestly the sour taste that Instagram post had left you, alongside the overwhelming relief of submitting your dissertation, meant that you wanted to just forget everything. The spectators that had gathered you were hollering and shouting encouragement for you were the last ball with the winner being decided by your next shot. You smirked as you glanced at the two boys opposite you – Taehyung and Hoseok – if you remembered correctly as they wiped their mouths with the backs of their hands of the beer – or Jack Daniels – they had consumed. House rules meant that some cups had beer whist others had a JD with Red Bull instead. You made your shot with the only thing guiding it being hope as you hoped that you’d win. You heard the cheers before you as you were enveloped into a hug by Hwa Young and some other people you didn’t know. The crowd dispersed after the boys took their shots of Bacardi (they said it was their least favourite liquor) as they walked up to you.

“So I guess we owe you celebratory drinks?” Hoseok winked eyeing Hwa Young up and down, gesturing to the drinks station.

“I guess you do.” She giggled slotting his arms in his before turning to look at you. “You coming?”

“Nah, I’ll probably leave in a bit anyway. Go have fun.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. Go!” You lightly pushed her towards Hoseok as they made there way to the alcohol. You sighed, your introverted nature meaning that all the mingling had made you tired as the alcohol lessened its effects on you. You had a right mind to leave when someone handed you a cup in front of you. You eyed it suspiciously as you turned to face the man in front of you. And fuck. He was gorgeous. He was at least a head taller than you yet his body proportion was perfect. His lips were a beautiful glossy red and in all honesty you wanted to kiss him. His chest was broad and judging by your uni sports hoodie that he wore, you gathered he was on a sports team, quite possibly with Taehyung who had mentioned he was in a sports team in passing although you couldn’t remember which. His doe eyes looked at you expectantly for some sort of an answer whilst his raised eyebrows asked you whether or not you were going to take the cup at all.

“What is it?”

“Just water. A thank you drink for crushing Hoseok-hyung and Taehyung-hyung at beer pong.” He grinned.

“If it’s a thank you drink surely it should be some sort of alcohol?”

“Maybe, but you look done with everyone here so thought water would be better.”

“Thanks.”

It was a somewhat awkward conversation but you the more you two talked that night, the more you realised he was so far from the jock stereotype that movies and dramas portrayed. However, He was incredibly shy, fingers fidgeting with the sleeves of his hoodie, occasionally wiping his presumably sweaty palms on his jeans. It was only after you two moved to a quieter area, taking a seat on the pavement outside, that he made eye contact with you and started to let his personality shine through. You two ended up bonding over photography since he had a strong interest in videography. He had told you that he had been responsible for the Varsity video that year that went viral amongst your university for its impressive videography skills. He was scheduled to play football but was side-lined with an injury so decided to video everything instead. It quickly spread through social media and soon everyone had seen the video, it being projected on the plasma screens in the gym, the café, the shop, the library and the lobby of the lecture centre. As a result, Jung Kook had been somewhat of a celebrity within the football team and of course, almost naturally, the cheerleading squad. You had heard reports, and had witnessed that evening, that he would be approached by multiple girls in clubs yet refused their advances but paid no attention to them since you frankly just didn’t give a shit nor was he in your social circle. You also bonded over the love of dogs and was surprised to learn that you volunteered at the same local dog shelter although you had never ran into each other due to conflicting class schedules and thus free time. You chatted about your latest intake of dogs that had been found as strays in Mexico and how you had hoped that they’d find their adopted homes soon. And it was then, almost two hours later, that he stuttered asked if you wanted to walk two of the dogs together that weekend.

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

It was now 9 months later after your first date together and even that first date was to much debate between Jungkook and you. He claimed that since he did not label it as a date, your first date was actually two weeks later for a hot chocolate date, both of you disliking coffee for its’ bitterness. However, you claimed it was of course. Either way, you were still together three months later and currently on your way home from work.

