#because each subsequent time they get closer and closer to losing hope

[biboybuckley]

“ that guy's a real jerk. you should be with someone who respects you. “ “ and who would that be? “ 💕For the idiots in love ask please

three times buck dates assholes and eddie almost loses his mind

Eddie doesn't care that Buck's dating other people. Really, he doesn't. He's proud of Buck for coming out and happy that he's finally exploring what makes him happy. It just. It's just. Buck apparently has really, really shitty taste. Like his taste in guys is somehow even worse than his taste in girls.

So, really, it's not that Buck is dating someone that's Not Eddie, it's that he's dating people that Eddie wants to punch in the face. That's all. Because Eddie's worried about Buck getting hurt. That's it.

Buck came out a few months ago and ever since, Eddie's been subjected to the parade of guys that Buck's been seeing casually and are subsequently each worse than the last one. Eddie doesn't hate them because they're dating Buck. He even tried to like a couple of them. They'd swing by the station or he and Buck would run into them because, yeah, for such a big city it is shockingly easy to run into someone in LA, and Eddie would try to be friendly. But. But. There's always something that makes him wanna punch straight through their stupid hot faces.

Alex is the first one. Curly dark hair, bright green eyes, taller than even Buck. Eddie's not blind, Alex is hot. It's actually the first thing Eddie thinks when he saw the guy standing in the firehouse looking entirely out of place. Eddie is, naturally, the first one to see him.

"Can I help you?" Eddie asks politely, walking closer with a smile.

Alex doesn't smile back. "I'm looking for Buck."

Something twists in Eddie's gut, but he just keeps the smile plastered on and acts like everything was fine because why wouldn't it be?

"Oh, sure." Eddie turns, glancing around. "Uh, I think he's just getting changed. Shift just ended."

"Yeah I know. I'm picking him up." And well. That's not what Eddie was expecting.

"You are?"

Alex scoffs. "Kinda have to, how else are we gonna go on a date?"

"Oh you- you're-"

"Dating. Yeah." It's kind of like a punch to the gut. Eddie doesn't know how to reply. He's saved by Buck's arrival.

"Alex!" Buck greets, walking up beside Eddie with a bright grin. Eddie instinctively relaxes and the smile pasted on his face suddenly isn't all fake. "Hey! Hope you haven't been waiting long."

"Just a bit," Alex replies. "You ready?"

"Yeah, definitely." Buck claps a hand on Eddie's shoulder, squeezing lightly, then moves away. Closer to Alex. Eddie wants to grab him and yank him back. But he doesn't. Because he is a grown man with self control.

"Thanks for keepin' him company Eds. See you tomorrow?"

Eddie swallows, unclenches his jaw, and forces his tone to be light when he says, "Yeah. Have fun."

Buck's eyebrows quirk slightly and he studies Eddie like he knows and Eddie suddenly feels stripped bare. Buck opens his mouth and Eddie knows he's going to ask if he's okay and Eddie has no idea how to answer that. Then Alex grabs Buck's wrist and tugs him away.

Buck's mouth closes and he lets himself be pulled further from Eddie. Eddie turns on his heel and hurries in the opposite direction. Alex was a dick. That's why he feels like this. Because Alex wasn't what Buck deserves.

What does Buck deserve? Eddie shakes his head as if he can physically toss asside the question. It's a stupid question. Because it's obvious. Buck deserves everything.

*

The next guy comes a couple weeks later. They run into him, of all places, at the zoo. With Chris. Which just. Well that just adds a whole new level to the awkwardness.

"Buck?" They're by the elephants, laughing over something Chris said, when a blond guy around Eddie's height walks over, calling Buck's name. Eddie tenses immediately, the laughter dying in his throat when Buck's face drops almost imperceptibly. Buck's eyes flit quickly from Eddie to Chris to the stranger marching towards them.

"Charlie," Buck greets with what Eddie can tell is a forced smile. "Hi."

"Who's this?" Charlie asks, dark eyes fixed on Eddie. Eddie already hates him.

"This is my- my friend. Eddie. We work together." Eddie doesn't miss the way that Buck has moved slightly in front of Chris. Or the way his voice falters slightly when he says, "This is his kid, Chris."

Charlie barely spares Chris a glance, his gaze focused on Eddie in a way that has Eddie clenching his fists. Finally, Charlie's eyes slide back to Buck. "Are we still on for tonight?"

Buck frowns slightly, confused. "Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't we be?"

Eddie bites his tongue.

"Alright. Pick you up around seven?"

"Yeah, see you then."

And then. Charlie leans in to kiss Buck. Eddie thinks the world turns a little red. It's a small kiss, a peck really, but to Eddie it feels like it lasts forever before Buck gently pushes Charlie away, slings an arm around Chris, and Charllie walks away. Chris hasn't said anything since Charlie walked up, just watching the exchange with a slight confused frown.

"Who-?"

Buck interrputs him, his face turning pink. "Why don't you run ahead to the giraffes, bud? Dad and I'll be there in a second." Something warms in Eddie at how easily Buck fits in with him and Chris. Chris shrugs and starts towards the giraffes, knowing in that way that kids know that now isn't the time.

Buck turns towards Eddie, scratching the back of his neck and not looking at Eddie's face. He's blushed a soft pink and god damn it, he's beautiful. Eddie quickly shoves away the thought, filing it away in his "Figure Out Instead Of Sleeping" file that's basically full of just adorable things Buck does and says and Eddie doesn't want to unpack at that moment.

"So..." Buck starts.

"So."

"Sorry about that."

Eddie forces an easy shrug. "Not your fault, it happens."

"Yeah but-"

"It's not a big deal."

"Eddie."

"Buck."

Buck's eyebrows draw together and he's looking at Eddie again, in that scrutinizing way that makes Eddie's skin crawl in the best and the worst ways.

"That's all you have to say?"

Again, Eddie shrugs. "Even if I had more, it's not my place." Then he steps around Buck and follows his son to the giraffes, ignoring the burning in his throat. It’s fine. Charlie was just a little too controlling for Eddie’s taste. That’s all. 

*

Buck introduces Eddie to Jack on purpose. On purpose meaning that Buck invites Jack to drinks with the team one night. He told them ahead of time, so at least Eddie’s prepared. He’s steeled himself for however bad this guy is and he’s not going to react. He’s also not going to drink. They’re definitely entirely unrelated choices. In any case, he’s ready. 

What he’s not prepared for is for Buck to walk in with another man’s arm wrapped around his waist and a purpling mark on his neck, just beneath the hinge of his jaw. 

What Eddie never could have been ready for is the suffocating flash of jealousy that rises like bile in his throat, that burns his throat and claws at his chest and demands to be knowns. 

Eddie told himself he wouldn’t react to whatever new guy Buck brought. He didn’t know that what he had to worry about would be the clear marks of possession painted on Buck’s skin by another man’s lips. He didn’t know the effect that someone else’s hand squeezing Buck’s waist would have on him. He didn’t know that it would feel as if that hand were around his own throat, suffocating him. He didn’t know it would hurt this bad.

“Eddie?” Hen’s soft voice draws Eddie back to the present. “Hey, you okay? You look like you’re gonna be sick.”

“I might be,” Eddie whispers. 

“What?”

Eddie snaps himself out of it. “Nothing. I’m fine.” Hen raises an eyebrow at his white-knuckled grip on his water glass, worrying for a moment that he might shatter it. Then she follows his gaze and- oh.

Buck sees Eddie and his face lights up with a wide, dazzling smile. If Eddie wasn’t nearly choking on his own jealousy, he might melt at the sight. Buck waves enthusiastically and Eddie makes himself wave back, commanding himself to smile and act as if nothing’s wrong. Everything’s fine. 

Buck hurries over to the booth and squeezes in right next to Eddie, the man following closely behind. Eddie tries to focus on Buck pressed right up against him and not the guy on the other side. Buck’s hand lands on Eddie’s knee, squeezing in greeting, and Eddie focuses on that feeling, using it as an anchor for his temper. 

“Hey Buck,” Eddie greets, relieved at the steadiness of his words. “You gonna introduce us to your friend?

“Boyfriend,” the guy corrects, addressing Eddie for the first time. His words are sharp and Eddie bristles. 

Eddie bites his words off through a tight smile, “Sorry, my bad.”

Buck shifts beside him, clearly uncomfortable. The obvsious tension has made his grin slip, and Eddie immediately feels guilty. Do better. Buck clears his throat. “Uh, guys this is Jack. Jack, the team. Eddie, Hen, Chim, Ravi, and Bobby.” Each member nods in greeting, but none speak. Eddie feels Buck’s gaze heavy on him.

Eddie takes a deep breath. Do better. He wont be why Buck’s upset. He reaches around Buck, offering a hand to the man. “I misspoke. Honest mistake.” The man takes Eddie’s hand and shakes it, but his eyes stay cold. 

“Just don’t make it again.” Eddie’s sure he means to say it as a joke, but it sure as hell doesn’t come off that way. Eddie wants to punch him. Jack turns away then, looking for a server and raising his hand to call one. Chim and Hen exchange a glance of raised eyebrows and unspoken words, Ravi looks like he’s about ready to sink into the floor, Bobbie is composed as ever, and Eddie... Eddie’s really regretting not drinking. 

“Hi,” Jack greets the server that comes over. “Another round of whatever they’re all having, shots for everyone, and two vodka sodas for me and my boy. Thanks sweetheart.”

Eddie almost loses it then and there. Because- my boy??? They cant have been together more that a few days and this asshole has the absolute audacity- And even more than that, Buck doesn’t drink vodka. Ever since that one night when he drank way too much of it, he’s avoided it like the plague. And judging by the way he blanches, that hasn’t changed. 

But Buck doesn’t say anything. 

And that... that’s the most concerning of all. Buck always speaks his mins. Often when he probably shouldn’t. But he still does. Eddie kinda feels sick. 

It’s not Jack’s fault, he tells himself. It’s a new relationship, Jack doesn’t know any better. And Eddie should be supportive. Right? Right. So Eddie asks to leave the booth, slips out, and finds the waitress. 

“Hey would you do me a favor?” She replies with a smile. 

- 

Awhile later, they’re all back in the booth laughing over Buck’s recount of their call from earlier today (involving a blowup crocodile and a truly concerning amount of whipped cream), when the server comes over with their drinks. She sets down the seven shots, Bobby’s club soda, Eddie’s water, Ravi’s fruity cocktail (no pun intended), Jack’s vodka soda, and three beers for Hen, Chim, and Buck. 

“This isn’t what we ordered,” Jack says almost immediately. “He asked for a vodka soda, not a beer.”

“Actually-” Buck starts to cut in, but Jack waves him off with a hand, gaze fixed on the waitress. 

“I, um...” The girl’s gaze flicks to Eddie. She’s stuck. 

Eddie clears his throat. “Uh, I actually switched it.” 

“You what?” Jack demands. 

“Buck uh, kinda has an aversion to vodka. So I saw her on my way to the bathroom and switched it.” 

If looks could kill, Jack would be guilty of murder. But instead of replying, he just fixes his deadly glare on Buck. “Buck?”

“I, ah,” Buck reaches up to the back of his neck. One of his tells. “I mean... I kinda do avoid vodka.”

Jack’s jaw muscles tick and Eddie braces himself. But all he says is a clipped, “My bad.” And he downs his drink. Eddie releases some of the tension in his body and Buck lets out an audible breath beside him. 

“Hey, it’s not like common knowledge, don’t worry about it man,” Chim pipes up for the first time. Jack doesn’t reply, just slings an arm over Buck’s shoulders and pulls him closer, away from Eddie. Eddie feels it like a physical blow. 

“So how did you two meet?” Bobby asks. Eddie once again finds himself eternally greatful for their levelheaded captain. 

- 

Several rounds and multiple hours later, Bobby has taken Hen home, Maddie showed up to pick up Chim, Ravi’s boyfriend showed up and whisked him off, and it’s down to just Jack, Eddie, and Buck. 

Buck’s definitely had too much to drink. Eddie’s dead sober. Jack’s somewhere in between. Throughout the night, Buck has gravitated away from Jack and closer to Eddie. Jack is decidedly not pleased, but Buck is drunk and happy, so Eddie’s happy. 

They played several rounds of pool until Buck had officially lost too many “Loser drinks” bets for them to keep going. They’re back in a booth, Buck slumped against Eddie’s shoulder as Eddie coaxes him to drink water. 

Eddie’s half forgotten that Jack’s even there when he says, “Buck we should get out of here.” 

Buck stiffens slightly and he sits up. “Do we have to?”

“Well...” Jack’s hand creeps up Buck’s thigh and bile rises in Eddie’s throat. He sort of wants to set himself on fire. “Don’t you wanna get home?” Eddie sees Buck swallow, but his eyes flit towards Eddie. 

“Uh, I don’t feel great...”

“C’mon babe, you’ll feel better once we get back to my place.”

“I- uh. Yeah, okay...”

“Buck!” Eddie cuts in when they start to move. “Uh, you said you were gonna take Chris to the zoo tomorrow, yeah?” He doesn’t entirely know what he’s doing. He just knows he won’t let Buck leave with this man. 

Buck frowns at him, quirking his head slightly. Eddie raises his eyebrows, trying to get his point across, and understanding seem to dawn on Buck. 

“Ohhh shit, yeah I did, didn’t I?” 

“I can give you a ride over tomorrow,” Jack insists, tugging on Buck’s arm. “It’s not a problem.” 

“Except-” Jack glares daggers at Eddie. “You uh, promised Chris you’d wake him up with chocolate chip pancakes.”

“I’m sure his actual dad can take care of breakfast,” Jack scoffs. Eddie knows from the wounded expression in Buck’s eyes that that just cut deep and it takes everything Eddie has not to lose his temper. 

Instead, he forces a laugh, subtly reaching to take Buck’s wrist in his hand. He doesn’t know which of them he’s trying to anchor. “Oh god, I love my kid too much to make him breakfast.”

A small smile turns Buck’s lips up and he glances at Jack. “He’s a really bad cook. Like, actually awful.”

“Hey now-”

“Well you are.”

“Buck,” Jack’s voice is sharp, “can I talk to you for a sec?” His eyes slide to Eddie again. “Alone.”

The grin slides off Buck’s face. Something like dread replaces it, as if he knows something Eddie doesn’t. “Yeah. ‘Course. I’’l uh, be right back Eds.” 

“Buck-”

But Buck just slips his hand out of Eddie’s grasp, squeezes his fingers once, and walks off with Jack. Eddie sighs heavily as he watches them go. Should he have just let it be? 

He tries not to watch them. Really, he does. He doesn’t do a great job and after several minutes of his gaze wandering to them whenever he stops paying attention, he just gives up. They’re having a rather animated conversation. Or, at least, Jack is. He’s waving his hands and seems upset. Buck’s just standing there taking it. 

Eddie kinda wants to punch something. Preferably Jack’s face. 

Jack finally throws his hands up in frustration and storms away. Buck rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes, seemingly collecting himself. Eddie quickly looks away, figuring the least he can do is give his friend some privacy to gather himself. 

It’s only a few minutes until Buck plops into the booth beside Eddie, but to Eddie it feels like he’s been waiting ages. 

“You okay?” 

Buck shrugs one shoulder and reaches for a mostly empty beer. “Been better.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Nothin’ to talk about.”

“Jack seemed kinda upset-”

Buck runs a hand through his hair and lets out a dry, humourless laugh. It sort of scares Eddie. “Yeah, you could say that.” Eddie doesn’t say anything, waiting. “He broke up with me.”

“What the fuck?”

Buck just shrugs again.

“Well fuck him. You deserve better anyway.” 

Buck barks out that cold laugh again. “Do I, though?” Eddie frowns deeply, studying his best friend. Cause what the fuck does that mean? “Eddie, I was pretty shitty when I was younger. Kinda feels like... like karma.”

“No, Abby and Taylor were karma. This is just you having shit taste in men.”

This time when Buck laughs, it’s a real one. He shakes his head, tilting his face back to stare at the ceiling. 

“He wasn’t that bad.”

“No, Buck, the guy was a real jerk. You should be with someone who respects you.”

Buck’s head turns to face Eddie. He has that look again. Scrutinizing Eddie. Studying him. Stripping him bare. Leaving him and his secrets raw and exposed. Eddie shivers. 

“And who would that be?” 

Eddie’s breath catches at the way Buck says it. Me. It’s on his tongue, it would be so easy to say. It would be so simple. It would be so right. It would be so selfish. Eddie swallows his answer. 

“Well for a start, maybe try someone who asks you what you like before ordering for you.” 

Buck lets out a light laugh and Eddie convinces himself it’s just his imagination and Buck doesn’t actually look sort of disappointed. 

“Good idea.”

“Yeah I’m full of those.”

“You’re full of something.”

“Hey now, that’s just rude.”

“Says the guy that scared off my date.”

“You mean the date you were trying desperately to get out of going home with?”

“I wouldn’t say desperately-”

“Either way, definitely seems like you owe me some chocolate chip pancakes.” 

“Deal.” Buck’s smile is real now and it might be the best thing Eddie’s ever seen. Because yeah, sure, other guys get to touch Buck and kiss Buck and go home with Buck, but this smile... this smile that could light up the darkest of nights, this smile that could melt the ice caps, this smile that’s so infectuous that Eddie can’t help but match it... this is just for Eddie. And, for now, it’s all he needs. For now. 

[thornedrose44]

Supercorp prompt-

Lena takes an art class to de-stress and Kara is the nude model. Awkward semi- naked flirting ensues.

(A/N: So, I put my own twist on this (hope that’s okay), I made Lena a teacher just because I liked the idea of Lena having to keep her lack of chill under control and be professional in front of a class funny - though this fic went down just a really light, fluffy route which I hadn’t expected when I started it.)

Read on AO3

It had been going well, the first term had passed with only a few missteps and one trip to the emergency room - though, the Dean had told her that Zach had yet to make it through a single class without some sort of accident and had been preemptively banned from taking Chemistry classes for fear of taking out an entire graduation class. 

Lena had never expected to return to her alma mater as a lecturer but the stars had aligned at just the right time. The youngest Luthor had reached a stage in her career where she had finally proven her adoptive mother wrong about not finding success as an artist and had made enough money that she need never paint another picture in her life again. The lack of necessity and the return to a more Luthor-esque lifestyle - galas, fancy balls and paid talks - had subsequently impacted her inspiration. She needed a change. A return to her roots and some sort of stability without losing her ability to make a personal impact with her work. 

Her mentor - J’onn - was stepping down from the art department and had recommended her as his replacement; National City University had jumped at the chance of the world renowned Lena Luthor taking up a teaching position there. 

She was now a third of the way through the school year, settled comfortably into her new role, and absolutely loving it. Her spark was back, and she was enjoying being in one place surrounded by her old friends. She was reconnecting with skills and techniques she hadn’t touched in years whilst simultaneously giving advice and encouragement to students that reminded her of herself when Lillian had cut her off to force her into attending business school and abandoning her dreams. She was finally able to return the kindness J’onn had given her all those years ago to the next generation of artists. 

It was the second term that Lena experienced her first set of real nerves. 

Lena had an artistic weak spot, an achilles heel that she had been able to keep out of her signature artistic style but she would now be forced to confront. 

