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nochuvalencia · 3 years

Text

𝐁 𝐁 𝐇 𝐌 𝐌 - jjk

I was basically inspired by these ^^^ pics of jk bc wow hot hi

⚠️ ALSO QUICK DISCLAIMER :: this is my first fanfic on here so it might be terrible but enjoy anyway. ⚠️

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 :: reader x crimeboss!jk

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 :: bitch you better have his money.

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 :: ABSOLUTE SMUTTY FILTH heh angst too ig

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 :: 11.9k

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 :: long haired tatted jk, that’s it, that’s the warning, uh kinda sketchy plot hsjsjsj, WOW ANGST ASF at the beginning tho, dub!con towards the middle don’t hurt me, fuck or die ig, gunplay????? yeah????? jks BLATANT OVERUSE of pet names, dacryphillia, major-ish character death, describing the injuries on a dead body, jk has a sir kink ig??? um excessive over exaggerated choking bc jks hands yum, explicit seggs, rough jk, he’s kinda mean, dom!jk, sub!reader, oral m&f receiving (facefucking on both ends), coochie sniff if you squint, coochie slaps if u squint too, spanking, OVERSTIMULATION, unprotected seggs, degradation, he calls her a bitch once idk, other bad names, praise too ig, jk gives an ultimatum, SLIGHT aftercare, he kinda like switches from flirty to murderous like a bunch of times it’s kinda weird, jk has an impossibly huge shlong obv, contemplating death, super mature themes, reader is a BIG fucking crybaby, overuse of the word fuck, corruption kink at the end if u squint super hard, also DUB!CON in case you didn’t see it, at this point I should just write what it doesn’t have

“If you’re not out of my house in 3.4 seconds, I'm dragging you out by the testicles” you uttered, your alarmingly calm voice laced with raw brutality as hot tears cascaded down your burning cheeks, your arm outstretched and pointed toward the blinding light of the hallway that contrasted with your dark bedroom. You said nothing more, with your eyes trained angrily at one of the four blank tan walls nearby, not possibly being able to bear speaking to or sparing a glance into the eyes of a cheating whore. The woman you had just caught him with scurried past you wearily, a terrified and confused glint in her eyes as she passed your frigid frame sans underwear, with her sparkly silver pumps dangling from her fingers and a wrinkly silver dress hanging limply from the clutches of her other hand. The man in question shuffled cautiously around the bed, clutching the exposed parts of his body and approaching you with extreme hesitation and outstretched hands, as if trying to calm the already blazing flames of your fury. He laid a cold, rough hand on your shoulder squeezing softly, a motion that once brought you comfort but only added the all consuming hatred that bubbled up inside you akin to ravenous bile filling up the pit of your belly. “Did you not hear what I said? Get out.” You spat, glossy eyes still pointed toward anything but him.

“____ please” he croaked, like the slimy frog he truly was, his voice dripping in false agony which only neared you closer to the brink of undoubtedly committing an act of extreme violence against that man. “Please baby it wasn’t-'' you blanked. He was about to make an excuse. A stupid, rediculous, horrible, completely false excuse which you had absolutely no patience to hear. So you snapped, harshly shrugging your shoulder and sending his arm flying back to his side. He stepped back, ceasing his incessant chatter as he stared at you, a surprised expression painting his “pained” features. He wasn’t accustomed to you acting like this, you were never one to raise your voice or act out in any sort of way so he stood there, eyes widened in dumbfounded silence and you took this chance, bending down, scooping up as much of his discarded clothing as you possibly could and throwing it in his face, your rage bubbling over into something much more carnal as you inhaled deeply through your nose.

“Shut the fuck up and leave!” He scrambled to catch as many clothes as he could and was taken aback by your abrupt outburst. He stood silent once again though this time, he was making the face he often made when forcing himself to cry. It was the face he made around his mother to get out of family responsibilities. The face he made around his friends when guilt tripping them into buying him drinks, and now he's using it for you. To guilt you into taking pity on his pathetic actions which merely was the catalyst for your unforgiving violence. In an instant you were behind him, heaving him out of the door with your bare hands, pushing with all your might, using the immense pain coursing through your limbs as motivation to drive his beefy frame further and further out of the bedroom, down the hallway, into the living room and closer to the door yelling “I said leave! Leave! Now!” Pushing harder and harder with every word you choked out. The tears began to flow faster, clouding and distorting your vision as your face contorted into an expression of pure anguish until finally, he was forced out of the open doorway and into the main hallway of your apartment building. You promptly slammed the door in his face and the only thought traveling though your mind was ‘thank god she left that door open’ because you wouldn’t have been able to force him through it otherwise.

You stood silently for a few seconds, back to the door, face still slick with tears as the cool wood on your back shook senselessly with every beat of his fist and muffled shout of his voice crying phrases like “____ open the fuking door!” , “this is my apartment too baby come on” and other variations of the sort. Your mind was empty while you remained there, letting the harsh reality sink in like the slowest molasses. You allowed that man, that pig, to take 10 years of your life. 10 years of your prime. 10 years that you'll never get back no matter how much you beg and plead for it. Come to think of it, you had shaped your entire life around him. His influence was there no matter how much you wished it wasn’t. His residue staining your life like the blackest ink of which you would never be able to rid yourself. At the surfacing of these thoughts, you’d finally broke down and cried, like ugly cried. Broken heaves and sobs escaped your throat until you felt like you were suffocating as you slid down the door, not caring if he heard your wails and whines of torment on the other side of the polished mahogany. You actually hoped he did hear, you wanted him to hear the anguish and grief he put you through. You wanted him to hear you cry out all of your attachment and love for him until there was none left, so he knows the tears flowing from your body hold all of the affection you harbor for him. All ten years of attraction flowing out in a gigantic tsunami of grief that can only end in a new start.

Your mind played through all the memories, and the small amount of good times you had with each other while you sobbed mercilessly, also coming to the realization that he never did anything for you. Ever since you were 14 you’d been changing everything about yourself for him, while he merely lived his life, dragging you along like a supportive little puppy and rewarding you with cheap token gifts and mediocre sex once in a blue moon.

He wanted to attend university in your hometown so you abandoned your dream school, which accepted you, to attend a closer college. He made the decision to study abroad, so you had to drop everything and move to Australia for him. He wanted to wait to have kids so you froze your fucking eggs for him. He got a great new job at a large company in Asia, so you dropped everything again and moved to South Korea. You learned Korean for him. You have the same friends as him. You even cut a few family members off because he was “uncomfy” around them. He wouldn’t even go down on you because it also made him ‘uncomfy’, which should’ve been a red flag from the start. You did all of this bullshit in the haze of love. The promise that he’d reciprocate all of it in affection and adoration, which he didn’t, and now you’re sitting in your living room bawling your brains out because you were too lovestruck to see the signs.

After sobbing hysterically for what seemed like hours, you’d sat limply in front of your door, slouching back onto it as if it were a plush armchair and staring blankly into space, your mind completely empty. Feeling overwhelmed and exhausted beyond belief, you leaned forward, groaning in anguish as your tired muscles cried out in distress after being immobile for more than four hours. Crawling over to the couch, you tiredly flung your nearly paralyzed body onto the soft cushions with a sigh, not even bothering to pull the fluffy throw blanket over your body as your entire frame began to steadily shut down. Before your eyes completely shut, you caught a glimpse of the clock perched on the wooden tv stand which read 11:11 and scoffing quietly as you thought to yourself, ‘I thought that was supposed to mean good luck’ and you gave in to the delicious expanse of slumber.

You were startled awake by the incessant pounding of your now ex-boyfriends fist on the door, again. For the past 4 days since you’d forced him out, he’d show up outside your door at the ass crack of dawn just banging on the door profusely, as if that would persuade you to open it an inch. He had a schedule, he’d come at 5am, before he went off to work, then at 12:30 on his lunch break, then again at 9:45 just to make you miserable before you went to bed. You’re actually surprised the neighbors haven’t complained to the landlords yet. You tossed the blanket off of your sticky body, kicking and thrashing wildly due to the annoyance caused by that nuisance.

You cried more times than you can count during these last 4 days, especially during the times he would attempt to win you over with sappy shit like “baby, you’re my everything, you’re all i’ve ever wanted”, the lyrics to one of your favorite songs or, “you’re my forever ____, you can’t just throw 10 years away babe” to which you cried about for 3 hours after he’d said it, after realizing that he actually wasted 10 fucking years of your life. Anger bubbled up in the pit of your stomach as you listened to the repetitive banging of his fist and at this point you had enough and came to the decision it was finally time to pack his shit. Stomping into the living room, you grabbed a necessary box of bags that sat on the coffee table in the center of the room, figuring you were ready to use it. With a final nod of your head, you marched into your shared bedroom and opened all of the cabinets and drawers that contained the plethora of his belongings and flinging them on the floor, grabbing the box of xl trash bags you’d snagged on your march in here and started tossing things in left and right, not caring about the brand name or the state of the fabric or anything for that matter. All you saw was red as your eyes welled up with tears for the first and probably not last time that day.

“I can’t do this” you sobbed out, voice hoarse as you fell to your knees, ignoring the rugburn that was soon to form on those areas as your shoulders shook with every harsh breath you took. You had been dreading this task. Dreading it only for its significance that once you packed all his things and tossed them out, your relationship would be truly over. You definitely didn’t want him back but this would be the first time you’ve been alone in 10+ years and you were not certain you were prepared for that let alone wanting it. Inhaling shakily, you sniffed, ridding your face of any moisture as you cleared your throat and walked back into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of chardonnay from your anniversary that fell on the week prior and venturing back into the closet to resume your task. You weren’t much of a drinker but for this task, you’d need a bottle or two.

A few hours later, he’d finally went off to work and you sat in the doorway of the closet, drunkenly dressed in the wedding gown you were made to be wed in this summer still combing through all of his clothing and tossing them messily into a bag that laid open on the floor beside you. You took a swig from the bottle, hissing softly at the satisfying burn that seared it’s way down your throat and rubbing at your puffy eyes with the knuckle of your index finger. The closet was mostly bare, except for a rack with some of his clothes and one rack of semi-expensive clothing his cheap ass reluctantly purchased for you and you glanced around, catching a glimpse of some ugly floral fabric in the corner of the small space. Getting on your hands and knees you reached a limp hand out, taking hold of the horrendous fabric and dragging it out with a groan, eyes wide at the surprising heft of the object in your hand.

It was a pillowcase. A pillowcase full of something brick shaped. You raised an eyebrow quizzically before reaching into the bag and pulling out a fat stack of cash. Taking a sharp intake of breath you paused, staring blankly at the wrapped wad in your hand and cocking your head to the side. You peeked over into the bag after a few minutes, eyes popping out of your skull as they feasted on more huge stacks of money. It was Korean currency but there had to be at least 250k USD worth in the entire sack. You furrowed your brows, tossing the money back into the pillowcase forcefully as a tornado of thoughts whirled in your mind. Had he been saving behind your back? Was he planning on getting rich then eventually hanging you out to dry for some younger girl? How long has he had all of this? Where the fuck did it all come from?

You looked back at the money then back at the corner you found it in, squinting as you spotted some more ugly purple fabric. Crawling behind the clothing earnestly, you managed to fish out 4 more pillowcases full of money. You stifled a laugh, having never been in the presence of so much currency, you guessed it had to be more than 1 million dollars. You smiled for the first time in 4 days, lips curling up into a wide joy filled expression as you dumped all of the money onto the rugged floor of the closet. With all of the alcohol coursing through your veins, (almost a whole bottle) you didn’t hesitate to grab the biggest tote bag you own and stuff as much money as it could hold inside. You figured it was the least he could do after cheating on you.

He deserved to pay, and you obviously deserved a raise.

It was a full on shopping spree. After throwing all of his shit into bags, you tossed them outside your door and left with as much money as you could carry before he could come back on his lunch break. You even came back to get some more money, just to go out and spend it again. To say you splurged would be an understatement, you spent almost half of the money on clothes, shoes, a hair and makeup appointment, a manicure, a new car, and you even paid rent for six months after taking his name off the lease.

So here you were, struggling up the stairs as quick as you could, due to the fact that it was 9:30 and you were trying to avoid seeing him at his 9:45 visit. Your feet screamed in agony in your new jimmy choo pumps, because you’d been on them all day, and you had at least six shopping bags hanging from each arm, all full with an assortment of gaudy items such as shoe boxes, makeup products, and clothing. You had finally reached the door after a while, smiling at the absence of his bags which meant he took them and swiftly unlocked the door, clamoring in and tiredly dropping the bags in your hands. With a sigh, you locked the door, running a hand through your freshly styled hair as you rid your face of the designer sunglasses that shielded it. Kicking off your shoes, you hummed gratifyingly at the pleasurable feeling of bare feet and shuffled over to your couch, plopping down on the end cushion groggily.

A soft buzz in your back pocket caught your attention as you carefully fished out the new phone you purchased and unlocked it with your perfectly manicured fingers, raising an eyebrow quizzically as the texts rolled in, ‘i thought i blocked him’ you thought, preparing to do it a second time before a few texts caught your attention and you froze on the spot, chuckling heartlessly at his words.

+82 2 2263 5950 : whose car is in our parking spot?

+82 2 2263 5950 : did you already move on?

+82 2 2263 5950 : wow whore

You rolled your eyes, wondering where he attained the gaul to accuse you of a feat such as that. Calling you a whore as if that name isn’t suitable for himself. Even more so than you. You decided to text him back, feeding off of an unknown source of confidence as your fingers furiously tapped along the screen.

me : it’s my car asshole

me : bought it with the money u left me

me :thx baby <3

+82 2 2263 5950 : what money?

me : the money in the closet you didn’t bother telling me abt u dumb fuck

+82 2 2263 5950 : don’t use that money

me : why should i listen to you?

me : you aren’t my bf

+82 2 2263 5950 : no seriously ____ don’t use that money wtf is wrong with u

me : already did bye babe

You blocked him as quickly as you could, face burning with absolute anger as you tossed your phone on the cushion beside you. Who is he to tell you what you could or couldn’t do? You had come to the decision then and there that you wouldn't let him treat you like a child. He wasn’t your dad. Thanks to him you barely speak to your dad. The only thought going through your mind at the time was ‘fuck him.’ Before you could delve into your thoughts any further, it started. His incessant pounding on the door. Again. Although, this time it was much more frantic, desperate. He was much louder with his pathetic pleas and whines, crying out “please don’t use that money!”, “Listen to me god damn it!”, “___ open the fucking door now!” But you stood your ground, ignoring him once again as you did for the past few days.

Just to escape the racket of his wails of desperation, you retreated to your room, slipping on one of his expensive balenciaga sweatshirts you kept for yourself and climbing into the cool blankets, burying yourself under the plush fabric and folding your pillow over your ears. You knew this would be the longest night of your life..

And you were correct, It was the longest night of your life. He never truly got the memo that you would not be coming out to communicate with him so he finally left at around 1:30 in the morning. You had slept horribly, tossing and turning as the aftermath of his cries and pleads left a print on your mind and tormented you at all hours of the night, you didn’t manage to get any real sleep until around eight and woke up a mere five hours later in a state of confusion. It was well past noon and yet it was silent, you had woken up of your own volition, not because of some crazy man outside of your apartment screaming like a banshee. In due time, you had come to the conclusion that he had finally given up and gone about his day without banging on his ex-girlfriend's apartment door like an idiot at all hours of the day.

This theory was almost set in your mind until you heard a knock. Groaning violently, you stared up at your ceiling, eyebrows furrowed as you erased that theory from the whiteboard in your cortex. Fully prepared to ignore the person at the door, you rolled over to your side until another knock was heard. This wasn’t him. This couldn’t be him. The knocks were way too soft, they lacked an element of urgency, desperation. They were simply just way too calm. So, you sat up, swinging your legs over and reluctantly standing up, before making your way into the living room to be greeted with another knock and a smooth male voice calling out. “Miss ___ ___?”

You glanced wearily though your peep hole to be met with a tall male, dressed in a blue and white uniform. “Looks like a cop. He called the fucking cops on me, shit.” you whispered to yourself, voice small as you held onto the door handle. Figuring it’d be worse to make him wait, you opened the door, being met with the warm, dimpled smile, of the decorated individual. “Yes, i”m ____” you respond, shoving your hands into the pockets of your sweatshirt and looking everywhere but him, which probably seems more suspicious than anything but you were too riddled with anxiety to care. The officer clutched a navy blue manilla folder in his hand and opened it promptly in order to sift through its contents.

“Hi, i’m officer Kim.” he breathed out, calmly bowing and resuming his apparent spiel, “do you know this man?” he pondered, raising an eyebrow quizzically as he pulled a photo from his folder with calloused fingers and lifted it, spinning it around to face you. Your eyes widened slightly upon being shown a picture of your ex and you nodded hesitantly.

“He’s my ex boyfriend- well ex fiance I guess.” you responded, voice barely audible as your mind raced faster than the speed of sound. You asked yourself what he could’ve done that was bad enough for the police to show up at your door. Maybe you had been too harsh on him and he had gotten into one to many bar fights, maybe he robbed a bank at gunpoint, maybe he stole some old lady’s car and filled it with off brand mayonnaise before he returned it. All your questions- all your thoughts stopped as Officer Kim responded, running a tired hand through his hair.

“He passed, earlier today.” he paused, giving you time to digest things and you froze, staring at his face blankly as your mind processed what you had just been told and you hummed questioningly, your throat becoming tight with realization. “It happened around five this morning,” he paused again as you stood in complete silence. Sure you hated him but you’d never wish death upon another person, especially him. You hate him now but you were in love with him once too. You hate him now but, he was the closest person in your life. He was all of your firsts, your fiance, your best friend. You thought you wouldn’t be able to get all of that back because of the breakup but now you truly can never get any of it back, because he’s dead. Then, you started to cry, for the hundredth time this week but this one was different. You weren’t crying because you missed him, or wanted him to come back like all the other times, as horrible as it sounds. You were crying because you felt bad. Because of his short life that was ripped from him by the unforgiving hand of death. You weren’t crying because of him, you were crying for him. A hand on your shoulder interrupted your sobs and you wiped your face, glancing up at the culprit with glassy eyes. “I’m so sorry for your loss...” he paused, giving you a few moments to breathe as he rubbed your shoulder comfortingly before speaking again, “but we have an idea of who did it, it would be helpful if you just came down to the station with me for some questioning.” he asked softly as the shaking sobs and whimpers that came from your body slowed to a halt and you nodded.

“Yeah, uh. Let me just go get dressed.” You muttered, smiling up at him softly and shuffling back to your room to prepare. The longest night of your life was about to turn into the longest day.

And you were correct again as you stood in front of your apartment door after the absolute, and I cannot stress this enough, longest day of your life. Your ex was murdered, brutally, and they made sure to go over all of the gory details with you while you were at the precinct, they even took you to see his body, which made you cry because it was mangled almost beyond recognition and you were horrified. Apparently, he had been tortured for hours, which explained all the bruises, gashes, and burn marks on his body, strangled, thus the huge ring shaped mark around his neck, and dumped into a river, which made his body all pruny and wrinkled. You had spent 10 long hours at the police precinct and it was now nearing midnight as you fished your keys from your pocket in order to unlock the door. Inserting your key, you jiggle it around in the lock for a minute before realizing it was already unlocked initially. Figuring you had left it unlocked accidentally in your depressed haze, you pushed your way into your apartment and locked it promptly, pressing your forehead into the cool wood of the door. You sighed softly, relaxing only for a minute as you absorbed your surroundings before freezing as you heard the rhythmic tapping of someone's foot.

“Long day huh?” the voice was deep, one you hadn’t heard before as you remained facing the door, your grip of the handle tightening until your knuckles turned white. He spoke again, “you must be ____.” he murmured softly, sending a terrified shudder down your spine. “I’ve been wanting to meet you but he said you were off limits. You know, he talks about you a lot-...” he stopped himself as if realizing something, “well talked, I mean.” the man mused, an ominous chuckle flowing from his mouth.

“Who are you?” you rasped, attempting to conceal any cowardice but blinking your eyes harshly as your voice broke. You vaguely hoped this was one of your ex’s friends coming to visit, at an odd hour of the night, sitting ominously in the dark of your apartment waiting for you to come home just to say hi but the chances of that actuality was very slim.

“None of your business” the man retorted, a smirk evident in his ominous tone. “Now, let’s get down to business little dove,” you furrowed your brows at the nickname. You had never been called a nickname, especially by a man who randomly just snuck into your apartment one night. Your ex only ever called you baby or babe so little dove was different for you. It seemed endearing in the worst type of way. “I want the rest of my money.” he paused, “I found half of it in a closet here, and he said you might know where the rest is.” he paused again, only this time a sound is heard, a metal rattling of some sort that ricochets off of the walls of the apartment like a stray jumping bean in a pill case. Then it hits you, he has a gun, and he just shook it as if he intends to use it. . “Don’t make me ask again sweetheart.” Your eyes widen and well up as your head falls down, knowing you're going to die today and you take a deep breath, telling yourself you’d be ready for whatever happens so you decide, if you’re gonna die, you should at least know the name of the man that’s gonna kill you so you scrape together every last drop of confidence you can muster and ask once more.

“I said, w-who are yo-” you choked out, in an attempt to hold onto the last shred of your dignity as you blinked back the tears threatening to fall from your glassy eyes. However, your small shred of confidence is promptly ripped from your grasp as the man cuts you off mid sentence, slamming his gun down onto a hard surface with a loud clatter. You jolt, crying out softly as the tears you’d been holding back with all your might fall onto the ground before you.

“I said none of your fucking business bitch where’s my fucking money.” he spat, his sinister tone draing a choked sob from your thoat as you realized, you wouldn’t be getting anything you wanted today. “Answer me” he said, alarmingly calm as the sound of him cocking his gun travels directly to your mind.

“I spent it” you muttered between your soft hiccups and stiffened slightly upon hearing a heavy footstep approach you, then another footstep, and another, and another until they cease, and you can feel the man's warm breath raising the hair on the back of your neck. All your readiness for whatever happens and willingness to die flies out of the window as you lean your head on the door once more, taking a shaky breath as you begin to plead, aware of how pathetic you sound and part of the reason why you have such a strong urge to cry harder. “Please don’t kill me” you whined desperately as you feel the cold metal of the gun barrel resting on your shoulder.

“Relax little dove” he whispered, his lips brushing the back of your ear and sending a chill rushing through the entire expanse of your body. “Just find a way to pay me back and we’re even,” he continued calmly, his raspy voice reverberating in your eardrums as you think through what he just said carefully. You gasp and sniffle, shaking your head softly and lifting it slowly from the wooden door frame.

“I-” you stopped, taking a deep breath and preparing yourself as much as you could for his response then opened your mouth to continue. “I don’t have that kind of money” you whispered hesitantly, shutting your eyes tightly, allowing nothing to escape but the numerous tears that fell to the ground in anticipation of his actions. There was an eerie silence as he contemplated your words before he abruptly turned away, lifting the gun from your shoulder and holstering it in the waistband of his jeans, causing you to let out a wavering breath you’d been holding that entire time. His hand traveled back up, taking refuge on your left shoulder as the other hand made its way up your right arm, the warmth setting your skin aflame and sending a shockwave of warmth coursing through your body.

“There is another way you could pay me back.” his velvet voice rasped, stressing the word ‘another’ in a way that you immediately understood his insinuation and you took a sharp intake of air, bracing yourself for what he was about to say next. But he didn’t say anything for a moment, letting his hands do the talking for him as he gripped your arms softly, using his hands to spin you around and face him. You whirled around, yelping in surprise but stopping when you were met with the most exquisite, carnivorous brown eyes you had ever seen in your life that were accompanied by full pink lips and a tousled bunch of fluffy black hair you just wanted to run your hands through. Even in the darkness of night, the moonlight streaming through the kitchen window illuminated the room enough for you to trail your eyes down his face and get a vivid idea of what he’d look like with illumination.

Yummy as fuck.

Your eyes began to wander down to his exposed collarbone and before they could travel any lower, his fingers roughly grabbed your chin, forcing your gaze upward until you met his borderline cannibalistic gaze, which crushed you into nothing. He cocked his head to the side, a mischievous glint in his eyes as the corner of his lips turn upward slightly. “He was always bragging about you… saying,” he speaks, his sultry tone lulling you into a state of compliance as he spoke, “you’re such a good fuck,” he continues, placing his left hand gently on your waist and stepping even closer, if that’s possible, his soft breath hitting your face with every word as he speaks. “Your sweet little cunt is so tight” he glances down at your lips, running his thumb over your bottom lip “your mouth feels like heaven” he pauses again, running his hand down to hold the side of your neck softly to which you gasp “maybe i’d like a demonstration little dove.” he smiles, a twisted horrifying smile that snaps you out of his seductive trance and back to reality as your eyes widen and you pull yourself quickly out of his hold, running over to the couch and bracing yourself on it.

“No” you cry out, out of breath for some reason as you swallow thickly and shake your head. “No, I'll find a way to pay you back, I promise.” you plead, praying he wasn’t going to kill you on the spot and that he hadn’t noticed your blatant ogling. He probably did but at this point you didn’t care, you just wanted him gone.

“Whatever you say sweetheart” he replied, emitting a dark chuckle “call me if you change your mind, my number’s in your phone” he opened the front door and you glanced back at him, noticing the way his all black attire contrasts with his tan skin, and most of all, you notice the full sleeve of tattoos that ran down his right arm. Heat crawled up to your face as you realized you were gawking again and you nodded in response, feeling unable to form the words to respond with. He only uttered the words “you have a week.” before the door slammed and you were left alone in the dark.

You ran your fingers along the side of your neck where the aftermath of his touch lingered like a searing residue. No one had ever touched you like that, especially your ex. He was the man that took your virginity and was the man there for every time after so you’d become accustomed to his textbook missionary vanilla sex that left you touch starved and unfinished every. single. time. But you’d finish yourself off each time, feeling bad because you thought he was trying his hardest and truly didn’t understand how to please women. But as time went on, you realized he didn’t care about your pleasure and too enveloped in his own release to ever worry about your needs, but were too deep in love with him to care.

Your thoughts were interrupted when your phone went off to signal a text and upon picking it up there were two text messages from an unknown number that sent a shiver down your spine which read.

+82 2 5284 8735 : don’t try to run

+82 2 5284 8735 : we’ll hunt you down little dove

“Can’t you just take the shit back?” You questioned frantically, clutching the phone by your head until your knuckles turned white, rolling your eyes tiredly when you got no response. “They hung up, great” you deadpanned, plopping onto the couch you had been pacing in front of. It has been 6 days since the man showed up and you were running out of time and hadn’t slept in two days, your mind running frantically with the thought of him coming back to see you nearly empty handed. Well, not exactly empty handed. You had managed to get 253k of the whopping +400k dollars you had spent of his money and after not being able to return the car, manicure, hair appointment, rent, and a bunch of clothes and shoes, you were manic. Some might even say a bit crazy. Many of the stores and the dealership knew you by name because of the amount of times you called them. You dropped your phone into your lap, burying your face in your hands and wishing someone was here to console you through this but the only person you knew even remotely enough to offer any consolation was your ex. You wish he was alive so you could punch that bitch in the face and ask him what kind of shit he got himself into because the man that paid you a visit was most definitely not from corporate.

You sat for a silent minute deliberating if you should text the mystery man and take him up on his offer. You had asked yourself, is it really worth your life? Were you really going to die because you didn’t want to sleep with the hot guy you stole money from? The answer at first was yes because you still had your pride intact then but now, you had been starting to second guess your confidence in getting all the money back. After all, the deadline is tomorrow. You still had your hesitations, the only man who has ever seen you in such a lewd nature was your ex. You didn’t know if you were ready for sex with another person, even if he was the hottest man you’d ever seen. But, against your better nature, you convinced yourself that your ex was gone and this was bound to happen sooner or later, so why not sooner?

You grabbed your phone in earnest before anything inside you could convince you to stop and unlocked it, opening the messages for his number and typing out your text, hitting send before any sort of regret had the chance to sink in.

me : i’ll take your offer

me : this is ____ btw

You placed your phone down on the couch cushions beside you and chewed nervously on the not so fresh manicure that was still on your nails. To your surprise, his reply came in quickly and you frantically reached for your phone as the dings came rolling in.