Tonight was date night and you were sure Jungkook would have let himself in with the key to your apartment that you gave to him shyly as he left after a late movie night a couple of months ago. Yet you didn’t know what to expect that night. You two had been taken things slow, you being Jungkook’s first “proper” girlfriend and the scar that your ex had left you, and so you two hadn’t had sex yet. Jungkook had sex a couple of times before university, he told you, but they were fuelled by teenage desire and awkwardness that he said, in his own words, that he hadn’t had “proper” sex. However, he wanted you to be comfortable with him in opening up and trusting him before, as well as wanting to get to know you properly. You respected that and didn’t press him after that although you two had kissed but always left it with heavy pants from them instead.

As you stepped into your apartment that you had bought with Hwa Young  after you two graduated (although she was currently on a Italy trip with Hoseok), you were hit with an intoxicating aroma, your stomach grumbling at the smell.

“Jungkook I’m home!”

“In the kitchen!”

“Hey,” You smiled, hugging his waist as the aroma of the pasta sauce hitting your nose. “Jungkook, did you cook?” You asked although the answer was clearly obvious at the image in front of you. Jungkook had a dishcloth thrown over his shoulder with a large red stain – suspiciously like red wine – at the bottom of his shirt with his grey jogging bottoms and barefeet. Ah, the typical Asian.

He turned round to give you a kiss as he noticed you staring and smiled sheepishly. “I spilled a bit and I didn’t bring a spare change of clothes.” And of course his broad chest would never fit in any of your tops.

“I’ve got one of your hoodies that I stole in my room. Pass the shirt so I can get it out.” He tossed it to you and you went to soak the shirt in the stain remover and water and let it soak before you dressed yourself and came out back into the kitchen to hand him your his hoodie. Yet you forgot he would be shirtless. You couldn’t help but linger your eyes over him as you watched him move around the kitchen, stood over the stove and stirring the sauce. He had a large tattoo – a dragon – covering his right shoulder and although this hadn’t necessarily been the first time seeing him shirtless (he loved to walk around shirtless when it was just you two in the apartment), it never ceased to amaze you at how devilishly  and unfairly handsome he could be.

“When will dinner be ready? I’ll set the table.”

“Oh, is 10 minutes ok with you?”

“You’d better be careful Jungkook,” you warned him playfully. “I may never let you leave.”

Dinner was incredible, the pasta being delicious, although you refused seconds due to the simple laws of physics making any additional food in your stuffed stomach being impossible. You watched your boyfriend eat, a big smile painting your face, before he cleaned the plates and putting them in the sink before coming to sit next to you on the sofa, sipping your wine, as you put something on TV.

An hour later into some rom com, Jung Kook spoke. “I want to have sex tonight Y/N.”

Your attention was immediately diverted from the scene on TV as you escaped his arms and turned to face him. “You sure?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while and I’m sure Y/N.” He was fidgety again, reminiscent of the time when you first met, as he avoided your gaze. Smiling, you reached to lift his chin so he met your eyes.

“Tell me.”

“Huh?”

“Tell me what you’ve thought about.” You challenged him softly. Jungkook’s face turned a bright shade of red, eyes wanting so much to skirt away again. “Tell me Kook.”

His face turned an even deeper shade of crimson, blush only increasing at the thought of his fantasies about you.

“I’ve urm… thought of you dominating me.”

“Go on.” You smiled, swinging a leg over him to straddle him. You noticed the hiss in a breath of surprise as his hands grabbing her thighs.

“I’ve thought about you teasing me until I beg and you calling me…” He trailed off but a small kiss on neck urged him to carry on. “baby boy.” It was a whisper and you knew why. It was the complete opposite to the classic jock stereotype – manly and loud – yet you supposed Jung Kook was the complete opposite of a jock in many levels.

“Are you sure Kook? I don’t want you to do this and regret it.” Your eyes were almost black with desire and you were seriously testing your every ounce of self – control.

“I’m sure Y/N… I want to do it.”  