Life drawing.

It had been her lowest scoring class by a mile and she had avoided the advanced elective classes like the plague. Lena knew practice made perfect but she’d never had enough interest to develop her skills. Her interest had always lied more in natural landscape beauty - J’onn had said her true inspiration lied with trying to recreate her childhood memories of Ireland: emerald rolling hills, rocky cliffs, dense forests ensconced by a mystical fog that lended her artwork a fantastical element that she was now known for.

The problem lied in Lena’s lack of interest in people. 

She had never really seen the ‘art’ in them.

Kelly, Sam and Andrea had spent hours over evening drinks psycho-analysing just why that might be, their two favourite theories were Lena’s family (the loss of her mother and the general unpleasantness of the Luthors) or Lena’s truly terrible dating history (their favourite topic of conversation due to the sheer number of embarrassing stories it elicited).

Lena refused to acknowledge the accuracy of both theories. 

It was therefore with a sense of dread that Lena prepared for the first Life Model Drawing class that Tuesday afternoon. The one small silver lining was that she didn’t need to arrange a model - she had vague memories of J’onn trying to entice volunteers and grumbling under his breath about some of the less than pleasant eager volunteers. J’onn had a list of regular volunteers that he had accrued over the years that were reliable and just liked to help out - most of them older with an appreciation for the arts and more time on their hands than they knew what to do with. The University admin team had organised everything and simply told her to expect a Kara Danvers at the studio some time before the class.

Lena had finished prepping the studio well in advance, reviewed the relevant techniques for most of the morning and even phoned J’onn for a much needed pep talk over lunch. She had just convinced herself that everything might be okay, that she just might be able to do this, when the most beautiful woman Lena had ever laid eyes on burst into the studio.

A toned body that glinted with a light sheen of sweat barely covered by a white v-neck tucked in at the front of a pair of dark jeans that merely brought all of Lena’s attention to the bronze belt buckle that locked away a thousand dirty thoughts. Glorious golden ringlet curls bounced up and down as the woman stumbled to a sudden stop as the most piercing blue eyes imaginable behind thick glasses locked with Lena’s green ones.

“Hi, I’m Kara!” The goddess announced, swallowing thickly and stumbling forward in her hefty black boots as she extended out a hand for Lena to take.

Lena only reached out due to years of Luthor training that had ingrained politeness into her muscle memory - her brain still not firing on all cylinders at the sight of the woman in front of her. Kara’s warm palm connected with Lena’s, long fingers curling gently yet firmly around the edge of her hand and sending arcs of lightning through Lena’s body and causing her breath to stutter. 

“I hope you haven’t been waiting for me for too long.” Kara continued, a bright apologetic smile lighting up her entire face and grinding whatever gears were still turning Lena’s mind to a dead - permanent - halt. “I try to always get here early to help set-up but the interview I was conducting overran - I’m a journalist, by the way - and then my bike - motorbike that is -” Lena’s mind caught on the motorbike and turned it round over and over and over again, “didn’t start and… I’m rambling. Oh, golly! I mean heck, I mean sorry.” Kara huffed, cheeks filling with air before releasing into an adorable pout. “Sorry.”

It was then that Lena realised two things.

One, it was her turn to say something and there had now been at least ten  prolonged seconds of silence as they stared into each other’s eyes.

And two, they were still holding hands because that’s what it was now, it most definitely could not be considered a handshake.

“Umm… hi…” Lena choked out whilst simultaneously jerking her hand back to her side, hoping the somewhat stifling heat of the studio would hide the red blush perfusing her cheeks.  “Lena. I’m Lena, that is…”

“Hi.” Kara murmured, smiling soft and sweet at her causing Lena’s heart to flip and melt and dance and do a million impossible things all at once.

“Hi.” Lena repeated dumbly - so dumbly.

“I should…” Kara chuckled, hands miming grabbing the edge of her t-shirt and lifting it up, “You know?”

Oh, god the goddess is going to undress, Lena’s brain screamed in gay at herself.

“Yeah, definitely do that.” Lena encouraged with a flap of her hand towards the centre of the studio where a solitary illuminated stool awaited. “Do you need anything? Is the lighting okay? Stool… umm… sturdy?”

Kara grinned at her, blue eyes barely sparing a glance at the studio’s set-up, “Looks perfect.”

“Great.” Lena cheered, jerking her thumb over at her desk in the corner where she had prepped her teaching materials, “I’ll… uh… be over there.”

“And I’ll be right here.” Kara shot back with a cheeky wink as she walked over to the stool, a towel awaiting her to provide suitable covering until the class had settled, shucking her white shirt over her head and revealing back muscles that would star in Lena’s fantasies for the foreseeable future.

“Yep.” Lena popped, taking a deep breath and trying to work out if she should be murmuring a thank you to God or screaming a desperate why me.

***

The class had gone well - except for the long periods where her brain shutdown whenever she studied the play of shadows across Kara’s defined musculature. She managed to cover it quite well by making it seem like she was just assessing her students’ work closely, analysing their line work and shading rather than going through an extended gay crisis that eclipsed seeing boobs for the first time in college.

Kara, on the other hand, was a consummate professional, holding a steady pose throughout and utterly unfazed by the concentrated gazes on her - though, Lena could have sworn that she caught deep blue eyes tracking her movements round the half-circle every now and again. 

“So, you’re experienced doing this?” Lena asked, once the last student had departed and Kara was finishing re-tying her sturdy boots back up.

“Taking my clothes off?” Kara chuckled, shooting the teacher an amused smirk, getting to her feet and strolling easily over to where Lena was examining the product of her class’ efforts. 

Lena faltered, “I meant-”

“I’m just teasing.” Kara reassured, reaching out to squeeze Lena’s forearm in a half-apology that Lena could have sworn burnt Kara’s hand print into her skin, “I’ve done this for a while now. I did an interview with J’onn a few years ago and his model bailed at the last minute and I was here already and…” Kara shrugged casually like stepping in was the obvious thing to do, like kindness was the only option - which Lena didn’t doubt for a second was something Kara genuinely believed. “I like helping out where I can. And I just kept coming back…” Kara explained, clasping her hands behind her back as she took a tentative step closer to Lena, “I was never really sure why until-”

“Hey, babe, you ready to go?” 

Lena’s head snapped round to see Andrea strolling through the doorway, eyes fixed on her phone utterly oblivious to the moment she had just trampled all over. Lena wasn’t sure whether Andrea was naturally such a good cockblock or if she practiced at it - regardless of either option Lena’s sexlife had vanished into thin air since she’d returned to living in the same city as Andrea. (Not that Lena thought that her and Kara were heading that way but Lena had been enjoying the hope of it at least).

“Andrea, you’re early for the first time in.... well, ever…” Lena snarked, rolling her eyes before glancing over to Kara, only to find the blonde had taken a large step away from her and her expression was far more neutral and guarded than it had been only moments before.

“Wait, we weren’t meeting at 4?” Andrea frowned, still not bothering to look up.

“Ah, so you’re not early, you’re over an hour late.” Lena remarked.

“God, you’re such a drama queen…” Andrea sighed, finally lifting her gaze from her phone, her eyes immediately alighting on Kara with undisguised interest. “And who is this?”

“Andrea, this is Kara the model for our life drawing classes.” Lena introduced taking a protective step in front of the blonde, an action that did not go unnoticed by the other two occupants in the room. “Kara, this is my supposed best friend who is regularly trying to lose that title.”

“Oh, best friend?” Kara repeated; the familiar brightness from before returning to her expression as she looked excitedly between the two friends.

“Yes.” Lena answered, smiling shyly at Kara and immediately forgetting Andrea’s existence, let alone presence in the room.

“That’s great.” Kara grinned, blushing a light pink a second later as her hands fidgeted with her keys, “I mean… ummm…. That you have a best friend. My sister is my best friend, though I have other friends. I just mean that… friends are cool.” 

Lena laughed lightly at Kara’s ramble, leaning closer towards the blonde without realising until Andrea appeared at her shoulder looking far too pleased with herself.

“Kara,” Andrea greeted, holding out a hand for the blonde to shake (Lena was comforted to see their handshake was quick, almost professional in comparison to the lingering touch Kara and Lena had shared earlier). “The pleasure is all mine.” Andrea declared, winking surreptitiously at the teacher - Lena instantly dreaded the upcoming girl’s night.

“Nice to meet you.” Kara replied friendly and sincere, before smiling softly at Lena and muttering a hopeful, “I’ll see you next week?” 

“I’ll be here.” Lena reassured, watching as Kara nodded farewell to Andrea and departed, waving on her way out.

“Well…” Andrea murmured mischievously.

“Don’t.” Lena said sharply, holding up a finger to deter whatever torment Andrea had brewing. “Not a word. Not a single word.”

“Ooookay.” Andrea lied.

***

“You okay?” Lena asked tentatively, watching as Kara sluggishly slung her bag over her shoulder the pep to her step nowhere near as present as it had been last week. 

They hadn’t had a chance to talk before the class even though Kara arrived much earlier to help set-up - Lena had been helping a student struggling with deadlines and a sudden crisis of confidence which prevented them from interacting. Despite being occupied, Lena had seen the fatigue weighing heavily on the reporter, saw how her impeccable posture dropped and how her students added weary lines to her expression in their artwork. 

“I think you fell asleep on that stool for ten minutes at some point.” Lena murmured, brow creasing in concern.

“Pfft… what?” Kara reassured with a light-hearted wave of her hand. “Impossible.”

Lena arched an unimpressed eyebrow, “You snore. Quite loudly.”

“Oh…” Kara pouted guiltily, rubbing at the back of her neck, “My sister is going through a rough patch and I stayed up late with her last night.”

Lena’s amusement drained away to be replaced with soft, supportive care, “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s doing better.” Kara replied, blue eyes twinkling at Lena’s inquiry that had them both ducking their heads coyly and sharing furtive glances. “I should get going.” Kara coughed out, though she made no move to leave.

“Or…” Lena began hesitantly, heart fluttering in her chest, “we could go for coffee? You should probably have a coffee before driving,” Lena rationalised, nervously stepping back from the blatant romantic line she was toeing, “you know for safety…”

“For safety.” Kara repeated carefully, blue eyes glowing with warmth, “That sounds wonderful.”

***

It didn’t take them long at all to settle into a comfortable routine.

Kara came early to the life model classes, helping set-up the room as they talked about the students' progress and what Lena was going to make the focus of the class. During the class itself, Lena no longer needed to flit as regularly between her students, they had learned the basic techniques enough to practise for themselves, now only requiring light guidance which allowed Lena time to either do some marking or her own art. Kara posed perfectly throughout, though Lena was becoming more and more aware of Kara’s still gaze on her as the weeks passed by. 

After class, it was now custom for them to grab a coffee and go for a long walk around the university campus as they talked about everything and nothing. They would have been building towards a strong friendship if it wasn’t for the lingering touches, blatant flirts, blushes and wandering gazes. 

Lena wasn’t overly sure why they hadn’t crossed that line, made that final move, but she found she didn’t particularly mind the wait. She was convinced that they had both decided that the journey was making the destination all the more desirable.

It became abundantly apparent, though, that Kara thought differently if their conversation after the class midway through the term was anything to go by.

“So do you not like my body?” Kara asked, quick and fearful, eyes looking down at the sketch Lena had done during class of a vase of flowers in the corner rather than of the readily available model.

“What?” Lena muttered in disbelief looking up sharply from her desk to see Kara paling considerably having clearly not intended to ask the question that she had blurted out.

“I… uh…” Kara squeaked, mouth opening and closing rapidly, before lifting her bare wrist up with a jerky motion and whistling in exaggerated surprise, “Wow, look at the time. I’m late for… uh… this thing. Work thing. Interview! That’s a work thing.”

And just like that she was gone - Lena wouldn’t have been surprised if there was a Kara shaped hole in the studio wall with how fast she disappeared - leaving Lena with a sinking, twisty feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her she might have lost more than her regular coffee with Kara over that one interaction.

***

Lena had Kara’s phone number and they had taken to texting throughout the day; however, since Kara’s panicked question - which probably revealed some deep vulnerability in the blonde - there had been complete and total radio silence. No memes, no cute animal pics, no sweet check ins… Lena’s phone remained silent when it once vibrated with life. 

Lena wanted to text or call Kara the second she had left the studio but Lena didn’t feel like this was a conversation they could have over text, so she waited impatiently for them to be face to face again, counting down the days until the next class. 

Lena even took to repeatedly checking in with the admin office to confirm that Kara hadn’t pulled out of modelling; reaching the stage where Jess, the most senior admin in the team, had taken to emailing her every couple of hours to reassure her that Kara still hadn’t cancelled. 

When Kara appeared, nervously stepping into the art room, fingers playing with the hem of her shirt, it was like Lena could finally breathe easy again. The fear and loss eeking away in an instant, giving Lena the necessary courage to stride forward and bare herself in a way that Kara had been doing every week without Lena fully realising.  

“I don’t like drawing people.” Lena announced, shoving her hands into her pockets to resist the temptation to reach out to the other woman as the blonde blinked at her in surprise, listening intently. “It’s kind of a thing with me.” Lena winced, pushing down all the reasons for why that is. “When I draw something I… kind of let whatever it is into me, let it consume me and it… stays with me for a long time after that. It’s why I draw what I draw. I draw my home because it's a part of me already. Drawing someone means carrying them with me and… that’s scary for me.” Lena breathed, glancing at the blonde to see soft understanding in blue eyes. “I just wanted you to know it’s not you.”

Kara nodded, shuffling closer and dipping her head so that she could whisper into the still space between them, “Thank you.” 

“Right,” Lena murmured, swallowing thickly before jerking a thumb over her shoulder, “I should-”

“Do you want to get dinner?” Kara inquired earnestly causing Lena to freeze in hopeful surprise. “After class, that is?”

“Um… Yes.” Lena replied, nodding her head eagerly.

“Awesome.” Kara grinned brightly.

***

Kara took her to a tucked away italian restaurant that was one of National City’s hidden gems. The food was outstanding and the company was even better.

It wasn’t a date, but it wasn’t just friends going out for dinner either. 

Lena would call it a test-run but that would imply that Lena wasn't already one hundred percent certain that she wanted an actual date with Kara. It was more of a date-appetiser if Lena was going to call it anything, a taste to build interest before the real thing. 

Once they had finished their food, Kara didn’t hesitate to interlace their fingers as they went for an evening stroll around a nearby park, both wishing to prolong their time together.

“Can I see your art?” Kara requested; they had been sitting on a bench in front of a lit-up fountain for the last twenty minutes or so in comfortable silence. Lena had expressed an interest in sketching the fountain and Kara hadn’t hesitated to find them a seat and encourage Lena’s desire without complaint, occupying herself with people-watching in the meantime. 

“I’m pretty sure the images are all over the internet.” Lena replied drolly.

“Yeah, I know it’s just…” Lena’s pencil froze in it’s movements finally noticing how hard Kara was trying to act casual, “what you said about it being a part of you, I thought-”

“You want me to show it to you…” Lena inferred, setting her pencil down and closing her handy sketchbook in an instant. 

“It’s stupid, I’ll-” Kara laughed awkwardly, shaking her head in an attempt to brush over the request like it wasn’t a big deal

“I don’t have many pieces here in National City,” Lena said thoughtfully, getting to her feet and holding out a hand for Kara, “but I have some works in progress that I can show you… if you want that is?”  

“I would love that.” Kara beamed, jumping to her feet as Lena tugged her back towards her campus studio, already picking out her favourite pieces in her mind that she wanted to share with the blonde.

***

Lena and Kara’s ‘friendship’ continued to blossom into something neither could have anticipated that day Kara sprinted into the studio all those weeks ago. The weekly class they shared was now always followed by dinner, taking it in turns to share their favourite cuisines and restaurants. They had also grown beyond only seeing each other on their allotted class day, sharing lunches and movie nights and spontaneous coffees as they learned each other's schedule and needs. 

Lena read all of Kara’s articles and spent many an evening asking countless questions about the background to each of them. Likewise, Kara would appear for coffee with one of Lena’s artworks saved in her phone, burning with curiosity about what had inspired it.

Time spent with Kara flew by and, before Lena knew it, it was the final class prior to spring break. Her last class with Kara until the next school year and Lena was finally ready.

She had finally figured it out.

Why she had waited.

Why she had yet to seize the numerous opportunities to transition her relationship with Kara into a romantic one.

It was because she knew. 

She knew from the second that she had taken Kara’s hand in hers when they first met that this was it. That Kara was it.

And that was, and still is, terrifying. 

When they had first met, Lena hadn’t been ready for Kara. Hadn’t been ready for everything that Kara represented and would come to mean. She had needed the time, the time to lower her guard, to trust and hope. 

And now, she was ready and she knew exactly how to let Kara know.

The class came to an end with Lena giving her students a quick speech on how proud of their progress she was and wishing them a good spring break. Kara lingered behind as was now custom, helping Lena tidy up the area before they headed out together.  

“Kara?” Lena called out nervously, sweaty palms rubbing against her black denim covered thighs as her heart beat thunderously in her chest. “I was wondering…” Lena began, clearing her throat as Kara stopped what she was doing to give Lena her undivided attention. “Can I… can I draw you?”

Kara’s brow instantly furrowed in confusion, “I thought-”

“Yeah…” Lena laughed shyly, staring into deep blue eyes, practically begging for Kara to understand what she was really saying. “Can I?” Lena repeated.

Kara pursed her lips thoughtfully as she studied Lena’s expression - it was then Lena realised that Kara understood exactly why they had been waiting. Kara wasn’t replying because she wanted to check that Lena was sure, was giving Lena a chance to delay, was saying - without really saying it - that she could wait longer.

Lena didn’t take the escape Kara offered, instead she lifted her head higher and arched an eyebrow at the blonde.

A thousand-watt smile of excitement took up residence on Kara’s face as she nodded eagerly, “Of course.” 

“Clothes on.” Lena clarified - she had promised herself that the first time she truly studied Kara’s body it would be in a setting where touching would not break any professional standards. 

***

Lena had Kara sit opposite her in her private studio, their knees pressed tightly against one another providing a warm point of contact to keep them grounded. Lena’s gaze flickered from her sketchpad to Kara’s features; occasionally, she would reach out to adjust a lock of golden hair so it caught the light. Kara, meanwhile, had an ever constant soft smile that didn’t diminish for the entirety of the session even as she was forced to rein in her boundless curiosity to stop herself from sneaking a peek at Lena’s sketch until it was ready to be revealed.

Lena only drew Kara’s head because, though, she had spent countless hours in the presence of Kara’s naked body over the course of the last few weeks - when Lena thought of Kara (really thought about her in the way that made her heart skip), it wasn’t her abs or her biceps that Lena pictured (though she did think about them regularly when she was in her bed alone at night). 

It was Kara’s eyes that Lena thought about most. 

How they were so bright and hopeful whilst simultaneously melancholic and lost.

There were whole galaxies in those blue eyes and Lena knew that she could spend the rest of her life drawing them and never get bored, nor get them exactly right.

“What do you think?” Lena asked, slowly turning her sketchbook round for Kara to see.

It wasn’t finished. It was mere line work that would require further detailing but it was a good start and she hoped Kara could see its potential like she did with everything else in the world - like she did with Lena.