+82 2 5284 8735 : i know who you are

+82 2 5284 8735 : i'll be there in 20

+82 2 5284 8735 : be ready sweetheart

Your heart thumped restlessly as you shot up from your seat shouting “twenty minutes?!” and you cried out nervously. You hadn’t even seen his face in good lighting and you didn't know his name so you’d basically be fucking a complete stranger which scared you enough as it is but the fact that that stranger held you at gunpoint merely a week prior is what scared you shitless.

In the limited time that he gave you, you decided to freshen up a bit so you hopped in the shower. Your first shower in a few days after your psychotic state worsened. Humming in bliss, you relished in the feeling of the scalding water flowing over your skin as you took your time washing , shaving, and singing, in an attempt to rid yourself of the horrendous nerves that overtook your senses. After reluctantly stepping out of the steamy oasis, you’d decided on a white lingerie set you had gotten yourself for christmas but never got to wear for anyone because your significant other was always “working” or too tired/busy to take the time of day for you. Pairing the set with a matching white silk robe and not bothering to wear any shoes because you’re in your own house, you slicked your lips in a thick coat of gloss and applied some mascara and eyeliner to your tired eyes just to spruce up a bit. You figured, if you put effort into your appearance, then maybe he’d spare your life after the sex. You stared at yourself in the mirror, tying your robe, smacking your glossed lips together and ogling your appearance before a soft knocking was heard from the living room. “He’s here” you told yourself with a deep shaky breath as you vacated the bathroom and slowly ventured toward the door.

You stood silently before the front door, contemplating whether this was a mistake or if it was too late to turn back. As much as you hated to admit, there was no logical solution to your problem that was in compliance with any standing laws. Heck, what you were doing was probably illegal in everywhere but Las Vegas so you had no other choice than to twist the handle, open the door and stare up at the most alluring man you had ever laid eyes on. You ran your eyes all over his body, studying him, his features, his gorgeous eyes, impeccable nose, plush lips, smooth hair, and strong arms that lead to a presumed strong chest hidden under his plain white tee. He noticed you blatantly checking him out to which he placed a finger on your chin, lifting your face up so your eyes met and making you watch as he rolled his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on it for a moment. Oh how you wished that was your lip.

“You ready little dove?” he asked, his tone seductive and smooth like chocolate as he walked closer to you, closing the door behind him and backing you up until you stood patiently before the couch staring up at him, a wistful glint in your eyes as you nodded. He reached up, using a finger to push your robe off of your right shoulder and cocking his head quizzically. “All dressed up just for me?” he pondered, his eyes trained on the white lace peeking out from under the robe. You nodded, to which he gripped your chin roughly, furrowing his eyebrows at your response. “Use your words sweetheart” he warned, loosening his grip so you could speak in affirmation.

“Yes…” your voice trailed off, thinking of what to call him, as you still didn’t know his name, so you addressed him as you would any man you didn’t know, “yes, sir. I dressed up just for you” you concluded, your voice barely greater than a whisper as the corners of his lips turned up. He let out an animalistic growl at the name you gave for him, obviously satisfied and moved his hand from your chin to grip the back of your neck promptly.

“It’s Jungkook, but sir will do nicely” he basically growled before latching onto your lips with carnal aggressiveness. You whined heartily into his mouth as his tongue slipped deftly into yours and intertwined with yours, causing your mind to fall into a haze as he coiled his arm around your waist, bringing your body flush against his toned frame. You reached up with shaky hands, fumbling with his shirt, eager to get it off of him and gaze upon the expanse of his abdomen. His lips detached for a moment, giving you the chance to pull his shirt over his head, which he gladly obliged and lifted his hands over his head, swiftly resuming their positions when his shirt formed a pile on the floor beside you. You leaned back in, attempting to capture his lips in another phenomenal kiss but he pulled back, leaving you to chase him and whine when you ultimately lose, to which he laughs mischievously, taking his hands off of your body and toying with the silk tie on the front of your robe.

“How do you want it baby?” he pondered, the new nickname sending shivers down your spine as you glanced at him quizzically, as if asking what he meant. He chuckled softly, tugging at the ribbon and opening your robe as he brought his hands up, carefully sliding it down your arms and bending down so his face was level with your collarbone. He placed a gentle kiss there, leaving fire in the wake of his lips as he spoke, his breath cooling the seared flesh, “would you like me to be gentle?” he asked leaving more hot kisses along the expanse of your shoulder and neck, drawing salacious sounds from your parted lips as he brought his hand up to rest at the base of your neck. “Or…” he paused, sliding his hand up and increasing the intensity of his grip on your throat, restricting the blood flow to your brain as your mind became hazy and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “Do you want me to be rough?” he continued, lifting his head to watch your face as he loosened his grip. “It’s your choice little dove.”

You were elated, ecstatic and a little disappointed when he loosened his grip on your neck. Your ex was always into sex that lindered toward the vanilla side, as mentioned before, so he would never think to try anything like choking, which always intrigued you just a little bit. You wished you would have experienced other styles of love before you met him but you didn't, and this was your chance to try them out now. Your fingers travelled up, lightly grazing over that hand that was tightly wrapped around your neck. Whining quietly you rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, biting it softly as your other hand came up and wrapped around Jungkook’s forearm.

“I wanna try it rough” you mumbled, eyes closing as you relished in the hazy feeling this restriction gave you which only heightened as he tightened his grip.

“Perfect.” he groaned out almost inaudibly as he pulled your face to his, colliding your lips in the roughest, most passion filled kiss you’d ever experienced. He devoured your mouth with gluttonous amusement, his grip on your airway never wavering for a moment as he tongued you down, his carnal need prevalent and present in the thick air of the room. You reached up, completing a task you’d been wanting to do for days, tangling your hand in the messy black mass that fell upon his head, and relishing in the soft feeling of his waves. Then he detached from your lips and moved away, forcing your hands to fall from his hair and onto his broad shoulders, which, while pleasurable to touch, didn’t even come close to frolicking your fingers through his locks. He moved his hand from your neck to your shoulder, to which you whined with a small pout, missing the new contact as he chuckled at your eagerness. He stared at your lips, before leaning down and capturing your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down on it voraciously before he spoke. “Do you want me to put this slutty little mouth of yours to use little dove?” he asked, pulling back as if waiting for an answer, to which you obliged.

“Yes sir” You answered quite honestly in fact, as you felt all your hesitation and weariness about this task slip away. “Please put my mouth to use.” you pleaded, staring up at him, a wanton expression on your soft features.

“You’re so good for me .” he whispered, his soft breath fanning your face as you nodded in agreement, “such an obedient little dove, hmm?” he asked, to which you nodded once again, a bit more frantically this time as you awaited his cue. He used the hand on your shoulder to abruptly push you down with a small yelp so you were seated on the black leather couch behind you, the colder leather contrasting the burning lust in your entire body as you looked up at him. “Get to work slut.” Your eyes widened at the name. Maybe it was supposed to be an insult or he just liked calling you that but you couldn’t help the gargantuan wave of slick that coated your panties at the moment.

You looked down, a bit above eye level with his crotch as you reached up to palm him through his faded blue jeans. His scent was tantalizing, musky, and you couldn't get enough as you stared up at him through your eyelashes, your lips slightly parted as you gazed in awe. He gave you a warning glance, as if scolding you for teasing him for this long and you unzipped his pants. He held out his hand, as if to stop you before reaching behind his pants and pulling his gun from the back of his jeans. Your eyes widened, gaze now trained on the firearm in his hand, a horrified expression on your face as you ceased all actions. Which he noticed, peering down at you, a horrifying smile etched on his godlike features as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Relax darling, I won’t kill you,” he purred, reaching down and weaving the fingers of his free hand into the roots of your hair, grabbing and pulling back roughly so you have no other choice but to meet his dark eyes. “We’re only just getting started.” he lowered the gun, pressing the muzzle into the underside of your jaw, the cold metal like ice against your scalding skin. However, you felt no need to cry, felt no need to fear for your life even as this gun was pressed to your neck, aimed to kill, because you knew he wouldn’t do it. Through the dark facade and ominous gaze in his eyes there was something else that made you trust his inability to kill you. You realized you were enjoying the thrill, the excitement of putting your life in his hands. So, you did what any crazy bitch would do in this situation, you breathed out deeply, relaxing your shoulders and slouching yourself down to push your neck further onto the tip of the gun with a mischievous smile. Jungkook stared down at you in awe, running his tongue on the inside of his cheek and taking his gun off of your neck before tossing it over to the end of the couch behind you.

Resuming your actions with a shaky breath, you tugged his pants down until they fell to his ankles and placed your hands on the sides of his underwear clad hips. You might’ve been inexperienced in his style of fucking but you sure knew how to give a good blowjob, so you got to work, placing open mouthed kisses to his clothed appendage. You looked up at him once more seeing the lust clouded haze that filled his deep brown eyes. After a bit of teasing, you hooked your fingers in the waistband of his underwear, pulling it down in a seductively slow manner as you allowed his needy cock to spring free, and you stared up at it with a gasp.

It was huge.

You didn’t really know what qualifies as huge because the only dick you’ve ever had was around 6 inches on a good day but this alluring appendage swinging before your face had to be at least 9 inches long and you wondered how the fuck you were going to fit it all in your mouth let alone your pussy, which was already aching for it. Your mouth involuntarily opened wider in anticipation of his delicious dick inside and you grabbed the base, with two hands, drawing a hiss from the man that stood over you as he kicked off his shoes and the rest of the clothing that pooled around his feet. You licked teasingly up the sides of his dick, stopping at the tip to swirl your tongue around it, and catching some salty precum when you did. You glanced up at him and he looked absolutely furious in the best sort of way. Frustrated to the max as you teased him mercilessly, only spending meere fleeting moments at the spots which needed the most attention.

Then he snapped, taking you by surprise and using his hand that was still tangled in your hair to hold you still while he shoved his cock in your mouth. You tried to gasp but it merely came out as a small strangled whimper that was cut off as his length reached that back of your throat. You moved your hands to the sides of his hips once again, bracing yourself as he slowly pulled his member out of your mouth, most likely winding up for another thrust. He propelled his hips forward once again, stuffing not nearly all of his cock into your mouth, as his tip grazed the back of your throat. The feeling of him completely filling your mouth had you livid, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you moaned, the vibrations reverberating onto his appendage which drew a salacious moan from his plush parted pink lips.

“Fuck, your mouth feels like heaven.” he moaned out, then he started to fuck your face, tears pooling in your eyes while his dick basically hit the back of your throat with every harsh stroke of his hips as he gripped on your hair tighter. After one particularly hard thrust, he held his length down your throat as tears rolled down your cheeks and you gagged around him. He took his cock out of your mouth, to which you gasped, swallowing the spit that pooled in your mouth with an aroused groan.

“Tastes so good.” you mumbled, not possibly being able to get enough as he shoved his cock back into your mouth and fucked your throat relentlessly. The tension building in you was too much to bear and your need to cum only heightened as his actions resumed. You arched your back slightly, pushing your clothed clit into the black leather cushions of the couch as you gyrated into it slowly, praying he wouldn’t notice and would be too invested in fucking your throat to realize.

You were wrong. He noticed immediately.

He halted all movements, taking his cock from your throat and grabbing your neck harshly, to which you gasped, whimpering as he pulled you up to stand in front of him, cock slapping the front of your body as you stared at his face in anticipation of his actions. You could imagine what you looked like right now swollen glossy lips, and tear stains running down your face because you didn’t bother to wear your waterproof mascara. You never needed it any other time so you figured why would you need it now. Oh how wrong you were.

“Dirty little dove, trying to get off on the couch because you want me that bad?” he rasped, nearing closer to your face with each word and you nodded frantically, basically begging him to do something, anything. “Words” he barked, drawing a cry from your lips as you thought of what to say.

“I want your cock, please sir.” you begged, before he groaned hungrily and captured your lips in a ravenous kiss, taking you by surprise. No one had ever kissed you after they’d fucked your throat before so why would he do it. You didn’t dwell on that thought for too long before melting into his touch and wrapping your arms around his neck. Jungkook took his free hand, trailing it around your body to unclasp the back of your bra, your eyes going wide at the skillful ease of his fingers. He snatched the white lace clothing off of your frame, tossing it to the other side of the room and reaching back up to cup one of your soft breasts in his hand, flicking the nipple with his index finger and making you sigh satisfactorily into his mouth. He leaned forward, taking you with him as he lowered both of you back onto the couch, settling himself between your newly opened legs and never breaking the kiss. He unlatched his hand from your neck, trailing it down your body as the other hand continued to knead your breast skillfully. His burning touch slowly ventured further and further down your abdomen until he reached the band of your panties and abruptly tore the thin while lace from your body to your dismay and discarding it on the floor beside him. You whined sadly, as those had been your favorite pair of underwear but barely had any sort of time to grieve as you felt two rough fingers dip into the wetness of your slit, trailing them up and stopping right over the spot you needed him to be at, pulling a moan from your still swollen lips.

He began kissing a trail down your body, stopping for a mere moment to suck on the pert bud of your free breast before resuming his path of destruction. He moved his hands to settle on the inner sides of your thighs, spreading them apart and sighing as he got a glimpse of the treasure between them. Your eyes widened upon realizing his destination as you scooched away, holding a handful of his tousled black hair in an attempt to grab his attention.

“I-…” you paused, chewing on your bottom lip and thinking of how to word your statement. “i’ve never asked anyone to do that for me before, so y- you don’t have to do it.” you stuttered wearily as the nerves set in. No one’s face had ever been remotely close to your womanhood and the thought of it sent a chill down your spine as you released his hair from your grasp. You wondered what it would even be like. He glanced up at you, eyes dilated as he chuckled, a dark chuckle that made you shiver as he tightened his grip on your thighs, yanking you closer to his face and taking a deep drag of your scent once you were close enough.

“Oh baby I want to” he basically moaned out, licking his lips and glancing down at your glistening slit, the corners of his lips turning up in a hungry smile. You raised an eyebrow, asking yourself ‘why the fuck would he want to do that?’, and ‘isn’t this for my pleasure?’, but all your concerns were answered once he spoke again. “I can’t wait to make you writhe on my tongue little dove” he muttered, causing your cheeks to burn with the intensity of a thousand suns as he talked into your soaking entrance. “... make you beg and cry without even using my cock.” he continued, releasing your left thigh from his grip as he placed a hand on your pubic mound, lowering his thumb and slowly beginning to circle your clit eliciting a loud wail from you. “You think, if I had the power to turn you into a messy little whore all for me just by using my mouth, I wouldn’t use it at any chance I could?” He asked and you whined, nodding as your hips stuttered up in desperate need of more friction. “It’s all about power baby, and I have it all here” he groaned, watching you clench pathetic around nothing.

Then, he finally gave you what you wanted. His hand resumed its grip on your thigh, forcing it away from the other as his thumb was swiftly replaced by his warm tongue licking up and down your wet sex. You moaned, placing your shaky hands on the mounds of your chest, toying with your nipples just to add to the pleasurable sensations he was creating with his tongue. This feeling was unlike any ecstasy you had ever felt and you never wanted it to stop. His tongue slipped deftly into your soaked entrance twisting and turning skillfully as you keened loudly. His warm wet appendage swirling around your wet cavern was the best feeling in the entire world and you knew if he continued ravaging you at this pace, you’d cum in no time. But, you needed this release. You needed to let go of all this pent up sexual frustration you didn’t even know you harbored. You needed to experience your first orgasm in months, if not years, that wasn’t self inflicted and you hoped and prayed with all your heart that it would come soon.

He switched his focus,, moving his tongue up to play with your aching clit and slipping two fingers into your formerly empty hole with a deep groan that reverberated through your core like a powerful vibrator which only intensified your moans and cries of pleasure. You looked down on yourself to see the delicious sight of him devouring your cunt ruthlessly, the sight alone almost tipping you over the edge as you brought your hands up, covering your eyes while you neared completion.

“Jungkook you’re gonna make me cum.” you called out, an exasperated cry leaving your lips when your impending orgasm was painfully ripped away from you as all his motion stopped. You uncovered your eyes, about to stare down when your body jolted, a harsh sting being felt directly on your clit, sending a wave of warmth barreling through your entire body. Then you understood, he slapped you, and you peered down at him, your eyes glassy due to the orgasm that was ripped from your grasp.

“Who? said you can cum.” he deadpanned menacingly, staring up at you through hooded eyes as you leaned your head back tiredly, realizing the error in your words and prepared to beg, just like he said you would.

“Sir” you cried, holding your arms limply over your head as you continued to plead. “Sir please, please make me cum.” you begged mercilessly, a tear of relief sliding down your cheek as he resumed his assault on your core, attacking at a steady pace and retrieving the all too familiar knot that formed in the pit of your stomach. You reached up, grabbing the edge of the couch with an iron grip, your knuckles turning white as your hips began circling on his face, your clit rubbing against his tongue with every movement and venturing you closer to your sweet release.”Please don’t stop sir, oh my god” you whined loudly, fucking his face relentlessly as you chased your high, nearing it more and more with each thrust of your hips until he finally pushed you off the brink of ecstasy, a scream leaving your lips as Jungkook continued his unrelenting attack on your pained pussy.

You rode out your high, writhing and panting before him, his pace never faltering, his fingers never slowing, his tongue never relenting and it soon became too much. The euphoric delirium quickly turned into madness as you barreled down the path into overstimulation. You wailed pathetically, thrashing under his hold as the pleasurable pain consumed your body and you could barely form a coherent sentence but you persevered, scraping all the coherent thoughts you could muster and turning them into tangible words that sat on the tip of your tongue, ready to be spoken. “Sir please, it's too much!” you cried to which Jungkook finally let up, slowing his pace to a halt and sitting back.

“Oh my god that was so fucking hot” he growled before sucking on his glossy fingers and cleaning around his mouth with his skilled tongue as he gazed amusedly upon your exhausted body. But he was nowhere near done with you. This fact made apparent when he stood and wrapped an arm around your hip, lifting your limp body and turning you over with ease, positioning you so your face was pressed into the now warm couch cushion and your ass was raised high into the air before him. His eyes rolled at the view of your swollen cunt bent over for him and he gave it a light smack, eliciting a pained, but tired yelp from you as he chuckled muttering “you’re going to drive me crazy little dove.” under his breath.

He crouched down, coming face to lips with your abused cunt as he wrapped his arms around your bent bottom, lacing his fingers together as they rested at the arch of your back and dragging his nose up the tortured path of your slit, drawing whines and cries of overstimulation from your wiggling frame as you tried to get away from the punishing menace that was his face. “No, please. I can't take anymore, it's too much.” You whimpered, your voice muffled as you leaned your face into the couch tiredly to which he obliged, reluctantly, as he stood, grabbing his neglected dick in hand and pointing it toward your pink entrance.

“I can’t wait to stretch your pretty little pussy ____.” he purred and you moaned at the sound of your name slipping off of his tongue like the creamiest butter. He dragged his tip along your swollen clit, abusing it again for what seemed like the millionth time that day as he covered his girth in your slick, a guttural groan emitting from the back of his throat. Then, abruptly, he sunk into your slippery cavern, barely all the way in but you’d never felt so full in your entire life as he pushed forward slowly, filling you up and providing you with the most delicious stretch you’d ever felt. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you whined, a desperate whine that you could barely register was your own voice as he pushed his length completely inside of you, his head falling back and your name, rolling off of his tongue once again.

After barely giving you time to adjust to his alarming size, he reeled his hips back before slamming into you again, and again, and again, over and over again until he was fucking you at an unrelenting speed you barely knew was possible to achieve. Suffering from the overwhelming pleasure he forced you to endure, you shut your eyes tight, crying out in strangled indulgence as you grasped onto the fluffy throw blanket strewn lazily over the couch in front of you. You relished in the sting of his girth, staring ahead blankly with glassy eyes as he rammed into you with a punishing speed and black mascara filled tears streamed down your cheeks.

You knew you were about to cum soon, again, only due to the all too familiar feeling accumulating in the pit of your belly. Jungkook reached down, placing a hand on your shoulder blade and pressing your chest further into the couch while he drilled into you, moaning and cursing at the feeling of you flexing deliciously around his cock. He felt you were close, so he moved his hand, snaking it around your waist and trailing his other hand to assume its position around your neck, hoisting you up so your back was arched against his abdomen and you had no choice but to stare up at him as he talked down on you, never slowing the snapping of his hips for a wavering moment.

“You’ve never been fucked this good have you?” he teased through clenched teeth as he leaned down, sucking and marking all over the expanse of your neck with grunts and growls of pleasure. You were way too fucked out to even think about the words to form a coherent sentence, barely being able to form whimpered versions of ‘mhm’ after he questioned you but he was having none of that. He unraveled his hand from your waist, tightening his grip on your throat and landing a hard slap to your left asscheek, drawing a shrill shriek from the depths of your throat as he warned in your ear. “Words little dove” he slapped you again, “how many times do I have to fucking warn you.” he concluded, landing another harsh smack to your abused flesh as you whimpered.

“You’re the best I’ve ever had, I’m such a slut for you sir.” You sobbed out, “please let me cum, please fuck” you whined, drawing out your words and you reached back, tangling both hands in his unruly mop of hair as he split you open, moaning directly in your ear which in itself, was a thing that could make you cum on the spot.

“Cum then.” He said obviously, as if it was the most simple response, only it was this simple command that shoved you off the precipice of ecstasy for a second time. The feeling that bloomed deep in your stomach soon blossomed into a full blown orgasm that racked through your body quickly, leaving nothing but white hot pleasure in its wake as your legs trembled viciously, with one last loud cry of Jungkook’s name. But, he still did not falter, his pace quickening as he neared his own climax, the speed both too much and not nearly enough at the same time. You reached back, attempting to push him and escape the all consuming pleasure torturing your body like a blazing fire but your hands were caught quickly by Jungkook’s hands which crossed them tightly and held them behind your back, resuming his attack.

You shook your head, letting it hang as your tears fell freely onto the couch before you, his moans and groans of ecstasy increasing in volume and frequency as he neared his own climax, his hips faltering in their pace for the first time in a while as he worked to his own release. In what seemed like an instant, he released the most beautiful, salacious, strangled moan you had ever heard, pulling himself out of your soaked cunt, and painting the surface of your ass with his white hot ropes of cum. He finally let you go after a moment, watching as you fell limply to the couch, laying face down, panting exhaustively, your arms still crossed limply behind your back as he smirked down at your fucked out frame. He left you alone for just a bit, coming back but a few moments later before you felt the sore skin of your asscheeks being wiped off with what felt like a warm hand towel. You were relieved he had the respect to clean his mess, it made you respect him just a little bit more as a person but you were way too tired to dwell on the subject any longer.

“You did so good for me little dove” he cooed, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it as he placed a sweet chaste kiss on your lower back, caressing his hand up the side of your body. A simple touch that lacked any sort of sexual aspects, it felt comforting and you sighed, leaning further into the soft couch as you heard him begin to put his clothing on. You felt a pang of distress, seeing as you were more of a fuck and cuddle kind of girl, but you really hadn’t expected him to stay so why’d you feel the need to ask him to. Pushing the feeling deep inside your gut, you sighed deeply as he walked in front of you to bend forward and grab his gun that laid discarded on the opposite side of your couch, also grabbing the throw blanket beside it and tossing it over your naked frame before thinking about something. “So,” he started, tucking his gun in the back of his pants and humming, “I’m thinking that was worth about, hmm 50k” he started. You vaguely understood what he was saying and knew you’d flip out once you were conscious enough to truly comprehend his words. “I’ll keep in touch.” He said, pulling his shirt down and smiling deviously at you as you uttered a hoarse ‘huh?’ To which he answered simply, “if I wanna come collect some more money” and he spun on his heels, opening your door and sauntering out of the threshold.

When he got into the hallway, Jungkook burst into a wide smile, satisfied with the encounter he made today. He entered this agreement fully prepared to either fuck you once and take the money you’d earned back or just fuck you and kill you, but once he’d had a taste, he was insatiable. You were flawless, your compliance was impeccable. The way you obeyed him, begged for him, the way you tasted, the way you felt, the way you looked. There was no way he could ever get enough and is probably the reason he kept overstimulating you like a frat boy with a bruised ego. There was no way he was gonna just let go of an absolute gem like you, so he made his excuse, a plan. Everytime you fuck him, you pay back a portion of the money. He was so tempted to tell you this session was only worth $100 just as an excuse to come back over and over and over until he had his fill, but he kept his composure, giving you hope that you’d ever be free of his grasp. Jungkook for once was extremely ecstatic, elated, excited to ruin you even more than he already had and he was dead set on making you want him just as much as he craved you no matter what it took. Though he was pretty sure you already did.

#bts #bts smut #bts fic #jeon jungguk #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #oneshot #mafia!bts #mafia!jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #bts angst #mafia au #GUNPLAYHAHAHA #IM SUPER EFFED UP #this took sooooo long

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

tuxedo iii, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: It’s the next morning. Your cat is still a man. Fuck. He still thinks he owns the place, including you. Sigh. Well, you still have to do your job, because, yikes, your cat-man has spent a small fortune on new clothes (spending like he’s got a black card, what’s up with that?). Ah, but... maybe both of you are starting to finally acknowledge that he might be a more man than cat – at least for the time being...?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; mentions of and a tiny bit of smut (fem reader, spanking, doggy, unintentional??? voyeurism, dry humping / thigh riding); domestic and soft moments with your cat-man; non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft slightly cocky Jeon Jungkook (+drama!!!) and bestfriend!Kim Seokjin; breaking of the fourth wall; are YOU a furry? yeah, I kinda think you are

*deep breath* I reference a certain boat that was stuck in the Suez Canal, Yoongi's livestream where he poked himself in the nose with the coffee straw, his love for tangerines, too many Twitch chat memes, that time his mom called him a boiled dumpling, 'BST' pink pajama Yoongi, DTS, TXT's 'Cat & Dog', etc...

–

part i | part ii

You woke up slowly.

A perfect, peaceful morning. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Neck cradled by your memory foam pillow? Check. Back well supported by your soft mattress? Check. Not sleeping on your sofa and destroying your spine? Check. Hey, you’re moving up in life! Ah, what a normal day already. You opened your eyes a crack; vision blurred from the morning sunlight filtering through your curtains. Bundled in your minty-green duvet? Check. Wearing your extra soft black-and-white striped pajamas? Check.

Large pale human hand firmly gripping your right titty? Check.

Wait…

What?

Your eyes snapped open and flew to your left.

Min Yoongi's face was centimeters from yours, buried into your pillow, messy bedhead sticking out everywhere. Black choker with the tiny silver bell around his neck. Still had those black velvety pointed cat ears and glowing pale skin, pretty pink lips ever-so-slightly upturned, warm exhale against your ear.

Your cat still a disturbingly handsome man?

Ah, yup, check.

His hand was on your right breast, fingers molded to the soft curve. A quick glance and, whew, he was still fully dressed in his black t-shirt and sweatpants from yesterday. Yes, fully, completely dressed. Shit, what if he caught you staring? You quickly flickered your eyes up at the ceiling, hastily wiping the drool away from your mouth. Whoa there. That would be embarrassing if he caught that.

Also, kind of gross. Don’t be gross. Keep it together.

Hahaha…

Well, yup, this was still awkward, the whole hand-on-the-titty thing, hahaha, but not as awkward as it would be if, hahaha, you accidentally, oh, don't know, hahaha, got really, really, really disgustingly drunk and, hahaha, had somehow lost all impulse control and, hahaha, fucked your cat?

Man.

Cat-man.

Hahaha, that would never happen. You’d make sure of that.

...

Unless?

No, no, no, stop, he's your cat, your cat, he's literally been a (cat) man for one fucking day, albeit a incredibly hot, deliciously built (cat) man who put your facial massager on your nipple and let you touch his human dick in the shower and he was hard for a hot second, so... no, no, no, stop, you are not a desperate thot, get a fucking grip – well, you kind of are – but not him, for fuck’s sake, you still don't understand what the fuck is going on or if he even remotely likes you and, let's face it, he probably doesn’t because you almost paid a guy to chop off his nuts–

"Are you dying?"