“Ok… Safe word is red ok?” You gently kissed him on the lips as you felt him nod with a small “ok” before lifting a hand to cup the side of his face and you could honestly just sit and stare at his perfect face. Jungkook’s eyes slid closed as he leaned into your touch as they opened again as you brushed your thumb back and forth as your boyfriend mirrored your movement on your thighs. You snaked your hand to the back of his neck, weaving fingers into his hair, as you started to pepper kisses on the chamber of his neck. You would have missed the quiet moan if it had not be so close to your ear.

“Jungkook?”

“Hm?”

“Take me to the bedroom?” He nodded, lifting you up and taking you to your bedroom. Sitting down on the bed, you continued to straddle him, and moved to kiss him.

Every man had “their” style of kissing which could tell you a lot about the man himself. Sometimes two people simply didn’t click – teeth hit teeth, tongues worked against each other. Some were wetter, others were invaders as the entire length of their tongue whilst others barely penetrated your mouth. Some men were slow, savouring the slow rhythm, whilst others were heated and fast. And of course, some men were pythons, opening their mouths so wide that you feared you were witnessing a black hole. Of course every person had their own preference of kissers, and you? You hated the pythons and wet kissers but liked men who would let you set the pace. Jungkook was the one who let you set the pace.

Kissing Jungkook was a bit like coming home. It was comfortable for his lips were so soft and like silk which cushioned your lips. His lips were, you supposed, like your head hitting the pillow when your body was aching with the flu, it was a relief that you desperately needed. You couldn’t pinpoint “what” he was doing with the way he moved his mouth and tongue except describing it as being exactly right, with his tongue dancing with yours softly and elegantly.

Jungkook groaned as you slipped a hand underneath his hoodie, guiding the offensive item of clothing over his head, as you admired the beauty in front of you. And Jungkook was definitely a thing of beauty. He was unworldly. You ran your fingertips across his pecs that others dreamed about, then his shoulders and down the lines of his arms which he used every football practice and game. The crisp contours of his stomach, the clear definition of his pecs, the incredible construction of his arms all created a beautiful study in human form, each part of his body being the perfect form for the intended function of playing football weekly and having practice twice a week. You intended to study every bit of your boyfriend as you enjoyed his muscles twitch as you skimmed your fingertips across.

You leaned down, still straddling him, as you kissed his neck leaving a trail of hickeys up his neck before pushing yourself up to taste his chest. However, Jungkook seemed to have other ideas.

“Y/N… I want to touch you first.” He placed his hand on your wrists, stopping you. You smiled and settled back in his lap as Jungkook moves his hands to your sides as you hooked your fingers to take off your t-shirt that you had changed into, lifting it clean off your body. You were desperate by now, rocking your hips against Jungkook’s growing erection in his trousers, moans being heard as his hands reached to unhook your bra, pulling it off and throwing if to off to somewhere on the floor.

The moment that he started to explore your breasts and nipples was the moment you realised that your boyfriend was truly good, excellent even, at everything. And that he was truly an oxymoron, like you. The very few jocks that you had been with were sloppy, them presenting a front that they were a sex god when in reality they couldn’t even locate the clit. But Jungkook? He was a natural prodigy. Either that or he had been with more women that he let on, and you trusted his words.

He studied your face for the slightest indication of your pleasure and responded to the slightest movement or sound that you made as he worked your touch on you. He’d barely begun on lightly biting your nipples, having sucked hickeys on the flesh of your breast, and you were already uninhibited at his ministrations.

“What do you want Y/N? I want you to tell me.”

You pressed off his lap before standing, pulling off your panties and dropping them to the floor, before climbing onto Jungkook’s lap.

“Please Y/N. I want to make you feel good.” It was sexy, his desire to make you happy and satisfied, and you smiled as you took his hands, guiding it between your legs, moving it up and down your lips.

“You’re wet.” It was a breathless statement.

“You make me.” You bought his hand up to your lips before sucking on them, maintaining eye contact all the time, and you swore that you saw his eyes turn to black with lust. That seemed to have flicked the switch inside him as he pushed one of his fingers inside you, causing your body to spasm at the feeling and throwing your head back and crying out in pleasure. You matched the pace of his fingers by riding him, breathing becoming heavy.