“It’s…” Kara began, licking her lips as she pulled the sketchbook closer to her chest like it was something treasured and infinitely rare. “It's incredible.” Kara breathed, the sincerity of her words undeniable due to how they were accompanied by a watery film to her blue eyes.

“I like your body.” Lena whispered, shattering the companionable silence they had drifted into as Kara admired Lena’s artistry.

“W-w-what?” Kara stammered, head jerking up at the out-of-the-blue declaration.

Lena reached out for the sketchbook, lifting it out of Kara’s hand and placing it on the nearby table so that she could take Kara’s hands in hers. 

“You asked if I liked your body a while ago,” Lena reminded the blonde, “and I just thought you should know that I do. I really, really do. I mean really.” Lena emphasised, glancing appreciatively down at Kara’s body prompting the blonde to blush a pleased pink. “But it's more than just that. It’s become more than that. Talking after class, getting coffee, going for dinner… it's the best part of my week. You’re the best part of my week.”

“Lena-” Kara began, her mouth suddenly snapping shut as her jaw clenched and her chin lifted in determination. Blue eyes studied Lena for a long moment and all Lena could do was hold her breath and wait. 

Lena made Kara wait weeks, she could therefore wait the stretched seconds that Kara needed in return without complaint

Kara got confidently to her feet, tugging Lena up with her, squeezing their hands once before releasing her so that she could reach up to tenderly cup Lena’s face. “I’m going to kiss you now.” Kara declared, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Thank fu-” Lena sighed gratefully, cut off from offering up her thanks by Kara’s perfect lips sliding over hers.

[jjungkooksthighs]

Claws of Carnality | jjk (8)

Pairing: alpha jungkook x omega reader

Genre: smut, fluff and angst, abo/werewolf!au, soulmate!au, fantasy!au 

Rating: 18+ / nsfw

Word Count: 7.8k  we really can’t ever have a short chapter around here smh

Summary: Alacrity augments you in the aftermath of your alpha’s perfervid performance and in his subsequent summoning of you, neither of you can stave off sin from overwhelming you in the desire for each other that consumingly captures the wolf and his mate. 

Warnings: alpha!jungkook, possessive!jungkook, jealous!jungkook, dom!jungkook, sub! reader, omega!reader, mentions of breeding/ruts/heats, mentions of blood, slick and pre-ejaculatory production, scenting, dirty talk (lbr I love that shit), praising, fingering (just a smidge), grinding, fellatio (cock sucking), cock worship (just a bit), breast/nipple play, nipping, sucking, begging, muscle kink, scratching, cum eating, manhandling, cursing, wet and messy sex (kind of), size kink, hair pulling, impreg kink, dual orgasms 

A/N: So, this chapter took a bit longer to get out due to graduate applications, schoolwork and inclement weather that took out my Wi-Fi, lol. It also went through a series of deletions because I felt self-conscious after the original posting of chapter seven, but eventually, it came along to what I had pictured in my mind despite the rework to the style of this chapter that I hoped to make easier for you guys to read with lessened uses of terminology/vocabulary. Also, I’m not the best at writing this type of smut, so please go easy on me! 

Oh, and the gif that you guys see at the top? That’s Jungkook’s outfit inspiration for what he wears at the end of the chapter. :)

As always, please share with me your thoughts about my work! There is no greater reward to writing than seeing what your readers think of what you spent so much time to create. I am eager to know what you guys make of my story, so please don’t hesitate to let me know what your thoughts are because I love to hear it!

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7 Part 9

Meekness muddies you in the solid substratum of it that settles over your throat as you try to keep from liquifying under your alpha’s scorching gaze that leaves no part of you unscoured by its high heat.

 It muffles you to a mutter as you struggle to swallow what little spittle has not dried up in your mouth at the parching sight of him as you manage, “Alpha….what are you doing?”

 There had been something else you’d wanted to ask him, but in the roots that tangle thoughts around him, your perception is twisted by your peripheral field that extends only for the half nude man that looks fixedly at you.

 Jungkook smirks before cocking his head to the side in quick movement in a display of avid amusement before he utters, “Is it not obvious to you, pretty? I’m stripping and shedding myself of the clothing I wore to entice you. It has served its purpose,” He turns to pierce you with a dark glare as he leans back on the wooden table behind him, the burled brawn of his arms bearing his weight as he leans back on them while his supple skin shines with the sweat that sluices it as he taunts, “I no longer require them here. Others may look at me, but no one but you, my mate, shall ever be able to touch me.”

��You whine a that, your silver irises interspersed with golden streaks shimmering over him as they sliver down from perfectly plump lips that have spoken such sweet nothings to you and bedecked you in his brand as your hand absentmindedly rises to lay over the purpled petal he’d made ascend amidst the garden of you in his efforts to tend to his terrace.

 You trail your visage over to the Adam’s apple that juts proudly out from the column of his neck, an irrational urge sprouting to life within you in the need to nip it for daring to sweetly stick out like the ripest berry from the sturdiest stem you’ve ever laid your eyes upon.  

 You lick at your dried lips that are not slicked against the tongue that tries to wet them from the arid desert of your mouth that your alpha radiates away from you as your sight slides lower until it settles over the bodacious bough of his chest that branches brashly with muscles along every inch of him, your fingers twitching in remembrance of how strong and sinewy he’d been under your digits as you’d brushed them against him.

 When your sight drops along the thatched thighs that the fabric strains stiffly against in its stretch over them, a picturesque memory of what you’d done atop of one of them paints colorfully itself in your mind.

 Its vibrant vividity has you biting your tongue to keep from releasing another sound as your cheeks turn themselves red like the rose you are to him while your alpha grins at the vivacious view of you, wholly intrigued by the spectacle that is you as you struggle against the slump that soon has you falling back against the door as you whimper in the damning distance between you and your alpha that takes him away from you far too much.

 “Jungkook,” you imploringly plead.

 Your alpha chuckles at that to push off the vanity behind him with no effort at all before he strides over to the chaise lounge made from the leather of aged cattle against the timbered wall. He is slow in the languid lowering of himself over it, his back resting against the arm of the piece of furniture as he husks, “Bring yourself over to me, pretty,” his voice deepens before one hand rises, his fingers curling inward in a come-hither motion that has your heart stuttering in the excitement electrifying it as he orders, “Come and sit on your alpha’s lap, my omega, and tell to me all that you thought of my performance that was devoted solely to you.”

 In the scarlet moonlight crimson as blood that drips like wax from a never burning candle’s wick from the glass window behind him, the color sinfully stains him in a dangerous sheen of a garnet glow that emanates effervescently off him in everything that promises impurity as his eyes glint goadingly at you from around the blackened wisps of his locks that have fallen around them.

 As a creature that has only known chastity’s constraining shackles your whole life in your wait for your mate, you very much want them to be crushed under your alpha’s heel, for he has already caused them to crack amidst the sweet pleasure he’s delivered to you in the forest and in the sanctity of your own chambers.

 As if caught in his unyielding undercurrent, your body moves under his watery sway that sweeps you forth. Perhaps it is the omega in you that is utterly unable to resist temptation taking its form in Jungkook. Maybe it is the inescapably inexorable draw to him that paws at you to be near to him lest you incur its fangs if he is absent and away from you. 

Conceivably, it could be both that have you pad forward without pause as he watches you with interest while you move, his golden irises never drifting from your own as a wave of heat falls over them and, in your undertow he’s surrounded you in, it washes over you, too.

 Once you stand before him, he makes a sound of appreciation as he appraises you attentively.

 One hand sinks under the furs that hide you from him, each finger suggestively sidling up along your waist while the other palm joins it on the other side as you close your eyes while your arms wrap around his muscled shoulders, his calloused and strong digits dipping deliciously over your soft skin as he hums, “Mmm, that’s a good girl. I like it when you’re obedient like this. You’re so receptive to me already, pretty,” His hands sensuously slide downward, his fingers streaming outward like a consumingly surrounding sea that washes you over in his thrilling touch while he splays his legs out before, all in one fluid motion, he pulls you forward until you fall like the tide over his hips as each of your legs pools on either side of him only for him to smirk as he amusedly muses, “So responsive to me, too, my mate. You do not resist me at all. You’re so willing to submit, aren’t you, sweetling?”

 Not prepared for the sudden shift in position, you gasp in surprise, your eyes shooting open to be submerged by his golden irises beginning to seep with the licentious lust that dooms you in their dusky dimness. They beckon you to lose yourself in his deep depths, one hand diving under the thin terrain of your gown only for him to trickle the phalanges of his fingers along the soft skin of your leg. He’s unrushed and unhurried as his digits drip their warmth over you to flow over your ankle through his ascent upward, his digits oozing along aqueously while his fingers spread outward like a tributary that must get its fill as he drags them ceaselessly along.

 Your breath wells up in your lungs in the anticipation that swims there and when his hand torturously trails over your thigh only to brutishly, brutally halt his ministrations, that’s when you whine, your arms tightening around him as you lean forward to lay your forehead against his own as you whisper, “Please, alpha.”

 Your alpha croons, his index finger running in circles along the innermost part of your leg that borders along the sex that has not stopped crying for him since his performance as he says, “I know what you want, pretty. Do you want your alpha to take care of you again like I did in the forest? It would be so easy. I could make you fall apart so quickly with how readily you receive me, my mate,” His digit dribbles impossibly closer to where you want him most, a shaky breath falling from your lips as one of your own hands veers down over his chiseled chest, catching on all the defined muscles that ripple in its wake before it settles over his heart that beats briskly in the same time as your own that instantly stammers when his finger stops once more as you whimper out while your alpha’s eyes narrow, “Much as I wish to give to you what I know you desire, you’re going to answer to me before I do anything else, pretty. You have such a pretty voice. Use it for me, my mate.”

 Your irises slip below to his lips that move so very precariously with how close you are to them and an urge soaks you to feel them, your other hand dowsing him in your touch as you draggle it along the back of his nape and up along his neck until your fingers tentatively trace the outline of them. You etch his rounder and fuller lower lip into your memory as you draw your digit around the upper one, entirely entranced by the cupid’s bow that crowns the middle of his top lip and the way that a long, pink tongue is swift to poke out of the mouth he parts for you in your exploration of him.

 He laves it first along the bottom one to carefully coat it in saliva that gleams against the soft firelight that licks at your alpha from the corner of the chamber and when he dares to lap the muscle along the underside of your finger at the same time the palm on your thigh trails forbiddingly forth to cup your womanhood, you mewl.

 The lewd sight stirs within you a hunger for that which only your alpha can sate.

 It is as if his tongue are hands are the keys that unlocks the cage of words in your mind that he’d been the one to padlock there as you breathe, “I would very much like that, but you’ve been so good to me. You made me feel so wonderful in the forest and even dedicated that stunning performance to me that made me fall impossibly harder for you, my alpha,” you breathily profess while you pigment the column of his neck with the stain of your lips as you lightly graze your teeth along the notch you’d been staring at before to whisper, “You were so mesmerizing up on that stage while you danced for me. I’ve never seen a creature as enchanting as you were,” the hand that you’d left over his heart begins its journey anew as you veer toward the bulge in his pants that he unabashedly displays to you while you offer, “You’ve done so many other things that have exhibited your sentiments for me and I want to give you something in return. Please, let me show to you how special you make me feel, Jungkook.”

 Your hand has barely even lain itself over his member that hardens at your very words before there’s a growl, your alpha’s hand extricating itself from between your legs to encircle around your dainty wrist as he roughly pulls it up and between the two of you before he warns, “Do not toy with me, my omega. Once you start, you’re going to finish, yeah? I can only control myself so much with you looking so goddamn beautiful for me while you’re on my lap like this.”

 You lick your lips to whisper, “I have no intentions of playing with you, Jungkook. I only wish to please my alpha if he will allow me to indulge in him like I’ve wanted to for so very long,”  you fully seat yourself on him, your clothed sex rubbing against him as you grind atop him while the hand on your waist bunches the fabric around it to draw it up and away from you to ease your access as your head dips down so that you can imbibe yourself of his taste after being denied it in the woodland, “I’m so parched, alpha…please, help me. You’re the only one that can.”

 The moment your mouth ghosts over the sternocleidomastoid muscle along his neck and your breath warmly whisks itself over him, he releases you only for his hand to tangle in your hair as he rasps, “That’s right, my mate. No one but me can quench you like I can. You want to satisfy me, pretty?” His hips impetuously impulse upward against your own as he hisses, “Do it, then. I’ve been waiting long enough.”

 Needing no further coaxing, you press your lips against him in a chaste, short osculation that earns a rumble from his throat in a sound that has you smiling against him as you string a line of wet kisses over him, your hips rolling atop the tented bulge that hardens inconceivably more under you as you moan at the delicious friction that cascades through you with every eddy of your hips along his member that is all too fast to try to escape his trousers.

 Raptness for you floods his irises and it swells around you until you take one of his hands to delve under the furs that conceal you from him, his head falling back when you swirl your sex over him while you slide his fingers over the exposed sliver of skin between your breasts, his digits diving under the thin material of your bodice to palm at your tit as you sigh in satisfaction at the way his long, slender fingers sinfully swathe you in their hold.

 Your alpha husks, “Gods, these tits were fucking made for this. They were made for me.”

 “Yes, alpha…all for you,” you breathe as he kneads at your tit while you continue your expedition along the mountainous terrain of his chest and when he brings his lip between his teeth at the sight of your hooded gaze as you stare hungrily back at him, he watches the way that your irises flick toward the peaked summit of the same nipple that had taunted you from under the enclosure of the sheer shirt he’d worn to agonizingly afflict you earlier.

 When you glance back at his eyes for permission, they flash dangerously at you and with a swivel of your hips that has him momentarily shutting his eyes, you seize your opportunity and enclose your mouth around the dark nipple to suckle at him only to earn a guttural groan from him as his back bows inward while his fingers dig into your hip at the same time that the digits in your hair curl inward to pull tightly as he utters, “Fuck, pretty. That feels amazing. Keep going, my omega. You’re making your alpha feel so good.”

 Your wolf preens at the praise, your tongue daubing his tender areola in kittenish licks as you suction the sensitive skin between your lips, your other hand pawing at his pectoral while his thumb flitters over your own nipple only to have you quicken your pace as he strums you like an instrument atop of him.

 You soon shift your attention to the other neglected bud, your lips enveloping him as he grunts with the way that you scuff your nails down his swollen peak while you twirl your tongue along the abandoned areola.

 Distracted by your ministrations to his chest, your alpha does notice the way your hand seeps down his chest until it bears down over the fully hardened member to have him buck from underneath you. The movement jostles you atop him and, accidently, you nip at him only for him to pinch your own nipple between his fingers in punishment as you whimper.

 Through it all, your hips do not cease their undulations over him as they continue to rotate rapturously around him, the pleasure too sweetly succulent as it glazes over you the longer that you lather yourself on him.

 You are steadfast in your venturous voyage to discover more of your alpha as you frisk your tongue along the underside of his pec before continuing your descent toward the steep sierra that rises tall between his legs.

 You hadn’t realized you’d been staring at his now engorged, edematous buds, but the fingers in your hair constrict around you to condense your vision only to golden irises that flare fiercely at you when he rumbles out, “Up here, pretty. I want to see your eyes while you use your mouth on me.”  

 “Yes, alpha,” you obediently reply as you press a hot, open-mouthed kiss over each of the eight abdominal muscles that comprise an impressive slew of sinew over the skin of his belly.

 With the choker clasped around your neck, you can only go so far before it unforgivingly cuts into you and with one last sweep of your tongue along the ridges between his abs, you rise to plant your hands on his chest as he rolls your nipple expertly between two fingers, a moan tumbling from your lips as you grind with fervor over him.

 Wanting him to feel just as pleasured as you are, you lay your palm flat over him, your fingers furling around him to give him a small squeeze that earns a groan him that is drawn out when you lean forward to drag your lips along the underside of his jaw that he presents to you under the light, soft brush of your mouth over him.

 One of his hands finds itself under your chin, two fingers grasping your jaw as he pulls your chin up while he husks, “You really do want to please me, don’t you, pretty? If you want me that bad,” he sits up with you still sat on his lap, his eyes scintillating lethally as the pad of his thumb slides up to nudge along your lip, your saliva dripping and coating the digit that he uses to penetrate the warmth of your mouth that you close around him as he growls, “Get on your knees and take this cock into your mouth. Drink from me until you’re so full of me that you won’t wish for anything else to feed that thirsting desire within you.”

 Under his command that sidles swelteringly through golden irises from under his locks, you shakily exhale when he extracts his finger from your mouth, each of you watching the way your spittle clasps itself to him before breaking off and falling between you.

 You whine at the loss of him, but you know that you won’t leave you empty for long and the thought energetically bounds through you like a sylph springing through the air.

 He easily lifts you from his lap and sets you on the carpeted floor, your limbs far too weak to support your weight without him as he helps you to fold your legs under you so that you sit on your heels like he’d ordered you to do.

 A lagoon of fabric from your skirts profoundly puddles and spills outward around you as you stare at the bloated bulge in his trousers, your salivary glands secreting spit as your mouth waters at the prospect of what you’re about to do.

 Your fingers fiddle with the linen lining the end of your alpha’s trousers, however, as diffidence coils around your ribs.

 You have never pleasured a man with your mouth before, for it is a rule that such intimate practices are not to be engaged in unless a wolf has presented as either an alpha, omega or beta.

 At your hesitance that is made palpable in the way that you chew at your lip, your alpha softens if only for a moment as he hunches over you, both hands laying along the sides of your jaw as his tone lightens when he asks, “What is it, pretty? Are you having second thoughts? It’s alright if you are. I would never have you do anything you didn’t want to do.”

 His support only makes you want him more, for there is care that he’s imbued innately in each word that flowers within you under his reaching radiance.

 His irises search your own beseechingly and you place your own palm atop of his as your cheeks redden with embarrassment that shyly quiets you to a whisper as you tentatively confess, “It’s just…it’s just that I’ve, well…I’ve never done this before. I want to satisfy you, alpha, but I just don’t know if I’ll be good at it or if I’ll even make you feel half as fulfilled as you did for me in the forest.”

 Your alpha only smirks at that, his expression darkening damningly as understanding shadows him while he utters, “All the better for me, my omega,” He turns his hand to capture your fingers between his own as your digits intertwine with his own as he drifts your joined hands toward his weeping member, “The only cock you will learn to fuck with that little mouth of yours will be mine. You shall only know my knot on your tongue. I alone will gladly teach and instruct you on how to pleasure your mate, pretty.”

 Familiar fire ignites in you as his promises plunder your being with anticipation. He strews your hand just above where his tip leaks through the linen before, with a scalding glance, one of his palms is crossed over the other and without pause, he trails them seductively slow up his thigh in a path that will drive him right where he needs it.

 You watch, entirely engrossed, as fingers are rubbed against his member, a heaved breath forcing itself through ajar lips that follow with a clenched jaw as he rasps, “The first thing you would want to do is get me hard like this, pretty. I don’t have to be for you to take me in your mouth, but it’s better if you, ah-“ you spare no time in replacing his hands with one of your own, your fingers stroking him through the fabric as he groans, “-Yes, pretty, just like that. Shit. Take my cock out now. The pleasure is increased tenfold when there are no barriers that bar you from me.”