You choked on air and lurched sharply at the sudden deep, raspy voice. The grip on your right breast tightened, preventing you from moving away. You did what any sensible human being would do in this situation and wheezed like you were on the verge of passing out.

"Urk!"

"Do you have high blood pressure?" Yoongi yawned calmly, turning his face to the side to avoid breathing in your face, thereby pressing his body even closer to you. Your neck and ears heated to five billion degrees. "Your heart's beating abnormally fast. Maybe you should see a doctor."

You definitely needed to see a doctor for something as well as several gallons of holy water and a priest to get an exorcism for that horny demon inside you.

"Y-Your hand!"

Yoongi grunted. "What about it?"

What about it???

"It's on my tits!" you squeaked.

Yoongi lifted his head, squinting. "It is." Then his head dropped and he closed his eyes again.

HELLO, Min Yoongi? That's ALL you have to say???

"Is there a problem?"

IS THERE A PROBLEM???????

"I've always slept like this," he mumbled.

That's... true though. Your tuxedo cat, previously named Shooky until you realized he had his own name, did used to always sleep next to you, when he wasn’t trying to murder you by sitting on your chest, that is (he was adamant on letting you know when he needed breakfast). Usually, your cat was splayed out by your left side, his long body extended and pressed against you, his white, sock-like paws encircling your arm. Shooky had basically been a small furry heater that kicked you sometimes in his sleep.

Keyword: small.

"Y-You w-were a cat!" you sputtered.

"I'm still a cat."

"No, you're a man! With arms!"

"The reach is a little farther. Who cares?"

WHO CARES???????

Before you could very loudly inform Yoongi who exactly cared – that’s you, by the way, yes, you – he wrapped his arms around you and yanked your body to his, turning you into a red-hot chili pepper with the amount of heat your face was now emitting. Then his free hand grabbed your other titty. Without asking! Without even so much as buying you dinner or, hell, giving you a goddamn cracker! You didn't need to be wined and dined, but at least a single fucking snack before using your tits like his own personal stress ball!

Yoongi pressed your back into his chest.

You froze.

He pressed his crotch into your ass, shivering slightly.

Your soul left your body.

"Ugh, this human body is terrible," Yoongi muttered. "Always so cold. I need this extra body heat or I'll die."

You'll die? YOU’LL DIE?

You were pretty sure that you were already dead. Rest in peace.

Hang on.

Something was stuck in a very specific place, quite similar to a far-too-large boat in a narrow canal.

"Um."

Er...

"What?" your cat-man grunted.

"Your..." You gulped. "Dick."

"What about it?"

"You, uh... have morning wood."

"Is that a human euphemism?" he grumbled impatiently, clear annoyance in his tone. "I don't understand your species. Wouldn't it be easier to be straightforward and explain yourself clearly?"

A muscle in your eye twitched, reaching breaking point.

"Your dick is rock-hard and you're shoving it between my ass cheeks!"

"Yeah, so? It's cold too."

Your irritation fizzled out at Yoongi’s self-assured, completely calm response. In fact, he sounded borderline bored and exasperated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His hard dick was cold, so he put it in the warmest place he could find, your ass, duh. Nothing weird about it, of course. Your mind reeled, unable to compute what the fuck was going on. Thus, your body did what it did best in these moments where you did not want to give a response that would most certainly expose you and your dire need to get dicked.

Not deal with it, of course.

You fainted.

"Fuck!"

You shot out of bed at the harsh yell, tangled in the covers, barely registering that Yoongi no longer had a death grip on your tits – in fact, he was no longer in bed at all – and stumbled towards the source of the sound, highly disoriented, your earlier fainting spell turning you into a bumbling mess.

Admittedly, not that different from your usual self.

(Ouch, roasted.)

"What, what, what?" you croaked, running into the doorframe of the bedroom and nearly taking yourself out.

Might as well, maybe it would have been a blessing in disguise, considering the way your life was going.

You finally tumbled your way to the kitchen, where your cat-man was hissing at the pan on the stove.

"I was trying to make eggs," Yoongi spat, pointing accusingly at the frying pan. His ears were flat and his tail was sticking straight up. "And then it attacked me."

If you had three functioning brain cells, you would have remembered Yoongi putting his morning wood between your ass cheeks this morning, but alas, you only had two at the moment – you did run into the doorframe, might have lost one there – so instead you nudged him aside and rolled up your sleeves, taking the pan and shaking it so the eggs wouldn't burn.

"Was it the oil? Sometimes it pops," you asked as Yoongi continued death glaring at the pan.

"I saw you doing this yesterday. You didn't seem bothered," he mumbled, finishing with a low, angry hiss as if the pan was sentient and mocking him. The oil popped and seared your forearm, but at this point you maybe had five hair follicles total on your arms with how many times hot oil had splattered in you. It used to bother you when you were a kid, but years of cooking had desensitized the feeling, turning it to nothing more than a mere annoyance. Yoongi stayed behind you, intermittently letting out hisses of rage as you cooked.

"I told you, my dad's a chef. You get used to it," you said, tipping the pan and flipping the thin egg pancake with ease.

"That's bizarre," Yoongi muttered. "No normal animal gets used to pain."

Normality was starting to become a bit of a foreign concept to you. As for being an animal, well…

You took the pan off the heat and rolled the egg onto a plate with a spare set of chopsticks, turning it into a log shape. A literal egg roll, ready to be sliced into bite-sized pieces. You took a sniff. It seemed to be seasoned already. Had Yoongi simply copied what you did yesterday? His observation skills were insane.

"Then again, you seem to enjoy–"

"Yoongi," you blurted, not wanting to know what he thought you seemed to enjoy, but very sure it was going to be one-hundred-percent embarrassing and only for you. "There's some leftover beef and vegetables in the fridge you can have with the egg and rice."

He raised his eyebrows. "Beef? Why didn't you say so earlier?"

Because I was asleep and maybe half-dead? "Did you brush your teeth?' you asked suddenly.

Yoongi scowled. "Unfortunately."

"Right, so should I, goodbye now."

You marched away hurriedly, trying not to think about how your cat had surely witnessed you getting spanked while being fucked from behind by none other than, surprise, surprise, his not-so-favorite human being, Jeon Jungkook. Tattoo guy strikes again. The worst part was, you couldn't lock the door on your cat either, because then he would meow incessantly while you were getting deep-dicked and that was even worse.

"Your cat really likes you, huh?" Jungkook mused as you yanked open the bedroom door to the black-and-white tuxedo furball.

"Like is a strong word," you muttered at your cat, who yawned and sauntered past you to his cat tree, acting like he owned the damn place.

"I like you."

"Hah... wait, what?"

Jungkook grinned as your eyes found his. Took a while. You were a little distracted by his nakedness. His tattoos up his right arm. His tan skin. His muscles. His white teeth biting on his lower lip, tiny mole underneath flashing. His long black hair, framing dark chocolate eyes and teasing, cocked eyebrow.

"I like you," he repeated, voice deep and sexy.

You turned red and made the most coherent noise you could.

“... Urk?”

“Noona.”

Why did he look so fucking hot and disrespectful at the same time when saying an honorific?

Jungkook came up to you, hand cupping your head and tangling his fingers in your hair. He brought his face close to yours, lips brushing against your swollen ones, taking your breath away.

"Wanna go back to me spanking you while you get off on my dick?"

Respectfully, of course.

"How much rice do you want?"

You started, poking yourself in the nose with your toothpaste-covered toothbrush and smearing mint up your nostril – almost as bad as poking a coffee straw up your nose during a livestream in front of millions of people, yikes – as Yoongi appeared behind you, breaking you out of the memory. Your cat-man watched you with mild disgust and displeasure as you coughed and dunked your head into the sink, hurriedly rinsing off your burning nose.

"Whatever, I'll just fill it halfway."

And he left you sputtering, pajamas and hair soaking wet in your haste.

Awesome.

“I’m ordering some groceries,” you announced in between bites of rice and egg. You tapped lightly at the phone screen as you spoke. Green onions, tofu, cucumbers… “Do you want anything?”

“Meat.”

You swiped rapidly and added packages of chicken, pork, and beef into your cart. Why the fuck not? You like meat. All kinds of–

“Yes, Yoongi, I’m getting meat. Anything else?”

“What else is there?”

You made a face and handed him your phone. “All sorts of things. Household products too, in case you don’t want to smell like my soap.”

“Your soap is preferable,” he said absentmindedly, scrolling through the online grocery app. You continued eating, shoving things in your mouth and none of it dick. Sad. At least it tasted good. Your cat-man had seasoned the egg well. You jumped as Yoongi spoke again. “I want these.” He turned the phone around.

You squinted at the screen, staring at a picture of orange balls. “Tangerines? Why?”

He turned the phone back to him. “They’re small, round, and look tasty.”

You blinked at him, then shrugged. “Sure, why not? I guess your palette might have changed. Try whatever you want.”

He pursed his lips and pressed a few buttons as you ate. You realized you needed to order more groceries now that your cat was a man eating your human food and no longer a cat eating his rather expensive cat food. Sigh. You had put Shooky’s cat bowls in a cabinet earlier this morning before sitting down to eat. It seemed weird leaving them out on the floor like that. Kind of offensive, maybe, now that your cat was a man and all…

“Okay, I ordered it.”

“Ah, okay, that’s good. They’ll probably come later this week.”

After breakfast, you spent nearly half an hour with Yoongi trying to pick out something for him to watch from your various streaming services, only for him to select a historical drama series. Like what? You cat (man) wanted to watch historical drama out of all things? Instead of learning about the modern world, he wanted to watch a depiction of the past?

Whatever, it had seventy-seven episodes, so at least he would be occupied for a while.

You let him be and went to your computer, intending on getting some editing done. Sure, the universe decided your cat was a man now, but you still needed to pay for said cat-man’s existence. You still didn’t know what you were going do to with all that cat food, cat toys, cat tree… ugh, this was all a problem for future you, not present you.

Present you needed to splice five-hundred images of PepeHands together and overlay it over a League of Legends one-shot compilation.

Uh, so, it was this meme of a green frog named Pepe holding up his anthropomorphic hands in despair, therefore coining the term PepeHands for a particular Twitch chat emote… never mind, it just meant you were spending some time video editing for a gaming YouTuber and it required concentration, shitty memes, and well-timed captions. And you were getting paid good money to do this.

Yeah, it’s a weird world.

You sat at your desktop and got to work, doing the rough cuts of the video first. Thankfully, the YouTuber had already sent you the timestamps of the noteworthy moments, therefore making your job a lot easier. You spent several hours compiling the clips before adding your extra flair and effects. You had a library of images and sound bites that you commonly used (including Goofy singing Evanescence's ‘Bring Me to Life’) and was in the middle of grayscaling a video clip and adding the familiar audio of all around me are familiar faces before being scared shitless.

“Woof.”

You swore someone was singing ‘Mad World’ as they were narrating your life right now.

“Gah!”

You jerked in your seat to see Yoongi leaning over behind you, eyebrow raised as you gawked at him.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” you exclaimed, pulling back an earcup of your headset.

He frowned. “How can I sneak up on you?” He flicked the silver bell on the black choker around his neck, making it jingle cheerfully. “You put stupid thing on me, remember?”

You winced. “Well, I’d take it off, but there’s some kind of voodoo magic on that shit – and hey, don’t change the subject! You have that weird cat thing where you’re silent no matter what.”

Yoongi looked unbothered. “Weird cat thing? Thought you said I was a man?”

“Thought you said you were a cat?” you shot back.

You glared at him and he gave you a blank expression. Then he cocked his head to your desk.

“Your phone is flashing.”

You jerked your head to see your phone screen flicker. You grabbed it off you desk and unlocked it, checking your messages. Five messages from – ah, but of course – your best friend. Kim Seokjin.

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

You pursed your lips. With the pandemic and all, you hadn’t visited Seokjin in forever, but every week he would text you, asking for a photo of your cat and he would send you a picture of his sugar glider. With every week being the same and nothing interesting of note happening, it was hard to think of conversation topics. Therefore, Seokjin and you came up with this weekly event so your friendship wouldn’t deteriorate. Also, both of you were serious introverts, so he spent most of this pandemic playing MapleStory while you spent most of it on your couch watching Netflix with your cat. It was a miracle you two hadn’t morphed into actual potatoes yet.

You glanced at Yoongi, who was inspecting his nails and picking at them. You frowned and batted at his hand. He frowned back and smacked yours, harder. You glared at him. He gave you a vacant stare, as if he had done nothing.

“Why are you picking at your cuticles?” you muttered, going back to your phone and sending Seokjin an old picture of Shooky. You couldn’t exactly send him a picture of current Shooky. He was… well, currently not a cat. You stared at the picture of the fluffy tuxedo cat curled into a ball, asleep in your lap on the couch.

That moment wasn’t even that long ago.

Somehow, it felt like ages since you had last petted that furry butt.

“Hm, dunno. Occupies my hands, I guess,” Yoongi replied distractedly.

“Well, you shouldn’t. It’s not good for you.” You noticed you had another message from the local delivery service, saying a package had arrived at your doorstep. You stood, placing your phone on the desk and looked at Yoongi, who was staring at his old cat tree, the one by the window. When he was a cat, he used to poke his head between the curtains and look outside, watching the birds. It was his favorite haunt.

Now…

“Why’d you say woof?” you asked abruptly, giving him a quizzical look. “I thought you were a cat.”

Yoongi shrugged, tearing his eyes away from the cat tree to give you an uninterested stare. “Thought it would surprise you more. You’ve heard meow for long enough.”

You furrowed your brow. “Why would you want to surprise me?”

He shrugged again. “I was bored.”

“… You were bored so you decided to sneak up and scare the shit out of me?”

He paused, black tail swishing back and forth, pointed ears perked. Then he nodded.

“Yup.”

Sigh.

You lugged in the huge cardboard box, Yoongi standing out of sight of the front door as you huffed and puffed with your weak arms. Okay, it wasn’t even that big, but it was quite heavy and you weren’t exactly John Cena. Your arms were about as strong as a bowl of overcooked ramyeon noodles and that was putting it kindly. You weren’t the working out type. People who worked out diligently were dog people. People who preferred sleeping as their primary workout regimen had cats. What were the kinds of people who had cat-men then? The kind of people who like sleeping, but also needed a…

(You already know the answer.)

Yoongi snapped the door closed the second you managed to pull it on far enough to do so.

“You look like a boiled dumpling,” he commented.

“At least I’m delicious food,” you wheezed, inspecting the box. You recognized the clothing brand. “Is this the stuff your ordered? How did it come so fast?”

“I selected next-day delivery.”

You paled.

“I need clothes as soon as possible, don’t I? Or should I go back to being naked, since you’re a pervert?”

You choked, ears burning. “I’m not a pervert!”

“Mhm.”

You tried not to think about the hit on your wallet as you grabbed your keys from the side table and opened the box, seeing all the plastic packages inside. Monotone, in white or black. Figures. You tipped the box to the side and the clothes spilled out, tumbling all over the floor. It took a firm shake to dump it all on the ground. You got on your hands and knees to spread them out, tossing the cardboard aside carelessly to shift through the items. Hopefully, Yoongi had read the listings and selected the correct sizes. From your brief glance, you noticed the tops were quite oversized. Maybe he liked that fit? He had been quite a fluffy cat.

You spotted the packing slip with all the prices listed. You fished it out and then heard a thunk-thunk-thunk, the sound of cardboard on hardwood. Huh?

You looked up to see Yoongi swatting the box around.

“What… are you doing?”

He shrugged. “Investigating.”

You blinked. “Investigating what?”

“Don’t know. I simply feel the need to investigate, thus I am doing so.”

You stared at Yoongi for several minutes as he continued to… uh, investigate (???) the cardboard box, holding it this way and that, smacking it around, watching the flaps bounce in the air as it rolled. His velvety ears perked upwards, sleek black tail swishing with interest.

His expression was completely neutral.

For the first time since becoming a human, you thought Yoongi was more cat than man.

“Uh… okay…”

You glimpsed down to the paper in your hands, seeing the total cost.

You felt the color drain out of your face.

My… wallet…

F in the chat.

You fainted.

You felt someone poking you in the head.

“Are you dead?”

You gasped and jerked up like a drown victim coming up for air, still in mild shock of the sudden financial hit of your cat becoming a man. It was okay. You weren’t poor. You just didn’t expect Yoongi to be a shopping like he owned a fucking black card.

“Did I spend too much?”

You snapped out of your stunned state at his soft tone. Yoongi wasn’t looking at you. He was kneeling on top of the pile of clothes, dark eyes on the paper in your shaking hands. With a start, you realized his words were heavy with guilt, his ears pointing downwards and tail tucked against the ground.

“No,” you said quickly, putting the receipt down. “No, Yoongi. I asked you to buy clothes, remember? And besides, it’s better for you to buy things you like and are interested in, rather than me wasting money on things you’ll never wear.”

He raised his head a little, eyes darting from your face to your hands.

You smiled at him, reaching up to pat his head and stroke the fur on his ears. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s only money. Money will never be more important to me than you, okay?”

For a second, you saw something flicker in Yoongi’s eyes. It was so fast that you barely caught it. Relief? Gratitude? Fondness? Then he ticked his head out of your hand, fair cheeks flushing pink.

“You… you don’t have to do that,” he muttered.

“O… oh.” For some reason, you felt a pang in your chest at his words. “R-right.”

Yoongi made eye contact with you, dark brown orbs guarded. He spoke quietly, without emotion.

“Do you wish this never happened?”

“What?” You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean?”

He gestured to himself, waving a hand up and down carelessly. “This. Human me.”

Human me.

You answered instantly.

“No.”

Yoongi gave you the disbelieving side-eye.

You let out a sheepish puff of air. “I always kind of wished you were human.” You scratched the back of your head aimlessly. “No one listened to me like you did. Even if I was having the shittest day of all time, you always made it better. You were the best cat ever.” You chuckled, smiling up at him. “Sure, your species changed, but you’re still the same, right?”

His eyes shifted, his cheeks still a light pink. “I’m still a cat,” he mumbled awkwardly.

You raised your brows. “Mhm, is that why you were playing with the box?”

“I wasn’t playing with the box,” Yoongi huffed, sounding insulted.

“Then I’ll break it down and recycle it.”

“No,” he snapped firmly. “It’s useful. We’re keeping it.”

“We don’t need a box, Yoongi.”

He tutted. “Hmph, humans. So wasteful. A perfectly good box should be reused.”

“Right.”

You tried to hide your laugh as Yoongi refused to look you in the eye.

You left Yoongi to examine his new wardrobe on the floor. You tried to pick them up but he stubbornly remained on the pile of clothes, not letting you move them. When you stood up to leave, you asked him when he was going to move – he replied with, "When it feels right", just cat things, you supposed – and hurried off to export the edited video you were working on earlier. The due date was today and you had to review it for quality.

A certain quality.

A certain quality of... of...

Needing the money.

Because your cat (man) had spent fat chunk of it on clothes, only to be more interested in the box they came in and sitting on said clothes rather than the actual items themselves.

Sigh.

"I ordered the wrong color."

"Oh?" you muttered distractedly, clocking on the export button. You'd been going cross-eyed for the past two or three hours – had it really been that long? shit – and checked your phone to see Gukmul, Seokjin's white sugar glider, peering up at the camera on a white fluffy blanket. You smiled, typing a response to praise his cuteness, completely ignoring the fact that Seokjin had also stuck his handsome face in the photo, smiling with a thumbs-up next to his pet.

The reply was instant.

hello, acknowledge my BEAUTIFUL FACE

You deliberately didn't answer right away to piss Seokjin off even more.

"What's wrong with it?" you asked, looking up.

Your jaw dropped.

You dropped your phone.

Yoongi, your cat-man with excellent reflexes, made absolutely no move to catch it.

It smacked you in the calf and hit your toes – fucking ow, holy shit – before clattering to the floor. You had a protective phone case on it with a cute tuxedo cat graphic. The screen wouldn't crack with the protector on it. In this moment, however, you didn't give a shit about your smartphone, Kim Seokjin, or even the blinding pain in your foot. Nope.

You were ogling at Min Yoongi in pink silk pajamas.

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to–

Oi!

No, don't you dare scroll past! You think you're clever or something?! Hm? Advertisements always happen at the most crucial parts, you say?

This is just an ad?

Look here, Lemona Vitamin C Powder can provide a lot of benefits, including providing natural energy and boosting your immune system in, say, a worldwide pandemic–

STOP TRYING TO SCROLL PAST!!!

Jeon Jungkook stared at his phone.

At a very specific number.

He put it down, sighing a little, looking out the window instead. It was a nice day, but he couldn't enjoy it the way it was meant to be enjoyed. Pandemic and all that. He frowned, looking at the urban jungle surrounding him. Had he made a mistake moving here to the big city? Sometimes he wondered. Back then, he had moved to finish school and pursue his ambitions. Back then, his choice had seemed full of opportunities, but now.

What did he have, really?

A tiny apartment with a kind and understanding landlord. The world at his fingertips from his computer. Still a decent amount of savings left. Online courses that he needed to finish to get his film degree.

Loneliness.

He delved into his memories, smiling at the recollection of confused looks, awkward smiles, indignant huffs. So very unlike him to tease so much, but it was too fun and he hadn't felt the usual nervousness and shyness he had around others. There was something comforting about that smile, that apartment, and that fluffy tuxedo cat that loved to interrupt everything.

He shouldn't have played it off.

He shouldn't have distracted.

Not after he admitted it.

"I like you."

Jungkook said it to the air, to the memory. So vivid that he reached out to touch those lips, but then it all disappeared, just like that.

Ah.

He looked at the back of his phone, wondering. But now he was too nervous and shy to pick it up again. Why was that? When he was there, being seen by those surprised eyes, he could do and say shameless things. But far away, when he was alone, Jungkook was hesitating, suddenly afraid.

Sigh.

You sneezed.

Very loudly and jerking your head away from your cat-man in luxurious pink silk, jamming your nose into your elbow.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

You sniffed, rubbing your nose.

"Someone must be thinking about me..." you muttered.

Yoongi looked down, plucking the collar of the pajamas. "The cotton shirts are the same size, but for some reason this one fits tighter. Why is that? Is there no regulated sizing in human fashion?"

Dude, be glad you're not a girl, you thought dryly. "Might be the fabric," you coughed distractedly. Distractedly because you were staring at quite possibly the most gorgeous man in the history of men and you stared at a lot of men in your short lifetime, so you had experienced eyeballs.

Wait.

Man or cat-man?

Well, Yoongi was definitely the most gorgeous cat-man considering you were pretty sure there was only one in current existence.

His pointed ears stood straight up in interest, black hair messy from taking clothes on and off, fair cheeks and nose flushed pink, perhaps from physical exertion. Dark brown eyes sheepish, not quite looking at you. The black leather choker stood out on his neck, silver bell gleaming against his collarbones. The material was a mauve-pink silk, clinging to his lean body, showing off his shoulders and long limbs. The button-up shirt created a rather deep v-neckline, a sliver of pale chest visible. And his legs! His slim legs reminded you of a nimble dancer, ending in fuzzy black slippers.

There was a weird lump in one of the pant legs, going down his thigh.

Whoa.

"W-Why did you pick them?" you tried to ask in the least awkward way possible, attempting – and failing – to not to stare at his delectable thighs.

Yoongi shrugged. "They looked like the ones you have. I meant to get black, but I suppose I didn't read the listing closely enough. They're comfortable though," he mused before making a face. Your eyes bulged as there was a sudden jerk in his pants, creating a large tent in the crotch.

Alarms sounded off in your head, arousal shooting up like a rocket.

Oh.

Oh???

Oh!!!!!!!

"My tail is stuck," Yoongi grunted, lowering the back of the pink silk pants. The sleek black cat tail slid out, swishing in the air, tent in his pants gone.

Oh…

Right. The tail.

Because he's a cat... man.

Your inner thot was sad. Your dignity smacked you upside the head, highly disappointed in you for falling for that, then calmly shot down your arousal rocket with your shame. Oof.

"Can you show me how to sew so I can fix my own clothes from now on?" Yoongi asked as he readjusted the front of the silk shirt.

You bent down to pick up your phone, trying to do something with your face and hands to disguise your embarrassment and burning ears. "Yeah, of course." You placed it on your desk and turned back to face him.

Yoongi was right next to you.

Literally so close that you could feel his body heat.

"... Urk!"

You jumped in your seat, banging your knee against your desk and howling in pain, computer chair rolling and making you lose your balance, ass about to slip before Yoongi grabbed your chair and shoved it into the table, making you trip and fall back into the seat, head hitting the headrest a little too hard, seeing stars and rubber duckies for a second.

Wait, were they rubber duckies? They were white and glittery, almost as if they were made from snow…

Yoongi slapped you in the face.

“Ow!”

You rubbed your cheek, blinking rapidly to clear your vision before glaring at him.

“Checking if you were alive,” was his placid response.

Alright, it wasn’t that hard, but the unexpectedness of it still hurt. You frowned, only for the pain to slowly melt away, quickly being replaced by something else as you realized Yoongi was still half-leaning over you, a knee on your computer gaming chair to prevent it from rolling. The sting in your knee was temporarily forgotten. Yoongi spoke again, his voice low and deep, almost a sensual purr.

“You hit yourself pretty hard.”

He doesn’t know what’s he’s doing. It’s just a coincidence. A kitty-incidence, Seokjin would say.

Your eyes widened as Yoongi closed in, peering at your unfocused gaze. Now you could see down his shirt. Holy shit. Were you so deprived that you were getting mad horny from seeing Yoongi’s fucking clavicle and sternum?

Is that even a question?

Yes.

Yes, you were.

“You look like you did last night.”

“What?” you breathed, still unabashedly looking down his shirt.

“Your pupils are dilated.”

You froze. His cool fingertips were on your neck.

“Heartrate increased.”

You wanted to pull back, say, no, wait, don’t do that, but Yoongi was too close and his exhale was too feathery, brushing against your lips, and you couldn’t move, trapped in your chair, between him wrapped in pink silk and your mind reeling, him still playing fucking doctor while you were trying not to jump his half-covered ass.

“And that smell.”

You finally tore your gaze away, eyes drifting up to his.

You swallowed.

“S… smell?”

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

Ohnoohshitwhatifhecansmellmypus–

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed, surveying you closely. He was so close you couldn’t see his lips, only his dark brown orbs. He didn’t say anything. He smelled like your soap, reminding you of his naked body pressed against you in the shower. Your heartbeat was leaping to your throat, threatening to choke you with your own horniness. Honestly, at this point, would you even be surprised?

You chuckled nervously, clinging onto your last shreds of self-preservation, which, admittedly, were rapidly yeeting out of your hands.

“Hahaha… but you’re… a cat… yeah?”

Right?

Seconds passed.

Right???

Minutes passed.

RIGHT???????

Yoongi’s lashes lowered, not quite looking at your eyes. Staring at your lips.

“I’m a man too,” he whispered softly.

Your eyes widened.

Yoongi kissed you.

You were so shocked that you swore your eyes nearly left your head.

It was a soft kiss, his eyes closed, tilting his head slightly to fit better against yours, pressing you back into your chair. Your head hit the headrest and you gasped, your tongue lightly flicking his lips and they parted, his own tongue sliding against yours, gentle licks, your brain malfunctioning, but body remembering, hands coming up to grab his shirt and yank him closer, pressing back against him. He backed up a little at your suddenness, exhaling hard. Your eyes snapped open, suddenly aware of how forceful you were.

Yoongi looked away, pointed black ears flicking back and forth uneasily.

You kissed your cat. Man. Cat-man.

He’s been a man for not even two days and you just tried to make out with him like a demented beast!

“A-ah, Yoongi, no, I’m so sorry, I-I… please, I didn’t mean to…” you stuttered, letting go of him quickly, but also not wanting to let go, but you should, your hands getting confused by your mental signals, repeatedly clasping and unclasping the pink silk, not realizing that he wasn’t even trying to move away.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Yoongi said slowly.

You clutched his shirt, staring at your white knuckles, unable to look at him directly.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… you’re so handsome, but I’m your owner… and I cracked…”

“What you are is a desperate, sexually deprived human.”