“Tell me what you want Y/N.” Jungkook whispered, almost breathless at the sight, sound and feeling of you becoming undone at his touch.

“Deeper Kook.” You, the strong, stubborn one in your friendship group that never took no for an answer, had resorted to begging now.

Jungkook listened immediately to what you asked, adding another finger before thrusting deep inside. You yelled as he hit the sweet spot inside you.

“Right there Kook! Don’t stop.” You yelled as he hit the sweet spot. “Add another finger Kook, please.” You just about panted out, changing into a sigh of pleasure as he thrust three fingers into you. He took his other hand and placed it on your clit and started his next assault of ministrations there forcing you to collapse in pleasure on his shoulder for the combination of him rubbing your clit and you riding his fingers was almost overwhelming. Jungkook caught on immediately, not stopping his assault.

“Right there. Right there. Don’t stop Kook. Faster. Harder.” You panted in his ear and it only fuelled Jungkook to go faster and harder, something about you getting closer to your orgasm turning him on immensely.

You couldn’t take anymore of his perfect assault and you hit an earth shattering orgasm, screaming his name, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your body spasmed over and over as Jungkook looked at you almost in wonder, as if he questioned if he was really the one to make you feel like that. He felt your muscles contracting around your fingers as you collapsed against his chest, your body eventually relaxing and sagging against him. Pants from both yourself and Jungkook filled the room as you came down from your high and Jungkook as he held you in his arms.

But apparently that wasn’t enough for Jungkook, who resumed his assault with the intensity that had driven you over the edge. It wasn’t long before another orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks as you jerked and contracted on his fingers again with pleasure as Jungkook held you again as you shook again. You immediately felt the loss as Jungkook withdrew his fingers as he held you tight against him, stroking your hair and whispering compliments and ‘are you ok?’s into your ear.

After regaining a sense of yourself and some energy, you moved up to kiss him again as your hands moved down to his waist to his jogging bottoms and hooked your thumbs under the elastic, Jungkook freezing mid-kiss as his breath hitched. You slid his trousers free of his hips and moved to allow you slid them down his legs, throwing them somewhere to the side. Jungkook hissed as his erection was free from his trouser – he went commando since you were the only one home in the apartment – as his eyes were glued to you leaving a trail of kisses down his body.

“Fuck,” you unknowingly muttered looking back up to catch his eyes unable to control your expression of just pure awe. You had seen long cocks, short cocks, thick cocks, thin cocks, pretty ones and ugly ones but this was the most beautiful cock you had ever seen. He was huge and thick, although not unnervingly so.

“I hope that’s a good fuck?”

“You play in the men’s football team and you’ve probably seen all the guy’s cocks. You must know that you’re… impressive.”

“I know that I’m larger than average.”  He said sheepishly as you rolled your eyes at what you deemed as the understatement of the century. “But the girls that I’ve been with said that I hurt them and I… don’t want to hurt you Y/N.” The concern was evident in his features and you smiled as Jungkook’s nature shone through even in times like this. Contrary to the tough guy image as a jock, he would stop and at least pet every stray dog that you met on your walks or would point out beautiful flowers along your walks. He had a gentle soul and it was a stark contrast to the competition driven player he was on the pitch.

“If you take it slow then I’ll be fine and once I adjust it won’t hurt. But first I want to blindfold you if you’re ok with that.”

“I’d love that Y/N.” He broke into a smile as you got up to your chest of drawers, pulling out a tie that you had once worn to a Halloween party a year ago (and had regretted thus leaving an hour into said party).

He was entranced and completely fixated by you as you moved up towards him again, kissing his stomach as they clenched in reaction.

“What’s the safe word Kook?”

“Red.”

“Good.”

“Y/N,” Your name escaped his lips as he sucked in another sharp breath as you pressed a kiss to the head of his now raging cock. It was now an angry red, itching to be inside you as you wrapped the tie around his head, making sure to completely block his eyes. You instructed him to lie down and he did, with his head resting on the pillow, lips parted in anticipation and his cock impossibly hard.