 You obey, your breath hitching at his considerably large size once again as your alpha makes quick work of his soiled trousers.

 Your ardent awaitment of him is not long when he sheds the last piece of clothing he’d had only for your eyes to widen as large as stars at the sight that greets you.

Your eyes widen in wonderment as you quietly gasp, “Alpha, it’s… it’s enormous. You’re magnificent, but,” you gulp as you stare, “do you think that will fit?”

Your alpha caresses your jaw as he coos, “It will fit if I wish it to. You were designed and created for me by the moon above,  pretty. I know you can take me.” 

 Nestled between thick thighs, his sizeable shaft arcs upward like a crescent moon with constellated veins spanning through the sky of his skin, the bulbous head framing it all where it hovers over his abdominals like a planet that you’d very much like to explore yet have never seen before.

 “Still, how are you even larger than before, Jungkook?” You blurt, your fingers dipping down to gingerly pad over him in your fascination of his behemoth dimensions as he bites down on his tongue to keep from bucking underneath you, for he does not want to startle you.

 Between his legs, you stare at him with the eyes of a doe rather than a wolf from your inexperience that tucks your tail between your legs and he is intent on ensuring that nothing will deter you from venturing out into the field where he waits anxiously for you.

 “This is what you do to me, pretty. You make me like this, for it is my need for you that makes me so much bigger to you than before. I have been denied of you for far too long, my omega,” his fingers enclose around your wrist as fervid fervor fills his irises before he orders, “Put your little hands around me, pretty. You can be as gentle, or as rough, as you wish.”

 You do as he says, instantly wrapping your hands around him and then blinking innocently at him as you tilt your head to the side in question.

 The moment your touch titillates him, his brows pull together in concentration, for your fingers are far smaller and more delicate than his own in their timidity that holds them back.

 Despite it all, you are a sight that is far too beautiful to behold as he encourages, “That’s it, my omega. Now, open wide and take me.”

 Tentatively, you part your lips as each of your hands bring his member down to your gaping maw. The closer it gets to your mouth, the more colossal it towers over you. All it takes for you to gulp and push down the lump of apprehension in your throat is one glance up at your alpha, whose irises simmer over your own with the heat of the sun as he draws his lip between his teeth while he devours the vivid visage of you between his legs.

 There’s so much you want to say to him, but right now, there’s only one thing that can possibly show to him what you feel for him.

 When he finally breaches you and his heavy girth falls over your tongue, it is warm like the rest of him and engorged with the blood that rushes to it as you try to nestle him between your lips the best that you can.

 He tastes of a musky tanginess that is mixed with a salty, briny tint. You find that it is not an unpleasant flavor.

 Your walls contract around nothing when you watch his face contort to one born of pleasure in an accidental brush of your tongue along the underside of his shaft in your attempts to gorge yourself of more of him. Like this, his base is still grasped by each hand as he sinks his fingers into your tresses to urge you forward impossibly more.

 Like this, he’s resplendently ravishing as he succumbs to the damned delirium that you are solely and wholly the bringer of.

 You’re not sure if the human body was created for this purpose, but you do know that your alpha’s pleasure is the only thing that matters to you now. There’s a feral rawness in him that has slept in him and you want to be the one to awaken it. You’ve always been a stubborn creature and you aren’t about to let unseeded unsurety stop you now when you can see the glimpses of the satisfaction you could grant him like he has for you.

 There’s something so gratifying in knowing that you could be the source of his pleasure and so, you experimentally swirl your tongue around his tip that sobs with precum as you allow him to plunge himself even deeper inside your mouth.

 Your alpha’s head is thrown back at that as he groans, “Yeah, fuck, pretty. Gods, I knew you could do this. So fucking perfect me, my omega… my mate.”

 Inch by impossible inch, your alpha penetrates you inconceivably as you lick at him like a cat starved of its water for days. The hand in your hair starts to push and pull you to and fro and you watch, captured by captivation, as your alpha’s breaths begin to become uneven and heave into pants as he stares heatedly at you.

 “Use your hands, pretty. Touch me.” Your alpha husks and you obey, each of your hands constringing around what you can’t fit inside your mouth as you stroke him up and down, your fingers catching along the veins that you take care to caress as you squeeze in a vice-like grip his member that throbs under you.

 Your alpha gives a grunt of approval, his back arching as his eyes screw shut under your ministrations as his lips part in pleasure.

 Your confidence grows the longer that you lave at him, unsure of what you are doing but nonetheless spurred into action as your alpha clutches your hair between his fingers to secure you to him as you fleetingly flick your wet muscle against his sensitive glans while your alpha laments.

 As you stare up at him, he is carnality’s manifestation in the way that the scarlet light erotically colors him in passion’s dangerous hue, his sculpted brows scrunched together under wild curls that curve voluptuously along his angular face.

 Lost in him, you make the mistake of scraping your teeth against him only to earn a sharp hiss from him as his fingers tighten in your locks.

 Breathless, your alpha’s eyes open while he grimaces, “Loosen your jaw, pretty girl. That hurts, yeah? Try not to graze me with those teeth of yours. I know you can do that, can’t you, sweetling?”

 You pull off him with an apology already on your lips, “I’m sorry, alpha. I didn’t mean to harm you. I’ll be better for you, I promise.”

 Your alpha coos, “You already are the best for me, pretty,” he brushes his knuckles under your mandible, “There is no one I would do this with beyond you. You’re mine and you will learn, my mate. I do not expect you to be perfect when this is your first time. You’ve been doing so well already, my omega. All you need to do is relax for me.”

 Your wolf bays at his praise, affection for him blooming inside you as his words water you.

 You heed your alpha’s command, your maw slackening as you guide him back between your lips. This time, you swallow him as far back as you can possibly guzzle him, your mouth flooded of all that is him as you whirl your tongue lasciviously around him.

 Your fingers compress around his base while one hand, with renewed spirit, seeps over his balls as you fondle them, your alpha’s eyes rolling to the back of his head as you claw away at the last of his control to cause him to buck into your mouth, his cock driving itself even deeper down your throat until it buries itself so far back that it blocks your airway, hot tears quick to burn at the edges of your eyes as he hits your pharynx and blocks your airway.

 “Fuck, don’t stop. Suck me, my mate.” Your alpha drawls out, the efforts of speaking laboriously difficult in the breaths that strain to dislodge themselves and leave him.

 It is a sensation you have never felt before to have your mouth so thoroughly filled and though it is not the most comfortable, the pleasure lies not in you, but rather within your mate and in what you are swiftly reducing him to. You would do this a thousand times if it meant wracking your alpha to this.

 Ever the dutiful omega, you follow his decree. You hollow your cheeks as you bob your head along his length while you suckle him enthusiastically, inhaling through your nose in spite of the breath that eludes you throat.

 “Gods, yeah, pretty. Right there, right there. Fuck me, you’re going to drive me crazy, ” Your alpha rasps as you unsuccessfully try to silence the gag that erupts in the back of your mouth while his fingers knead into your hair to tug at the roots as he thrusts into your mouth to plummet lecherously lower.

 Spit pools in every crevice of your mouth until you’re overflowing with it and, as he rams himself into you, all you can do is bear it as your slobber falls like a fountain from your lips in his jostling movements that shake your vision. His eyes have become hazed with craving craze for you and you relish in the way he struggles for breath just as you are in your damning decimation of him.

 Transfixed by the way your eyelids flutter as his dick disappears into the wet warmth of your mouth that he could spend forever in, he husks, “You’re so hot like this with my cock between your lips, pretty. You like this, don’t you? You like sucking your alpha’s dick?” He asks while he watches in interest the way that your saliva escapes the cushion of your lips that pillow him inside you, his thumb brushing it away and back over your lips.

 You moan to let him know that yes, you really do enjoy seeing the way you’re wrecking him through your own devices. Right now, this is about him and seeing his pleasure is far more satisfying than anything you could have imagined. Knowing that you are the one that is affecting him in this way is inexorably exhilarating. It makes you feel powerful. Now, it is you that holds the key to his raptured raptness.

  When your alpha drags his digit along your lower lip, you hum in agreement and the vibrations shoot straight into his member as he arches his back, his head falling even farther as you work him in your mouth while he utters, “Shit, of course you do. You really are perfect for me,” one hand grabs your own to pull you down to the neglected testicles that ache for you, your fingers closing around one delicately to give him a gentle squeeze as he bites at his lip while he growls, “I’m not going to last much longer, pretty. Gods, use that tongue of yours like you did out there when you told those bastards that you’re mine. Show me you meant it, my mate. Let me see how badly you want to please me.”

 His words send a wave of blazing heat through you, tenacious tenacity sweltering within you at the realization that he’d been watching from the shadows and had seen and heard everything that had occurred between you and the two wolves that so stupidly believed they would win you from your soulmate.

 You swallow fatally around him, your muscle swishing and swiveling around him as you unhinge your jaw to completely take him in his entirety when he tugs you down on him. His facial expression detorts to one of unadulterated, unbridled bliss as his own tongue lolls to either side of his parted lips, his eyes closing yet again while the sounds of slurping drip from your lips with the spittle that dribbles below them.

 Your alpha hums, “Mmm, fuck, you’re so good with that little mouth. You fuck my cock with it better than any bitch in this pack ever could.”

 Your cheeks running red at that, you fondle his balls with one hand, your other running your nails down his chest to leave reddened marks of your own over his skin all while you greedily ingurgitate him while he stuffs himself inside you with another dangerous undulation of his hips.

 When your fingers roll his balls like dice between them, that has him keening as he pants, “I’m close, pretty. I’m going to fucking fill you up so much that the taste of me will fucking linger in that hungry mouth of yours for days. You want that, yeah?”

 You nod instantly, your stomach grumbling your salivary glands producing more of their offspring at just the thought of it as you suction him with eager earnestness betwixt your lips.

By now, he’s swelling and throbbing between your lips, his end near by the way his testicles palpitate as you titillate him.

 Your alpha grunts before he rumbles out, “Gods, you are such a ravenous little girl for me. I bet that cunt of yours is just as starved to receive me, isn’t it, little one? Fuck, I could knot you, my mate. I could breed you so well. Do you want my pups, pretty? Do you want me to stuff you to the brim with my fucking seed so you have no choice but to get pregnant and bear my children?”

 You moan at the thought of it, the ostentatious oscillations strafing over his dick as your head bounces back and forth while you quaff him to have him grunt.

 There’s an urge to bask in his simmering gaze as you give him over to his end and, with another sinful swill of him within your mouth as you grope his gonads, you splutter amidst the very large cock currently nestled between your lips, “I want it a-all, Jungkook, but p-please…I w-wish,” you slabber him with your saliva as your tongue twists itself around him, “I wish for y-you to look upon me when you finish in my m-mouth.”

 Each word trickles from you under the labored breaths you inhale through your nose and you hope that they are not burned by the fire that blazes in the corner of the chamber before they can reach him.

 Your voice submerges and dives after him through the sea of exaltation that you have deluged him into and, in your final act to bring him back up for the air of his ecstasy, his eyelids flicker up to reveal golden irises that singe you in their voracious torridity.

 You whine at the way the smoke of desire has smoldered him, his long tongue poking against his cheek as his head tilts back while he consumes you in his sights that leave you squirming along the floor as he husks, “You want me to see who has made me feel so fucking good, yeah? Very well, pretty. Watch me cum just for you.”

 If the dangerous twirl of your tongue along his slit while your hand that had been attached to his testicles slides sinfully down to rub along his perineum isn’t enough to have him come undone, it’s the way that your eyes now gleam with the glazing of the yen of yearning that every blood vessel burns of yours is coated for him with as you fervently fix him inside your mouth.

 You’re the picture of innocence in the white of your dress that curtains you in its angelic wing, but the cock between your lips that you ardently take between them damns you in sin’s tendrils that Jungkook captures you with.

 It is his utter undoing when your cheeks fatally concave in their incurvation as you suck him with tightly compressed pressure inside your wet warmth while you run your tongue along his base at the same time he draws you forward so that your nose brushes the thicket of pubic hairs as you blink with innocent doe-eyes up at him as he howls, “Ah, fuck, I’m there, pretty. I’m cumming because of what you did to me.”

 Euphoria pours itself through him like a cascading waterfall that does douse every part of him that it washes over as his knot swells inside you, his irises never abandoning you through his climax as his seed bursts out of him and spurts across every corner of your mouth.

 You flatten your tongue to catch every bit of him as he feeds you his nectarous ambrosia. His thickened essence spreads and spills over your hot muscle and down your throat deliciously viscous as he makes good on his promise and nourishes your parched body with his sinful sustenance.

 He spouts and streams his taint into you as endlessly as a river and when you think you might just overflow with it, that’s when he extricates himself from you, one hand rising so that his thumb caresses your swollen and abused lips as he coos, “Such a good girl for me. You did so well for your first time, sweetling,” his digit swipes at the stray bead of cum that leaks from you only to sweep his finger over your tongue and you close your mouth around him, moaning out at his tasteful tinge as his eyes flash darkly at you, “That’s it, pretty. Drink every last drop. We wouldn’t want you to thirst for me again while you watch me fight the other alphas for you, now would we?”

 He pulls his digit from you with a ‘pop’ as you lick your lips as you breathe, “No, alpha. That would be a travesty, truly.”

 Your alpha chuckles at that as he gathers you from the floor and when your scent wafts wantonly under his nostrils, he smirks wolfishly, “My, my, my… you really can’t get enough of me, can you?”

 It takes you a second to realize, but when he settles you on his lap once more and your thighs skim each other in the movement, your eyes widen as you draw in a short, small breath.

 Your alpha only arches a sculpted brow, amusement coloring his tone as he teases, “What? Surprised that you got off by humping my leg like the animal that you are while you sucked my cock, pretty?”

 So focused on delivering your alpha over to his end, you’d hardly paid attention to the way your legs had clamped around one of his own as you rutted against him with fervor. You really couldn’t help it with the sight of sin that had commanded your capture under it.

 You whine, your irises dipping low as you trace circles along his bare chest as embarrassment tints your cheeks red, “Jungkook, I didn’t mean to. You just… you did this. It’s your fault.”

 Your alpha laughs at that, one hand settling along your jaw to coax your visage back up at him while your wolf hounds at you to obey as he rumbles, “I shall gladly take the blame then, beautiful. You know, the fact that you came from giving to me the best head that I’ve ever had,” the fingers of his other palm snake under the folds of your dress to drag through the deposit of wetness that now drapes your legs as he brings the digits to his mouth, his tongue darting out to lick his finger clean of you as he groans at the flavor of you while his irises dilate, “That’s hot as fuck.”

 Your blush is as red as a ruby as you whimper at that and your alpha grins as his stray hand lands on your hip to trail up and down your back in soothing circular motions to reassure you. His mouth opens to say something else, but before he can, there’s a loud series of knocks against the wooden door interrupts the two of you amidst your illicit indecencies.

 “This is the last call for all alphas that might remain here. The Offering is about to begin,” says the muffled voice of an elder that likely had been sent to collect any lingering wolves that were still in the den.

 You whine loudly as your arms intertwine around your alpha’s neck, your baser being demanding you keep close to your alpha as he softens, the fingers on your cheek splaying out so that his digits caress you as utters, “Come, pretty. I must ready myself for what is to come and I require my mate’s aid to assist me in dressing, for you’ve temporarily robbed me of my faculties after what you’ve just done to me.”

 Your wolf preens at that as your hand lifts as you lay your palm over his own while you implore, “Must we go so soon? I do not wish to leave your side.”

 Your alpha stands and he’s careful to lift you up and off of him even while your arms tighten around his neck as he rumbles, “After this is all over, you will be free to be with me whenever, wherever and however you desire, my mate. You know the rules,” he moves back and you follow him in your embrace until his thighs hit the back of the vanity where his clothes sit on the abandoned chair, “I must duel anyone that tries to contest me for you, sweetling. It simply is the way of things and I will not hesitate to engage in battle with any wolf that attempts to take what is rightfully mine. You are everything to me and I will make certain that everyone knows it. Do you understand, pretty?”

  You nod as you nuzzle the sensitive gland along his neck as a purr trembles from your throat while you scent him, “I understand, Jungkook. I only fear the bloody destruction you’ll leave in your wake for any fools that think they can tear you away from me.”

 “That shall be their mistake, pretty,” he sighs in satisfaction as he tilts his head back to grant access as you paint him with the stroke of your lips over the tender skin along his clavicle, “I will not lose you.”

 Tenet blazes in his eyes and conviction radiates his words that emit with the sun’s might their fierceness as they fall over you to set your own affection alight within you as you lace your lips along his jaw in a stripe of kisses that you thread there as you manage between them, “There is not a shred of doubt in my mind that you will be the champion amongst them all. However it may be, you have already won me, alpha.”

 With that, you embellish him with the cloth he will wear in his battles for you. You help him delicately pull the garment over his head that shades him in the color of soot. It is akin to a sheet of thin charcoal that dyes him in its film of darkness that, like his earlier shirt, is grainy and dusts him lightly in its hue, his sun soaked skin shining brilliantly from beneath it. 

Your mouth waters at the sight of it as you tuck it into cotton trousers that are black as night and your alpha smirks when the smell of your arousal drips down to collect itself amidst the pool of your taint yet again as he watches with interest the way that you chew at your lip while you tug the white blazer across bulging arms that catch at the heavier material as you drag it over him.

 He makes certain to playfully provoke you by wrapping an arm around your waist only to schlep you forward, your hands planting themselves against his broad, strong chest as he asks, “Are you ready to watch me show everyone that I and I alone am the only wolf that is deserving of you as his mate?”

 You nudge at the edge of his collarbone to catchily collect as much of his riveting redolence as you can before you sow another row of kisses along his skin only to pull away and admit, “Always.”

[hermannsthumb]

possible prompt for a university au: newt is the biology major who maintains all the fish tanks in the physics building at 11pm and hermann is the physics student who likes to wander the halls to think. newt accidentally flings water all over the ground and hermann trips, hijinks ensue.

earlier today I was thinking about how I wrote a college AU fic almost 3 years ago to the date, and how I wanted to do more bc its fun thinking about newt and hermann as dumb college students

----

Newt's not really sure how he ended up with the weirdest work-study job on the planet, but honestly, things could be much, much worse (he could be stuck down in the dining hall, or dealing with confused freshmen in the school bookstore) so he keeps his thoughts on the whole thing to himself. Every Friday at eleven sharp, Newt pulls on his grodiest t-shirt and a pair of long rubber gloves and treks all the way over to the physics department to set to work scrubbing down the fish tanks that line the classroom walls. Why does the physics department have fish tanks? Newt's not really sure about that, either. It's kind of an insane amount of them, too, more than even the marine bio department has. Maybe it's supposed to boost morale or something. Hey, look at these crazy cool tropical fish who get to do nothing but eat and swim in circles, sorry you're stuck inside calculating velocity and shit.

Whatever, Newt's not complaining about that either. Let the physics nerds have their fun. It'll be good for them to branch out a little, realize there's life beyond robotics club meetings.