You jerked your head up, seeing his unreadable expression. “I-It’s been over a year–”

All of a sudden, Yoongi lowered his knee and grabbed you by the ass, scooting you down on the rolling chair. You yelped at the swift movement, gasping as your crotch collided with his thigh, wincing as you heard the squelch of your panties jamming into your soaked core.

Yikes.

Welp, you can’t hide that shit now.

“You like things like this, don’t you?” Yoongi murmured.

Your cheeks heated. “T…Things like w-what…?”

Oh, you knew what. You knew very well what, but you also couldn’t form coherent sentences.

His fingers sank into your ass and he pressed you into his thigh, rolling it into your heat. The whines tore out of your throat involuntarily, grabbing his arm and staring up at him with shaking eyes, seeing his curious gaze looking down at you.

“B-But, Yoongi… I’m your o-owner,” you panted, resolve slipping with every second, your hips already rocking into his thigh, the slippery thin fabric doing nothing to hide his lean muscle, your own thighs clamping around his leg. “I’m supposed to t-take care of y-you…”

And last more than two days, fucking shit, get it together!

But you couldn’t get it together, especially not as Yoongi’s voice dropped to a lower octave, one side of his lips curving upwards.

“It’s a little different now, isn’t it?” he drawled softly, lashes lowering, eyebrows raising, his black hair darkening his gaze. “Since I am now capable to take care of you too.”

You whimpered, losing it.

Just started freely humping his leg, self-preservation completely gone. Did he even know what he was capable of, really? Did he have any idea what he could do? Surely not.

Surely, he had no idea how good he could make you feel.

Yoongi bit the side of his lip, frowning. “How will can I make it feel better? I’m only cop…” He trailed off, furry ears anxiously flicking.

You tugged on his arm, getting his attention. “Angle your leg a little more downwards… Y-Yeah, like that…” He did as you instructed, his thigh now pressing down on your clit and your rocking hips moving faster, clinging to his arm and setting your jaw, moaning at the added pleasure. “A-ah… yeah, fuck… yes, I c-can… like this…”

“You can what?” Yoongi breathed, watching your face closely, firmly holding the armrests of the chair so it wouldn’t slide.

Your head tipped back a little, bucking harder into his thigh, so wet your juices were soaking through your leggings and drenching the pink silk, turning it darker, the strong scent of your sweet arousal clearly evident. Your eyes drifted to Yoongi’s dark orbs covered by black hair, vision hazy, noticing the slight inquisitive upturn of his upper lip. There was no point in hiding it anymore.

“Can cum, Yoongi, fuck, I’m going to cum…” you moaned, inhaling his scent, his presence, saying his name and looking up at him, the stimulation and touch of another enough to get you there, eyelids fluttering as your orgasm swept down, taking you away and filling you with serene satisfaction, crashing waves soaring through you, washing away the sand of your dry spell, a different kind of euphoria than when you were on your own, pulling Yoongi close, kissing him deeply, breathing hard.

“Y… Yoongi…”

“Was it nice?” he murmured. “Was I what you needed?”

“Yeah…” You kissed his soft lips again, semi-breathless. “I–” The wave of guilt came now, your words dropping, brows furrowing, a sharp pang in your chest. Rising, rising. Panic. Yoongi lowered his head, black hair and soft pointed ear rubbing against your eyebrow, nuzzling your cheek. Once. Twice. Again, headbutting you lightly, smoothing the worry away from your forehead, a small laugh bubbling from your throat.

“What are you doing?” you chuckled, patting his arm, smoothing out the wrinkles you had made while furiously humping him. Your eye caught the dark mark now on one of his thighs. Welp. You lasted less than ten minutes.

Pink pajama Yoongi was dangerous.

“You liked this,” he mumbled. “When you were upset.”

You chuckled, instinctively reaching up and caressing his velvety ear. “You were a little smaller then.”

“Only a little.”

He slowed until he came to a full stop, dark eye staring into yours, cheek to cheek.

“I have to look after you, my clumsy human.”

part iv

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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americachavez · 3 years

Note

did cas really tell dean to kneel before their new god? did that actually happen? i thought him beating the shit out of dean in that alley was the most unrestrainedly horny thing this show had ever done ACTUALLY you know what scratch that new question: top horny moments from the cw's supernatural (2005 - 2020)

getting this ask feels like my sins of the last week have been weighed against the Trials I Have Gone Through since the premier of supernatural on the wb in september of 2005 and I’m not sure if it is a punishment or reward

some notes before we begin:

the ep with dean’s male siren was like, conceptually horny but not actually that horny because the dude was uglie. I’m sorry to this man

all you sam girls out there. I respect you but I do not respect jared padalecki who is JUST tall and has zero sex appeal. but those eps where he’s like, drinking ruby’s blood and then eating her pussy are. you know. I’ll give you that

I am ONLY UP TO SEASON 10 so fair warning this is not comprehensive but the horniness does seem to drop off sharply after the mark of cain is no longer in play lol gotta love a good demon murder tattoo plot

this is easily the most insane thing I’ve ever done, including the destiel manifesto

S1 EP12: the scene where dean gets healed by the faith healer, on his knees with a hand in his hair and looking somewhere between religious ecstasy, brain death and an orgasm. starting this list off great

S1 EP22: azazel possessing john winchester. no I will not explain further if u know u know <3

S3 EP10: dean being taunted by a dream version of himself, this is where we first got the daddy’s blunt little instrument line. still burned in my hippocampus a good 13 years later thank yew

S4 EP1: dean crawling out of his own grave covered in grave dirt. hot. the HANDPRINT. HOT. also tangent but this reveal after the s3 finale was WILD back in 2008 I hollered in my dorm room after canvassing for obama. simpler times man

S4 EP 1: cas’ intro scene. the barn. the shadow wings. the hair??? getting stabbed in the chest by the man you just pulled out of hell. getting aaaallll up in that personal space. his little eyebrow. “you don’t think you deserve to be saved.” OUTRAGEOUSLY FLAMING

S4 EP02: “I dragged you out of hell I can throw you back in.” <<< this angel tops. mark dean down as scared and horny etc

S4 EP16: this ENTIRE EPISODE but specifically the part where dean tortures alastair as some kind of foreplay and then alastair kicks his ass. carved you into a new animal. jesus.

S4 EP16: wait I forgot about the part where cas also gets his ass kicked and looks all....hm. dazed and covered in blood while he’s on his knees and about to die. yeah.

S5 EP4: I mean this entire ep is unfairly horny considering everyone is dying of a zombie plague and hasn’t showered in like, 4 years but if I had to pick one hmmm. the dean/dean interrogation scene with the panty kink yeah I know it’s not original but hm. it happened. also misha collins just being able to convey that CAS IS A FLEXIBLE SLUT with a single roll of his shoulders. who SAYS this man can’t act!!!!!

S5 EP18: the ALLEY SCENE. DEAN DOESN’T FIGHT BACK. CAS HOLDS HIM UP OFF THE GROUND AND THEN THROWS HIM ACROSS THE ALLEY. WHY DID EVERYONE THINK CAS COULDN’T TOP. you all had brainworms.

S5 EP18: when cas locks dean in the panic room to stop him from saying yes to michael and “well cas not for nothing but the last person who looked at me like that I got laid” I hate this show. wait I think the blow me cas line is in this episode too what the fuck were they on here

S6 EP5: the scene where dean gets turned into a vampire. between the old dude who I think calls dean a pretty boy (??) and soulless sam....watching??? no ******* but there were just some absolutely foul energies in that scene and I still do not understand WHAT they were thinking

S6 EP20: cas doing a double smite on two demons by slamming them to the ground and then shoving another demon back in its vessel and then smiting him in the same motion. TOP. ENERGY.

S6 EP22: season 6 is possibly cas’ horniest season because he’s like, going through angel puberty after getting his first boner for dean, but the final cas eps are. whoof. cas eats a bunch of souls and proclaims himself to be a new god in order to handle said boner, and then the season ends with cas telling them to bow down and profess their love to him, their new lord, or he will destroy them. note: the way this is framed makes it look like cas is only staring at dean while he says this, even though sam and bobby are also there. the season ends with dramatic zooms on both cas and dean’s faces respectively. this made me actively regret ditching this show after s5 lol

S8 EP??: literally EVERY SINGLE PURGATORY FLASHBACK. cas dean and benny are all purgatory hot in the “pop 10 cranberry pills and risk the UTI” kind of way but also. dean being the hot girl bottom between two tops who hate each other. I really. whew. I need to go take a shower.

S8 EP17: if I get canceled for including the crypt scene on this list I blame you bud. but dean on his knees begging a brainwashed cas to stop killing him WAS sexy. how many times has dean been on his knees in this list wait there’s another one coming up next jsldjfsldkjf

S9 EP2: abaddon getting dean on his knees (YEAH) and pulling his hair and praising him for always coming when called HELLO???? the only thing that ruins this is dean says “I can’t tell if we’re gonna fight or make out” because this is the CW and they won’t let him say fuck

S9 EP6: ah. this entire episode is Emotionally Horny but the horny horny part is when they’re in the car and dean is telling cas to unbutton his shirt and. watches. I know this was on my destiel manifesto but I need it here too

S9 EP9: cas, covered in blood, slitting another angel’s throat and eating his grace after getting tortured. that shot alone made me understand why this website was so goddamn horny for misha collins for nearly a damn decade

S9 EP11: MARK OF CAIN BABEY. cain watching dean beat up a bunch of demons as an audition for taking on the mark, while crowley also is a fucking voyeur to the whole thing. cain is also a hot silver fox with daddy energies. I said what I said

S9 EP 16: dean getting the first blade. he’s chained to a pillar and being menaced by a foppish dandy who wants to add him to his “collection” (WOW). dean then kills him with the blade and whew. murder is sexy sometimes

S9 EP21: dean being pinned against a wall by abaddon’s power, then using the mark of cain to break her hold, calling the first blade to him psychically and then killing her. god the mark of cain is hot

S9 EP23: dean waking up with the demon eyes NUT

S10 EP2: demon dean beating up that dude with the boring backstory and kicking his ass. really was a go on baby I got your flower moment because I hated that dude and I love demon dean

S10 EP3: demon dean being chained up and taunting sam about how his brother is gone, then hunting sam through the bunker. demon dean in general was VERY fun for me, someone who loves trash

S10 EP9: dean going berserk and killing a bunch of pedophile rapists/child abusers. I’m sorry I know this show is trying to preach morality at me about monsters and unnecessary murder and humanity or whatever but we blew past that like 8 SEASONS AGO. also the mark of cain is sexy

S10 EP14: the rest of this list is really gonna be mark of cain stuff isn’t it look I’m here to have fun. cain and dean’s fight. cain continuously tossing his mane of hair back and taunting dean with the picture of what he’s going to become, who he’s going to kill. dean begging cain to tell him that he can stop, and then ultimately killing him. rip daddy.

S11 EP4: again I have not watched this however. every shot of this episode is PRESTIGE TELEVISION because driving a muscle car is sexy. and especially the shot of dean all beat to hell and begging his car to start and giving her a little kiss from his fingers to her dash. ugh. masculinity.

S12 EP10: the bearded salt-and-pepper daddy look returns, only it’s an angel this time and he’s wearing a vest and shirtsleeves and he swordfights with a hot redheaded lady in a suit and an eyepatch. this show is good sometimes!!! and oh fuck lol I just realized this is the same guy who played krissy’s hot hunter dad in s7 probably the first guy who’s hotter as an angel than a hunter. huh.

S12 EP 11: dean riding larry the mechanical bull to “broomstick cowboy.” I have no idea where this factors into the ep but I have seen. the youtube clip

S13 EP23: from what I can tell s13 is way more emotionally horny than boner horny, although dean burning cas’ body was sexy. but the horniest part was dean saying yes to michael and then michael taking over and saying “thanks for the suit.” we are going to ignore the silliest fight scene in existence as well as the final shot ending on a FREEZE FRAME like a goddamn tiktok

S14: not gonna pick a specific moment because I have not watched yet!!! but michael dean is hot. idk why michael is weirdly hot and I cannot stand any iteration of lucifer on this television programme. it should be the reverse but I’m forever an older sibling stan apparently. someone who is catholic could probably explain this better.

S15 EP13: genevieve padalecki and danneel ackles fight flirting as ruby and anael I CANNOT BELIEVE THEY HELD OUT ON THIS TILL THE LAST SEASON

I know I am missing things but this is already an absolutely incomprehensible screed. I know I’m missing shit from the latter seasons but give me time I’m pacing myself

#reply tag #spn tag #literally no one read this lol this is insane #Anonymous

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internalsealpanic · 3 years

Text

Of Midnight Smoothies and Murder Mysteries

Summary: Sneaking out for a movie turns out to be a bad idea.

A/n: So... this was supposed to com out on Halloween then I confessed about thirst then my priorities shifted. Well, since I don’t celebrate Thanksgiving this is just extended Halloween. It would be funny to do a Thanksgiving thing with the Batfam. Thanks to @littleredwing89 and @lucy-roo for proof reading this crack. Thanks for @ereawrites for the encouragement. And thanks to @littleredwing89 for the mood board. (I love you my dear enabler.) Also “[ ]” will indicate characters speaking in a different language. I sadly could not find grammar stuff for the language so you will have to bear with me. This is still part of the Merc! Reader series.

Warnings: Gore, a lot of blood, dumb bickering, Dick being a cute dork, and snake bleps.

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Series Masterlist

"Aliens don't exist," You huff around your thoroughly chewed straw, swirling the radioactive green smoothie Dick insisted that you try. You debate on whether to take out the bag of confectioners sugar you bought and pour it in. Dick makes a noise, indiscernible with his own straw in his mouth. You cast a glance at him only to see his neon blue smoothie spurting out of his nose. Your snort quietly, the noise hidden by the rustling of grocery bags against your bouncing leg but based on the way he’s pouting at you, Dick clearly sees your lack of sympathy and takes offense. You shrug at him.

Brushing the liquid away with the sleeve of his denim jacket, Dick levels you his best batglare. You give him an impassive half-asleep response of ‘hnnn’ which just gave him flashbacks about talking to Bruce. You’re entirely too focused on the fact that the blue of the smoothie is still alarmingly stark even against the blue of the denim. “You’ve met Superman, right?”

You roll your eyes at his piss poor attempt at intimidating you and pinch your straw between your thumb and index finger, trying to break apart the clumps of ice preventing you from getting more smoothie. “-Met is a strong word-” You drawled causing him to sneer. “Just say he kicked your ass six ways to Sunday like a normal person.”

“I fought him.”

“You got your ass beat-” You glare at him sticking your green tongue out at him and in return he sticks his blue tongue out at you. It was true but he didn’t have to say it. This is always how your long-held arguments start.

“Besides, aren’t you and Slade metas?” He breaks in after a long moment, instantly cutting off the possibility of weeks of not talking to each other. You smile balefully at him. “Precisely.”

“What? How does you being a weirdo disprove aliens?”

You make an affronted sound through your nose but launch into your explanation in your professorial voice. “The guy’s gotta be some kind of meta and he probably just came up with the Krypton thing afterwards. It sounds cooler, yanno?”

Dick looks up to the smog covered Gotham sky, leaning back against the solid brick pillar behind him. “Well, why can’t he be an alien?” He says dreamily tracing unseen constellations with his right hand. You briefly remember him mentioning stargazing with his parents when he was younger. There is something warm in the memory even if it wasn’t yours. You look down at him, eyebrow ticking. “Ok genius, tell me why there would be aliens that look exactly like us?”

“Why not?” He says grinning at you. The sterile lighting of the grocery store light filtering through smudgy windows highlighting his features. The shadows highlighting the shape of his cheekbones and the dimples forming at the edges of his cheeks. When had Dick gone from cute to handsome? You shake your head, avoiding his smiling corscian blue eyes.

“Becaaauuuuuse, dipshit, that’s not how evolution works” You bite out.

“What about convergent evolution?” He offers casually and your tongue freezes. A light flickers in his eyes and his pretty mouth twitch up into a laugh when you fail to respond. “You forgot about that, didn’t you? HA”

“I regret this conversation.”

“HA”

“Superman fanboy” you accuse, jabbing a finger into his chest. Dick giggles either from your weak deflection or the fact he’s ticklish, either way, your stomach does somersaults.

“Just say you’re wrong.” He says grinning, the divots formed by his dimples becoming more apparent. You feel Yasiri’s tail flick across your collarbone, her body coiling up in response to your irritation. Your mouth curls too but the irritation doesn’t quite boil over as you expected it to, not when Dick smiles at you like that. There’s a strange twisting in your stomach. You aren’t sure what it is but you’re pretty sure that you don’t like it. You blow out a breath, sound caught between a tired laugh and a long-suffering sigh, and pick your grocery bags before getting up.

Not even 5 seconds after you resolve to abandon him, Dick’s already by your side, falling into step with you bumping his shoulder against yours in a placating gesture. Yasiri slithers from the skin on the base of your neck to hiss at him. Dick smiles at her unfazed despite the clear and present danger. He pets her without much fuss from your usually ferocious snake. You make an amused noise at her compliance.

The walk is spent in easy companionable silence. The kind you two settle into when Dick knows you need to settle down. You were a sore loser when it comes to arguments but so was he, so you tend to let the other work through it. You grimace at your lightly scuffed shoes. They weren’t expensive or flashy or even one of a kind but they were comfortable, reliable, and most importantly they were from Mr. Wintergreen- Uncle Wintergreen, he insisted. The fact that he’d taken the time at all made your stomach flip-

Your stomach dropped. Your throat and mouth felt dry. The scent of copper permeating the air as you stared at the red puddle beneath your white shoes, a severed finger poking at you.

"Y/n?"

You must have stopped abruptly. You turn to Dick mechanically and see his face crumple into worry. Before you can rush out words of dismissal, your ears tune in to the sounds of a haunting melody. Yasiri rattles around your neck once again leaving the safety of your collar bone. Your head swivels mechanically towards the old theatre. Dick looks at you curiously, concern flashing in his eyes when another scream erupts from the theater. You both stiffen, spines straightening. Eyes blown wide, your feet take you toward the theater.

Dick falls into step with you.”You’re not seriously going, are you? You’ve- Didn’t we just watch a horror movie?”

“You seem to be going the same way.” You point out, side-eyeing him sharply, the sour look on your face not betraying the anxiety cloying at your spine. In the corner of your eye, you can see Dick huffing and crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m Robin.”

“And I kicked your ass just 2 days ago and served it on a silver platter while quoting the one and only Arnold Schwarzenegger,” You grin absolutely, unequivocally unapologetic.

“I was protecting civilians!” He protests, throwing up his hands theatrically.

“Iieerrelevant~”

Dick opens his mouth to contest your point but there really was convincing you on that. His face screws up and being the gracious loser that he is, he sticks his still neon blue tongue out at you. You, being the graceful winner that you were, stick your radioactively neon green tongue at him in answer.

You continue to bicker about the merits of his heroism on the battlefield 'til you reach the front of the theater. You tuck your grocery bags behind debris by the entrance making sure to keep them well hidden. Dick wants to point out that they’ll probably be gone by the time you two are done but Yasiri was staring at him like she was about to strike at him for real this time.

It- It wasn’t hard to get into the building. Dick held out his hand to you as you climbed over another set of debris. You take it. You thank him clumsily. He bows to you a gremlin smile spreading across his face. You sneer but give him a sharp smile in return.

It’s dark. The absence of light is thick. It makes the sounds of your heartbeats uncomfortably loud. You swallow. You trace your finger along your skin, the hilt of your knife falls easily into your hand. You trace your finger on your other arm and hand the knife to Dick who shakes his head. You shrug and let it melt back into your skin.

“You have a tracker on you, right?”

“No-” You eye him, cutting him a look of disbelief. “I-”

“Relax, I have one too.” You deadpan.

Dick sighs. “You’re dad’s paranoid too?”

“So is yours” You snip, hackles drawn.

“Bruce isn’t my dad.”

“Slade isn’t mine either.”

“Mentors?” Dick offers placatingly.

“Polite way of saying bossy prick, I guess.” You roll your eyes but concede.

“I mean I don’t know about Wintergreen but Alfred taught me some manners.” Dick shrugs, folding his arms behind his head somehow relaxed despite the thick scent of blood in the air or maybe this was how Dick was when he was nervous.

The truth was Wintergreen had attempted to teach you manners but he’d run into quite a few problems. The first being that you were a terrible student. Sure, you caught on quickly when you could but anything you didn’t gravitate towards didn’t hold your limited attention long enough to make an actual impact on you. Now that in of itself was fixable with the right kind of bribery. The other problem was less so. Your mentor, if you could really call him that, was a rude bastard. Long story short, you’ve never seen the point, much to Wintergreen’s chagrin and Slade’s amusement. You were, however, a master of mouthing off.

“Shouldn’t we call back up?”

You flick your eyes to him, uselessly, but based on the shifting of the body beside you he somehow got the message. “Go ahead, if you wanna explain to big daddy bats why you’re hanging out with me, sure.”

Yeah. That wasn’t an option. There was, of course, a silent understanding that bats probably knew about your little hangouts but still.

You pad the walls with your left hand while your right was gripping Dick’s sleeve, white-knuckled. You cringe every now and again feeling the walls slick with what you weren’t eager to investigate. You strain your ear to listen for odd sounds but mostly to see if Dick, as you suspect, is echolocating.

“How are you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Silently echolocating?”

Dick snickers. “I am not. You do know B isn’t an actual bat, right?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot he was just a furry.” You sneer. Dick snorts a sound caught between amusement and offense. He clearly respected Bruce. Not the same way you respected Slade, maybe, but you understood how larger than life the Batman was even if he was the biggest pain in your ass by far.

“Do you really have any room to make fun of my mentor when yours has ‘Stroke’ in his name?”

“I have plenty of room, probably. Why not echolocate to check just how much room I have?”

“Listen here-”

The opera music floods the silent hall, sharp and clear. You feel the air around you catch fire and your fraying nerves. You turn your head to Dick. Despite not being able to see him, you know his mouth flattens and his brow wrinkles the way they do when you two agree to do something incomprehensibly stupid. This time you do not argue or question or even complain. You simply go forward.

A scream, messy and jagged, tangles with the smooth crispness of the opera music. It makes your stomach turn almost as much as the idea of who or, more appropriately, whatever was behind it. You were familiar with the cruelties Gotham’s monsters were capable of. You have, after all, worked for quite a few.

But this?

This pure, uncut agony in that scream? That was just something you could not stomach. You feel Dick flinch at the sound, almost jumping out of his skin. You squeeze his arm once, then twice, then twice once more. You feel his hand on your wrist, reciprocating the gesture. You smile at him reassuringly not knowing whether it would make things better or whether he can actually see it.

Neither of you is particularly good at dealing with people’s pain. That might not be the right word for it. Neither of you coped well. You absorbed too much of it. You were, however, much better at hiding it. Not that you could fault Dick on that. You didn’t even attempt. For Dick, humanity was a part of the job. Compassion? Kindness? That was to be expected of a hero not derided. To uphold that in the face of Gotham’s worst, that took strength.

Strength, in your case, was directed elsewhere. Something bone-breaking, more visceral. You suppose that was the problem with keeping company with survivors. Perpetually dancing on the brink of death robbed you of something but you haven’t exactly known any other life besides this.

The end of the hall is light by bright lights, sterile white, the kind you only saw in clinics. Your head runs through the catalog of Gotham’s rogues, possibilities of which utter psychopath could possibly be doing this.

“We should call the cops.”

Not really really paying attention, you nod. You should probably. You grip the handle of your knife, flexing your fingers nervously, as another scream cuts through the air. Dick’s body curls, recoiling at the sound. The sound, this close, was enough to make you twitch.

“Can’t we just text them?”

“What do you think this is? Canada?”

“Ok, fair but make sure to tell them you’re Dickle Grayson.” You tease, smiling way too easily considering the creepy atmosphere.

Dick crosses his arms over his chest.“And summon a media storm?”

“It would get the police here faster.”

“I hate it when you’re right,” Dick wishes he could wipe the absolutely smug grin off your face. “We need to back up. You know, in case, he can hear us.”

“I mean you are the one unarmed here.” You say, waving your arms at him.

“No, I’m not. I have my bird-a-rangs.” Dick preens, taking them out from some pocket hidden in his jacket.

“Bird-a-rangs.” You echo, raising a brow.

“Yup. Bird-a-rangs.”

“You are officially- no, you are legally not allowed to name things.”

Dick makes an offended squawking noise.“Oh, come on! Still not as bad as Sharknado.”

“Take. That. Back. Heathen.”

“Make me.”

Both of you still. Yasiri unfurls from your collarbone, her tail rattling. You spin on your heel. Your knife swings out in a wide crescent of light. Thick crimson splashes across your face. At the end of your knife was a person- no, it was a person in the past tense. It makes a small cry when you wiggle the blade planted in its throat a fraction. Otherwise, it ignores the fact that it is, in fact, bleeding out from its jugular. It’s thick, clumsy limbs reach for you. Your stomach rolls. The thing in front of you, the mangled approximation of what was once a person, is lurching towards you. You think you sneer in disgust but your face is far too numb to tell.

“Dick! Just call the cops!” You snarl, panic rising audibly as more bodies emerge from God knows where. You kick the one to your front off to the side, shredding its neck. It takes everything in you not to vomit. In the corner of your eye, you see Dick type as he kicks another one away. You two back into each other as the bodies close around you, cutting off all the exits. You roll up your sleeve tracing a blood-soaked finger over the lines of your tattoo and producing another knife. Dick pulls out his bird-a-rangs.

Dick landed blows but they weren’t hard enough to maim or be fatal. Even if he was to hit them with the sharp bird-a-rangs, he would still aim non fatally. Slade would kill you if you fought so inefficiently or maybe he would just taunt you. Either way, you didn’t care much for Dick’s squeamishness right now as the bodies kept getting back up. As far as you can tell, you’re doing them a favor.

The first wave of bodies rushes towards you. Their limbs jutting towards you clumsily. You swing your blade, vicious and precise. You feel metal clash against flesh, against bone. Blood coats every available surface on you. You hear Dick squawk and you don’t really need to turn around to check that he’s also covered in it too. The spray of blood makes the air thick with the scent of copper. The blood on your skin burns.

“Duck!”

“Goose!” You shout, ducking and slashing down at a row of bodies and legs. You hear his bird-a-rangs slice through the air cleanly and land on one of the creature's shoulders. You let out a huff of air thinking of all the more permanent places it could have landed. He throws a few more hitting them in the face.

Dick launches over you, using you as a springboard. You grunt and he winks at you like a showman. His foot predictably lands an impressive blow on one of the creature's faces. You two regroup back to back immediately after he lands.

Your eyes widen a fraction when a hand from out of nowhere grabs at your face catching you off guard. Your breath catches when you feel a hand at your shoulder pushing you down. A fist makes contact with the creature’s swollen face and it takes a moment for your mind to realize that it’s Dick’s hand on your shoulder and Dick’s fist making contact with the creature.

“Thanks,” You mumble, straightening yourself out. “I had it.”

“You’re welcome, Pookie.” You flush as Dick winks at you. “You know I literally have your back.” He teases. You groan bending back into a fighting stance.

“When we get out of here alive, we are working on your sense of humor.” Dick chuckles at that, making your muscles ease. “Says the person who shouted ‘Goose!’.”

You land every blow with every intent to make it fatal. Dick is still sticking to his nonfatal method. Normally, it was pure joy to watch Dick as he fights. The sheer control he commands over his muscles was awe-inspiring. Despite his size, he’s able to land blows just as powerful as yours. He would truly be terrifying if he were to be anything but himself.

These bodies. They’re too alive, too much. The next wave comes at you more fervently with more bodies. Another wave of nausea hits you when hands grasp at your arms. Your stomach tries to twist out of your abdomen. You try to wrench yourself free. You pull and twist and thrash, only succeeding in getting yourself pulled in deeper.

“Dick!” You cry reflexively. The coarseness in your voice lets the fear spill all over your vowels.