Jungkook forgot to breath momentarily when you placed a hand on his chest, slowly lettings your fingernails rake his chest, drawing light feather circles around his shoulder. To Jungkook however, it was a painfully teasing touch as goose bumps erupted across his skin. You were teasing him with the lightest of touches that sent his nerves on end, as he waited for you to touch the next bit of skin, hypnotising him as no – one had ever touched him like you were currently doing. The next touch on his pecs were so light that it almost tickled with each touch bringing nerve endings to life. Jungkook honestly felt that his pecs were on fire with the perfect feeling of your teasing touch as his body jerked in reaction as his breathing became suddenly ragged as he didn’t know how to handle the sensation that you’d shocked him with.

“Wait here Kook.” You whispered into his ear as an idea struck you, smiling devilishly although he couldn’t see. You made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge as you made your way back. When you came back, you took a deep gulp of the water that had been in the fridge for three days as you held the freezing water in your mouth. Once satisfied, you leaned into Jungkook again who immediately smiled at your closeness as you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock. Jungkook let out an audible groan, hands feeling your head as he wrapped his hands around the back of your hair, pulling your more deeply into his mouth. His body involuntarily jerked upwards, his cock hitting the roof of your mouth.

“Shit I’m so sorry Y/N. I didn’t mean to do that.” He moved his hands to pull the tie from his eyes as you saw the pain in his eyes. You smiled, hoping to reassure him a little, before grabbing his hands and holding them against his sides. You then smirked as you angled your head forward and slowly ran your tongue down his length from the tip before taking him deep into the back of your throat with no warning.

“Y/N!” Jungkook breathed, hands formed into tight fists.

Jungkook’s entire length didn’t fit into your mouth, since you had a small gag reflex, so you added your hand to the mix and began working his length with your fist and mouth, varying the speed and pressure. You heard Jungkook’s moans and groans and it had been minutes of you sucking him, deepthroating him as well as giving him a hand job and Jungkook’s reaction was almost absent. He didn’t even seem to be on edge and you frowned as you sat back.

“Am I doing something wrong Kook?”

“Of course not.”

“Buy you’re not close to coming?”

“You want me to… cum in your mouth?” It was such an innocent question which reflected his puppy dog expression that he had on his face at that moment in time, minus the hair that stuck to his forehead from the sweat or his flushed cheeks.

“Of course Kook. I want to taste you.” You replied, straight – faced, as if it was the most matter of fact thing.

“I-“ It was cut off as you took him back into your mouth again, smiling around his as you heard and felt Jungkook succumb to the pleasure. Loud moans echoed in the room as you increased your intensity, one hand around the base of his cock and the other cupping his balls, palming and playing with them as you bought him closer and closer to his high. Jungkook was trembling by now and his hands grabbed your hair as he yelled your name as he came, body going rigid as he released in your mouth. You continued to gently suck him as he released more into your mouth, swallowing every bit of him deeply, meeting Jungkook’s eyes. His jaw dropped and you smiled, using a finger to wipe some from the corner of your mouth, Jungkook continuing to stare as his mouth opened then shut as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

You slid back up to his chest and nestled into his side as he held you tight, placing a kiss to your hair as you traced lazy circles with your nails. In all honestly, you were dripping wet from sucking and teasing him, high from the response you’d been given, yet you didn’t want to overwhelm your boyfriend.

“Let me know when you want to continue.” You whispered in his ear.

It couldn’t have been more than 5 minutes before Jungkook said he was ready.

“Thank god.” You blurted out for you were so wet from sucking him.

“Y/N, are you sure you want to do this?” He held you against his sides. You took his hands between your legs to show him how wet you were for him.

“I’m sure Kook.”

“I don’t want to hurt you Y/N.”

“I promise that you won’t hurt me. I’ll take it slow.”

“Promise?”

“Promise Kook.” You kissed him, hoping that you reassured him enough. It seemed to work as you felt tension leave his body as he deepened the kiss.

“I know you want me to fully dominate you but next time. Tonight we’re taking things slow.” You kissed him one last time as you moved to straddle him, as you did earlier, Jungkook groaning as he felt your wetness on his cock.