Also, Newt likes the fish. They're cute. He likes to think they like him, too, because they're very well behaved when he has to scoop them out of their tanks and plop them into smaller fish bowls (the kind goldfish in movies always use). He's going to teach them tricks eventually—he had a beta fish once who would do a little flip when Newt tapped the glass a certain way because he knew he'd get rewarded with dried worms, so Newt knows it's possible. Just imagine, a hundred fish doing flips on command. Newt Geiszler, fish whisperer.

Yeah, maybe the job could be more glamorous. It's really hard to get algae out of the gloves, and he hasn't been allotted the budget for a new pair yet.

"Hey, guys!" he shouts as he pushes in the door to room 214. The fish don't acknowledge him: they just continue swimming in their giant tank. In and out of plastic plants and rock caves. The rock caves were a gift from Newt three months into the job, and so were some of the moss balls—stimulation is important for fish! He wouldn't want to be trapped in a glass box with nothing to do, either. "I bet you missed me. Ready for a clean tank?"

Newt always talks to the fish, even if they don't talk back, because he thinks it's important to build their trust. He'll usually keep a running commentary of his week as he scrubs the tanks, just get everything off his chest that he needs to get off. Stuff he's worried about. Stuff that went well. Stuff that went badly. Therapy's expensive, and Newt's student health insurance can only cover so much, but talking to fish? That's free.

That's also kinda why he does it so late at night and over the weekend. The last thing he wants is an audience. Because, one, talking to fish is admittedly weird, and two, no one wants a glimpse at Newt's psyche like that, probably not even the fish.

The first step in cleaning the tanks is relocation. Newt digs his stereotypical goldfish bowls and an industrial-size mesh wand out of the supply closet, fills the former with some of the special tank salt water, and begins the slow and arduous task of scooping out the fish and depositing them into the bowls. "I had the lamest week," he announces once he's about three clownfish in. "I was working on a group project Saturday—"

Then Newt stops, because he hears footsteps in the hallway just outside the classroom.

Serial killer, Newt's instincts supply helpfully.

No, Newt corrects himself, that's dumb. Why would a serial killer wander into the physics building at eleven o'clock at night? Why would anyone, period? He's probably imagining stuff. Lack of sleep, stress over his upcoming projects, residual embarrassment from his disaster study session Saturday, all of it culminating in Newt thinking there's someone there. No, definitely imagining it. Newt can only even get in this late to the department because his ID swipe card is set up with the right permissions—not even the physics students have the permissions he does to be in this late at night. Well, not unless they clean the kitchenette in the student lounge or something.

Or if Newt left the door unlocked.

More footsteps. Closer now.

Newt's pretty sure he didn't leave the door unlocked, because he thinks it locks automatically behind him, and he would have to literally prop it open for anyone to get in after him. But anything's possible. The door could've caught on a dropped pencil or a paper scrap or other weird shit that physics students leave around, and a serial killer could've noticed and taken the opportunity to sneak inside on the off chance a hapless young biology major was scrubbing slime off fish tanks in the middle of the night. Any minute now, Newt's about to end up on an episode of Unsolved Mysteries. The Physics Department Murder. The Disappearing Biologist. (Nah, neither of those are very good titles, but that's why Newt isn't on the creative writing track.)

Step-tap-step. Closer now; Newt's heart leaps to his throat. Step-tap-step. Step-tap-step. Pausing just outside the door of room 214. God, why didn't Newt turn the lights off? Why didn't he shut the door?

Newt reaches for the first vaguely weapon-shaped thing he can find—an empty fishbowl, because Newt's not going to sacrifice any of the fish for this—and, as the door swings open, hurls it with a cry.

The bowl clunks on the ground. Except it turns out Newt grabbed the wrong fish bowl, because (even though it doesn't shatter, thank God) water quickly begins to seep across the slate floor tiles towards Newt's serial killer, a pathetic little clownfish (Newt thinks this one is named Albert, because the physics department is made up of nerds who do shit like name their random pet fish after their kind) flopping around in the puddle. Newt's serial killer, meanwhile, cries out similarly, his arms windmilling as he loses his footing and slips backwards, his cane—

Oh, fuck.

The intruder is not a serial killer. It's someone possibly worse, actually: Newt's mortal enemy, Hermann Gottlieb.

Newt's not really sure at what point Hermann became his mortal enemy and not just some guy I have class with that I hate, but he can pretty easily say that they've hated each other since the moment Hermann walked through the doors of Engineering 101 and was deigned Newt's lab partner by the Alphabetized By Last Name Seating Chart god. Something about Hermann just gets under Newt's skin. It's not his prissy English accent, or his oversized sweaters, or his absolutely horrendous haircut, and it's not even that he takes every opportunity to savagely rip apart every single thing Newt says in class. Don't get Newt wrong, that's all super fucking annoying, but it's annoying levels he can deal with.

It's the stuff they have in common that makes Newt hate him. It's like Hermann's a slightly broodier and more angular mirror that reflects all of Newt's most egregious faults—his arrogance, his stubbornness, his social awkwardness, his desperation to be taken seriously—right back at him. It sucks.

Plus, one time Newt caught Hermann ripping down the flyer he put up on the quad for Anime Club to advertise his stupid chess club instead, and he's never managed to forgive him for that.

Newt may hate Hermann, but he's not about to let him land on his ass in a puddle of fishy water (especially not on a freezing November night) just because the subsequent bitching would be unbearable, and, yeah, it would be supremely shitty of Newt, so he leaps forward just in time to catch Hermann and his cane before he hits the ground. He's so impressed with himself with his amazing catch that it takes him a few seconds to realize that Hermann is shouting and probably has been shouting since he slipped.

"—bloody maniac! What on earth are you doing in here? How are you in here? Did you just assault me? I'm going to phone campus police, you wretched—"

"Hold that thought," Newt says.

He rights Hermann and snags the mesh net and rescues poor Al before it's too late, dropping him back into the big tank with the rest of his friends. Newt can't be sure, but he thinks Al blows a bubble in thanks at him. Maybe he needs to make friends outside fish.

Hermann is still yelling at him.

"I am going to tell the head of the department you're—you're skulking about in here after hours!" he declares. "You're a menace. Pay attention to what I'm saying to you, Newton!"

Newt sighs and turns around. Hermann's turned an interesting shade of red—sort of like an over-boiled lobster, or if he fell asleep in the sun for too long. Newt wonders if it's from embarrassment (almost falling on his ass) or anger (almost being knocked on his ass). Probably anger. "Look, dude, I'm sorry," Newt says. His face twists like he ate a lemon, and he hopes Hermann doesn't notice. Newt hates apologizing to Hermann. "It's my job to clean the tanks every weekend. You scared the shit out of me and I freaked out—it's just that, like, no one ever comes by this late. Ever." He decides not to mention the serial killer thing. Hermann might make fun of him for being jumpy or paranoid or something.

Hermann's scowl doesn't lessen, but he does nod. Plus, he stops shouting. That's as much as Newt's gonna get of forgiveness. "Hmph," Hermann says. "You clean the tanks?"

"Every weekend," Newt repeats. He realizes he got some fish tank slime on Hermann's button-up when he caught him. Oops. Hopefully Hermann won't notice until Newt's in the safety of his dorm. "Gotta pay for my textbooks somehow." Then he frowns. "Wait, so what are you doing here? I didn't know you had access to the building this late."

Maybe Hermann is the kitchenette-cleaning guy after all. But, to his surprise, Hermann sniffs and casts his eyes to his dorky Oxford shoes. "Er," he says. "It's just—I was having trouble working out a solution to a problem, and thought a walk might do me good. Chilly nights like this one always do. And I quite like this building at night—it's calm, and much quieter than my dormitory." He fidgets. "And—well—only don't say anything to anyone, but I rewrote the permissions of my ID card so I could come and go wherever I please ages ago."

"You rewrote the permissions?" Newt says. "What the hell, wouldn't you have to hack into the security system or something to do that?"

"Well, obviously," Hermann says.

Despite himself, and despite Hermann being his Mortal Enemy, Newt is genuinely impressed. "Dude," he says. "That is so badass." Since when has Hermann been a badass?

Hermann's eyebrows jump, and he blinks at Newt behind his dorky librarian glasses. What twenty-one-year-old wears librarian glasses? With a chain? "You think so?" he says.

"Uh, totally," Newt says. "What problem were you stuck on? The one from Saturday?"

Being lab partners for engineering means Newt and Hermann have to collaborate on pretty much everything, including their midterms. Their midterm is what they've been working on for the past two weeks. On Saturday, though, they met in neutral ground to work on it (a reserved study room in the library), and, after a stupid and massive argument that had the librarians hoisting them out by their shirt collars and threatening to ban them for life, Hermann called Newt an idiot and stomped off into the night. Newt still hasn't gotten around to giving the problem another shot. Whatever, they have another week before the dumb thing is due. Plenty of time. Hermann nods. "Yes," he says. "Er—that one."

Newt glances at the clock ticking away on the wall. Quarter after eleven. Hermann's delayed him a whole fifteen minutes. Technically, he reminds himself, he doesn't actually have to have the tanks scrubbed by Friday night—he has the whole weekend to get it done. Also, he kind of feels like he owes Hermann for attacking him the way he did. Accidentally attacking. "Listen, Hermann," he says, feeling totally insane for what he's about to suggest. But he kind of wants to know more about Hermann The Badass. "What if we went back to my place and worked on it together? I'll buy us pizza, and I have, like, a bunch of energy drinks." The pizza place nearest campus is open until three in the morning, almost definitely because they get all of their business from sleep-deprived undergrads. Plus, they have midnight specials where you get free breadsticks with every pizza. Newt could go for some breadsticks. "It might be...fun," he adds.

Fun? With Hermann? Hermann will think he hit his head or something.

But to his surprise, Hermann doesn't hesitate even a second before saying "Alright, then."

"Oh," Newt says. He honestly thought Hermann would put up more of a struggle. "Cool!"

"But I might need to borrow a jumper," Hermann says. "If you'd be so...courteous, that is. I'm a bit chilly."

For some reason, the thought of Hermann (Newt's mortal enemy, but also a secret badass) curled up in one of Newt's baggy sweatshirts makes Newt feel all weird and warm all over. He swallows a few times, because his throat feels a little weird, too. Too tight. Like he just ate something he's allergic to. "No sweat," Newt says. "Let me just get these fish back in the, um, the tank. And—" He waves his slimy, gloved hands. "Take these off. And clean up that puddle. Gimme—um, gimme like, ten minutes?"

"Of course," Hermann says, and gives Newt a small, terse nod.

From Hermann, it's a smile. Newt almost slips on the puddle he's so blindsided by it. Stupid Hermann, making him feel all weird and clumsy.

[ddarker-dreams]

A concept from a dream I had: Hisoka wants Chrollo's darling for himself and tries to steal her from him. Darling gets injured in the ensuing fight and has to get patched up afterwards by Machi. Then, a bit of fluff, darling seeks out Chrollo and hugs him for comfort because the whole thing has her a bit shaken. (Love your writing btw, it's super well written and captivating!)

Tunnel Vision. Yan Chrollo x Reader

Warnings: Implied amnesia.  Word count: 2.2k. Note: thank you very much!! i made some minor changes, where darling is a member of the phantom troupe, and not yet aware of chrollo’s obsession. i hope you enjoy! i’ve had a lot of ideas for this specific darling with nen abilities and this idea seemed to fit her very well...

Sharp, pointed nails digging into your skin. The sickeningly sweet fragrance of bubblegum blended with metallic blood. Black dots obscuring your vision, the world growing further away with each miserable second. Through labored breathing, a tense dialogue is exchanged between both parties, the ringing from your ears making it impossible to know for sure what they’re saying. Falling in and out of consciousness, you pick up on a few phrases. 

“Just admit it, you’re no worse than I am. Look what you did to the poor girl. ♥” 

“Maybe so, but that’s inconsequential. Your judgment means nothing.” 

...

“Ah… what… a shame, that I didn’t... get to play with her as much as you did--” 

“Hmm… to think your voice has never bothered me this much until now. This should silence you permanently.”

“--So you shouldn’t move around much until it fully heals,” Machi instructs, her voice clear and direct. At your lack of immediate response, she frowns, snapping her fingers to pull you from your trance-like state. “Oi, [First]. Are you even listening?” 

You blink, her voice cutting through your clouded mind like a knife. “My bad, I wasn’t paying attention.” 

Machi sighs and places a hand on her hip. Sapphire eyes glance over your person, not even bothering to hide her intentions, stopping every time she reaches your healed wounds. Even though your inebriated state, you can tell she’s deep in thought. You doubt she’d tell you what’s on her mind if you asked. So you sit there in silence, politely waiting for her to repeat what you missed. 

“I could tell. Just take it easy, you’re going to need a few days of rest.” Machi walks to her bag, rustling through its contents. She picks up a bottle of pills and places it on your nightstand. The same medicine that she had given you before treatment, to dull the pain. You fight back the urge to smile at the small gesture. Had you been any other customer of Machi’s, she would’ve left by now without a word, indifferent to your condition. Despite your best efforts, she catches onto your softened expression and clicks her tongue.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she deadpans, shooting you a glare. You give an apologetic smile. “Take one a day until it’s gone.”

“Thank you, Machi. I appreciate it.” 

“As you should,” Machi throws her bag over her shoulder and goes to the door. Before she can turn the nob, she turns back at you. “I forgot to mention, but you have a visitor. The boss has been waiting here since he brought you in.” 

An unknown emotion stirs in the depths of your soul. Any playful retaliation you had for Machi’s previous comment dies on your tongue, your eyebrows furrowing. Why do you feel troubled by this revelation? You fight back the anxiety that bubbles up in your stomach. There’s no time to linger on this newfound unease, as Chrollo enters the room after exchanging pleasantries with Machi. Despite your efforts to suppress your discomfort, your body does as it pleases, heart palpitating and throat feeling tight.

He shuts the door behind him quietly and leans against the wall.

Chrollo Lucilfer. You consider your relationship to be a strictly professional one -- maybe a touch of reverence on your behalf -- never feeling as friendly with him as with the other members. He stands before you now in casual attire. Jet black hair frames his face, loose and fine, proudly showcasing the unusual tattoo on his forehead. It’s strange to see him without his trademark leather coat. Instead, he wears jeans and a navy blue undershirt. Immediately, you pick up on the bloodstains on his shirt, assuming he had shed his coat before coming in.

He smiles at your staring, not commenting as you glance away. “How are you feeling?” 

“The medicine hasn’t worn off, so not too bad,” you struggle to exhale, your breathing ragged. Why does it feel so warm in here all of a sudden? “Machi told me you, uh, carried me here. Thank you. I’m sorry about your shirt… I’ll buy you a replacement.” 

Chrollo puts a hand up to stop you. “There’s no need.” 

Being one on one with your mysterious boss is as awkward as you imagined it would be. You still don’t know why he’s here. In between jobs, Chrollo would disappear into thin air, untraceable until calling the Troupe back together. So him being the one to find you on the verge of death hasn’t made sense. Machi gave noncommittal answers whenever you brought this up or told you to ask him yourself. Which you intended to at the time, but now that you’re in his intimidating presence, the words die on your tongue before they can begin. 

He pushes himself off the wall and sits on the edge of your bed. The proximity feels strangely intimate, your face flushing at how familiar the act seems to him. Chrollo’s close enough now where you can pick up on his rich cologne. Dry wood with hints of leather. The scent increases your heart rate, anxiety at a new peak. You bite your lip and ball your hands into a fist to try and cope with the all-encompassing unease. To appear weak in front of him would be an insult to your tattered pride. 

“Machi informed me about your memory,” Chrollo leans forward as if to inspect you. Grey eyes bore deep into your soul, searching for something. “She said you thought it was July when you regained consciousness.” 

You swallow thickly at his questioning. How humiliating is this? Whatever it was that had happened to injure you already felt degrading enough. your pride as a competent Nen user in shambles. The most plausible explanation is that Chrollo discovered you after you had lost a fight, but the remaining details are fuzzy at best. Theorizing is all you can do. The unexplained amnesia is frustrating, but it’s only a few months, so you figure it could’ve been worse. 

“That’s correct.”

Chrollo closes his eyes, as if in deep reflection. “So that’s how it is. I’m sorry to disturb you while you’re trying to recover, but can I ask a few questions?” 

“Ah, of course. I’m sorry if I’m forgetting something important…” 

This catches his attention, his posture tensing ever so slightly. You notice how his jaw tightens and assume your guess was correct. Your desire for answers on these missing four months strengthens and you feel hopeful that Chrollo holds some of the answers. It’s frustrating how both Machi and Chrollo seem to know more than you do but are refusing to give solid answers. Maybe they’re being considerate of your health? You’re not so fragile that you need to be coddled by your fellow Troupe members. 

Chrollo looks down at you through thick eyelashes. “Do you think that you are?” 

“I… I think so, yes.” 

He sits silently for a moment, running a hand through his hair and giving a bittersweet smile. “We’re in a relationship.” 

Wait, what? This would explain why Chrollo was with you at a time when the Troupe wasn’t gathered and his casual demeanor. Your expression must not be as schooled as you intended, as he gives a humorless chuckle to your wide eyes and parted lips.  You… were in a relationship with The Phantom Troupe’s boss? Your boss? When did that happen? How did that happen? Did the others know? Ah, the teasing that would come with that. It’s not that you don’t find him attractive, your eyes work just fine, but the revelation still takes you back. Cheeks burning, you break eye contact and play with your hair. Feeling overwhelmingly self-conscious, you pull your blanket up further to cover your bare shoulders. 

“There’s no need to be so embarrassed, [First],” Chrollo chastises with a playful tilt of his head. “I’ve seen all of it many times before.” 

He’s not making this easier on you. You’re desperate to move on from the subject and decide to bring up another troublesome topic. Though you have an idea of what the answer will be, you’d still prefer that he’d confirm it for peace of mind. 

“I was wondering, boss--” you cut yourself off with an apologetic smile when he furrows his eyebrows, “--I mean, Chrollo, about my Hatsu. I can tell I don’t have it now. Are you ‘borrowing’ it?” 

There’s no other plausible explanation. In what other scenarios would you lose a fight that horrendously? You can’t picture anything else, your abilities have been enough to earn you Chrollo’s recognition and subsequent invitation to the Troupe years ago. It’s not uncommon that your boss will ask to borrow other Troupe member’s abilities. Sometime during the months that you’ve forgotten, this must’ve happened, or so you assume. 

Chrollo nods his head. “I am, yes. Why do you ask? Would you like it back?” 

“It does feel like a part of me is missing,” you admit sheepishly, scratching your cheek. “So, if it isn’t too much trouble…” 

“I had to delay the job I borrowed it for due to what happened to you. Is it alright if I hold onto it for just a bit longer?” He’s moving even closer to you now than before. The bed shifts underneath his weight, Chrollo delicately taking your face into his hands. Your mind has trouble scrounging together a comprehensible response. How can you focus when the pads of his thumbs rub soothing circles against your cheek, his deep eyes hypnotizing. You swallow thickly when his pointer finger drags slowly against your bottom lip. Chrollo told you that you’re together, you remind yourself, assuming he has just missed touching you. It’s impossible to not notice the hungry gleam in his eyes.