Dick’s corscian eyes widen with a flash of panic. To Dick, you and death were two separate lines running on parallel tracks next to each other, never quite crossing and never belonging to the same headspace. Completely mutually exclusive as far as he knew. But right at this moment, right as you’re about to be swallowed whole by the crowd of misshapen bodies, he watches those lines slowly intersect. Dick doesn’t know where his heart has leaped to.

“Y/n!”

The world resurfaces in a surge of bright white light. Some small part of you is really hoping that Dick is, for once, right about the alien thing. Quietly you draw in a calming breath. It’s shallow not wanting your chest to rise too much to give away your consciousness.

The opera music is blaring in your still ringing head which isn’t helped by the wannabe opera singer belting his lungs out. Thankfully, that means he’s distracted. You move your limbs checking. Everything seems to be intact AND you seem to be tied up to someone instead of something which was either good or bad depending on who it is.

“Mornin’ sleepy head” Dick mumbles quietly, sounding relieved. You click your teeth in irritation.

“Morning, Disco Stick. Any chance you magically woke up with a plan or were you just taking a beauty nap?”

“I don’t need one and sort of.”

“Well shit, we’re screwed then.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m sorry which of us is running around doing somersaults when they’re assaulting criminals?”

“In my defense, flipping makes my kicks land harder.” Which was true but you were feeling snippy. “It also gives them much more time to dodge or counter.”

“Killjoy.” You roll your eyes, smiling. You know he’s being cute and pouting. Given this is really not the time considering there is a man butchering another man a few feet away from you while singing bad opera. You really did stumble into a horror movie. “Please tell me you called Batman or the police.”

“Both.”

“How?”

“Some of us are good at multitasking.” Dick chirps proudly leaning against you. You scoff judging just how tightly the ropes are bound around you.

“Well, you are good at being insufferable while still breathing.”

“Isn’t that part of my charm?”

You snicker accidentally tugging at the binds around you. You hear Dick wince likely from what is a bruised rib or, heaven help you, a broken one. “Sorry.” You whisper low and small.

Shit. What if he had a broken rib. Shit. Shit.

“I’m ok, Hon.” Dick laughs making sure to lay the Delaware accent thick. It makes your chest feel warm even though everything else in you was freezing from dread. You snort. “Fine, bleed out for all I care.”

“Awwww don’t be like that.” You sigh. You hate how weak you are to his puppy dog eyes. You can’t even see it. You decide to change the subject instead. “So what are the odds that we’re escaping if we break out of their bonds now?”

“Not high.”

“Even if I get Yasiri to gently inject him with poison?”

“Please tell me you didn’t bring poison to our hangout.”

“I mean. Do twinkies count?”

“No.”

“Ok, fine. So we’re stalling then.”

“Pretty much.”

“I hate this.”

“You were the one who started heading in.”

“Why didn’t you stop me then?”

The man at the surgical table turns to you with a whimsical flourish as the body on the table goes limp. No, not limp. Docile. You have just witnessed a person become a body, you think numbly. The way the fight so easily left its limbs made you shudder, feeling the fight in your own limbs fleeting out. This isn’t how you want to die, not by the hand of a madman. At least, not until you’ve put your own demons to rest.

“Look who’s awake,” He drawls, his voice slimy and all the vowels coming out at the wrong pitches. Dick shifts the two of you so that he’s angled slightly in front of you. He squares his shoulder trying to make his lean form look far bigger than it actually is. You smile at his attempt to be protective because deep down you both know you’re the more intimidating one and you’re the one who can take more punishment. Your power and training have those pleasant side effects.

You see him draw closer making you snarl. “Come any closer and I swear I will rip your throat out.” You are surprised at how even the threat came out but the distilled ferocity you had put into it didn’t quite show, likely blunted by the fear pooling in your stomach.

“Don’t worry I’ll make you perfect too. I promise.” He reaches past Dick, grabbing you by the back of your neck. The grip on you is bruising and callous. He forces you to bow your head and look down at the bloodstains on your clothes. The browning blots of red stain your white Wonder Woman shirt. You swallow. You felt like a lamb being dragged to slaughter. Dick, likely without thinking, bites down on the man’s wrist.

The man pulls away with a cry, cradling his bleeding wrist. “Are you ok?” Dick asks, spitting blood out, eyes shiny with concern. You gulp down air before nodding. Dick presses closer to you reassuring you. Shaken, you press back, careful not to press hard enough to hurt him.

Your floundering mind comes to one conclusion. You can’t let him touch Dick. You use your strength to shift your positions so that Dick is completely behind you. Dick tries to move you back but you plant your heels preventing him from even inching.

The man grabs you by the collar of your shirt, pulling you off the ground. You hear Dick’s breath hitch. His heart rate kicks up and so does yours. Fury burning in the man’s eyes. “WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?” He screams, shaking you. “NO. NO. NO. MY- I’M- NO! PERFECT. I NEED- I NEED TO BE PERFECT.” Somehow the spit flying in your face grosses you out more than the blood probably drying on your face. It’s only winning by a small margin though.

Bile is rising in your throat. Still, you grin, sneering and taunting. “Trust me you didn’t need help in the department,” You jeer. Dick squirms behind you. Urging you to stop. You don’t. “You think those pisspoor excuses for creatures you sicced on us were perfect. HA!” You can feel Dick shaking his head behind you. You nudge him assuring him you’ve got a plan. You did. Sort of. It’s more of a goal really. Take his attention off of Dick.

“[Y/n, please no. Don’t do this. I know what you’re doing. But I can take it. Moon, please.]” Dick pleads, voice hoarse and desperate. ‘Shion’. Moon. The endearment glances of your ribs like a well placed kick to the chest. You don’t let your eyes flick to him. “[Which us is meta here?]” You whisper back in broken Romani. You cringe a little knowing just how badly you butchered the sentence. Dick makes an affronted noise. “Cham.” You whisper quietly, trying to shape your vowels and consonants correctly. Dick’s breath catches. Sun. Sure, the endearment seemed inadequate, too succinct, when compared to how much you care for him but as of right now it will have to do.

The man shakes you again dragging your attention away from Dick. Your smarmy grin cuts across your face as if you’re not pissing yourself from fear. A large hand grabs your face. Your entire body braces itself for your neck to be twisted but it does not come. He tilts your head back side to side. “You’re going to need a lot of work.”

Your heart stops. Dick thrashes behind you. You want to elbow him. You want to scream at him to stop fucking moving but you’re entire body is numb. Your eyes flick to the man, no, the body on the table. It is breathing and writhing in agony. Your breaths pick up. You- you don’t- you can’t-

You hear a crash and the fall of debris on a dozen bodies.

“B!” Dick shouts distantly. The grip on your collar disappears. A black clad fist hangs in front of you. Your eyes trace up the arm in front of you only to be met with the scowling face of the Batman. You swallow nervously while Dick lets out another enthusiastic ‘B’. Batman makes quick work of your ropes, all the while glaring at you for what you don’t know. Maybe somehow he knows this whole situation was your fault.

Once released, the first order of business, at least for Dick, is to throw his arms around Batman’s shoulders. Awkwardly, he reciprocates your friend’s affection. The hold he has on Dick cannot be mistaken as anything but protective. You find humor in the fact at how obvious their familial connection is yet they deny it. A teasing remark rises up your throat but is abruptly shoved back down by Batman’s unrelenting glare. Was he born glaring?

“What are you doing here?” Less of a question and more of a growled accusation.

“Careful, his rib might be broken.” You stumble out dumbly. Dick glares at you but compared to Batman’s it looks more like a pout which is, again, hilarious. Batman loosens his grip on Dick and apparently, this is now the time Dick chooses to realize that his mentor (read: dad) is trying to turn you into ash with a scowl.

Dick peels away from him stepping in front of you. He widens his stance to shield you from the larger man. Dick feels an odd surge of protectiveness and he’s not about to let B attack you, especially not after what just happened.

They stare each other down. They seem to be having a silent argument. You want to cut in but you’re afraid you might actually turn into ash with the intensity of Batman’s gaze.

The loud blaring of sirens mingle with the still playing opera music in the background as a tidal wave of police officers and paramedics rush in.

-----

You pestered the medic to let you stay with Dick.

“So, what do you plan on doing?” Dick asks, leaning against you pointedly ignoring the paramedic's instruction to be careful. You let him lean into you. You know he needs all the comfort he can get. You rest your head against his hair, placing a kiss on his scalp. Dick doesn’t comment afraid that you might withdraw if he teases you too much.

“Maybe grow out my hair,” You joke, pinching a lock of hair between your fingers. “Might as well considering how grounded I’ll be. Well, if uncle Wintergreen has anything to say about it.”

Dick extricates himself from your shoulder and turns to you with a pensive look. Tilting his head, he looks at you appraisingly, wrinkling his brow. You can’t blame him. He’s never seen you with long hair mainly because you’ve never let it get too long. Too much of a hassle, too much of a health hazard.

Dick places his jacket over your head, draping it over you like a wedding veil. You chuckle at him, barely able to keep the smile off of your face.

“How do I look?” You joke twining your fingers around the cloth. You think you see Dick blush but it was probably just the cold. Dick coughs poorly disguising his laughter. He covers his mouth, depriving you of his dimples. “ Like you’re going to get married in a jean pants suit. I have dibs on walking you down the aisle.”

You tilt your head. Your smile tilts along with it. “Nah uncle Wintergreen has dibs on that.”

Dick huffs, his shoulders sag in disappointment. It’s the closest he was gonna get to being your groom, he thinks.

I want you waiting for me at the end of the aisle. The thought makes your heart twist. You swallow it along with the huge lump in your throat. “You can be my last dance though.”

You concede. Dick brightens a little at this but not by much.

“You sure Deathstroke wouldn’t mind?”

“This implies he’ll show up. He’s a busy man.” Dick laughs at that. Genuine and very Dick. This time you don’t fight the smile off of your face.

You smile at each other and laugh. A million unspoken sentences hang between the two of you.

This love of yours is reckless.

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

a/n: Thanks for reading. Also yes I did have to include good dad Bruce and bastard mentor Slade. I only have one braincell and it is dumber than shit.

tag list: @batarella , @anothertimdrakestan , @lucy-roo , @multifandomgirl-us , @idkmanicantenglish ,@birdy-bat-writes , @boosyboo9206 , @americasmarauders , @l-inkage @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay , @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical, @ereawrites

#dick grayson #robins #batboys x reader #batboys #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #dc x reader #dc fanfic

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amispnrewatch · 3 years

Text

SPN 1x06 “Skin”

Okay, I’m gonna try to type while I watch this time instead of forgetting this blog exists until the episode is almost over.

You can tell the footage for the previously on segment was saved on a VHS copy instead of the original film that the show was shot with because even in the HD iTunes version I have it looks low quality as fuck. And jumpy in the way that brings me back to my teens watching the WB all the damn time.

I love this song. WTF is this song. Shazam says “Good Deal” by Mommy and Daddy. I… have no comment, except that it sounds like everything I was listening to in college at the time this shit was airing.

Aaaaand not!Dean turns around to face the SWAT team after obviously torturing some woman. THAT is a cold open.

I wanna know what that car is in the background. It’s pretty. Maybe a convertible Impala? They have similar grills. This is not at all important.

Also, I love that with these higher definition versions of the episodes you can see that Sam’s email is lawboy and whatever dot com and that people in the fandom have started calling him Law Boy. It’s hilarious.

DEAN: Well, what exactly do you tell ‘em? You know, about where you’ve been, what you’ve been doin’?

SAM: I tell ‘em I’m on a road trip with my big brother. I tell ‘em I needed some time off after Jess.

DEAN: Oh, so you lie to ‘em.

SAM: No. I just don’t tell ‘em….everything.

DEAN: Yeah, that’s called lying. I mean, hey, man, I get it, tellin’ the truth is far worse.

SAM: So, what am I supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life? (DEAN shrugs.) You’re serious?

DEAN: Look, it sucks, but in a job like this, you can’t get close to people, period.

Aaaaand now I have Dean and Cassie feelings again and we haven’t even gotten to her episode yet.

SAM: No, man, I know Zack. He’s no killer.

DEAN: Well, maybe you know Zack as well as he knows you.

Aaaaaand now I have Dean and Lee feelings and we’re nowhere near Lee’s episode in season 15.

YOU JUST BLEW THROUGH A STOP SIGN DEAN WTF.

Little Becky. Oi with the reusing of names.

Of course Sam made friends with a bunch of rich kids while he was at college in a desperate attempt to try to be normal.

SAM: You know, maybe we could see the crime scene. Zack’s house.

DEAN: We could.

REBECCA: Why? I mean, what could you do?

SAM: Well, me, not much. But Dean’s a cop. (DEAN laughs.)

DEAN: Detective, actually.

I love that Dean was like “how dare you call me that.”

Okay, after a bit of research, I totally want to take a day trip to Bisbee, Arizona, but it’s already in the 90s here in the desert and it’s not even May so that trip is going to have to wait until… winter or something. There is no way in hell I’m going deeper into the desert when the weather gets hotter.

It’s a historic mining town tourist trap looking place now which is exactly the kind of shit I love.

SAM: Bec, look, I know Zack didn’t do this. Now, we have to find a way to prove that he’s innocent.

I mean, not technically, technically you would 1) NOT FUCK WITH A MURDER INVESTIGATION YOU’RE NOT LEGALLY INVOLVED IN BECAUSE ANYTHING YOU FIND WOULD BE INADMISSABLE IN COURT 2) find evidence to provide a reasonable doubt for the jury that he did commit the crime. You know, like a lawyer would need to do, Law Boy.

DEAN: I just don’t think this is our kind of problem.

When I made my husband watch this show with me (he’s seen it all at least once now over the years) this is the recurring thing that drove him crazy.

You guys can’t even go in through the back door? Or shut the front door behind you? Really?

REBECCA: (tearfully) Well, there’s no sign of a break-in. They say that Emily let her attacker in.

Yeah, that doesn’t even really mean that she knew her attacker. Just that it was someone she let her guard down around or got in some other way. See: The Son of Sam and Nightstalker, etc.

Love the pinup magnet on the fridge. I’d throw shade at that, but I have a pinup magnet on my fridge too so… pot kettle and all that.

Okay, both people in the next couple are gorgeous.

And oh wow those special effects changing eyes… wow.

This poor couple. I feel so bad for them in this episode.

How… how are the police gonna explain the way he was able to beat himself over the head with a bat??? I…

I love that 5:30 in the morning on TV is clearly like… 10 AM.

Okay, this is a really unrelated point, but the graffiti on the dumpster here reminds me of the Teen Wolf fandoms use of the name Void!Stiles when Stiles Stilinski was possessed by a Nogitsune… I just spent way too long digging through YouTube and my Tumblr tags from back when those episodes were airing looking for a few specific videos and couldn’t find them. The TL;DR reason I bring it up here is goofball, bi-coded main character guy getting possessed by an entity set on destroying the people he loves. SOUNDS LIKE THIS EPISODE AND A WHOLE LOT OF SPN RIGHT. I love that all these monster hunting shows call out to each other.

This scene haunts me years later and I don’t even WATCH Teen Wolf. I just watched the fandom on Tumblr collectively lose it’s shit then tripped down a Hale Pack fanfiction rabbit hole.

ANYWAY

Back to Supernatural, a show that also treated its fan base, cast, and characters like garbage! Huzzah!

DEAN: Well, there’s another way to go—down. (They look down and notice a manhole.)

I’m gonna be mature and ignore the double entendre there…

But I love that Dean thinks of the world in 3D. Which sounds like a dumb statement to make, but this is honestly a good example of that in action.

SAM: I bet this runs right by Zack’s house, too.

Really Sam, sewers run by houses? SO WEIRD. I WOULD HAVE NEVER GUESSED.

DEAN: You know, I just had a sick thought. When the shapeshifter changes shape—maybe it sheds.

SAM: That is sick. (DEAN puts the bloody pile back on the ground.)

Guys, there is a WHOLE ASS EAR in that pile of yuck you’re looking at. I think it’s pretty safe to assume the shapeshifter indeed sheds its skin like a snake. A much… gooier snake.

Sam’s friend is rightfully pissed at him for fucking with the crime scene.

This is before the pearl gripped guns?! Wow. I never noticed that before.

Also, this whole episode gives me feelings.

++++

Cool. Tumblr mobile ate a whole section of my notes on this when it crashed for NO APPARENT REASON. Love that.

It always boggles my mind that actors can trust the people they’re working with enough to let people “tie” ropes around their neck or put them in actually dangerous positions in a scene.

SHAPESHIFTER: He’s sure got issues with you. You got to go to college. He had to stay home. I mean, I had to stay home. With Dad. You don’t think I had dreams of my own? But Dad needed me. Where the hell were you?

SAM: Where is my brother? (The shapeshifter leans in close to SAM.)

SHAPESHIFTER: I am your brother. See, deep down, I’m just jealous. You got friends. You could have a life. Me? I know I’m a freak. And sooner or later, everybody’s gonna leave me. (He backs away.)

SAM: What are you talkin’ about?

SHAPESHIFTER: You left. Hell, I did everything Dad asked me to, and he ditched me, too. No explanation, nothin’, just poof. Left me with your sorry ass. But, still, this life? It’s not without its perks. (He laughs.) I meet the nicest people. Like little Becky. You know, Dean would bang her if he had the chance. Let’s see what happens. (He smiles and covers SAM with a sheet.)

This exchange is just… so much. So many feelings. And I will forever (unless we magically get a fix-it fic mini season someday…) be SO MAD that none of this got resolved in that pointless, trash heap of a finale.

REBECCA: Okay, so, this thing—it can make itself look like anybody?

SHAPESHIFTER: That’s right. (She chuckles.)

REBECCA: Well, what is it, like a genetic freak? (The shapeshifter laughs.)

SHAPESHIFTER: Maybe. Evolution is about mutation, right? So, maybe this thing was born human but was different. Hideous and hated. Until he learned to become someone else. (REBECCA looks around, uncomfortable. The shapeshifter’s eyes glint silver, and he smiles.)

It always amazes me how much of this show is a pile of accidental queer allegories parading around in an ill-fitting toxic masculinity suit.

Vulcan mind meld! I love nerd!Dean. Also, I’m rewatching Star Trek: TOS with my husband, because that is what my life amounts to these days, rewatching comfort TV and flailing over the bits I love.

This post does a better job than I can do of pairing up screen caps with the dialogue of this next scene. SIX EPISODES IN. They’re dumping all of this character depth SIX EPISODES IN. FUCK THIS SHOW FOR NOT EMBRACING ITSELF.

Okay, I love that he screams back in her face after he threw the phone. It’s not something to laugh at because the situation is horrifying, but I can’t help laughing at it every time.

AND THE WAY THEY CUT THESE SCENES. Going from him winding his hand back to backslap her directly to him dropping the chains on the table to show how hard he must have hit her without actually making the actors hit each other. Good job editing department!

I… don’t understand the shifter’s motivation for killing people. If he can take over people’s identities without killing them, why kill them? Is it just because he’s a homicidal, rapist piece of shit? Cause that’s all it seems like.

How did the SWAT team even know she was being attacked? Why can the snipers aim no better than Storm Troopers?

Ugh, these kind of transformation body horror scenes are exactly why werewolf stories have never really appealed to me much. Like, I could do without watching your ribs move and teeth fall out, dude.

BUT.

THIS FUCKING SCENE.

I looked up the song that’s playing over shapeshifter!Dean being caught by the SWAT team and then going through the grotesque transformation. (And as far as I know, the iTunes version has the original music from the episodes.)

It’s a song called “Mary” by The Death Riders

Who's your mother, who's your mother here boy // Who's your mother, whos your mommy dear // Who's your father, who's your father here boy // Who's your father, who's your daddy dear

Silently screaming // Where everyone knows // Daddy's always watchin' // Where everywhere - everywhere I go

I don't wanna be a freak show pretty boy anymore // I don't wanna be a full time slave // I don't wanna be your midnight cowboy anymore // I just want to be Mary

This is… a fascinating choice. Here are the rest of the lyrics. The song as a whole has a weird incesty kinda vibe to it? Kinda like when SPN tries to straight-wash itself and misses the mark wildly. (Like Dean’s male siren episode.)

The midnight cowboy line reminded me of 12x11 and the bull riding scene with “Broomstick Cowboy” by Bobby Goldsboro playing over it

Dream on, little Broomstick Cowboy, // Dream while you can; // Of big green frogs, // And puppy dogs, // And castles in the sand.

For, all too soon you'll awaken; // Your toys will all be gone. // Your broomstick horse will ride away, // To find another home. // And you'll have grown into a man, // With cowboys of your own. // And then you'll have to go to war, // To try and save your home.

And then you'll have to learn to hate; // You'll have to learn to kill. // It's always been that way, my son; // I guess it always will.

Because, you know, why not add tons of feelings into the lyrics, right?

Props to the people who can embrace their rewatches and reclamations of the show with ease. Because every episode seems to remind me of how hollow and tragic Dean’s ending was and I just… struggle all over again.

Anyway, back to the episode so I can move on with my day.

REPORTER: An anonymous tip led police to a home in the Central West End, where a S.W.A.T team discovered a local woman bound and gagged. Her attacker, a white male, approximately twenty-four to thirty years of age, was discovered hiding in her home. (A sketch of DEAN appears on the screen.)

DEAN: Man! That’s not even a good picture. (SAM looks around cautiously.)

SAM: It’s good enough. (He walks away.)

DEAN: Man! (He follows SAM.)

(CUT TO: Alley. DEAN and SAM are walking. DEAN steps into a puddle.)

DEAN: Ugh, come on.

I love that we get two tiny little back-to-back vanity moments for Dean here. One commenting on the sketch artist rendition of him being broadcasted on the news and the other tripping in the puddle. There is literally someone running around the city trying to kill people while wearing Dean’s face, but Dean is still concerned with how he looks appears to others. He’s still concerned with keeping up his own performance. The shifter left him with just a t-shirt, so he doesn’t even have his usual comfort layers on and at any moment someone could spot him and call the police or try to kill him for assaulting Sam’s friend. His life is wildly out of control in that moment and the only thing he can try to focus on is his appearance (something semi-controllable) and finding the shifter before any of that other shit can happen.

One day I want to put together a like top 10 episodes focusing on / explaining each TFW character from the series. Like the kind of list you could show someone who’s never seen the show, but has OPINIONS about the characters (or who hasn’t seen the whole show and seen the growth they went through… you know, like the people responsible for the travesty of 15x20). This episode would be on that list. I’m not sure how I could manage to make a list of only 10 episodes to understand Dean Winchester by, but eh.

SAM: What are you gonna do to me?

SHAPESHIFTER: Oh, I’m not gonna do anything. Dean will, though.

SAM: They’ll never catch him.

SHAPESHIFTER: Oh, doesn’t matter. Murder in the first of his own brother? He’ll be hunted the rest of his life. (He picks up a sharp knife and examines it.)

Speaking of season 15 in general, this right here. This was Chuck’s villain story arc thesis statement. AND THEY DROPPED THE GODDAMN BALL WITH IT. I think that’s the thing that honestly pisses me off the most these days (about 5 1/2 months from when the finale aired) is that they tried making the whole thing a tragedy but did such an awful job with it that it just ended up like a deflating condom balloon at a dive bar concert. Disappointing and gross. The finale for season 14 set them up SO FUCKING WELL and it just… didn’t get there.

Becky’s parents are gonna be pissed at how torn up their house is after all this shit…

And you’re not shooting him when you first see him strangling Sam because…?????

I like that he took the necklace back. Also, is this kinda Dean death number .5 of the show? Like it wasn’t him but it was also kinda him. Eh.

At least they left the windshield on Baby this time. Reflections are better than tearing her apart.

#SPN 1x06 #amispnrewatch #reclaiming spn #performing!dean #lawboy #bi!dean #dean x cassie #dean x lee #stiles stilinski #void!stiles #teen wolf #dean deserved better

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desidarling123 · 3 years

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FATWS Episode 4: A Definitive* Rank Ordering of Most Interesting Character Arcs, from Yours Truly

(*And by definitive I mean completely subjective, but yanno.)

IF YOU HAVEN'T FIGURED IT OUT BY NOW: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR FATWS. SCROLL AWAY NOW IF YOU DON'T WANT EM.

Now let's get into it:

1. John Walker

Let me start by saying -- the near-universal John Walker hate from fandom has always been largely undeserved, and that's a hill I'll die on. It comes out of, I think, a visceral sort of need to slot him into an easily understood black-or-white binary when, truthfully, he is neither, and I think this episode was the BEST example of that. The sheer range he exhibits in such a short time -- a handful of character moments and action sequences in the larger fifty minute episode -- serve to humanize him in a way that's messy and intense and very, very real.

Because MAN. Whether you were already sympathetic to John's plight or not, the death of his partner, Lemar Hoskins, is viscerally disturbing. There's no other way to put it. FATWS has not shied away from some pretty crazy onscreen kills, but this one was arguably the worst in how brutally mundane it was. Lemar was in the wrong place at the wrong time -- a man fighting amongst a whole room of super soldiers. He never stood a chance -- and yet, he still jumped in harm's way to save his best friend, a man in whom he saw indisputable goodness, even when the man could not see it himself. There's an obvious Steve/Bucky parallel here, but with a much darker and more realistic twist -- not all of us, after all, can be lucky enough to receive super strength that could save our lives. Lemar was always a regular mortal -- and for that transgression, he pays the ultimate price.

And then. What happens after. Oh. My. God. I felt Walker's rage and hopelessness through the screen. The death of that Flag Smasher -- at the hands of Captain America, no less, a man he'd admitted to admiring as a child not ten minutes earlier -- was brilliantly executed.

With the final shot of the townspeople recording the brutal murder it becomes overwhelmingly clear -- we are witnessing the tragic fall of a man who was, for all his previous missteps, trying to be a hero. But John's moral compass just died a meaningless, horrible death -- and without him by his side, Walker has become a man unhinged.

2. Bucky Barnes and Ayo

I debated putting this one at number two because I'd argue there were some weird elements to the writing choices made (more on that in a sec), but, nevertheless. Bucky and Ayo get slot #2.

That flashback to Wakanda got me excited, but I didn't expect my heart to get shattered almost right away. Oh. My. God. His interactions with Ayo BROKE ME. There's so much nuance in a scene that’s incredibly well-acted by both Sebastian and Florence — you see both of them in a moment that is incredibly pivotal for the former’s character, and we see the latter reacting with sympathy, strength, and enormous grace. I had expected a scene like this to be with Shuri (given that we last saw her with Bucky in the post credits of Black Panther) but, given the context of what was being performed (a final test of the trigger words) having Ayo there made a lot of sense. She could take him down if need be — but as the scene so wonderfully shows, thankfully, she doesn’t have to. Instead, she’s there to let him know that for the first time in almost a century, he’s free again.

Now, let’s get into some of the unevenness. I had hoped, at the end of the last episode, that Bucky had at least informed the Dora Milaje of his liaison with Zemo — that, perhaps, it had been Bucky’s intent to hand him over all along. Alas, that was not the case — Bucky, it seems, had broken Zemo out with little thought to — or perhaps simply silent acceptance of — the consequences that would come with it.

This is the part, again, where the writing felt a bit weak. We know from the opening shots of the episode that Bucky cares enormously for Ayo — they’re not simply soldiers in arms, but they’ve shared a moment of immense vulnerability together. We ALSO know that he cares enormously for T’Challa, for Shuri, and for Wakanda as a country (see Infinity War, where he says “I love this place” in reference to his new home).

So that begs the question — why? Why did he betray them in that way, besides sheer desperation for a lead? And it’s not one, I’d argue, that we are given a satisfying answer to. Bucky has been reckless to an alarming degree in the last few episodes, but not informing Wakanda of his intention to liaise with the man who killed their king feels like a MAJOR tactical oversight. Is he willing to burn everything down to win this battle against the Flag Smashers? Are these his self destructive tendencies kicking in? OR, is he just truly so blinded by his emotions surrounding his past that he’s willing to throw away what could very well be his future? Only time will tell. But I hope he’ll do right by Ayo and Wakanda, as he clearly has a LOT to make up for.

3. Baron Helmut Zemo

God. I love Zemo’s psychotic, problematic ass. Say what you want, but the man is the most efficient of them all and he isn't a super soldier or an Avenger. Over and over, he shows that he's truly smarter than them and always has been.