“Y/N please.” He begged and you took it as a sign to sit on him so that he entered you. You took it slow, his length and girth stretching you completely. The sharp pain of the first inch of him lasted moments longer than it normally took to feel comfortable because he was so big but you waited before taking a few more inches of him. You had tried your best to hide your pain as not to worry Jungkook but it was evidently futile.

“Y/N are you ok?” Jungkook asked in a panic. He tried to pull out of you but you held his hips firmly against you.

“I’m fine Kook. Just need to adjust a bit.” You smiled, stroking his cheek.

“For as long you need.”

It struck you then that he hadn’t taken any pleasure at all, too focused on you instead, as he held your hips so that you didn’t completely take him in. It felt impossibly long for you to fully take him in, adjusting to his big size, but it eventually dissipated as pleasure overtook to be the overwhelming feeling.

“Kook,” you cried as your breath hitched. “Move.”

It was a tentative, small movement at first as you cried his name again and dug your nails into his shoulders. You could tell that he believed that you weren’t in pain anymore when his own eyes clenched shut as he allowed pleasure to hit as you continued to ride him, enjoying Jungkook turning his attention to your breast as he licked, bit and sucked them, causing you to moan loudly.

“Y/N… I’m going to…”

“Then do Kook.”

“Want to be on top when I do.” It was a grunt and you knew that he was doing everything in his power to not coming. He moved so that now he was on top, thrusting in and out of you, revelling the feeling of how you felt. You were everything that he had dreamed about and more, with your hair an imperfect mess, stray strands sticking to the sweat on your forehead. Your lips were slightly swollen from kissing him that night and he could honestly spend the rest of his life just kissing you. Your neck were sure to be peppered with hickeys the next day but he couldn’t care less when it looked so inviting. Your breasts were the same as he moved to massage one of them in his hand whilst holding your nipple in between his teeth and lightly pulling upwards. And the best thing of all in his opinion were your eyes. They lit up talking about photography especially with your master’s degree show and submission of your portfolio coming up, cried at the ending scene from Marley and Me and were currently dark with lust yet still radiated the pure love that you had for him.

“Want you to go harder.”

“It’s been too long… I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I promise to tell if you’re hurting me ok?” You urged him down to be able to kiss him again as you started to match his thrusts to let him know that you were ready. Jungkook got the hint as he increased his speed as you urged him on.

“Harder Kook please.” You begged as he pushed stronger and deeper, your moans and begging serving as encouragement. He moved his weight from his forearms to wrapping his hands around your shoulders, holding you and bracing your body as he thrusted harder into you.

You kept begging for more and Jungkook pounded into you with such intensity you hadn’t though possible, you gritting your teeth at the force as his hands were sure to leave imprints on your shoulders as he pulled them as he slammed into you.

“Feels so good Kook. Let go.” He kept thrusting and it eventually became too much for both of you as you came first, walls pulsing around him as you cried his name, panting heavily. It was that image that threw him off the edge as he came impossibly deep inside you, releasing his cum as he slumped on top of you, although being careful that he wouldn’t crush you with his body weight. Heavy panting filled the room as he pressed a small kiss to your shoulder.

“Love you Y/N.”

“I love you too Kook.” You smiled, matching his.

Once you had gained some sense of normality and control, he gently placed you beside him on the bed before coming back shortly after with a glass of water in his hand and a towel from the bathroom.

“Here.” He gave you the water as you gulped down a sip as Jungkook moved to wipe the wetness from your thighs with the towel.

“How did that compare to your imagination?”

“100 times better. Thank you.” He threw the towel to the floor before joining you in the bed, holding you in his arms. He traced lazy circles across your stomach as his built size enveloped you – you loved how little you felt wrapped around him.

“You’re so tiny.” He whispered.

“Can still kick your ass baby boy.” And both you and Jungkook had content smiles painted on your faces as you let sleep take over you. Who knew that stepping outside your comfort zone would let you meet your comfort zone? You guessed that life was weird and funny like that.