“Oh, well, in that case, it’s fine.” You only manage to relax when he pulls away from you, content with your response. This has been a draining series of events. Chrollo’s one-sided familiarity isn’t easy to keep up with, you still view him as your boss and he views you as a lover. Sensing your apprehension, he takes your hand in his and places it over your pounding heart. 

“Do you feel this?” He hums, to which you nod, speechless at the bold action. “Even if you don’t remember your love for me, your body hasn’t forgotten a thing from our time together.” 

Is that what this feeling is? Love? You want to trust him, to take his word for it, but something still doesn’t feel right. Chrollo’s presence has kept you on edge ever since he entered your room. Even now, your skin is covered in goosebumps, hair standing on the back of your neck. What else are you forgetting? This is the question that reverberates in your mind, threatening to consume you entirely. Softly, as not to offend him, you take his hand off you. Chrollo’s expression is unreadable as you do so.

“I’m sorry, Chrollo, I’m just not sure I’m ready for... this yet.” You admit in truth, guilt washing over you at how his flirtatious demeanor changes to a calculating one. This is the version of Chrollo that you’re most familiar with. Your mysterious boss, who coldly issues orders and relishes in thrill of thievery, someone not as personal as he’s been acting like. Chrollo moves back and you’re grateful for the room to gather your bearings.

“Of course,” his aloof tone sends shivers down your spine, a distant gleam in his eyes. “I hope you don’t mind, but I have every intention of watching over you until you recover. It wouldn’t sit well with me otherwise.” 

Chrollo motions to your closet door, which is slightly ajar. Inside you recognize some of his clothes that are hanging next to yours. “And I do live here, but I’ll sleep on the couch for tonight. How does that sound?” 

So the two of you were so close that you had invited him to move in? How fast was this relationship going, anyway? It doesn’t feel like you to get that intimate with someone else in such a short time. The way Chrollo phrased it makes it sound like you used to sleep in the same bed too, how embarrassing… God, his comments are going to be the end of you. You need time to think. To let all this information that’s been thrust onto you sink in. 

“If it’s not too much for an inconvenience. I feel awful… about forgetting as much as I have. Machi said she didn’t see any notable head injuries, so I can only assume it was a Nen ability.” 

“That could be it,” Chrollo responds more flippantly than you expected, standing from your bed. You thought he’d be eager to explore the avenues of returning your memory. Maybe it’s too painful to think about? “You haven’t eaten since this morning, so I’ll get us some dinner. Keep resting up.” 

“Thank you. I’m sorry for all this trouble.” 

Chrollo waves away your apology without concern. He does, however, acknowledge you before leaving your shared bedroom. There’s a smile on his face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You hope you’re imagining it. 

“By the way, [First]... I want you to know this. I’ll have you fall in love with me again. That’s a promise.” 

Then he’s gone without another word.

[juletheghoul]

Hey sweetie, hope you're doing well. Better than me I hope, in this Texas heat!!!😥🤤 When your muse permits, may I please have some more Dave York? I am a shameless slut for that suburban murder Dilf!!!

Hello lovely!

Okay - so I've written more for the soft!Dave fic I gave a preview for in this post and here and this picks up where that left off.

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader (soft!dave)

Smut under the cut (18+ NO MINORS semi-public touching, p in v sex, oral-female receiving) (word count 2.6k)

All in all it had gone better than he thought. He enjoyed your company - he found you attractive and you liked him. That was all he needed. The fact that you made him laugh had been a bonus. You were his new mission and it wouldn’t have mattered what you were like in all honesty but this was good. This he could work with.

He hadn’t meant to kiss you like that, he planned to take it a little slower, just a little peck to show you he was interested. He definitely didn’t expect you to open up for him like that, and he definitely didn’t expect to enjoy it so much. Another bonus.

He didn’t want to scare you away by reaching out too quickly, figuring a couple of days should be time enough. He wanted to make sure this worked out. He expected the same game of cat and mouse men and women have been playing with each other forever. He had waited to message you - which meant he would probably hear from you in a few hours.

-Hi - It’s Dave from the other night, wondering if you wanted to grab dinner on Friday?

He was doing some reconnaissance for an upcoming job and he wanted to read through his reports; he wasn’t expecting you to respond so quickly. Frankly, it was refreshing.

-Hey! Yes I’d love to, really happy to hear from you =)

He smiled despite himself, he didn’t expect you to be so open and honest.

-I’m glad to hear, I had a great time

He could see you typing your response before he put his phone down so he waited.

-Me too, thought maybe I’d scared you away - usually don’t make out on the first date

-Me either - glad we did though, you definitely did not scare me away. Just at work right now. Maybe we could talk more later?

-Sure! Hope you have a great day =)

-You too!

----

He kept up the communication with you when he got home, answering your messages as he cooked himself a small dinner. He asked you all the questions people usually ask when getting to know someone, he flirted the best he could. He was doing everything in his power to make sure you were interested, without being vulgar. He briefly considered whether this was manipulation, presenting himself in a way he knew you’d respond to in order to secure a relationship. In a sense everyone did this, the difference was they liked the people they were chasing.

He didn't not like you, he just didn’t really like anyone. It all came from his training and subsequently, his job. He learned long ago to not hold onto anyone too close, it hurt more when you lost them.

This was good though, he was content.

----

You couldn’t lie to yourself about how excited you were when Friday came around. He was consistent which was really important to you, he kept up with the messages and asked you actual questions and he seemed interested. It had been so long since you’d dated someone, since you felt excited about someone and seeing his messages gave you butterflies.

You had to stop yourself from running to the door when he knocked; you did your absolute best to reign in your heartbeat as you opened the door.

“Hi - hope I’m not too early.” He smiled - giving you a not so subtle onceover which made you momentarily self-conscious of your outfit choice; he must have taken notice of your expression.

“You look beautiful, are you ready to go?”

“Thank you - you look really handsome - Yes I’m ready.” You smiled as you grabbed your purse and locked your door.

You didn’t think this date could have gone better than the first but it did. He was charming, he was sweet and most importantly he made you laugh. His sense of humour was a lot like yours, dry and witty although you knew you could be a bit goofier than him. You didn’t want to get your hopes up too high but you really liked his company and although it was still early, you could see this getting more serious.

When he walked you to your front door you didn’t play coy.

“I hope you don’t think less of me, but I really want you to kiss me.” You moved closer - peering up at him through your lashes, hoping that you looked sexy.

“I hope you don’t think less of me, but I’ve been wanting to kiss you all night.” He was smirking at you and you felt yourself flush. His hand almost engulfed your face as he pulled you in closer.

The kiss was searing; his tongue licked the seam of your mouth - asking for permission which you gladly gave. He deepened it further, pressing you up against your front door- his hands moving from your face to your waist. He slanted his mouth to get deeper, to make you ache. Your hands found themselves in his hair, holding him closely while you pressed your body as close to him as you could. It went on longer than it had any right to.

When he pulled away you were both panting.

“I had a really great time, goodnight.” He kissed you softer then and waited for you to make your way inside. Any longer and you would have pulled him into the house with you by his belt. You were happy he made the decision for you.

----

You had a few more dates and they were going better than you had imagined. He had come over for dinner one night, which ended in a very heavy makeout session on your couch before he went home. He was being really respectful which you appreciated, you really liked him and in the back of your mind you were nervous that he’d lose interest as soon as you gave it up. It was frustrating, because you were reaching your limit.

----

You walked through the parking lot with him hand in hand, on your way into the theatre. He had let you pick the movie - horror of course - and you were excited to cuddle up with him. You had a plan tonight and it sent a hot spike of arousal through your belly.

He didn’t let you pay for anything usually but you insisted he at least let you pay for the snacks, it didn’t seem like he would let you but you gave him a pout and he relented. Smiling good naturedly and grumbling about not making that pout a habit.

You lifted the seat divider as soon as you picked out your seats, making your intentions of getting close quite clear. He seemed to have the same idea; bringing his arm around you and firmly tucking you into his side.

He smells so good you thought to yourself as you leaned into the crook of his neck, barely paying attention to the trailers. His palm rubbed at your arm through the soft material of your sundress as the movie started, the both of you getting lost in it briefly. When it got too gruesome or scary you tucked your face into his neck, bringing your hands up to block out the screen.

You felt him chuckle then, his low velvety voice whispering in your ear.

“We can leave if you don’t want to watch this.” He said it without judgement, caring only for your comfort even though this could have been an excuse for him to have you close. It hardened your resolve.

“No, I want to stay, but I think I'd like it better if you distracted me.” You gave him a mischievous smile, hoping he’d take the hint. Thankfully - he did.

He tipped your chin up and kissed you softly at first, but deeper as time went on. This was going to work, you could feel his desire for you in it. You were afraid he’d be scandalized at what you wanted him to do but you couldn’t wait anymore. You tentatively reached for the arm around your shoulder and brought down to grab your breast. He pulled away suddenly and it made you nervous - maybe he wasn’t into this.

“Here?” He wasn’t scandalized, he was wearing a smirk - seemingly enjoying the thought of it, feeling you up in the movie theatre like a teenager.

“Do you want to? It’s okay if you don’t.” he could see your self-doubt written across your face.

“Only if you promise to be quiet for me.” He whispered it into your ear and you almost let out a moan. He kissed you again and this time you felt his hand dip into the breezy neckline of your dress, surprising you even further by reaching into your bra. He held you close, moving his kisses to your jaw, your pulse point - rolling your nipple between his fingers by the time he reached your ear.

You were breathing a little heavy as he pulled at it slightly, anyone could have looked over and seen the two of you but it didn’t matter - not when it felt so good.

“Is this what you wanted? Does it feel good, baby?” He spoke in a low voice as he bit your ear and you could feel the arousal leaking out of you. He pinched at the other through the fabric as he kissed you again and it was too much, you grabbed at his thigh, breathing out a god yes as he continued his ministrations.

“I wish I could lick them right now, bite them a little bit, would you let me?” He was pulling at the collar of your dress slightly, enough for him to see into your dress a little.

“Right now? What if someone sees?” You were asking even though the thought of his mouth on your tits in the middle of a movie theatre almost made you cum in itself.

“I would be really careful, just a little lick.” He kissed your neck as he spoke and you realized then that you would have let him do whatever he wanted.

“Okay - fast though.” You laughed conspiratorially - you felt reckless and wild, and excited to have him touch you this way. He pulled you close to him, turning in his seat slightly and quickly pulled your dress down along with the cup of your bra. Seeing your breast out while there were -admittedly- very few people in the movie theatre caused your heart to race. He kept his word though, quickly lowering his head to lick your nipple, sucking it into his mouth. The swirl of his tongue around it had you biting your lip to keep your mouth shut. He couldn’t just have one though, pulling down the other cup to lavish the other one with the same attention and then quickly adjusting it so you were decent again.

You didn’t think you could make it through this movie with how your body was responding to him. Your panties were sticking to your body, your slick running freely and his words only served to amp up the arousal.

“Look what you did to me.” He brought your hand to the sizeable bulge in his jeans. You gasped slightly at the size, and suddenly you didn’t want to be in the theatre any more.

“Take me home David, now.” Your tone was iron and he didn’t argue; hastily pulling you up out of your seat in his haste to obey. The grip he had on your waist as he walked through the theatre and through the parking lot made you laugh with nervous excitement. You saw that he had an intensity about him that had you clenching painfully around nothing.

When you arrived at your place you practically ran inside; you had barely managed to close your door when he picked you up. Your arms and legs wrapped around him tightly as he held onto your ass. He walked you towards your room, pausing briefly to push you up against the wall in the hallway, halfway up the stairs, your bedroom door. Finally dropping you onto your bed.

He fell onto you and ground his hips against the soft fabric at your core. He was so thick, the pressure of him grinding into you was just right and you pulled at his shirt - wanting to feel his skin against you and when he took over you sat up to pull your dress off. He had your bra off faster than you thought possible.

“So pretty.” He dove in, sucking and biting at your nipples - drawing out whimpers and moans as you held his head close to your chest. You could see his saliva glistening on the soft skin of your tits when he alternated from one to the other and you couldn’t hold off any more.

“Please fuck me.” You pulled his face up from your chest to breathe the words into his mouth, the coil in your belly was already wound tight and he hadn’t even gone near your pussy yet.

“I didn’t bring a condom.” He looked a bit sheepish now, hoping against hope you’d have one.

“I’m on the pill, and I’m clean - but we can do other things if you aren’t comfortable.” You stroked his face softly, trying to convey that you wanted him either way. He hastily got up and took the rest of his clothes off while you shimmied out of your underwear. His cock bobbed out when he finally shed his layers, the tip of it weeping slightly - making your mouth water. He was bigger than your last sexual partner and though intimidated slightly, you were excited.

He crawled towards you as you watched him, settling his face between your thighs.

“You liked it when I licked your nipples baby? Look how wet and glossy you are.” He licked a strip from your fluttering entrance to your clit; he parted you with his tongue and focused on your clit, letting his saliva drip down to make you wetter. The steady glide of his tongue drove you into a frenzy. You barely registered your hands grabbing his hair, using him to grind yourself against his tongue. You were not going to last, you could feel yourself careening over the edge. The wave of it quickly racing up to crash over you. When he slowly slid two thick fingers into your cunt and curled them just so, the wave crested. Your body seizing up with the force of your climax.

“You taste so good baby.” He kissed your mound, the dip in your hip; he slowly made his way up the soft skin of your belly, pausing to give each nipple a quick lick before he settled between your legs. You felt the heavy weight of him sliding through your folds, the blunt tip of him nudging at your clit making you wince with overstimulation before he gradually fed himself into you.

He wrapped your legs high on his waist and rocked into you at a steady pace, you could see from his ragged breathing he was trying not to jack hammer into your wet heat, he was trying to make himself last.

The stretch of him was delicious, you felt full and his cock was hitting something that made you fall silent; made your eyes clench shut against his neck. You could tell he was getting close when he crushed you underneath him, resting almost all of his weight on top of you while he snapped his hips forward harder and harder. The sound of your joining a wet slap as he moaned in your ear - whispering about how good your pussy felt, how tight and wet it was, how he was going to cum- but not before he felt you cum first. He reached between you to rub little circles onto your clit, begging you to cum around him.

You obeyed, and he didn’t hold out much longer.

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

Tagging a few people I think might enjoy:

@foli-vora @ezrasbirdie @quica-quica-quica @beskarboobs @wheresarizona @absurdthirst

[earnestly-endlessly]

Hey! I hope I'm not bothering you, I just found your blog and I love it sm, and I saw you sometimes do cherik fic recs. Do you have any Canon divergence aus/fix it, preferably after Cuba, that are 30k or longer and have a happy ending? If not thats okay! You don't have to answer this. Have a wonderful day!

Hi anon, thank you so much. I’m happy you both like my blog and my recs. You are certainly not bothering me, and feel free to send me an ask any time. I have plenty of recommendations for you. Some of them diverge a bit from your request because I couldn’t help but recommend them as well. I will put a note on those who diverge from your request. As always, I only recommend fics I have personally read and enjoyed and I sincerely you love them too.

-Canon divergence aus/fix it, post Cuba, 30k or longer, with a happy ending cherik fic recs-

Not Half As Blinding- keire_ke

Summary: Cuban beach AU. Charles discovers that death does, in fact, solve everything.

Lay down beside me (so still and so soft) – C-Gracewood

Summary: A different take on the events of the film.

Rumor Has It – blueink3

Summary: "Did I hear the doorbell earlier?"

"Yeah, but I'd steer clear if I were you. It seemed a little tense. I don't know what's going on, but there's a kid out there who looks freakily like the prof."

Nearly six months after Cuba, Charles' life is turned upside down for the second time. Though he's slowly learning to adapt to the first, he's not sure he can handle the second. Luckily for him, there are a few people out there more than willing to help.

Forward Momentum – AsYouWish

Summary: Six months after Cuba, Charles and Erik find themselves thrown fifty years into the future, where they meet their older selves, the Avengers, and a world that's very different from their own. Faced with the pieces of their broken relationship, an unparalleled adversary, and dealing with Tony Stark on a daily basis, Charles and Erik do their best to adapt while trying to find a way back home -- and to each other.

When an Unstoppable Force Meets an Immovable Optimist – ToriTC198

Summary: "You are always trying to save me, Charles." Erik mused aloud. "Ever since you dove into the ocean and dragged me out. Did it ever occur to you that I might not be worth saving?"

A genuine smile broke out on Charles' face as he brightly answered, "No, my friend, not once. I have every confidence you are well worth saving. But, I never truly believed I could save you. You are not the sort of man who someone saves. The choice to be a better man has always been yours to make and I hold no illusions that I can make that decision for you. I simply have faith that one day you will save yourself. I only hope I am still at your side to witness it."

What if Erik and Charles had been able to find a middle ground in the end?

Take the First Option – ShowMeAHero

Summary: When Erik becomes unbalanced, Emma presents him with three options: go back to Charles for three months and learn to deal with whatever he has going have going on, lose his Brotherhood, or let Emma control his mind.

He really only has one choice.

Virtue to Which We Aspire – varlovian

Summary: Nine months after Cuba, Charles is found by Erik's Brotherhood in the smoldering ruins of an abandoned CIA base, exhausted but alive. As the only known survivor of the CIA's vendetta against mutants, recovering Charles' memory of the incident—which he admits to having forgotten—just became paramount.

But the harder they push, the closer Charles gets to breaking point. When he finally cracks, the X-Men and the Brotherhood will learn the truth, but it comes with a price...

Some doors, once opened, cannot be closed.

Some minds, once broken, will never be the same again.

The Waking of the Red King – rustingroses

Summary: When Charles' heavy injuries on the Cuban beach conspire to leave him in a coma and living in fantasy of his own making, Erik, the man who once threatened to divide the mutant cause, finds himself desperately trying to hold everything together. First of the Red King trilogy.

Wake Up and Smell the Pancakes –  Ayra Sei Ethari

Summary: In one universe, Erik left Charles. In another, he stayed. So what happens when the two Eriks get switched? "At first, Erik thinks he's dreaming. Then he realizes that this is Charles. Who is not paralyzed. And kissing him.

Rage and Serenity – MagickMaker, TheFangedGoblin

Summary: After Charles is shot on the beach, he is rushed to the hospital and paralysis is prevented. Ridden with guilt, Erik finds that he cannot leave him. He helps him heal, and eventually, Charles learns to trust him again. But when they set out to rescue Emma from the CIA and accept her onto their team, tensions rise. Will love keep Erik and Charles together despite their differences?

No Yesterdays on the Road – pocky_slash

Summary: It's been two months since Cuba and things are settling down for Charles, Erik, and the beginnings of their mutant school. Right up until Charles disappears, that is. Faced with the possibility that a bitter Emma Frost has kidnapped Charles, Erik is forced to team up with Moira to hunt down the remainder of the Hellfire Club. From there, they hope to locate Frost and retrieve Charles, without killing each other along the way.

(Or: Erik and Moira Drive Across the Country and Talk About Their Feelings.)

What Can We Do Without You? – SwoopSwoop

Summary: Charles and the boys were holding onto a secret more dear to them than their own lives when Charles disappears into the night; Erik is betrayed and finds himself returning to Westchester in the hopes that the government was just trying to trick him. All the while the boys are stuck in the middle, left guarding the secret from the man they are most afraid of finding out who is weaselling his way back into their lives alarmingly easily.