He doesn't get personal. He doesn’t get distracted. He knows exactly what his goal is, and he executes on it. Mans didn’t hesitate to unload several bullets into Karli, and as soon as he figured out what the vials were, he destroyed all except one. Like I said, the most efficient person on the team. Has arguably done more to forward the cause against the Flag Smashers/continued existence of super soldiers than anyone else and it’s only been a few days. Between that, his god-awful dancing skills and him shooting the eugenicist scientist without so much as a blink of an eye, I think he's a man after my own heart. I’m almost sad to see him get what’s coming for him come next episode. (Because y’all, he did still kill King T’Chaka, and there’s no way the Dora leave here without taking him out on a silver platter and an apple stuffed in his mouth). But again, let’s see how that pans out.

4. Sam Wilson

WHAT are the writers doing to Sam, I swear to God? We didn't get too much introspection into where his head's at during this episode, and when we did the treatment felt uneven at best. I think, in trying to have him create a rapport with Karli, the writers have created some areas of commonality that didn’t always translate as they’d like. It was also weird to see Sam swinging from the well-earned cynicism of the previous two episodes to the sort of wide-eyed optimism Steve used to portray. Perhaps that was simply to try and show Karli an alternative, but as the episode showed, she clearly wasn't buying (though, in Sam’s defense, he came pretty close).

Something about Sam’s characterization in this episode didn’t really do it for me — I would argue episode one and two were both stronger in that regard. Nevertheless, I’m hopeful that they’ll correct it in the next one.

5. Karli Morgenthau

Her treatment is arguably the worst of them all. She is young, yeah, but she oscillates at an alarming rate between spouting class discourse that, by this episode, feels largely derivative (like someone scrolled on Twitter and put a bunch of keywords together in hopes of evoking an emotional audience response) and homicidal tendencies that show a brutal yet fundamentally messy underpinning. Unlike Zemo, she is still too easily confounded, and that will come to bite her in the ass sooner rather than later. (See: The Power Broker)

Perhaps I'm meant to be rooting for her on some degree but I really can't -- she's cruel and sloppy, which I cannot forgive.

Oh, and she killed Lemar Hoskins and threatened Sarah Wilson. Yikes.

Overall Episode Takeaway: A lot of shocking moments and great acting beats for everyone involved (arguably some of the best of the series thus far), but the weakness of the writing does crop up in parts. Whether they'll be corrected for going forward is to be determined...

UP NEXT: Meta pieces for Sam, Bucky, John, and Zemo all in the works!

#fatws #tfatws #sam wilson #bucky barnes #john walker #fatws spoilers #tfatws spoilers #tfatws meta #karli morgenthau

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ofmythsandmadness · 4 years

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laughing like there’s any other answer (part two)

part two to ‘laughing like there’s any good reason to smile’.

SUMMARY - maybe he should have ignored the voices above his room. pretended he was sleeping, or out, or mysterious murdered and unable to acknowledge that she was back, drunk again, and still laughing. but alas, the heart wants what it wants and it rarely thinks things through.

WARNINGS - egregious usage of the word ‘toothpaste’ at one point, some foul language, the avoidance of a lot of questions. one mention of throwing up (but it’s v quick and literally just two words and we skate past it, nothing graphic). also, poor onomatopoeia usage, as though i wasn’t an english fanatic in high school. WORD COUNT - 3790. diego hargreeves x female insert.

A/N - this was meant to be just a quick happy writ. and now it’s a bittersweet (more bitter than sweet) mess that’s just making this story more complicated, haha. but it’s fine, she says, nervously laughing like she hadn’t just mucked up the singular happy piece she’s ever written. i’m not sure how i’m doing, thanks for asking. :)

“IT’S ALL SO STUPID, DIEGO, BECAUSE PEOPLE COULD LIKE YOU.”

After the events of last week, Diego was certain he would never see her again.

Maybe he’d see her, but not her, her. Not the drunk-off-her-ass, mumbling about nonsense and threatening to throw herself out of cars woman, who laughed like she hadn’t a care in the world and called him really dumb, nonsensical nicknames for no reason at all. The one that he couldn’t get out of his head, no matter what he did; she haunted him even without being dead, and he was honestly impressed because that was a hard gift to master so fast.

No, that was a rare sighting of a weird miracle - like a double rainbow, just way less exciting and hopeful.

But as the week progressed, he had not heard from her at all. She was a ghost. He couldn’t find her anywhere, not at least where she would normally be. Diego was certain she wasn’t dead, because he would have heard about that, but apart from the most morbid of options, he was out of clues as to where she could possibly be.

He had not been sure how he felt about that. At first, the absence of her presence was a nice break, and he could do as he pleased without any arguments - but as the days went on and his dreams about the other night got stronger, he found himself curious. More than curious; worried. He didn’t want to have their last conversation be that bullshit.

“I like you, you know that?”

A week after they last spoke, and Diego was trying his very best to not care. It was a Tuesday, and Tuesdays were the days he ‘got off’. The stolen - ahem, borrowed - police scanner sat beside him, crackling every so often, but it didn’t say much more than the usual, professional bullshit that didn’t need his input on. He’d wait the night out, see if anything exciting happened, but he had a feeling it’d be a quiet night.

Diego stared at the punching bag in front of him, watching it sway every so gently. Sometimes he imagined a face on it, most times he didn’t, it was just fun to hit and slash. He probably shouldn’t, the little shits were expensive and Al hated his ass already, but-

THWANK.

To hell with it, anyways.

Two more knives joined their friends, quivering. But they didn’t stay long; Diego yanked them out of the soft flesh of the bag, groaning as he sank back down onto the chair. He threw them again, and then again, creating a sad pattern he often enjoyed after the work was done.

THWANK.

The silver metal glinted in the lamplight, cold and bright. The tip dug into the pad of his index finger; he ignored it and twirled the knife anyways.

THWANK.

An old song played in the back of his mind. He didn’t remember the words, but he remembered enough for it to be annoying as hell, repeating the few phrases over and over like a broken record. Diego tried to think of something else, replace the half-assed memory, and yet still the song played on. His only option was to try to listen to anything else, anything at all, but -

-THWANK.

It was quiet in the gym. The only people there were Al and himself, and neither were making much noise. He only knew the former was still there because of his groaning footsteps as he walked the worn wood above Diego’s head, and the occasional curse thrown out like a bullet towards nothing in particular. But the music of the daytime was gone, and with it had gone the hubbub of conversations, grunts and groans and whatever else atmospheric nonsense he normally got.

THWANK.

He didn’t like the quiet much. And he certainly did not like it then, with the stupid song stuck - why couldn’t he remember the name of it, or anything about it? Just a couple bars of an oldie he didn’t even like...some name with an ‘F’, maybe. A shithead singing out his poor heart for a love never returned back to him...why couldn’t there be any other song stuck?

Diego groaned and threw another knife. He poised another in his long fingers, twirling the handle without much thought before pulling back and -

“-what the hell don’t you get, huh?”

He froze. The knife fell from his hand; he fumbled to pick it up a second later, awkward and absent-minded. So focused on whatever Al was bitchin’ about then, he hardly realised he had squeezed too hard, and then-

“-OW!”

Diego roared with all the sound of a mouse, throwing himself off the chair and towards the small bathroom. The wound wasn’t deep, but it stung bright red and painful, scratching out his stupidness across his tender palm. He should have been more careful, he was always so careful with the things-

“-look...I know he’s here, mister!”

He paused again, scratch forgotten. That definitely was not Al.

“I don’t giv’a crap. We’re closed.”

“Uh...so why is this sign saying it’s open?”

“What - no, you just did that!”

Diego could scream. He would scream, if he wasn’t going to lose his job and home to Al’s pissed off ass - but he definitely, really wanted to, frustration bouncing around in his head like a toddler with a tantrum. Gone were all the thoughts of where Y/N was; all he could think about then, was stopping Y/N as soon as he possibly could.

He hurriedly wrapped gauze around his bleeding palm (which really didn’t do much, it just made the wound look worse) and left the bathroom. Taking the stair steps two at a time, it took him merely thirty seconds to get up to the main area.

“What the hell’s going on?”

“Ah - see, I knew you had him hidden away somewhere!”

Al spun around and fixed his glare on Diego. “You know this lunatic?”

He sighed and nodded (not because he wanted to, but because he had to - there was no way she would walk away from this quietly). “Yeah, I know her. I’ll take care of it, Al.”

“You know, I put up with every single one of your stupid stunts, but I don’t appreciate-”

“-yeah, yeah, I know. I know,” Diego nodded, pretending to listen without hearing a single word of his boss’ speech. “I got it. C’mon.”

Y/N perked up then and stumbled over to him with the biggest smile he might have seen her ever wear in his whole life. If he wasn’t so pissed off…

“What happened to your hand, dear boy?”

He quickly retracted his grip, hiding the injured limb from her sight. “Nothin’.”

“Diego, I’m not stupid.”

“You sure? Cause turning up here, in the middle of the goddamn night on a Tuesday-”

-she yanked her arm away from his tight grip and carried on without him. Even as he protested and hurried behind her, somehow she remained faster, racing down the stairs with the grace of a newborn deer. All limbs and stumbles, but not a care in the world as she shouted something back at him he couldn’t quite catch.

“You can’t just be here.”

“And why not? I mean, you’ve shown up at my place without-”

“-that’s different.”

She stopped then and turned just as he reached her. Both chests heaved, and her eyes darted about his face as though piecing together a mosaic. He just watched her.

“And why is it different, my dainty...dear...Diego?”

“I...I-”

“-gotcha,” she whispered, before pushing the door in with a laugh. “Gotcha, ha - you just got beat by me - how does that feel? How does that feel?”

Diego groaned. “You’re an asshole.”

“And you’re a loser,” she crowed back. But her interest quickly strayed from him, eyes tracing the walls of the tiny space. “You know, I’ve never been here before.”

“Yeah, well-”

“-I like it! I was worried it’d suck total ass, but honestly, out of aaaall the guys’ rooms I’ve seen, this...this is pre-tty close to the top.”

He wasn’t sure whether to take it as a real compliment or not, but at least she didn’t seem interested in a response. It gave him the chance to head back into the bathroom and collect the gauze he had left all over the ground.

“Don’t you have,” he grunted, peeling off the fabric to reveal the sliced palm underneath, “work tomorrow?”

“Work, shmork.”

His teeth gritted. It wasn’t a bad cut, not at all - but it always had to be the shallowest that hurt the most. “Thought you were married to that shit.”

“We’re getting a divorce.”

“Holy shi-give a man a warning,” he retorted, stepping back as much as he could. Though, in the tiny bathroom, there wasn’t much of that - the backs of his legs hit the shower curtain, and she just looked on with a sloppy smile and lidded eyes. “How’d you move so quietly--”

She waved off his question and pushed into the tiny room. “You’re gonna make a mess, trying to deal with that. Let me, loser.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Tipsy. And I’ve got the hands of a surgeon, with or without,” she grinned, refusing even the slightest rebuttal in her triumphant claims. Without any hesitation, she reached for the bottle of peroxide and promptly poured it down his hand like it was water off a duck’s back. Her expression didn’t shift when Diego shouted in pain; she just kept up the swift work with his hand as her hostage.

“You’re a dick.”

“And you’re a little baby.”

“Rude.”

She stuck her tongue out his way.

“You don’t need to-ow,” he hissed, when the gauze tightened too far against his palm. “I could have done it, asshole.”

Y/N’s smile slipped a little at that, and for a moment she didn’t respond; her hands just worked the white bandages around his own, and pressed it together. Finally, once the task was done though, her eyes lifted to his again.

“Sometimes, we need the most help, even when we insist on the opposite.”

“What’s that s’posed to mean?”

She shrugged. “Dunno. I might have made it up. But it sounded real nice, didn’t it?”

Diego just nodded.

“Can I…” her breath hitched, and somehow, she got even closer than before; he could make out every individual lash glint in the bathroom light, and the way her lips were swollen and a little bruised - he guessed from the constant worrying between her teeth. “Can I ask you a question, Diego?”

He nodded again.

Her hand ever so lightly grazed over his own; fingers tracing up with the delicacy of a flower. “Do you…”

His breath caught in his throat. Gone were all the frustrations at her of before; all he could think about was her, on repeat in his mind like an EDM song, blaring her name as explosions echoed in the distance. Wasn’t it just seconds before, that she was torturing him with peroxide? Why couldn’t he think about anything but her eyes, and lips, the way she just --

“W-what?”

“Do you have any toothpaste?”

Diego blinked, then again, unsure if he had just misheard her. “What?”

“Toothpaste. Y’know, the shit ta clean your teeth?” Her head cocked, her eyes singing laughter, “don’t tell me those pearlies are magic-”

“-I have toothpaste - why the hell do you need toothpaste?”

Once more, she looked like she was in on a joke he just didn’t get. “To brush my teeth with...duh. You think I’m just gonna scrub my tongue with a plain toothbrush? Jeez, Diego, how-”

-he cut her off with a grunt that really didn’t sound like any word in the English language and swung past. In the back of his head, he was murdering his subconscious and wishing the idiot would stop acting for itself. “Here,” he said, passing her the tube. “Knock yourself out.”

Y/N’s smile grew wider. “Kinky. But I’d rather just brush my teeth.”

“Jes-what does that even mean?!”

Diego, sadly, would never find out. He was left to simply watch her cross the room again, brandishing the tube with great pride in search of her purse - “I threw up on the way here,” she explained, “and I had my toothbrush, but no toothpaste! And I remembered, Diego has nice teeth, and obviously toothpaste is a necessity, so he must have toothpaste! I think that’s why I told the guy to drop me here, actually.”

“There - you know you’re making no sense, right?”

She shrugged, swooping past where he still stood again. She pulled a toothbrush out of its thin black case and started applying his toothpaste. He watched her, unsure what to do as she took over his bathroom and mumbled through an intense brushing session. Before he could even try to understand her, though, he realised something.

“Do you just carry around a toothbrush, wherever you go?”

Her motions paused for a second before resuming. It was so quick, a normal person would have just skipped right over it, but Diego gripped tight to maybe his only clue towards his personal investigation as to ‘what the hell she was doing there, and why’.

“I - I mwearn,” she paused, spitting out and resuming her brushing, “I dwown’t arwawys - swowry, wone swec.”

He waited.

“Sorry. I was saying, I don’t always have a toothbrush on me, but I did today, I had to pick up my stuff and I guess I just left this little guy in my bag. Which was lucky, right?”

Diego ignored her end question and pressed on. “Where were you picking up your stuff from? You’re moving?”

“Oh, ha - no, nothing like that. Just from a friend.” With a snap, the toothbrush had returned to its case and she was yet again pushing right past. That time, though, Diego followed.

“A friend?”

“You do know the definition of that word, right? I can-”

“-a friend that makes you get wasted after visiting with?”

Y/N pushed herself up her leaning, hands clutched tight to her tiny bag. Her smile still remained, but it wasn’t the easy one of just moments before; it was strained, forced onto unwilling cheeks like a suit of armour.

“I’m not wasted, dear, dapper, Diego. Far from it. If I was wasted, I’d be so much stupider than I am right now. I mean, I can-”

“-this the same friend from last week, too?”

“What? What are you-” Y/N swallowed. Her eyes slipped from his to her purse, watching her hands scrabble at the silver handle like it was her last lifeline. “Are you - I don’t get this routine, dude. I just needed toothpaste! I hate bad breath, don’t you?”

Diego stepped over and grabbed her hands in his uninjured one, pausing the frantic picking at the bag. It dropped with a solemn thud; neither looked down to it.

“What was that for?” She asked, quiet that time.

“You’re not here cause you needed toothpaste.”

“Do you want me to reimburse you for it? Cause I think I might have a dime somewhere, I don’t know how much you want but I’ll pay you back for the tiny, TINY amount of your precious paste I used.”

Diego groaned. For a moment, that flash of frustration flared up again and he was tempted to give up this at all. But it was easily quelled when he looked up again, seeing the worried look she badly covered up with a smile.

“Why’re you here, Y/N?”

“What d’y…” her bottom lip was tugged up into the grasp of her hungry teeth; they worried and nibbled without relief. “D’you want me to go?”

“No. No, I don’t want you to go.”

“Then just let it be, darling,” she sang softly, “and let’s let the toothpaste incident die.”

“No, cause…” his hand pressed softly into her palm, intertwining their fingers with a gentleness he himself didn’t know he possessed. “This is the second time now, you’ve come or called me after getting drunk off your ass, which really isn’t your style. I mean, you’re a freakin’ workaholic. It’s a Tuesday night. You’d be fast asleep right now.”

Her eyes shifted to just behind him, avoiding his soft stare. “You been stalking me or somethin’, my dear?”

“No, but I know you. You’re too caught up in making sure everyone thinks you’re Miss Perfect to be late for shit. Let alone hungover.”

“Well…” she sighed, a sad little sound that barely echoed from her own lips. She seemed to contemplate his words, tossing them over before throwing them away and moving right along. “You really think of me like that? You think everyone does?”

Diego frowned. “Like what?”

“Miss Perfect? Miss - miss -” her hand grew a little clammy in his grasp; she was getting nervous, and he supposed the alcohol wasn’t helping. “-you think of me as a stick in the mud, Diego? I’m not interesting or exciting, just a plain Jane who-”

“-I think you’re fascinating,” he murmured, even without thinking. He almost regretted the words the second they slipped from his mouth; her gaze snapped to his, wide-eyed and confused, and he could just see the cogs working behind her head. He wasn’t even sure where the words came from, or why they had - he hadn’t thought about anything past getting our where she was, and yet…

“You don’t even like me.”

Diego sighed and held her hand a little tighter. His injured palm came to rest over them, squeezing even with the twinge of pain. “Course I like you. You said that last week.”

“Did I?” She laughed, but it was shrill and pitiful. A mere shell of the glorious sounds that had filled his car days prior; if he hadn’t pressed every sound to his memory permanently, he’d have never known she was the same person. “I - doesn’t sound like me. Are you pulling my leg, Diego?”

He ignored her awkward question, pressing on. “That was the first time I’ve ever heard you laugh. You know that? And we’ve known each other for a while.”

“I’ve laughed before, dummy.”

“That’s - those - those’re bullshit laughs, professional garbage,” he responded, each word growing a little bit stronger. “I heard you laugh your ass off to nothing at all in my car last week, and it was be...n-nice. That’s the shit I know that’s real. Not this game you’re playin’ with yourself.”

Y/N still wouldn’t look at him, no matter how he pressed against her hand, or stared her down. Her eyes rested on a space past him, but they grew sadder by the second, losing that little spark of drunken happiness she had forced to build before.

“The Y/N I know,” Diego continued, made bold by a feeling he didn’t recognise, “doesn’t take shit from anybody. You don’t think twice; you just do. You trust your gut and it’s almost always right. Sure, sometimes you screw up, but…”

“...not sometimes, dear. Always.”

“No, not-”

“-dear me, I don’t know why I came here,” she muttered, and within a single pull, she was free and pushing away from him. “Sorry, Diego, I mean - it’s a Tuesday! You’ve got your little black-leather Batman fantasy and I’ve got work tomorrow. You know, I’ve been prepping for this meeting and it’s going to be good, I just need to finish those blasted points…”

She rattled on about nothing at all, repeating phrases and half-mumbling the words as she gathered her dropped belongings up. Her jacket, the bag that had fallen between them before, and something he couldn’t quite catch that had slipped out with it.

And Diego, stupidly, just watched.

“You be careful, okay? And-” she paused then, swaying ever so slightly in the windless room, “-just watch yourself. It’s a shitty world, and I can’t have the one person that - that - well, I don’t know where I’m going with this thought, it’s going to stop now. Ha...yeah, no. Just be safe, and make sure you get your six to nine hours or whatever bull...shit…” A sob ended the sentence, soft and sad and joined right after by a loud sniffle.

Diego still watched in silence.

“I know you don’t like me,” she muttered, voice growing raspy from presumably, tears building behind shitty defenses, “and that’s okay. But I...I appreciate you putting up with me. You’re a good guy, Diego. And that’s good. That’s nice. I think you might just be the last goddamn nice guy in this whole city...hm. Should get you a medal, or something. That’d make a good t-shirt…”

He watched her cross and head up the stairs, staggering on one but regaining her balance quickly. And just as she opened the door-

“-you can’t go home by yourself.”

Y/N stopped still and took in his words. She nodded slowly. “Sure...you’re...um, yeah. I’ll call my si...or...my friend, she’s at my place so...uh-huh.”

“C’mon, I’ll just-”

“-you’ve done enough for me tonight, dear,” she smiled, and he could just make out the glint of a tear on her cheek. “Let’s see if your boss won’t do me a favour, too.”

“Y/N.”

She mock-glared, though the expression wasn’t held long. “Diego - see, I can do that too.”

“Let me take you home.”

“This is good, trust me. I’ll...she has my car, so I’ll just call it in. I’ll be gone in four shakes of a scout’s tail, or…that’s not right.” She smiled. “Doesn’t matter. Thanks for the toothpaste, darling boy.”

“B-be safe...”

“I will,” she promised, still smiling like there was any reason to. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to waste anymore of your time, not going to make you have to save me...yeah. See you, Diego.”

She shut the door then, leaving him alone in the heavy silence.

Moments later, he heard the familiar voices above him again.

“Sir, sorry, if you don’t mind…”

“Great Scott, girl - did he do this to you?!”

“Oh, Diego? No, he’s a lovely boy and he was actually being very sweet, I just...I was just thinking about my grandma, and I...I need to make a call?”

The conversation continued, with Al trying his best to console Y/N, and her repeating - even on the phone - that she would be just fine, and that ‘she was awfully sorry for her behaviour, she’s not really the sort to play such sad pranks but desperate times called for bad measures’. Eventually, then, the voices faded, with her wishing him a cheery goodbye and footsteps clunking against the ceiling.

And it was only as her steps died into silence and the door clanged shut, that Diego unfroze from his standing position and realised what a deep, deep, ‘idiot’s only’ grave he had just dug for himself.

#the umbrella academy x reader #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves oneshot #tua x reader #diego hargreeves reader insert #part two

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sarenhale · 3 years

Note

Out of curiosity, do you have any ships for the Silver Snakes? If you do, could you name them and elaborate on why you like them? I love your art style btw it just looks so smooth to me!

I do, IN FACT!!!! I wonder if you mean couples within the silver snakes only (oc x oc) or with fe3h canon characters as well? Well, I’ll write about both and the ideas I have here... brace yourself, It’s gonna be a long ask cause you unleashed my love for couples....

Nicolai and Leon is one of my faves, basically brother in arms that become closer as time passes. Nicolai can’t socialize and deal with people for shit so having someone like Leon that has a very sunny and patient personality around is very comforting. Plus Leon has a lot of energy and will to live, and with time manages to... uh... maybe influence Nicolai with it a little? Or, at least, grab his skinny ass when he’s about to sacrifice himself in battle AGAIN and save him. Nicolai has an ardent desire to die and Leon is just not gonna let him, you know? When war starts Leon promises him he’ll bring him to his village in Dagda to meet his family.... and then when war is over they move there and fuck off forever, living in peace for the rest of their days. Nicolai finally has the opportunity to be who he wants and not have to pass down his crest or being haunted by his family legacy anymore.

Nicolai and Kristjan, they’re both very quiet and not exactly socially adapt, but that’s kind of what they enjoy from eachother, the possibility to just enjoy eachother’s presence without pressure or having to talk/break the silence. Incredibly enough, I think that when confronted with another shy person, Nicolai would be the one to step up and be more protective and supportive. I think that this relationship would bring out the protective / chivalrous side in him..... yeah....... I don’t know I just imagine how quiet, peaceful and swee those times would be

Nicolai and Bernadetta, reject humanity, return to being social recluse... I feel like they have similar personalities and kinda vibe together well, after of course the trials and tribulations of Bernie trying to escape everytime she sees him because she thinks Nicolai is the spectre of death that was sent to kill her or something. But that just adds to the fun part of it and ridicolousness of the couple edhjfcghjdgfh. Plus Nicolai likes reading edgy poetry and novels so he would be really supportive of Bernie’s books.

Nicolai and Sylvain... hee hoo you know me, I do enjoy a sprinkle of Sylvain content here and there... basically Sylvain is the only one from Blue Lions that doesn’t hate him after they discovered the Haandrastsz family had a part into killing Dimitri’s father. The Haandrastsz family terriroties were also near the Gautier's, so they knew eachother when they were little. (I cannot escape the childhood friends trope I am sorry) After the war, before rejoining with the other Silver Snakes, Nicolai retires to Sreng (where him and his uncle were exiled to by the Kingdom) and stays there, commanding a small army and gaining the trust/leadership of the local warlords. One time he leads an attack on Gautier territory and Sylvain is like ‘Oh hey Nico- HEY WHAT THE FUCK’ And I don’t know... I just think it’s kinda funny... Also Sylvain is the only one in Blue Lions from the original group of childhood friends that doesn’t really... judge people for who they are, you know (that’s why I love him), so it feels realistic that he wouldn’t think less of Nicolai for what his family did. Knowing the guy, he would probably try to find a peaceful solution to the situation, and even if Nicolai usually doesn’t give a shit about people, he would be like “Yeah okay I GUESS I can try talking to Sylvain instead of just brutally murdering him”. So yeah, the sheer contrast between personalities, and the similar trauma from crests/ families... I just think it makes for a cool combo.

Cassandra and Esther, another one of my fave couples, Esther grew up in poverty in the Empire’s capital and hating nobles for the huge power imbalance in Fòdlan, so seeing Cassandra’s objective to completion is one of the most important things in her life. Despite the big differences in their upbringing, they discovered that they shared a lot of things in common, and felt very comfortable and safe in the company of the other. Cassandra always felt like an outcast even between her family, so she finds Esther’s point of view on life very important and close to her heart. Cassandra loves how much of a free spirit she is, and wants to eventually be free and feel like she’s allowed to be herself, two things she can really experience when she’s with her. Esther’s story is part of why Cassandra feels like she needs to succeed and bring a change to Fòdlan, and made a promise to her that if she ever loses sight of her original dream and becomes yet another swayed ruler, Esther has to kill her 👀 Also, that good old “ruler and their right hand” kind of ship... you know?

Cassandra and Mithra, another good ruler and their right hand ship... Mithra has trust in Cassandra as a leader and person, and is willing to do anything to help her achieve her dream! I think Mithra is a very silent person that doesn’t share her feelings and emotion easily because she’s always on high guard, expecting an attack from every direction, and focused on her duty almost too much to allow herself to be human and not only a soldier. That why it’s really cute when i think about how she would open up and eventually fall in love... YEAH

Cassandra and Sayid, this is a bit of a ‘what if’ kind of ship because Cassandra is gay, so I see this couple as more of a “platonic soulmates” kind of situation. Sayid and Cassandra’s relationship is one of my favourites because it starts from childhood friends, then changes to rivals, to frenemies, and then grows to trusted friends who will never be able to leave eachother. Cassandra was promised to marry one of Sayid’s older brothers when she was little, so he often jokes about how Sayid lost to his brothers even to that. (”Yes, but I was the one that had the honor to be right next to you” he would probably reply) They are eachother’s most trusted person, and Sayid grows from wanting Cassandra’s spot as leader and thinking she is inadequate to the role to being her most trusted advisor, that wholeheartedly supports her. It’s mostly the growth of the relationship that does it for me.

Mithra and Dedue...OKAY No joke I made Mithra Duscurian also because so Dedue could have a friend from the same country... so they can share Duscur stories and culture. Mithra left Duscur when she was little so she feels like she’s missing a part of her culture, and I just feel like her supports and relationship with him would be an amazing opportunity to both expand more on Duscurian culture and allow both to enjoy their home country and bond over it! And then maybe at the end of the war they can move back to what’s left of Duscur and start to rebuild together.

Mithra and Felix, this is a bit of weird one, especially because of Felix’s shitty views on Duscur, but I’m mostly looking at the promise for a good character development and how cool an idea of a ‘warrior couple’ is. They start off as sparring partner, Mithra shares Felix’s dedication for battle and training, so they often find eachother at the training grounds until they start to train together. They develop a kind of friendly rivalry over wanting to beat the other, and being the two strongest students at the monastery. Felix gets his ass handed to him a couple of times, and his mental process is ‘holy shit how > fuck you > groagrhaprfgakdfgh > okay but she’s strong, I can learn from her if i continue to fight her’ to eventually respecting her skill and position. Mithra recognizes his strenght and unparalleled ability on the battlefield, but comments on his lack of teamwork and how fighting alone and not following orders is going to get him killed someday. (Being that she’s lived her life in the military, diligence is a very important value- and a way of life to her) Their rivalry/competition translates to keeping the other safe in battle (”you’re not allowed to die before I beat you” kind of deal) and eventually... uh... wow... emotions???

Sayid and Ferdinand, dhsgchdgsh To be honest this is boys being fancy and bisexual... They do share some values and morals, Ferdinand’s view on nobility are akin to Sayid’s, even though Sayid is a bit more like ‘earning what you and your family have’ rather than simply inheriting a role. I do like that they mirror eachother by being a leader’s right hand man, and growing their rivalry into a frienship with them, so I feel like they’d have that in common, and some interesting conversations could spark from that! Plus yeah have I mentioned fancy bisexual boys...

Leon and Hilda, okay this one too is like... nothing too deep stort wise, I just feel that they’d be such a cute good couple?? Mostly because of how they both have sunny personalities and how Leon would indulge Hilda and protect her... and they also give me some big domestic vibes?

Esther and Annette is just... listen... I don’t know exactly why I can see the two of them so well together, I just think their personalities would align really well and would lead up to some really cute support conversations and eventually relationship...

Kristjan and Linhardt is an interesting couple because while I think they have similar interests on magic/ crest studies, they have very opposite personalities. I like that Lin is very blunt and unapologetic about his interests and peculiar way of life, while Kristjan feels like even his presence is a bother and something he needs to apologize about. I think they could bond over their shared interests (you know Lin wouldn’t resist to analyze the peculiar crest situation Kristjan has going on) but also count as interesting opposites to eachother. Lin would definitely be a positive influence over how insecure Kristjan is, and have a role in him accepting himself. Also.... cute nerdy boyfriends who love to read and study together??? Yeah...

Kristjan and Lysithea another cute couple, but this time based on how interesting it would be to see them interact and talk about their similar stories with crest experiments. I feel like they would both benefit from being able to talk honestly about the trauma and experience of it all. And I also like that two individuals that feel like their life is not in their hands anymore- CAN grow and create their own life together.

Kristjan and Olympia is... one of the first couples I thought about back when I created the silver snakes! I really like how they’re polar opposites (again) and how well they mesh together. One of the consequences of the experiments done on Kristjan is that he can channel the power of his crest stone to enhance his abilities, and eventually, also to get really physically strong for a short moment of time. I imagined that it would be really cool and unexpected if the one person that managed to beat Olympia in a duel is in fact not even someone who’s an expert with physical combat! Olympia is a very romantic and affectionate person, and I just really like the idea of Kristjan being showered with the love he deserves. (Plus I love the ship dynamic of mage/studious male character with strong/warrior female character a lot AHAH)

Olympia and Lorenz are... there to be fancy, cute and gorgeous together?? Despite some parts of his ideologies (that luckily he works and grows on), Lorenz’s ‘romantic’ idea of chivalry is very fascinating at the eyes of Olympia, and he kind of represents the idea of the ‘knight in shining (purple with roses) armor’ that she always looked for! They also both love fashion, art, drinking tea and little things like that... and I, AGAIN, love the idea of a couple where the woman is the strongest in the relationship dhgchjdsgcdsh There’s something really cute and powerful about her living her romantic fantasy with someone.

Olympia and Dorothea... JUST GALS BEING PALS... or not. They’re bisexuals together. I think they’d start to bond over Olympia’s idea of romance and research for someone that could beat her in a duel/ win her heart, and eventually really come close due to their experiences in dating/ finding out what they really want from love and relationship. And then they find that together!!!

I think you could sum up the types of couples I like with ‘similar personalities’ and ‘complete opposites’ AHAHAH It’s something that intrigues me with people in real life too! I discovered I tend to feel as fascinated by people that are similar to me, as much as people who are really different from me. This was a LOOONG response, but I loved to think about these couples and write down their dynamics! I hope you’re ready for a very detailed and long response! Thanks again for the compliments on my art and for asking about my babies <3

#i love thinking and actually writing down things about my characters so thanks for asking :D #fe3h #answered #the silver snakes #Anonymous

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abraxos-is-toothless · 4 years

Note

Congrats on 300! That's really amazing! Well done! Not surprised though, because your writing is super amazing! I especially love your undercover AU for ToG! My prompt is: "Really? Are you sure?" for Rowaelin, or alternatively another ToG ship, please?

I went with Rowaelin because, I’m trash for them. I’ve accepted that. Also thank you so, so much, I’m glad you like it. I really hope I did this prompt justice for you <3 Using my Undercover taglist here too.

---------

Rowan’s day had been rough, to say the least. It was also a Monday so, it was just a given, really.

First off, Aelin had been sick for, well, he didn’t know how many mornings in a row it was now, he’d lost count. He hated not being able to help her when she was sick; not knowing what to do, but she kept telling him she was fine. Clearly she wasn’t fine or he wouldn’t be holding her hair back every morning. Aelin had promised him today before he’d left for work that she’d get it checked out, just to be sure. He had wanted to stay home, to go with her, to be there for her just in case it was something bad. His wonderful wife had just told him he was an overbearing buzzard and ‘to got the fuck to work’. There was no arguing with her, well he could try but, there would be no winning. And so he had relented, giving her a quick kiss to the forehead and telling her he loved her and dashing out the door before he was late.

And then he’d gotten to work.

He and Lorcan owned a Private Investigator firm, mainly specialising in missing persons cases. They usually found odd trails that the police couldn’t and if it was something solid, they passed on the information. Sometimes they were lucky and other times, not so much. Fenrys and Connall were in the building when he walked in and Rowan couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. He had a new assistant, she was slim, tall, blonde and pretty he guessed. To be quite honest, ever since Aelin had walked into his life, other women weren’t even noticeable. He only saw her, only ever thought of her. Every time he hired someone new, the twins were over at the firm in an instant, fighting to win them over. Unless it was one of the times Rowan’s assistant was a male, then it was an easy win for Connall.

“Can I help you two imbeciles, or are you just here to fawn over the latest recruit. If that’s the case, which I know it is, then please leave. Or, better yet, go up a floor and bother Lorcan.”

Fenrys simply laughed and shook his head, his hair swinging with the motion from where he’d tied it back, “But the ladies love me Ro, I mean, what’s not to love?”

Connall snorted, and then smirked when his brother turned to glare at him. “I’m the better looking twin Fen, we all know it.”

He was not about to deal with a fucking pissing match today. He sighed, deciding to get rid of them as quickly as possible, hoping it would give him the peace and quiet he needed to actually work. “Connall, Lorcan actually has someone new up there with him too.”

“Ooo, really?” The smug bastard perked up at that and Fenrys looked at him with suspicion, most likely knowing where this was going. “Yeah. Dark haired, dark eyes, glasses and he’s shorter than you. Very much your type. You didn’t see him the other week because he hides behind the filing cabinets when you come in, blushing like a schoolgirl.”

As suspected, Con moved like lightning, not even bothering to wait for an elevator and taking the stairs. He made a beeline for his office, pushing the door open as fast as he could, but just as he was closing it, a foot slipped into the little gap and he wanted nothing more than to murder Fenrys just then.

“Come on Rowan, you just set my brother up, you could at least help me out too. I thought I was your favourite?” He shoved himself through the door, walking over to sit in front of Rowan’s desk and kicking his feet up. Not that it lasted, especially when he was pushed out of the chair and onto the floor. Rowan laughed as the golden haired man rubbed his ass, staring up at him with a pout.

“You’ll do well to remember, boyo, that without me, you’d have never pushed yourself to even talk to a girl. Also my new assistant is very much off of the market.”

He sat down in his newly vacated chair and pulled out his laptop. His newest case was a woman who’d come in about two weeks ago, saying her husband had been kidnapped. She was in hysterics as she’d told him the story, saying the police wouldn’t help, and so Rowan had said he’d do what he could. He went over everything the woman had given him and then followed on from there. Phone numbers, addresses and different picture sightings. Turned out that her husband had not in fact been kidnapped but had run off with another, much younger woman. He’d known for a few days now and was currently trying to figure out how to tell his client in the easiest way possible.

Rowan was broken from his thoughts when a certain pest spoke from across the room. For fucks sake, why hadn’t he left yet?

“How’s my best bud doing Rowan?”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking, now leave.”

“Har har. Ace knows I’d choose her over you, she’s so much more fun, hence why we’re besties.”

Rowan flipped him off, still not looking up from his laptop screen as he replied, “Aelin is sick.”

He flinched when Fen shouted, gripping onto the side of his desk from the sudden outburst. “What do you mean she’s sick? She’s never sick!”

“Keep your fucking voice down, fucking Christ. She keeps throwing up in the mornings but I keep getting told that she’s ‘fine’. Clearly, she is not fine.”

“Oh. Oh.” Rowan watched his face turn from worried confusion into some sedated happy smile. What the fuck did he mean ‘oh’?

“What do you mean ‘Oh’? I have no idea what’s wrong with her so you possibly can’t, and stop smiling. Aelin’s sickness is not something to smile about.”

His idiot friend tipped his head back and laughed, a deep rumbling laugh and Rowan wanted nothing more than to throttle him. When he finally stopped and met Rowan’s gaze again, he seemed to realise that Rowan still hadn’t understood what was so funny. “Wait. You really don’t get it do you? How can you-”

The sound of Rowan’s phone ringing cut the man off and he was pissed off at the interruption, until he saw that it was Aelin calling him. His wife never called when he was at work, not unless he’d asked her to when he had a few minutes spare. He was pressing the answer button within seconds, heart beating wildly in his chest. “Aelin sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, I just need you to come home.”

If nothing was wrong then why did she need him to come back? It had only been a few hours since he’d left the house.

“Alright, I’m coming. Are you sure nothing is wrong?”

“Yes Buzzard, I promise. I’ll see you soon.”

He’d packed up as fast as he could, telling Fenrys that they’d talk later and to go and check that his twin wasn’t fucking the newbie in one of the bathrooms.

That was how he’d ended up here, bursting through the door of their newly purchased home. It was big of course, Aelin would have nothing less, but the interior was simple and modern. Quite tame for his very extravagant wife.

“Aelin, baby, I’m home!”

“In the kitchen!”

He ran through the halls, not even taking his shoes off which he would most certainly get reprimanded for later, and spotted his wife sitting at the bar eating a plate of pickles with a dip that looked like...peanut butter?

“You’re sick, why on earth are you eating that? Let’s get you back to bed.” His wife groaned and rolled her eyes, standing from her stool to walk over and grab a brown paper bag from the counter. She took slow steps towards him while nibbling on her lower lip, looking up at him shyly from under her lashes.

“I have a present for you.” Rowan stared at the brown bag in confusion, eyebrows furrowed as he tentatively took it from her hands. He didn’t open it yet, though he desperately wanted to.

“You made me come home because you wanted to give me a present? Couldn’t this have waited until later.” She shook her head, a giddy expression on her face.

“No, it couldn’t. Now come on, open it.”

He gave an exasperated sigh, almost forgetting he’d married a woman who had a talent for theatrics. When he opened the bag, it had some sort of fabric inside of it, which confused him even more. Reaching in, he pulled it out carefully, before dropping the bag and unfolding it. It was a baby vest and on it were the words ‘World’s Greatest Daddy’ with a sort of blurry black and white image printed onto the fabric just below. Holy fucking gods.

“Fireheart...really? Are you sure?” When he looked back at her, her eyes were lined with silver, and she nodded at him. He let out a shocked laugh before looking at the picture on the vest more closely. Now that he was concentrating, he could see the outline of a tiny foot and then a tiny head. No not just-

“Is that two heads? Two babies. We’re having twins?” Aelin let the tears flow freely now and nodded again and he laughed, scooping her up in his arms and spinning, relishing the sound of her delighted giggles. When Rowan set her back onto her feet, he dropped to his knees, leaving his face directly in line with her stomach. Lifting her top and leaning forward, he left a few gentle kisses to the skin before pressing his forehead there and whispering, “Hi babies, I’m your daddy. I want you to know that your mommy and I love you very much and that you are the most precious things in the world. I can’t wait to meet you, little ones.”

Aelin’s fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck and tugged lightly until he tilted to look up at her and realisation dawned on him then. “This is why you’ve been throwing up in the mornings.”

“Yes genius, I thought you’d have figured it out by now. I had that scan about two weeks ago, secretly hoping that you wouldn’t figure it out because I was waiting for the vest to be printed. Luckily I didn’t marry you for your brains.”

He couldn’t stop smiling, it was making his cheeks hurt but fuck did it feel good. He took hold of his wife’s wrist, bringing her hand forward to kiss her palm and sighing contentedly.

“I love you, Fireheart, to whatever end.”

“To whatever end, Buzzard.”

--------

I really hoped you liked it and honestly, I sort of like this AU I’ve created, so feel free to send some other prompts set in this universe if you like!

Tags: @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares @fancyclodpaintercookie @empress-sei @acourtofterrasenandvelaris @tswaney17 @queen-of-glass @thesirenwashere @awkward-avocado-s @b00kworm @http-itsrebecca @eatmysandwiches @poisonous00 @flowersinvegas @julemmaes @mu-si-ca-l @spyofthenightcourt @sis-it-dont-add-up @mad-madeline-ace @df3ndyr @jesstargaryenqueen @notyournymphetish

#tog #throne of glass #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #aelin x rowan #aelin and rowan #fenrys moonbeam #connall #au #tog fic #my writing #my fic #fanfiction #fanfic #haz writes

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anninhiliation · 4 years

Text

Three is better than one

Disclaimer: This is my original writing, and I DO NOT permit anyone to copy and paste MY WORK anywhere but on MY Tumblr (@ Anninhiliation), and MY Wattpad (@ AnnsTumblrWriting). If I do find out you are copying and pasting my work, I will report you. I will block you. It is not okay to take credit for other people’s work. It takes writers days, weeks, even months to provide you with our free service and for you to think it is okay to just like our work and copy it, taking all the credit is the last thing from okay.

Masterlist Threeway Masterlist

Wordcount: 3k+

Under your little black dress, was a naughty little lace black set. Paired with sparkly silver open toe strappy heels, a high voluminous ponytail, and diamond stud earrings. You were out with the boys, promoting their new album at a club. You were part of the CNCO team, a fresh new intern, who was fortunate to get a hands-on learning experience. Drinks were on the house for the boys and the team, meaning you took full advantage. You needed a night of letting loose and pretending there was no tomorrow. After four shots of tequila and two mixed drinks, you felt the liquid courage running through your veins. You were on a cloud, of endless giggles and a slightly numb body. Gasolina suddenly blasted through the speakers of the club, pulling your body on the dancefloor. It was just one of those songs you couldn’t ignore, and you couldn’t sit still for. As you moved to the beat you had a sudden feeling like you were being watched, not that you really cared, knowing exactly who it was.

This provoked you to sway your hips and move in a more seductive manner. The liquid courage pumping through your veins took over your body dictating your every move as a familiar pair of tattooed hands grabbed your waist. You tilted your head slightly letting the strong familiar cologne pierce your senses as you grinded down on his crotch.

“Shawty that’s a dangerous game you’re playin’” Richard growled in your ear making you grin

You slowly turned around, wrapping your arms around his neck as you continued to sway to the beat.

“Wanna see dangerous?” you smirked as you pressed a soft kiss on his R&B tattoo “I’ll show you dangerous Papi” you whispered in his ear as you gently tugged on his lobe

You’ve fucked Richard a few times before, so you know not to taunt and tease him too much unless you want bruises all over your ass. But tonight, you were feeling bold, like you could take control. Loosening yourself off of Richard you made your way over to Christopher who has also been watching you all night.

“Hola Papi” you purred as you wrapped your arms around him toying with the ends of his hair

Chris wrapped his hands around your waist, swaying to the beat and guiding your body with him.

“Hola, preciosa te estas divirtiendo?” Chris asked as his big brown eyes scanned your body, lingering on your cleavage and back up to your eyes

“Oh I’m having a great time” you smirked “but an after-party between us would be so much better”

You bit your lip looking him up and down, as your hands rested on his shoulders before moving down his torso. You seductively turned around keeping his hands on your waist. You watched Richard, as you grinded down on Chris.

“Then why don’t we just go now nena?” Chris groaned as he placed soft kisses on your neck

Swaying your hips to the beat, and pressing your back on Chris’s chest.

“Because I’m not done here” you grinned

Your bodies molded as one, as you reached back and held onto Chris’s hair. If looks could kill, Richard would have murdered you on the spot. His cold dark stare bore into your soul, as you stared back, silently challenging him. He knows you can get bratty at times, and loves putting you back in your place. But a club is too crowded to remind you who’s in charge and Chris is not going to let you go so easily. What Richard doesn’t know is that you and Chris have hooked up a few times in the past. You weren’t in a serious relationship with either boy, just hooking up with them during your lonely nights. The song soon ended and you squirmed out of Chris’s grip. You beelined to Zabdiel, who you have also previously hooked up with several times, pushed your way next to him and ordered another drink. Zabdiel looked down at you and smirked

“nena necisitas más” he smirked as he watched the bartender hand you a drink

“Of course Papi” you giggled as you took a sip and inched closer to Zabdiel slightly arching your back, perking your breasts up.

Zabdiel and you moved to the dancefloor his hands guiding your hips to the beat. Chris and Richard’s attention was directly on you as you danced on Zabdiel. You locked eyes with Chris first as you took another sip of your drink and giggled. You looked over to Richard and could tell he’s had enough, but you still wanted to push more buttons.

“Lets get out of here” you purred dying to know how the two other men would take it

As Zabdiel ordered an uber, you both made your way to the door with unknowingly Chris and Richard behind you.

“Aye shawty where you going?” Richard called out as the cold air nipped your skin

“Back to the hotel with Zabdiel” you answered in an innocent tone still pushing his buttons loving how easy it was to make him jealous

“And what are Richard and I supposed to do nena?” Chris growled as he inched towards you

His brown eyes were dilated in pure lust, sending a wave of arousal down between your legs.

“Come with us then” you smirked

Zabdiel shot you a look and so did Richard, as Chris grinned.

“Nena you filthy little girl” he chuckled “I don’t think you can handle all of us”

“Okay your loss” you taunted as the uber arrived “I guess I’ll go with Zabdiel since he’s better than both of you”

You entered the uber and Richard and Chris piled in with you sending a shiver down your spine. You knew you hit the final button and were going to be in for a long night. Zabdiel sat in the front seat, with Chris and Richard by the window making you merciless to whatever they wanted. Chris’s hand gripped your thigh, slowly inching further up with every passing moment making your breathing hitch as you felt your arousal soak through your panties. As he came closer to your heat you crossed your legs trapping his hand between your thighs.

“That’s not very fair Papi” you teased “Why should you get a head start?”

“Because nena” Chris growled in your ear “this pussy needs to get ready for us when we get you all alone”

Your lip quivered as you slightly spread your legs knowing you were fighting a losing battle. Richard was quick to intervene gripping one of your thighs and pulling it closer to him making you quietly gasp.

“You better be good baby” Richard taunted “because bad girls will just get edged again and again, while we use that pretty little mouth of yours to get off”

Zabdiel started up a conversation with the driver noticing the games his bandmates were playing, completely distracting the driver to the sins happening in his back seat. Chris’s fingers teased your clothed folds, collecting your arousal and toying with your clit. You bit your bottom lip down as you clenched your hand around Richard’s wrist. Chris kept your other leg still, intertwining it with his as he pushed your panties to the side and slid two fingers inside you. He curled at your weakest spot as his thumb ran circles around your swollen clit. You shot a pleading look over to Chris, as you suppressed a moan. Your walls clenched around his fingers as the driver turned to the street of the hotel. The knot inside you shook as you pulled to the front door of the hotel, and Chris quickly pulled away, cleaning up his fingers with his mouth and grinned.

“That’s what you get for saying Zabdiels better than me nena” he teased with a huge grin on his face before exiting the car

You were the last to leave the car and were rushed into the elevator by Richard. Your back was pressed against his chest as he wrapped an arm around your waist holding you tight. On the elevator, Richard kicked your legs open and slid two fingers inside your dripping wet mess. You moaned out as Zabdiel and Chris smirked at you.

“You’re a naughty fucking slut baby” Richard taunted as he pumped harder and curled at the right spot making your walls flutter around him and your hand to dig into his bicep

“Richard!” you cried out as your thighs began to tremble, a knot beginning to tie in your lower abdomen as the elevator reached your floor

“Come on baby girl cum already” Richard growled as he marked your neck pushing you over the edge

The knot snapped and you moaned out as Richard rode you out waiting for you to finish as Zabdiel and Chris kept the elevator door open. You were still in a state of bliss as Richard scooped you up and carried you to Zabdiel’s room. He threw you on the bed as Zabdiel pulled you towards him. He nipped your neck as he pulled the zipper of your dress down. Zabdiel pushed the straps of the dress down as Chris crawled towards you and pulled the fabric down exposing your little black set.

“Nena, did you plan this out?” Chris grinned as Zabdiel wrapped his hand around your throat squeezing lightly as Chris’s fingers explored your body

Richard groaned watching you melt under both men as he palmed his bulge. He came closer to you and pulled your bra down, grabbing one of your hardened nipples and twisted the sensitive area.

“Shawty you were asked a question” Richard growled as you whimpered out “Did you plan this out?” his face ghosted over yours as Chris toyed with your clothed folds

You moaned harder as he applied more pressure to your hardened bud.

“S- Somewhat” you whined “I didn’t think all of you would be down” you admitted as Chris pulled down your panties

“Get on your knees nena” Zabdiel commanded as Richard and Chris moved away from you

You did as he asked, seeing a darkness in all their eyes that riled you up for what they had in mind. You watched, with a drooling mouth as three pairs of pants fell to the ground.

“Since you wanna be greedy nena” Chris growled “you can please us first”

Three hard cocks hovered over your face, as you grabbed Richard and Chris first and hollowed your cheeks for Zabdiel. Your core pulsated as your arousal overflowed between your folds. You massaged all of them at the same pace as you let out a content moan. Richard grabbed your hair as Chris fondled your breasts. You pulled Zabdiel out and sunk Richard in. You massaged Zabdiel, teasing both his and Chris’s tips as your face pressed against Richard’s base.

“That’s it baby” Richard encouraged “choke on my cock like a good little girl”

You moaned as the air depleted from your lungs, and your gag reflex kicked in. You pulled him out panting and quickly massaged Richard as you went over to Chris. His head rolled back as he let out a loud groan feeling your warm mouth wrapped around him.

“Fuck nena” Chris growled

You continued the pattern, pumping and bobbing your head quicker feeling them pulsate and twitch around your hands and inside you. The room filled with moans and groans as you worked your mouth as quickly as you could. You could tell they were all close, as you deep throated Zabidel one last time. Richard’s warm white juices spilled over your breasts, as Chris coated your face, and Zabdiel spilled down your throat. You were throbbing at this point, as Richard lifted you up and shoved you on the bed.

“Tell me, princess” Richard smirked, “Whose going where first?”

“Chris in my pussy, Richard you can go in my mouth again and Zabdiel in my ass,” You answer as you straddle Chris

Chris grabs your waist and sinks you down as Zabdiel spits on your smaller hole. Zabdiel inserts one finger inside you, and Richard slips inside your mouth. You moan around Richard sending vibrations around his shaft as Zabdiel inserts a second finger. You tug on Chris’s hair as the Ecuadorian rolls his hips at a faster pace hitting your weakest spot.

“Fuck!” you cry out as Richard goes faster and A third finger slips inside you before your ready for a fourth

Your eyes roll back as Zabdiel slides his full member inside you.

“So fucking tight amol” Zabdiel growled

He let you adjust with a few slow thrusts before going faster than Chris pulling a louder moan out of you. They all began to try to make you moan louder, almost as if it was a competition of who could fuck you the best. Zabdiel’s hand wrapped around your throat squeezing lightly, as Richard tugged your hair, and Chris drew fast circles around your clit. You were sent to a cloud, as your walls fluttered around them.

“Already gonna cum nena?” Zabdiel growled as he slapped your ass, again and again, making you clench around Zabdiel and Chris with each smack

“So naughty nena” Chris taunted as you felt Richard twitch inside you

“Fuck baby cum for us, I wanna see how pretty you look cumming with a cock down your throat” Richard teased

You couldn’t hold back any longer and came over Chris and Zabdiel. Your back arched as you scratched down Christopher’s arm. The three men rode you out, for as long as they could slowly losing the rhythm of their thrusts. They all came one after the other, with Christopher filling you up on one end and Zabdiel on the other. Richard released inside your mouth and slowly pulled out as did the others.

“Swallow baby” Richard commanded

You gave him your most innocent look as you swallowed his full load, and licked your lips.

“That was so good Papi” you purred and yelped as Richard lifted you up off of Chris and slammed you down.

“Fuck baby that mouth of yours is amazing but this fucking pussy? Damn” Richard groaned

Chris quickly rolled over and slid behind you as Zabdiel thrusted inside your mouth. His tip hit the back of your throat as Richard and Chris were relentless in hitting your weakest spot.

“Fuck nena you’re so fucking tight” Chris growled as his nipped your shoulder leaving his marks on your soft skin

Your eyes rolled back, the filthy things being said to you riled you up more as you cried out

“Papi!” not really directed towards anyone but finding words to cry out became more and more difficult

It wasn’t long, from the merciless thrusts that you were clenching around Richard and Chris. Vile noises came from you as both men fucked the cum deeper inside you, only riling you up more. Tears streamed down your face as Zabdiel pressed his base against your face, and let out a loud groan.

“Fuck nena you’re so pretty choking on my cock like that” Zabdiel growled as he wiped your tears away

You whined around him as you began to gag and choke, squeezing his girth tighter and tighter. The knot quickly snapped and your thighs shook violently making everyone else slip off their own edges. Richard added another load inside your pussy and Chris filled more of your asshole. Zabdiel pulled out and came over your tits, letting you lick up the last few drops. Zabdiel laid down, pulling you on top of him, positioning you on all fours. Chris grabbed your hair, making a makeshift ponytail as he toyed with your lips with his tip. You stuck your tongue out, moaning as Chris smacked his member against your warm pink surface before slamming in. Richard rammed inside you the same time Chris did making your eyes roll to the back of your skull as you let out the loudest moan you’ve ever made. Richard smacked your ass as one hand held your hip. Zabdiel rolled your hardened nipples as he nipped your neck. You were growing sore as you felt another orgasm begin to build up inside you.

“Nena you’re close already?” Zabdiel grinned “you filthy slut”

You whined out at Zabdiels works, making your thighs tremble as you tried to hold it in for as long as possible. Richard’s hand came crashing down, as he hissed

“Cum already shawty, Jesus Christ”

Your knot fell apart as juices flew out of you spilling over Zabdiel.

“Fuck” Zabdiel growled feeling your juices land on him

He came right after you, filling you to the brim as Richard came next and then Chris.

“Fuck nena you think you can squirt again?” Chris grinned “I wanna see how many times that slutty little pussy of yours can squirt until you physically can’t take it anymore”

Your lip quivered as you realized you were in for a long night and maybe chewed off more than you could handle. But nevertheless, you were excited to find out your exact limit.

Note:

For @cncopmhoe, @cncobaby222, and the anon who said “Richard zabdiel and Chris can definitely dominate me any day I don’t know what it is it’s something about that trio that gets me riled up🥵” to which Brenda said “let’s pretend you’re all friends and decide to go clubbing. now plot twist, you’ve secretly been fucking all three but after a few too many drinks and dirty dancing at the club. the four of you stumble into your hotel room, clothes flying everywhere and hands all over your body. they all compete against each other, trying to prove who knows your body best. you go round after round until you’re too fucked out to leave the bed. needless to say, that wasn’t the last time something like that happens”

(October 30th 2019.)