Note: Includes Mpreg, but don’t let that discourage you from reading it because it’s a really great fix-it.

Survival Instinct – Lindstorm

Summary: It’s been months since Charles pulled Erik out of the ocean, and Erik is beginning to wonder how many more times he can choose Charles, and still keep his vow to kill Shaw. Cooperating with the CIA is straining Erik’s patience. When a fact-gathering mission goes wrong and Charles is kidnapped, Erik is left trying to hold their mutant band together while Raven and the rest of them fall apart. No one can foresee how the mutant Charles meets in captivity will challenge all his assumptions about his own power, and twist Charles’ telepathy out of his control. In the race to stop Shaw's nuclear ambitions from coming to fruition, Charles makes a crucial misstep. Erik’s decision between Shaw and Charles takes on unexpected ramifications when [spoiler deleted].

Needles (Series) – Skull_Bearer

Summary: AU where everyone's born Dominant or Submissive

Once a Dominant and Submissive pair is born, they are linked to each other, no matter how far apart they are. This link doesn't actually tell the Dom or the Sub each other's thoughts, but it does allow them to know how the other's doing and serves as a reassurance that there's someone meant for them out there.

Another one of the reasons that Erik hates Shaw so badly is because Shaw managed to break Erik's link to his Sub. Now Erik doesn't even know if his Sub's alive because breaking a link like that can kill a Submissive.

Meanwhile, Charles hates himself for not yet having telepathy strong enough to contact and help his Dom, especially after feeling the pain his Dom was forced to go through. He truly believes that his Dominant is dead. Hopes it, some nights when he remembers how his Dom was forced to suffer. It's better than to think of his Dom still being forced to bear that pain.

And then Charles pulls Erik from the water

Time to Grow – zarah5

Summary: In which you'll find chess dates which aren't dates (or maybe Charles is wrong about that). -- Based on First Class, this turns (slightly) AU during the beach scene.

Note: This fic is less than 30k words but it’s such a fandom classic and just a great read if you love your fix-its.

Faults for Fixing – beren

Summary: Charles sees the events of the missile crisis and subsequent weeks when he uses Cerebro to touch the mind of a mutant with the power to see the near future. When he wakes up he is determined that he will not allow them to happen and he will not lose the people he loves.

Note: A bit less than 30k words long but another great read.

It’s like one of us woke up – kaydeefalls

Summary: "You came here for me," Charles said, meeting Shaw's gaze levelly. "So let's not waste any more time."

Canon!AU in which Charles and Erik do find Shaw in Russia.

Note: XMFC fix it, but the events in Cuba don’t happen. 

Afterlife – Anna (arctic_grey)

Summary: A year after Washington, Erik wakes up in excruciating pain as sudden awareness washes over him: Charles is dead. Erik has to adjust to yet another future: no extinction, just a world without Charles. But the death of his former friend leaves Erik weak and his powers drained. His quest for answers leads him back to Westchester, where Erik has to face his past with Charles and put together the puzzle pieces of what happened to the man he once cared for.

The Burdens We Long to Carry – arcapelago (arcanewinter)

Summary: When mutant-supporter and ally President Kennedy is assassinated and all pro-mutant progress is dismantled, Charles is no longer so confident that he's on the right side, and extends his hand to Erik after a year of animosity. They settle tentatively into their old partnership, but not everything is the same as it was--and not everything can be. When Hank develops a metal frame to move the lower half of Charles' body for him if he wants it, Erik offers the use of his mind and his ability in order to make it work. Both find out what they're willing to do for each other, and neither knows if it'll be enough to keep them together.

Other Futures Than These – midrashic

Summary: In which Cuba doesn't break them apart, but that doesn't mean that their futures are tied together. (Except that it does.)

A Days of Future Past AU where only one person can defeat the Sentinels and save the future: the man whose imprisonment and torture created them, and Charles Xavier's ex.

The Winter of Banked Fires – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles Xavier has returned from the dead -- but is lost within his own mind. Rogue has cast aside her own power and doesn't know where she fits in the world any longer. The production of synthetic Cure means mutantkind itself is newly at risk. And Magneto, turned human against his will, is in despair until the day he feels a familiar consciousness tugging at his own --

Set after X-3 (with much desperate fix-it applied), during XMFC, and every time in between.

[crazymisscarly]

OBVIOUSLY I’m gonna ask about: Bughead sexcapades !!!

Oh God, my inner puritan is *blushing* right now. I started writing this like... over a year ago and I don’t know if I’ll ever finish it. I low key got tired of re-reading all the season 2 era bughead smut fanfics on ao3 (because believe me, i’ve read them all) and decided to give it a go myself. I’m not very explicitly smutty when I write, I prefer to allude to things or just graze the surface. not to say that I don’t like including sex scenes in my works - I just tend to steer clear of anything graphic.

Since I don’t know if I’ll actually finish it, I’ll post it here in its current entirety. For context, it’s meant to go through all of bughead’s ‘sexcapades’ throughout the early series, all the unseen intimate moments between them from their kitchen makeout scene in 1x13 up until they actually do the deed in 2x12, and possibly even exploring how their relationship changed and strengthened afterwards -- I 100% would name it something else if it ever went up on ao3, but for now, bughead sexcapades is the working title hahahahaa

Who knows, maybe going through my old WIPs thanks to this game might’ve just inspired me to keep writing it aahahaha

Betty had been honest with her mother; the night of Riverdale’s 75th Jubilee, her and Jughead almost had sex when they went back to FP’s trailer. 

They didn’t talk about it beforehand, and really, both had been too distracted by the Black Hood shooting Fred Andrews to properly discuss it with each other afterwards. But somewhere between Betty removing her pink coat and Jughead lifting her up and near-slamming her against the kitchen cabinets, both of them were completely aware of what was about to happen.

But then Jughead changed schools, and there was less time to spend with each other, and the nerves set in. They started making out once or twice, and both of them could feel the urge to connect with each other in the most intimate of ways… but had always been interrupted. 

Their first post-“shirtless in the trailer kitchen” make out was in the Red and Black office; Jughead deepened their kiss and pulled Betty towards his body as he leaned back against a desk - it reminded him of the Blue and Gold, their haven of intelligence gathering (and their place to escape for a few moments alone during school hours). Their near-hookup in FP’s trailer had ignited some kind of flame in both of them; they weren’t as cautious with touching, the familiar comfortability giving both of them the confidence to explore each other’s bodies in their own nervous way - Jughead’s hands strayed from Betty’s cheeks to her neck, then to her waist, and he hoped that maybe he’d get to move his hands even lower...

But still, they’d been interrupted - then, and any other subsequent time, whether by friends or Betty’s mother calling her to come home. So much so that sex seemed like it was going to become an impossible mission that not even Tom Cruise could achieve.

When they had finally found the time to be alone, shortly after Jughead drag raced the Ghoulies and Betty admitted that she didn’t really want to break up with Jughead (in fact, that was not what she’d asked Archie to do), they’d both overthought the possibility of sex so much that neither was certain whether they were actually ready for it, or if their intensifying emotions were the result of the life-threatening happenings in their hometown. 

“We’ll know when it feels like the right time, Betts.” Jughead reassured her after she wiggled out from under him on the trailer’s bed; Jughead had claimed it after FP was imprisoned, but Betty was struggling to think of it as being anything other than Jughead’s parents bed. And something about having sex in it felt... off.

Betty sighed. “I want you, Juggie, I don’t know what’s wrong with me…” 

Less than two weeks earlier she’d practically torn her and Jughead’s shirts off in an effort to get closer to him. But today, lying on her back beneath her boyfriend, on a bed, her thighs cradling is hips as they kissed (hot, open mouthed kisses) as though her body was in control and her brain was just following its lead, sex just seemed so much more real - and the butterflies in her stomach threatened to swallow her up. Betty knew having sex would change something between them that couldn’t be reversed, and she’d only just gotten him back. She didn’t want to risk losing him by doing too much too fast. 

“Nothing! Nothing’s wrong with you.” Jughead said quickly; his eyes betrayed the mild panic he felt. “We both have to be feeling completely comfortable and ready or it’s not going to work out - and I read that on Reddit, so we can reasonably believe it’s true.” He smirked as his eyes met hers. 

Betty giggled. “Did you find a thread called ‘how to have sex’ and use the replies as research?” She brushed a stray lock of hair from Jughead’s forehead. 

Jughead’s cheeks were turning pink. He cleared his throat before speaking. “Well, that’s, ah - that wasn’t the exact title…” 

Betty smiled and reached out to take his hand. “Hey, comfortable, right?” She leaned over and kissed him. Although she still wasn’t completely sure about sex itself, kissing Jughead and feeling his arms wrap around her was a great experience in itself. 

Jughead leaned into her, his body coming dangerously close to pinning her down into the mattress. He groaned quietly as Betty kissed his neck, and Betty felt the sound all the way down her navel, and lower…

He felt Betty lightly pushing his chest, and he rolled onto his back so she could straddle him. His body felt like it was on fire. The feel of her, pressed against him, had him filled with desires he didn’t know could exist. Everywhere Jughead touched her felt hot, and her mouth on his was like a fulfilling heat that awakened every nerve inside him. He trailed his hands down to her hips and pulled her up his body slightly so she was straddling his lower abdomen instead of his lap, fearing that if he left her there then this would be over before it even really started.

Betty pulled away from his mouth, her eyes a mixture of lust and vulnerability that had Jughead’s breath coming out in laboured gasps. “Juggie?” she asked in a breathy moan. 

Oh God and yes were the only words in Jughead’s mind. “Ye-yeah?” He forced out when he could focus. 

“It’s getting kind of late…” She bit her bottom lip for a moment. Jughead’s grip on her hips tightened at the sight. “I could tell my Mom I’m staying over at Veronica’s… that’s if, you know… you don’t want me to go.” Her eyes searched Jughead’s. 

Jughead’s mind was swimming, and he would have been embarrassed that it took him so long to figure out what she meant if he could even think at all. “Um, yes, that's a great idea.” She probably could have asked him to paint himself blue and go to school dressed as a Smurf and he would have agreed, so long as she stayed right where she was. 

Betty smiled and laughed softly. The vibrations sent tingly jolts through Jughead’s body and he couldn’t contain the groan that escaped his mouth. Betty’s eyes lit up for a moment before she blushed and looked down at his chest. She ran her fingers up his chest softly, and Jughead placed his hands on her cheeks to pull her down for another kiss.

This kiss felt deeper than the others. Betty’s tongue slipped into his mouth. One of Jughead’s hands slid into Betty’s hair as the other wrapped around her back. Her chest pressed deliciously up against his. She was so warm, right now and every day. And she freely gave him her warmth, no strings attached. Betty’s love warmed his heart, his body, his mind - he gravitated towards it every day, and gave it back to her in the form of light brushes of fingers, a hand in her hand, a gentle nudging of her shoulder...  

And her smiles… wow.

Jughead’s heart was beating faster than he’d ever felt it beat as Betty started kissing and sucking on his neck. He’d never been so closely entangled with Betty before, and all he wanted was to get even closer. As close as two people could get… 

But he wasn’t going to push the point, not when they both had reasons to hesitate. 

“Can I…” Betty said nervously. “Do you want me to…” her hand slid down his chest, over his hip (his breath hitched as her fingers met the skin where his shirt had ridden up) and rested on his thigh. She squeezed his thigh just a little, and Jughead couldn’t believe how sensitive it was; how good it felt. 

[drxwsyni]

Anonymous asked: “#11 and #37 with izuku midoriya? i don't mind the reader having either pronouns”

Pairing: izuku midoriya x gn!reader

Prompt: 11. “Sweetheart…what are you doing?”

a/n: i ended up only doing the first prompt since prompt 37 was already taken, but i did go with the general idea of what it meant!

Warnings: captivity, injury

_____

You’re so close.

So goddamn close.

The exit is right in front of you. It’ll just take a few seconds to grab something heavy, and smash the glass of the back door to pieces.

But first, you would have to get rid of the ankle bracelet keeping you tethered to the house. Getting outside was no issue―it was when you stepped across that invisible line that would inevitably have you convulsing with immobilizing electric shocks that posed the real problem. So, here you were seated in the kitchen, a place strictly off limits, trying to pry the mobile shackle from your body.

And it wouldn’t fucking come off.

Despite your efforts, it would seem the thing was impossible to remove without the key. But you didn’t have the key. Izuku did.

All you had was a screwdriver, and it was doing jack-shit for you now. No amount of prying and jabbing at the anklet seemed to have any effect. With each second that ticked by―each second that you weren’t “safe” in bed, each second that you weren’t locked behind the door that said screwdriver once succeeded in freeing you from―it ultimately had your heart beating faster. The dizzying pace clouded your thoughts, your senses that should be on alert.

You didn’t hear him coming.

“Sweetheart...what are you doing?”

His voice, always laced with sickly concern, and always chilling you to the bone. You practically leapt from your spot at the kitchen table where you were once focused on removing the bracelet.

Your mouth felt dry as you attempted a choked out response, posture frigid and deeply on edge. “Izuku...I―”

“Why are you out of your room? And...how did you get that?” His bright green eyes were fixed on the screwdriver still clutched tightly in your trembling hand.

What was once merely a small tool for escape now became your lifeline of a weapon. Your grip on it tightened, gaze flitting around for the best means of escape, body bracing for what was to come.

Izuku raised his hands slightly, a non threatening manner being imposed on you. Carefully, he took a step forward, and you took one back.

“Look at me, honey. It’s okay, just put that down for me, alright?”

Another step. Your lower back collided with the edge of the kitchen counter.

As much as you wanted to remain resilient, the prospect of your unknown future had your nerves buzzing with a rampant anxiety. You shook your head, holding the screwdriver out in front of you. “Please...just let me go, Izuku.” The cry for freedom came out quiet, almost inaudible as you could feel your legs shaking dangerously underneath you.

The smile that adorned his face looked faltering, like he was trying to keep himself calm, and in turn keep you calm. But he couldn’t treat you like another one of his hero missions. You weren’t some everyday civilian, falling victim to a villain. He couldn’t give you that professional reassurance and comfort that he gave others frightened by the impurities of society day after day. Because they would never mean as much to him as you did.

Because if he lost you, he would lose himself.

Izuku was barely holding that controlled exterior together. He knew you could never hurt him―that’s not what he was afraid of. It was you getting yourself hurt. Whether that be by your hands or his own didn’t matter, the threat of the possibility stood either way.

“You know I can’t do that. Out there...I can’t protect you.”

He drew closer as he spoke, encroaching like a looming threat of failure if you remained complacent.

The thought of being locked up after you’d worked so hard to get this far had adrenaline coursing through your veins. Albeit not a lot, given you were still weighed down by fear, but enough to fight back, even just a little.

Nothing you could say would change his mind. You knew that. And so did he.

You lunged at the hero, screwdriver in hand. You would’ve run in hopes of postponing your defeat, but where to? Surely not back to your room upstairs, or even worse, the basement.

Unfortunately, Izuku trained his whole life to fight people, and meeting combative moves like yours was nothing he hadn’t done before. While you tried to aim for his eyes, he was swift in dodging the attack. In mere milliseconds, he gripped your wrist, spinning you around and pinning it against your back. His other hand pushed you face first over the counter, trapping you underneath him.

The ordeal was over in the blink of an eye, you left to do nothing but struggle fruitlessly in his hold. “Let go of me! Please, Izuku...you―you’re hurting me.”

You maintained your grasp on the screwdriver, a white knuckled grip unfaltering as you remained immobilized. His fingers wrapped tighter around your forearm, pressing it further up your back, painfully so. In a last ditch effort to get away, you tried pushing yourself off the counter with your free hand.

“Why do you always insist on fighting me?! I’m just trying to help you―I love you!”

An icy chill encompassed your being, not at his words, but at the flash of electric green in front of you. He grabbed your wrist and pinned it to the countertop. From this angle you could see the laced power surging through his hand and up his scarred arm, unconsciously activating in the fit of anger, applying more pressure to your feeble frame.

“S-stop it, Izuku! It hurts, get off of me―”

Snap.

…

Knowing Izuku, and his habit to get lost in his thoughts, which subsequently transfers to how those thoughts endlessly spills from his lips―you knew apologies were being repeated by him like a prayer. Only, you couldn’t hear them.

You couldn’t hear anything, really.

Not your sobs, or your wails of pain. How the screwdriver clattered to the tiled flooring, a broken arm unable to support its weight.

Maybe it was for the better. You doubted that you even wanted to hear Izuku’s apologies, when this wasn’t the first time he’d lost control and fractured your bones. 

And it probably wouldn’t be the last.

[btsmosphere]

Crossfire | KTH

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Moodboard Masterlist

~summary: The night your life blew up sent you on a collision course with the campus bad boy, Kim Taehyung. Though you were well aware of his reputation, it was his doorstep you ran to when you were bleeding with nowhere to go.

~word count: 3.5k

~gang!au, mafia!au, college!au, angst, fluff, action, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers

Warnings: swearing, violence, kidnapping/being restrained (warnings apply to each part individually, please read them)

~a/n: so things heat up a bit in this chapter... I hope you guys enjoy the faster pace, it felt right to me but there are more scene cuts etc so I hope it works :) and huge thank you again to everyone reblogging my work! I see you and it really helps me out xx

Taehyung wondered if you noticed.

He knew you were often asleep long after he left, but he wondered if you remembered the times he had woken up with an arm over you, or when you had both moved closer in the night, or the way he would let his sleepy eyes wander your face before he decided to face the world.

Or maybe it was all lost in the haze of sleep for you, belonging only under the covers and in the dark.

He wondered if you ever heard his singing again. Whenever he sang in the mornings, though he had always enjoyed doing it for himself, he thought of you. He hoped you were listening.

After the excitement of hitting the jackpot with Soonjae, you spent your days with Tae’s books again. You had served your purpose, assured by him that they didn’t need more than one inner member for the time being. You doubted you would have found anything on the last member of the list, ‘Jintao’, anyway.

Days and books passed. So did nights with Tae.

It became clear to you that his way of expressing himself was quite physical. Though you enjoyed his touch, and initiated it yourself, you knew that to him, it was just the way he was with friends. Nothing more.

But it didn’t matter to you, as you enjoyed yourself in his company anyway.

Another meeting was called. This time it was much more fruitful, and a date was set. Since the last one, members they had already gathered from Shinhyuk’s gang had been able to pass on information to root out more members, and so on.

As Jin confirmed that Soonjae had successfully been bought out with a healthy mix of blackmail and promises of freedom, you glowed. The boys weren’t shy to thank you as well, even though they had doubted you at first.

Jungkook had found out about a deal Shinhyuk himself would be present at, though Jungkook was not required. And they were using the shop Shinhyuk had gained after his earlier attack, so he would be in the middle of their territory and at their mercy.

This was their chance to turn the tables on their enemy.

The idea was to capture Shinhyuk at the deal, and with him gone, the rest of the gang would be ready to fall apart. Their allies could move in, easily taking the area Shinhyuk had dominated for so long.