Thank you for being so patient I hope you enjoyed 🥰

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mytastessuck · 3 years

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Gorillaz: Humanz

SHere it is, the comeback tour! I was so excited for this album, I sucked all the singles that came out before I could download the album. This album basically reminded me of the reasons I love Gorillaz. All of them. One particular reason a little too well...

Okay, let's get the elephant out of the room. This album is a bit controversial among the community for playing a little too hard to one of Gorillaz' strengths: showcasing cool artists. There are more than a few tracks where Damon doesn't even show up. Hell, my favorite track doesn't even have it on him. Me, I honestly don't care about that as long as I get to hear good music but for the rest of you die hard Gorillaz fans? Just think of this as a compilation album like NOW That's What I Call Alternative/Indie Hip-Hop/R&B/Electronica/Pop.

See? Rolls off the tongue. Now let's get started.

1. Intro: I Switched My Robot Off

Nice. Real ominous. Gorillaz really know how to build up a presentation. Feels like you're walking through the doors of the doors to the Shrine of the Silver Monkey. Anybody remember Legends of the Hidden Temple? Were there doors on that stage? Anyway, awesome.

10/10

2. Ascension

Holy hell, Vince really knocks it out of the park on this one. Different beat, nice flow, social commentary...He was not fucking around on this track. Damon's barely on the track but Vince makes up for it with his existential rhymes and chorus back-up. Man, Gorillaz has gotta take advantage of gospel more often.

9/10

3. Strobelite

That didn't take long, did it? Anyway, this is my favorite song on the album. Peven has an incredible voice, the music psychically compels you to dance and...that's it. Sometimes, well usually with me, you just need to go with Simple Yet Awesome. Have a good voice and a good beat. This song has both and I'm pretty sure that one day, a scientist will hear this song and will be inspired by it to cure diabetes.

100/10

4. Saturn Barz

Ah, the lead single from the album. Remember the 360 house, everyone? Yeah, you remember. Glad to have Gorillaz welcome back Reggae into their line-up with Popcaan manning the helms. He and Damon tag-team the eardrums with the power of dread as the instrumentation makes you feel like you're in a haunted house. Welcome back, guys.

25/10

5. Momentz

WELCOME BACK, GUYS! De La Soul returns to say some real shit about time and how you should, respect and stuff. Seriously, awesome track. Kicks so much ass and you can even dance to it as you wonder if this MOMENT will be one of the last times when you feel really happy. Nice...

9/10

6. Interlude: The Non-Conformist Oath

Hey, Steve Martin! I like to imagine a bunch of assholes listening to this and...just not getting it. Not us though. We get it. We're smart. Smarter than those guys...

10/10

7. Submission

This song had to grow on me but years after I got the album and after I learned to appreciate Danny Brown a little more like all humans should, this song became one of my favorites off the album. Don't worry Kelela, he doesn't carry the whole song. Her voice is so beautiful that it can calm a charging rhino or a coked-up Connor McGregor. These make the song a lot classier than it had any right being.

90/10

8. Charger

She's beauty, she's Grace...she's also Jones. Man, I haven't heard from this woman since Corporate Cannibal and she has clearly been keeping up practice. God, how can a woman's laughter both scare and arouse me? Damon's no slouch on this track either, singing about the monster that keeps us all tethered: the charger. I kid, I kid. Hey, did Damon really get a boner on stage when he sung this or are you guys messing with me? Message me if you know.

9/10

9. Interlude: Elevator Going Up

On a recent trip, I tried to go up the elevator but it was card-activated so a desk lady had to help me. That's it.

8/10

10. Andromeda

Damon has to do the heavy lifting here and his muscles have not completely wasted away from lack of use. He tells us to take in our heart and you know what? I did. I took this song directly in my heart...and my playlist.

50/10

11. Busted And Blue

Yeah, this song is a bummer. A good bummer. It's Broken's younger brother who joined the army to make his parents proud after he couldn't get into university like his older brother who managed to form a separate family with his squad and began to think that maybe he was good enough after all before his squad gets bombed and, as he lies legless dying painfully on the ground, a blue butterfly land directly on his outstretched busted hand...

Directed by Mervyn LeRoy

10/10

12. Interlude: Talk Radio

You ever wonder how we get voices in machines? I know you think it's a complicated process but I know a dude who picked up the radio in his electric fan once. Think about it.

8/10

13. Carnival

Again, this song had to grow on me but one day, while I was thinking about Gamzee for a godforsaken reason, I thought "Geez, he talks about the Dark Carnival and the Dark Carnival isn't even some of ICP's best days. What's a good song about a carnival?" Anyway, Anthony can spin a person's mind and mind around just by singing. He's wild.

80/10

14. Let Me Out

Hey, wouldn't it be funny if Mavis was Vince's mother? She's not but that would be funny as well as cool. Her and Pusha T bang on the walls of this track as they rant about the politics at the time of this song. Yeah, they're talking about Trump. That car horn can't protect you forever, you orange bastard.

9/10

15. Interlude: Penthouse

Dear Penthouse: Hi. Does anyone check in on you, just you? I'm here to say I think you're important and you provide a necessary outlet for men to brag about being perverts. At least before the Youtube comment section existed.

Thanks for everything,

mytastessuck

8/10

16. Sex Murder Party

Ooooo, this track puts me in a funky mood. Like, there's a part but there's sex there...and MURDER. So you know it's an awesome party. Kick-ass, right? I know it's kick-ass. Keep dancing, people.

11/10

17. She's My Collar

Pretty sexy song. Gotta love people vauging about being used in a song. That's why we love Offspring, that's why we love Damon on his knees onstage. Hey, there was a post that said Noodle wrote this song about her girlfriend. That was an excellent post. Well done.

9/10

18. Interlude: The Elephant

I SAID GET OUT OF HERE, YOU BASTARD!

8/10

19. Hallelujah Money

Ah, the technical first single. Remember when they said that they weren't going to put this song on the album? Anyway, this is exactly the song we needed after The Incident occurred. Benjamin manages to calm down an entire populace while Damon just fearfully wonders what our future will be like...and he's in the UK. This song is one long terrifying lullaby to an entire country...until the end, anyway.

75/10

20. We Got The Power

A great way to remind listeners that no matter what's happening, no matter who's in charge, we have the power change everything. An excellent message for people who were still recovering from The Incident.

10/10

21. Interlude: New World

Okay, the bonus tracks. Should be nothing special here, right? Just some B-sides and I've never shown favoritism towards B-sides, right?

8/10

22. The Apprentice

A nice song from the same Rag n' Bone Man who brought us "Human". Zebra manages to lay down some nice rhymes as Ray BLK backs them both up with the force of her voice. These guys should form a team with how well they work together. Oh, they should make a virtual band! All they need to do is find an artist...

9/10

23. Halfway To The Halfway House

A very nice song if a bit overshadowed by the others on the album. Still, Peven can't be beat when it comes to crooning and he raises a song from a solid C to a B.

8/10

24. Out of Body

This song had to grow on me also but when it did...lord, this song is weird. Hypnotic suggestions, telephone tones, the song starts then Zebra jumps in to help then who is this person?! Why are people applauding?! Who are you people?! Why are there so many crows gathering outside my house?!

60/10

25. Ticker Tape

Well well well, look who's back. Damon returns with his old friend Kali to join the accuser of the vain Carly Simon to beg us to stay on the album. Sorry Damon, but I got places to do and people to go. There's nothing you can do to convince me to stick around after how long this album already is.

9/10

26. Circle of Friendz

Huh. Seems like a riot is going on. Weird for Gorillaz to get this real. What, this guy is just going to keep saying Circle of Friendz again and again? Is this supposed to affect me? Get real. It'll take a lot more than a nice voice and implications to...

To...

...

...Maybe I should listen to the album again.

11/10

Album score: 25/10

Damn, that took a while. Shouldn't be the case next week when we cover The Now Now. See you then!

#gorillaz #humanz #music #review

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years

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Five Fics Friday: April 10/20

SPECIAL EASTER WEEKEND EDITION: FIFTY FICS FRIDAY

Hey, everyone!!

Well, I asked on my Twitter and here if y’all wanted to see a special edition 5FF for the Long Weekend since we’re all stuck inside (and some of you stuck with family I’m sure you’d like to avoid or are just tired of seeing), and it was a unanimous YES, because who doesn’t love to curl up all weekend with a good book or fanfic??

So here we are: Fifty fics either pulled out of my ass, recently read, recently bookmarked, or recently Marked for Later! Each section has a count so you know how many are in that section (and it’s for myself when I go to double check the count, LOL). I hope you guys enjoy these!! <3 Love you all, and happy reading :)

As always, read-more will appear on the third reblog. Sorry mobile, please don’t hate me :(

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@johnlockficclub APRIL NOMINATIONS (5)

A Beginner's Guide to Apiology. by VictoryCandescence (M, 10,952 w., 1 Ch. || Retirement AU || Friendship, Love, Bees & Beekeeping, Old Age, Dreamy Sexytimes, Angst, Soulmates, Grumpy Sherlock, Magical Realism) – John and Sherlock meet for the first time as old men in Sussex. (to read)

Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (E, 20,004 w., 6 Ch. || Retirement, Sussex, Bees, Home Improvement, First Time, Romance) – Sherlock takes a remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a change of pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the South Downs, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quiet contemplation, bee studies, and book writing. They might go completely insane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you're living to find the life you want. Part 1 of Through The Clouds (“WINNER” fic)

The Winter Garden by Callie4180 (T, 31,213 w., 13 Ch. || Post-S4, Retirement, Christmas, Slow Burn, Grown-Up Rosie, Parenthood, Rosie’s Cat, Angst with Happy Ending, Holidays, Beekeeping, Magical Realism, Sherlock POV, Sherlock’s Violin, Future Fic, Sussex, Honey, Magical Healing Honey, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Scar, First Kiss, Touching, Mycroft is Dying) – As Sherlock nears the end of his career, he's given the gift of a cottage in Sussex. The honey from the beehives out back is amazing. Almost...magical.

Where Else Would I Be? by cwb (E, 34,910 w., 10 Ch. || Retirementlock, Domestic Fluff, Falling in Love, Parentlock, Fluff and Smut, Reminiscing) – John and Sherlock's five-year-old granddaughter spends the weekend with them in Sussex. Sherlock happily indulges her whims, and John takes care of them while quietly revisiting the past thirty years of their lives together.

Crimson Hymns by brilliantlyburning (E, 48,982 w., 9 Ch. || Post-S3/TAB, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Drug Addiction, Unhealthy Coping Methods, Demisexual Sherlock, Boxing, Pining, Sensory Processing Issues, Drug Use, First Kiss / Time, BDSM, Mary is Not Good, Parentlock, Proposal, Happy Ending, Beekeeping, Violence, References to Addiction, Poetry) – He laid his head over John’s heart, eyes level with his silver-rough scar, and listened to the crimson hymns beating beneath the surface. He imagined flowers blooming in his own chest: veins weaving intricate patterns on petals of thin muscle engorged with blood, sinew for stems and tendons for roots—the flowers would be poppies, maybe (addictive) or foxglove (deadly yet useful)—twining gleaming blood-red around the porcelain bone of his ribs. In his mind’s eye the gruesome bouquet all tied together on the left side of his chest, the stems bound together in heartstrings and the flowers fed by the rhythmic contraction of ventricles. It’s yours, he imagined saying to John—from the vena cava to the mitral valve to the arteries it is yours.— Or, the Love Song of W. Sherlock S. Holmes. (to read)

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Linger by orphan_account (E, 4,879 w., 1 Ch. || Lingerie, Fluff and Smut, BJ / HJ, Switchlock, Sherlock in Lingerie, Come Play, Dirty Talk, Anal Fingering, Anal/Oral, Implied Shower Sex, Neck Kissing) – Sherlock decides to surprise John after a somewhat stressful day at work.

Given In Evidence by verityburns (M, 5,034 w., 19 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Angst, Drama, Case Fic, Romance, BAMF!John, Submissive Sherlock, First Kiss, Humour, Three Garridebs) – Coming back from the dead can be a complicated business. With a new case on the horizon, rebuilding a life is one thing... rebuilding a friendship quite another. For Sherlock and John, things may never be just the same...

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Permanent Fixture by vitruvianwatson (E, 18,836 w., 9 Ch || Post-S4, Parentlock, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, They’re Good Parents, Blushing Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Explicit Consent, Sexual Content) – Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier.

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I Believe in Sherlock Holmes by Ranowa (T, 63,038 w., 10 Ch. || S3 Fix It, Hurt Sherlock, Implied/Referenced Torture, Homeless Network, Alcohol Abuse, No Mary, Bit-Not-Good/Angry John, Protective Mycroft, Angst with Happy Ending, Non-Linear Narrative, Major Character Injury, Recovery, Forgiveness, Sherlock’s a Mess) – John's been angry at Sherlock since the day he turned up wearing a fake mustache and a tuxedo. He's still angry, even as he moves back into 221B, and he never hesitates to let Sherlock know it.One day, Sherlock stops saying sorry, and walks out instead.One day, Sherlock wakes up handcuffed in the boot of a car, and John doesn't know, because John's been angry at him for so long he's forgotten that he's not the only one that's hurting.

I'm coming home, John. -SH Series by Ranowa (M, 67,247 w. across 3 works || Post-TRF, Angry John, Idiots in Love, No Mary, Drug Use/Substance Abuse, Emotional Rollercoaster, Violence, Implied/Referenced Torture, PTSD Sherlock, Recovery, Sherlock’s Violin, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Asexual Sherlock) – In the two years after Sherlock throws himself off the roof of St. Bart's, crunches into the pavement below, and dies in John's arms, John starts texting.He doesn't know that his text messages are being read.

Roommates are for little people by alexxphoenix42 (E, 69,042 w., 14 Ch. || Teen/Unilock || Forced to Share a Bed, Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Fake Relationship, Sherlock is a Prick, Drinking, Inadvertent Drug Use, Family Wedding, Footballer John / Ballet Dancer Sherlock, Frottage, Slow Burn, Mild Dub Con, Cuddling While Sleeping, Slight Homophobia, Posh Boy, Dirty Dancing, Endearments, Nosy FAmily, Bathing Together, Mild Angst, UST/RST, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff) – John was looking forward to seeing his friends back at uni, but a new year brings new complications, not the least of which is a dorm room with only one bed, and a stroppy roommate with an utterly spectacular arse. God, John doesn't need the headache.

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Scheherezade by sgam76 (G, 197,576 w., 45 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF/Pre-TSo3, PTSD Sherlock, Implied/Referenced Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Humour, Protective John, Papa Lestrade, Big Brother Mycroft, BAMF John, BAMF Sherlock, Aftermath of Serbia, Past Child Abuse, Childhood Memories, Drunk Sherlock, Canon Compliant, Suicidal Thoughts / Attempt) – Sherlock is home, he and John are returning to cases, and all's right with the world--right? But a series of minor mishaps and injuries makes two things very clear to his friends and family: first, Sherlock's time away wasn't the grand adventure everyone has assumed it was; and second, that time has left Sherlock with a legacy that's bleeding into his life today. Sherlock is Not Okay, and it's not going away. Part 1 of the Scheherezade 'verse series

POSTED THIS YEAR [WiP’s & Full] (19)

A Bowl of Comfort (Store-Bought is Fine) by tepidspongebath (T, 763 w., 1 Ch. || Food, Comfort, Domesticity, Fluff) – “When did you last eat?” “What day is it?” “Oh, for god’s sake - you can’t keep skipping meals like this, Sherlock.” “It’s Lent.” “And since when do you care about Lent?” “Since you get chocolate eggs at Easter.” (to read)

End of the Curve by doctor_not_your_girlfriend (T, 833 w., 1 Ch. || COVID-19, One Shot, Medical Realism, Major Illness, Recovery, Optimism, Disability, Needles) – July, 2021. Mycroft has a special delivery for Sherlock. Inspired by Proving A Point by elldotsee, J_Baillier. (to read)

Love Is A Smoke by J_Baillier (T, 3,617 w., 4 Ch. || Heavy Angst, Pining, Romance, MCD) – It's spring in 2036. John and Sherlock are no longer together. Sherlock attempts to cope — or doesn't. (to read)

A Study in Beard by Loveismyrevolution (T, 3,810 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, Fluff and Humour, Experiments, Beards, Idiots in Love, Quarantine) – Sherlock has to face the consequences of using up all of their shaving foam. Which turns out to be more fun than expected. Boys being boys, nothing can go without a challenge. Although, being isolated presents a problem. How will they determine the winner? Part 2 of the Hairy Situations at 221B series (to read)

Isolated by CarmillaCarmine (G, 3,926, 3/4 Ch. || WiP || Quarantine From Virus, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Bi-Panic, Cuddling & Snuggling, Coming Out, Bathing/Washing, Bubble Bath, Kissing) – Due to an ongoing pandemic, John and Sherlock find themselves isolated at 221B. (to read)

Sherlock's Solution by PipMer (T, 4,125 w., 1 Ch, || Fluff, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Isolation/Quarantine, Pining, Miscommunication, First Kiss) – Sherlock and John are stuck in quarantine. Against all expectations, John is the one who goes stir-crazy first. Sherlock has a unique solution to the problem. (to read)

The Unexpected Threat by J_Baillier (T, 4,283 w., 1 Ch. || Military AU / Pacific Rim Fusion || Established Relationship, Medical Conditions, Coronaviruses, Doctor John, Bratty Sherlock, Romance, Science Fiction, Futuristic Medicine, Ghost Drifting AKA Telepathy, Medical Hurt/Comfort, Sexual Healing) – The kaiju are not the only threat to the security and well-being of the staff of PPDC's Chard's Rift base. It's the year 2050, and a coronavirus epidemic sweeping the planet has reached The Azores. Part 4 of the At The Edge of Our Hope (to read)

Quarantine by wendymarlowe (T, 6,444+ w., 20/? Ch. || WiP || COVID-19, Forced Isolation / Quarantine, John’s Blog, Humour) – John and Sherlock are stuck at 221B together due to coronavirus concerns. Sherlock slowly drives John barmy. (to read)

Stranded by BeautifulFiction (T, 5,798 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss, Communication / Relationship Discussion, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, BAMF John, Doctor John, Case Fic, Drinking, Huddling For Warmth, Friends to More) – When stranded on a derelict barge at high tide, John and Sherlock reconsider their friendship.

Attentions, Experiments, Oddnesses by hubblegleeflower (E, 6,383 w., 1 Ch. || Friends to Lovers, Experiments, Frottage, Mutual Masturbation, Kissing, First Time) – John is behaving oddly, and Sherlock hopes it means what he thinks it means, but he has several theories and could well be missing some of the facts. (to read)

Casualty by Silvergirl (E, 12,051 w., 4 Ch. || Canon Compliant Until T6T, Mary’s Dead, Trauma/Comfort, John’s a Good Friend, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss/Time, Sherlock Learns Teamwork, Parentlock) – Sherlock renders assistance at a hit-and-run and is left deeply shocked. When the accident turns into a case, John moves back in to 221b to help—and finds that Sherlock has way oversold his image as an emotionless thinking machine. (to read)

The Night Riviera from Paddington to Penzance and Back Again by Iwantthatcoat (M, 12,918 w., 5 Ch. || Post-S4, Hurt/Comfort Emotional Hurt/Comfort, BAMF John, Devil's Foot Adaptation, Hallucinations, Oral Sex) – Mrs Hudson has decided her boys need a little vacation together (after the events of S4) away from London and has booked them an inordinately (per Sherlock) long train ride from Paddington Station to Penzance. (to read)

A Gossamer Dream by CarmillaCarmine (E, 15,985 w., 4 Ch. || Writer/Teacher AU || First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Writer John / Teacher Sherlock, Fluff, London, Holding Hands, Online Friendship / Romance, Phone Sex, Anal Sex, Happy Ending) – Sherlock had never realised one could care so much about someone they'd never met in person. Now he is about to meet the friend with whom he's been chatting online for months and his anticipation is reaching a crescendo. (to read)

Contrition by sussexbound (E, 18,556+ w., 5/? Ch. || WiP || Post-S4/TFP Didn’t Happen, Rosie Doesn’t Exist, T6T/TLD is Canon, Year After TLD, Light BDSM, Soft Dom Sherlock / Sub John, Punishment, Light Bondage, Light Masochism / No Sadism, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Tenderness, Aftercare, Forgiveness, Edging, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Mutual Masturbation, Hand Jobs, Anal Fingering, Rimming, Frottage, Communication, Sexual Negotiation, Sexual Tension, Spanking, Head Injury, Anal Sex) – “You’ve been tense ever since we got back, itching for a fight, all your usual tells, but why…?” The truth strikes like lightning. “Oh… Oh! You’re not angry at me. Not this time. Well—maybe a little. But mostly, mostly you’re angry at yourself. Why? For falling behind? For not being there in time. For not taking Wilkes down fast enough?” Sherlock waves a dismissive hand. “It doesn’t really matter.” He lifts a finger to his swollen cheek and cut eyebrow. “You blame yourself for this. And you offered to fix it. But I wouldn’t let you, and… But that’s not what you really want, anyway, is it?” John looks stunned, a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming lorry, frozen, waiting for the lethal strike. “You don’t want me to let you help. At least not right away. No. What you want, what you really want is—punishment.” (to read)

Feeling Seen by jadztone (E, 30,177 w., 9 Ch. || Ballet!Sherlock / Rugby!John, Demisexuality, Virgin John, Experienced Sherlock, Toplock, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Background Molly/Irene & Greg/Sally) – Rugby player John is starting over at a new university, with the help of friends Molly and Bill. Few people know that John is demisexual, but ballet dancer Sherlock Holmes deduces right away that he has no interest in sex unless he’s fallen in love. John finds this strange genius intriguing and would like to get to know him, but Sherlock has a self-cultivated reputation for only wanting casual sex. John has reason to believe that’s not really true, but he’s not sure he wants to risk his twice-fractured heart to find out. (to read)

Sanguineous Serendipity by CarmillaCarmine (E, 34,783 w., 14 Ch. || Vampire AU || Alternate First Meeting, Turning a Character, Vampire Sherlock, Captain John, POV John, Feeding, Blood Drinking, Crossdressing Sherlock, Genderfluid Character, Sherlock in Heels, Transphobic Behaviour, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Soulmates, Romance, Happy Ending) – Vampire Sherlock meets a dying John in a field hospital in Afghanistan and gives him a whole new life. (to read)

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

Next Right: Welcome to Westbound Rest Area 818 by elwinglyre (E, 59,874+ w., 13/15 Ch. || WiP || American Unilock AU || Bunk Beds, Anonymous Sex, Homophobia, Closeted John, Roommates, Angst with Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Music, Rape/Non-Con, Hurt John, BAMF John) – Sherlock Holmes dreams of escape from his smothering family and space to breathe. Studying chemistry at the University of Michigan, he's almost far enough away to fill his lungs. Almost. While John Watson dreams of being a doctor, he also dreams of being with another man. John knows that with hard work and study, he can make the first a reality, but he's certain the second can never be. Until a secret encounter in the dark at Rest Area 818 changes everything. When Sherlock meets his new roommate, John Watson, he sees a man in the closet. Sherlock hides from no one. Except from his own family, a detective inspector who wants his evidence returned, and his secret encounter at Rest Area 818. Thank you to recently folded who lovingly beta’d chapters 1-5 and helped with an important plot point that deeply enriches this story. Also thank you to hotshoeagain for beta'ing the rest of the story.Setting late 1970s, Michigan, USA. POV third person alternates between John Watson and Sherlock Holmes. (to read)

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater / Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

ANYTHING GOES – JOHNLOCK (5)

Talk by illwick (E, 6,364 w., 1 Ch. || Dirty Talk, John’s Giant Junk, PWP, Light BDSM, Size Kink, Oral / Anal, Rough Sex, Dirty Talk, Established Rel.) – Sherlock was never much for dirty talk... until an unexpected visit yields unexpected results. Part 20 of Unwind

Ghost Stories by SwissMiss (M, 22,256 w., 1 Ch. || Pining, Holmes Family, Christmas, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, First Time) – Sherlock's parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something.

Pater Noster by SilentAuror (E, 34,256 w., 2 Ch. || Case Fic, HLV/S3 Fix It Fic, Family Trauma, Sherlock POV, Villain Mary) – During the autumn that John is staying at Baker Street again after Sherlock was shot, he ruminates over the similarity between Sherlock's shot and the one that killed his father when he was fifteen. Cold case meets series 3 fix-it. Part I takes place entirely within His Last Vow, Part II takes place starting at the end of HLV and continues after.

The Homecoming Series by sussexbound (M, 51,744 w. across 12 stories, WIP || Domestics, PTSD, Love Confessions, Hurt/Comfort, Cuddling, Jealousy, Family Issues) – Sometimes home is all you need. After three years of horror, betrayals, and crushing loss, John and Sherlock find their way back home to one another, and together find new footing in a world that has changed forever.

The Green Blade by verityburns (T, 72,929 w., 15 Ch. || Case Fic, Bromance) – As a serial killer hits the headlines, the police are out of their depth and the next victim is out of time. With faith in Sherlock Holmes at an all time low, this is a case which will push loyalties to the limit...

ANYTHING GOES – INEFFABLE HUSBANDS (5)

All Roads Lead To You by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel (T, 2,549 w., 2 Ch.|| Pining Crowley, Oblivious Aziraphale, Love Confessions, Feelings, Resolved Romantic Tension, Rescuing, Happy Ending, Snake Crowley, Magic Bracelets, POV Aziraphale) – It had taken Aziraphale quite some time to find the presence he had been looking for, but here he was, in the Reptile House of the London Zoo. As an angel, Aziraphale shouldn’t have been finding amusement in the discomfort of another, but he couldn’t help but do so as he was glared at by a very familiar snake. “Oh my dear,” Aziraphale murmured, “how ever did you end up in this situation?”

The slowest moving object in the universe by chamyl (G, 4,996 w., 1 Ch. || God POV, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Beach Day, Games, Light Humour, Tenderness, Embarassed Crowley, Soft Idiots, First Kiss, Love Confessions) – Crowley and Aziraphale have had feelings for each other for a very long time. It takes a date at the lake and a round of 36 Questions That Lead To Love to give them the final push.

Wings and How to Hide Them by triedunture (M, 10,134 w., 1 Ch. || Mutual Pining, First Time, Love Confessions, Body Swap, Wing Kink, Idiots In Love) – Crowley's been annoyingly in love for six thousand years. What's another lifetime between friends? Or: Aziraphale definitely fucks and isn't that just perfect?

Souls In Creation by Dragonfruit112 (NR [M], 23,110 w., 6 Ch. || Aziraphale was Raphael, Hurt/Comfort, Angst With Happy Ending, True Angel Forms, Memory Loss/Amnesia, Seraph!Aziraphale, Cherub!Crowley, Moments of Time, Pining Aziraphale, Deaths, Disasters Through History, Whump, Taking Care of Each Other, Friendship, Mates to Friends to Mates, Bed Sharing, Sick Crowley, Healing Powers, BAMF Aziraphale) – They knew each other before the Fall. They loved each other before the Fall. They were creation's first soul mates. But the Fall changed everything, and now Aziraphale is forced to live in a world where only he remembers their shared past. Burdened by pain and grief, he hides himself under the guise of a clumsy Principality until he can make his love remember once more. Only, he doesn't know how long that'll take.

Any Way You Want It by LieutenantLiv (M, 27,585 w., 5 Ch. || Holidays, Slow Burn, Fluff, First Time, Eventual Smut, Swimming, Dreams of Dancing, Kissing in the Rain, Self-Esteem Issues, Misunderstandings, Crying Love Confessions, Soft Crowley, Clingy Crowley, Virgin Aziraphale, Romance) – Saving the world is exhausting work. With Heaven and Hell off their backs, it seems as good a time as any for Crowley and Aziraphale to take a proper break. Neither one of them predicts the direction their holiday takes.Who'd have thought that sharing a cottage in Scotland would be quite so romantic?

#johnlock fic recs #good omens fic recs #five fics friday #times ten lol #my fic recs #long post #e-rated fics #coronavirus #quarantine

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