During the subsequent movie night, you and Tae shared a private toast with plastic cups of coke. To your hard work, though you insisted he share some of the credit.

As you chucked away the litter in the kitchen that night, out of breath after just a minute, you rediscovered your pack of red pills. You certainly hadn’t been taking them consistently.

That night, the rare occasion came when you could not get to sleep. Lying in the dark, you gazed over at Tae, just a lump under the duvet as he slept. You had shared in the excitement and hopefulness with the others earlier, but now you couldn’t help thinking-

What would happen when it was all over?

If they succeeded, and you could go back home, what would happen to you?

Last time you had interacted with Tae, and it certainly couldn’t be classed as more than that, you had gone straight back to normal afterwards. He had been charming, and of course he was attractive, but it had been easy for you to stay away, knowing his friends and their reputation.

Or at least you thought you had known.

Now you had met them all, shared takeaways and movie nights, and you and Tae had shared far more. You couldn’t forget about it. You wouldn’t want to.

“Are you excited?”

Pressing your lips into a smile, you gave Taehyung a nod. Not the most enthusiastic of responses.

Today was the day.

That evening, if everything went according to plan, Shinhyuk would lose everything, and you would be free. You could see your dad again. Go back to your place.

It wasn’t that you weren’t excited, but the excitement was swamped by everything else you were feeling.

“Hey, it’s gonna be ok,” Taehyung took your silence as denial and shuffled closer to you where you were reading a book against the headboard, eventually laying his head on your shoulder. And though it thrilled you, you stiffened. Trying your hardest not to react, you stared down at your book without absorbing any words.

Tae had opted to stay home from college today, even though the raid was to be in the evening.

Together you had made a ‘fancy’ lunch of pancakes, watched a short film and now you were anticipating the hour when he would have to go. Today had felt too full of goodbyes. You knew, however, that there was still one more to come, when he would leave to fight once and for all.

“You’ll get to go back home!” he attempted again to lighten the mood, but his words only made your heart heavier.

Sighing, you put your book aside, tilting your head to lean on top of his.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do when I see my dad.”

“Trust me, you’ll be happy when you see him again.”

“You’re right,” you sighed again, “I just… he got us into this whole mess – not that I don’t understand why.”

Taehyung considered you for a second.

“Not everything was his fault. He just did it because he loves you. He wants the best for you.”

“Why are you right about everything?” you laughed, making your shoulders shake and dislodging Tae’s head from its spot.

Sitting up fully again, he shoved your shoulder gently in retaliation. There he stayed, face slightly obscured as he sat forward while you rested back.

After a moment of silence, his impatient hands flipped his phone over.

“The others are setting off,” he informed you. You had learned that the eldest four were going to lie in wait, Taehyung and Jimin going in later as backup. Jungkook was at one of Shinhyuk’s other bases, known simply as ‘angel’, out of suspicion’s reach.

Taehyung didn’t have long.

“Do you think…” he started, voice low and quiet, “do you ever think that even though everything that happened, with your dad, though it was messed up… maybe something good came out of it?”

You stared at the back of his head.

“I wouldn’t have met all of you guys otherwise,” you admitted, “it’s been fun with you.”

Nodding, Taehyung finally turned, positioning himself in front of you. Your eyebrows furrowed as you saw him look down, taking a deep breath.

“You know, when we had that project together, it was never more than a crush,” his eyes came to meet yours and your heart thudded in your chest. He was so close to you, watching you intently, “but, Y/N, I really like you. And it’s not good, what happened, but I’m glad you came to my door that night. And I know I’m going to miss you after all this so I had to say something, maybe I’m crazy but-“

“You’re not crazy,” you finally found your voice after staring in awe at the boy, at the words coming out of his mouth, “I-I feel the same. I want this to be all over with Shinhyuk, but I don’t want to stop seeing you. I don’t want to go.”

You were sure the look in his eyes was mirrored in your own.

Shakily, he exhaled.

The two of you were so close now, the air around you static, holding its breath as you leaned forwards, closing the distance.

Until your lips met, you hadn’t known how much you wanted it. Taehyung’s hand came up to cup your jaw softly, the other travelling to your waist as you savoured the kiss, blissfully sweet but filled with longing.

Chasing more bliss, you tilted your head, transforming the kiss from something gentle to something more, and all too soon it was over, leaving you both panting, foreheads resting together, breathless smiles on your faces. Returning the gaze from Tae’s dark eyes, you looked back with just as much awe.

His eyes dropped once more to your lips. Your own parted in anticipation as you watched him dart his tongue out subconsciously.

Then his phone buzzed.

You both hesitated, but pulled back. Today of all days, you were aware the messages would be important. As he reached across the bed for the phone, his hand enveloped yours, happy now he could finally hold it when he wanted.

The screen lit up, showing only two words from Jungkook.

Code Black

One of Hoseok’s hands rested on the wheel. The car was engulfed in shadow, the four boys silent as they watched their target across the street.

Before, it had looked unassuming, just another local business in the row of shops crammed together. Now, the sign had been ripped down, leaving a gap in the otherwise continuous row of neon and paint that made up the front of other businesses. Both front windows were shattered, painting spiderwebs over the black canvas of the dark interior.

Tonight the road wasn’t busy. It was easy to spot as the car pulled up outside, two men in suits leaving it and entering the shop.

“They’re early,” Jin muttered, but they prepared anyway.

The deal would be over quickly, Shinhyuk just coming to pick up and inspect his new haul of weapons.

Sticking to the shadows, Yoongi led the way, easily blending in with the streets in his slouchy black clothes. Hoseok tapped his foot as he watched his friends leave one by one.

The men inside jumped when Yoongi threw the door open, holding his glock confidently in front of him. Namjoon and Jin flanked him, pulling out their guns as well, leaving the two men outnumbered, one behind the counter of the shop where the package was due to be, the other’s hand flying instantly to the holster on his belt.

For a moment, the only sound was a car starting up outside.

Then the second man turned around, gun raised, and fired. Yoongi ducked, running forward at a crouch as the glass door behind him shattered, two more shots going off as the other suited man fired and Namjoon retaliated.

Another shot flew past his shoulder as Yoongi dived over the counter, tackling his opponent, quickly handing him a fist to the face, hand fisting his collar.

From the other side of the shop came the grunting of the others as Namjoon and Jin took the first man down. In the struggle, he started yelling.

“Backup! Backup!”

Jin ripped an earpiece from the man’s ear, tossing it across the room.

Once they had both of them under control, Jin pressing the face of the man that had shouted into a table, arm in a lock behind his back, Yoongi pinning the other down with his gun lying uselessly in the middle of the shop floor, Namjoon strode to the counter.

“Where is Shinhyuk?” he demanded, looking between both men, neither of which were the intended target.

Not a word came in reply.

Maintaining his composure while the other two looked between each other in panic, Namjoon reached across the counter to lift up the large duffel bag that lay there. He frowned.

Placing it on the top, it made no sound, and pulling open the zip revealed the bag to be full of rolled up newspapers.

“What is this?” Namjoon’s fury bled through his words as he rummaged in the bag, coming up empty handed. A few balls of newspaper rolled onto the floor, but no one else dared move.

Looking at the man below him, Yoongi found he looked as dumbfounded as the rest of them.

“Where are the weapons?” he shook the guy, glaring at him until a reply left his lips.

“I-I don’t know, Shin said we had to come and pick them up-”

The buzzing of a phone sounded, and Namjoon pulled his out.

Code Black

He whirled around, but no one was to be seen outside. Only their own car.

Jin stepped back, releasing his captive.

“What is it?” he asked Namjoon.

“Jungkook. It’s a trap,” the blond ran a hand through his hair as he looked around the space in panic. They were in a dead end.

Yoongi was standing too now, and followed his leader in a heartbeat when he moved to the door.

“Where the fuck’s our car?” one of the men spoke behind them.

“’E’s left us,” the other responded in shock, “no one’s coming.”

Turning, Yoongi found them both standing, lost, staring at the empty road outside and the fake bag of ammo.

“You should get out of here,” he warned, stepping into the night.

“Bring him in.”

Shinhyuk had turned off his screen the moment he saw bangtan approaching the shop. He had sent disposable men; whatever happened to them now didn’t concern him. Catching the rat did.

Now, he strolled into the room where Jungkook was held.

“Well played, Jeon,” he snarled, “Very subtle.”

The boy glared back at him with ice in his eyes.

“I know you stole the file,” he continued, then to the guards flanking him, “search him.”

Struggling against his bonds didn’t help, but Shinhyuk’s smirking face had riled Jungkook up enough that he didn’t care about the metal digging into his skin. He didn’t know where his friends were. He had only had time to send out that one message as the guards had come barging in to get him.

At least he could take pride in the amount it had taken to get him under control. There were several nursing wounds upstairs as they spoke.

As rough hands patted at him, pulling his clothes and making their way into his pockets, Shinhyuk kept talking.

“I had my suspicions, Jeon. You proved them today. You were the only one I told about the deal, the perfect opportunity for bangtan to try and make a move, but it was just a fairy tale,” his lips curled up into a wolfish smile, “there were never any weapons. There was never any deal.”

He looked on, chuckling, as the search concluded, but the result pulled the smile right of his face.

“No file?” Jungkook took his turn to smirk.

“I know you’re the rat, boy,” Shinhyuk advanced, pushing his face right into Jungkook’s space, “but if you aren’t, how will your pretty friends know where to find you?”

Jungkook’s blood ran cold.

He was the bait.

Shinhyuk’s laughter rang out through the room, haunting him even after the man had slammed the door behind him, leaving Jungkook struggling against his bonds alone in the cell.

“Code black – Jungkook’s been found out,” Namjoon began addressing the tense boys gathered in his front room.

“They’re holding him at angel,” Taehyung added. He clutched his phone with white knuckles, having just been using it to speak to the leader of that specific base, the first rival that had defected to their side.

“Right, we can easily get in there and get him back,” Jin spoke remarkably calmly.

“Not so easy, actually,” Tae’s voice was dark, “Shinhyuk’s there too now. He’s waiting for us to come in.”

Every one of them was sitting forward in their seats, wracking their brains for a next move after they had been played and taken off-guard. Jimin lowered his head, running both hands through his hair.

“What if we turn up in one of Shinhyuk’s cars?” Hoseok suggested, “we can call on some of the drivers.”

“You’re right,” Namjoon nodded, “we still have the element of surprise on our side. He doesn’t know we’ve infiltrated him.”

“But let’s just get in, get Jungkook, and go,” Jimin said.

“Right,” Namjoon agreed, “today doesn’t have to be our victory anymore. Let’s just get Jungkook back and safely.”

Together, they stood, filing out of the room in silence.

You couldn’t stop reliving your kiss with Taehyung all evening. He had been gone a while, leaving in seconds after he checked his phone, hurriedly telling you something had come up.

Worried though you were, you knew all you could do was wait. It wasn’t easy trying to stay patient after you and Taehyung had finally confessed to each other, and you wanted nothing more than to continue where you left off.

Equally, your mind wouldn’t stop running through all the worst case scenarios. How would you know if something bad happened to him?

Trying your best to preoccupy yourself, you read for a bit longer, pushing away the nerves over what could be happening out there right now. Every time your mind drifted from the page in front of you, you told yourself there was nothing you could do. The plan was a good one, and now all the boys had to do was pull it off.

Somehow that didn’t help.

As darkness fell, you quietly made your way downstairs, closing the curtains while staying out of sight. You didn’t even turn the living room light on.

Already you were a little out of breath, so you stopped and rested on the arm of the sofa.

That was when someone knocked on the door.

Turning towards the sound, you started walking, but stopped yourself only feet away from the front door. Tae’s friends sometimes knocked, but they all had their own key too.

A second knock sounded, louder this time.

Frozen on the spot, you debated with yourself. Who on earth could it be? Maybe something had happened to Tae, and they were here to tell you…

The banging resumed, this time with a shout.

“Y/N?”

You gasped. That wasn’t one of the boys, but it sounded a lot like-

“Jake?” you muttered under your breath, approaching the door to look through the peephole.

Sure enough, there was your college friend on the step. He was looking down at something you couldn’t see, but it was him alright.

Cautiously, you lifted your hand to the catch and opened the door a crack.

“Jake?”

His hands flew behind his back, making you frown at him.

“Y/N…” he pushed at the door, which you let fall open just a little bit more, “I can’t believe I’ve found you, it’s all gonna be okay, yeah? We’ve been looking for you for so long…”

“Oh, Jake, I’m sorry…” you shuffled in the doorway. He was standing close to you, eager to be let in, but you stood your ground, “I couldn’t get in touch, but I promise I’m fine I just-“

“Y/N, you aren’t thinking straight,” he pushed forward again.

This time you weren’t strong enough to stop the door opening. You stepped hurriedly away from him as he crossed the threshold. You wanted to sit down again, but you didn’t feel comfortable with Jake in the house.

“We were so worried at college Y/N, and so is your dad” he begged, holding his hands out, “let’s just get you home, okay?”

Frowning back at him, you didn’t move, so after a second he walked closer instead, driving you further down the hallway.

“Jake, please leave,” you told him.

What he was saying didn’t make sense. Your dad was under Shinhyuk now, your college friends couldn’t have possibly contacted him-

“Let’s go home, Y/N,” he said.

But you knew your ‘home’ wasn’t safe anymore. Your eyes darted to the open door behind him, wondering if you could run. Then you saw something.

Two long metal pins were jammed into the lock at the front of the house. He had been trying to break in.

All you knew when you started running was that you weren’t going with Jake. Rushing through the kitchen door and slamming it hard in his face, you dashed out of the side door, straight onto a small alley between two houses. Not letting your feet stop, you ran as fast as you could, away from the main street and further into unfamiliar paths.

Behind you, the door slammed as Jake gave chase, but instead of calling out to you, he shouted, “this way!”

Then more footsteps joined him.

Blood whooshed through your ears, chest constricting after only a couple of corners, but your pursuers gave no sign of letting up. The stab wound seared in your side, and for a moment your vision went white. It was only a split second, but you knew you were in trouble.

Not now, not now…

You willed your legs to keep going. You had to get away.

Then the bang of a gunshot deafened your ears and you ducked blindly, stumbling forwards before picking up the pace again.

One more shot hit the wall by your ear, making you flinch away.

Sparks were filling your vision, and you could barely breathe, but you pushed yourself, knowing danger lay behind. Your eyes screwed shut against the pain as you forced yourself to run, when a bang sounded, followed by a new, burning pain slicing through your shoulder.

You were unconscious before you hit the asphalt.

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[kienava]

several folks requested beacon era bees for a fic giveaway and i miss them so enjoy <3 

_________

Dancing - Blake can’t remember the last time she enjoyed it.

She remembers going to functions with her parents when she was little and frolicking to her heart’s content before self-consciousness hardened into an opaque shell around her.

With the White Fang, there were plenty of other teenagers who were just as awkward and nervous as she was, but nights spent with them around bonfires always felt stolen and forbidden. Having fun meant wasting time that could be spent on the mission.

Seeing so many hunters-in-training taking the time to relax and forget their own insecurities reassures Blake now. She’s somewhere safe, relatively speaking, and she’s allowed to take a night off from trying to fix the world. She’s allowed to enjoy wearing a dress, and she’s allowed to enjoy yelling the wrong lyrics to songs along with her friends.

Yang was right to encourage this, she thinks. And the fog machine is actually pretty cool.

Considering how difficult it is to look anywhere else when Yang is in the room, Blake’s seen surprisingly little of her. Yang greeted her when she came in and then ran off, and Blake hasn’t spotted her since. It feels a little silly to want to thank someone for inviting her to a school-wide event, but she certainly isn’t going to thank Sun for stepping on her foot three separate times. Blake feels compelled to find her partner and say it anyway, and she’s confident the buzzing in her stomach won’t stop until she does.

Sun is trying to figure out how to re-knot his tie properly after tying it around his head and subsequently loosening it beyond salvation. Neptune is about as helpful as Blake would have guessed, and when Jaune gets involved, the whole thing is a lost cause.

Blake searches the room. It’s challenging enough to look anywhere else when Yang is in a room - but despite that, she’s surprisingly difficult to find.

It’s only when a giggling, stumbling couple clears out of the balcony that Blake sees her. She’s watching from one story up, her elbows propped on the railing and her chin resting on tight fists. There’s a wistful look on her face, and Blake might not have recognized it if she hadn’t seen it before.

She remembers watching Yang drag a piece of chalk across a blackboard, that same expression following as she looks at the floor. Sometimes Yang is loudest when she says nothing at all. When a teacher asks if her semblance causes her pain and she doesn’t say no. When someone mentions their mother at lunch and Yang doesn’t have a quip ready in reply. When someone asks if she’s interested in anyone and she says nothing at all.

Blake thinks she’s started to understand what those silences mean. Right now, Yang is unmistakably lonely.

It’s written in that cloudy, content smile. A quiet yearning with no particular velocity, like a single firefly hovering still over a field in the middle of the night. Look directly at it and it disappears.

Most people are born alone, but nobody is born lonely. That kind of thing has to be learned, practiced, perpetuated. Eventually, when solitude is a choice, it’s a comfort. Blake understands, though it’s not something she ever thought she’d have in common with the most extraverted girl in the whole school.

Maybe it’s foolish to hope that Yang will feel Blake’s eyes on her and turn her head, but Blake hopes anyway. She doesn’t remember when she started wishing so recklessly. The thrill it brings is something she’s only ever mined from the pages of her favorite novels, usually in the moments before an almost-kiss or a bracing confession. So she wishes, and she hopes, and she watches.

Yang keeps her eyes on the crowd, scanning with a soft focus that says she isn’t searching for anything. She glances toward the corner where the fog machine is. Weiss has made plenty of vague threats about the machine breaking under mysterious and unprovable circumstances, so it’s probably smart to keep an eye on it. But that can’t be the sole reason Yang has sequestered herself on the balcony.

Blake drifts off, leaving Sun, Neptune, and Jaune to their contained chaos. Pyrrha will probably intervene before anything gets broken.

At the bottom of the stairs, Blake bumps into the couple from the balcony, but they’re too wrapped up in each other to notice. As they whirl towards the dance floor, already laughing and twirling in each other’s arms, Blake looks over her shoulder, and she suspects her expression matches the one she just saw Yang wearing.

A few other people are up on the balcony, including Ruby, who’s so sick of her shoes that she’s put her bare feet up on a table. Blake passes by and raises an eyebrow at Weiss, who’s in the middle of an impermeable tirade about how revolting and utterly inappropriate it is to take off one’s shoes in public. Ruby simply leans back in a chair precariously, hands behind her head, eyes closed. Sooner or later she’ll lose her balance and fall over, but Weiss is right there to catch her, bare feet and all. That’s what good partners do, isn’t it? Catch each other, no matter what. 

Yang finally looks away from the dance floor when Blake is just passing Ruby’s table.

“Blake!” she calls. Her distant, foggy smile has brightened into a wide grin, and Blake feels like she’s just reached the bottom of a page.

“It's pretty exciting up here,” Blake replies. “I think I just heard Weiss mention foot sweat.”

“Gross,” Yang laughs.

Blake slides up next to her and grips the railing. “I think it hurt her to say it more than it hurt me to hear it.”

“Definitely.”

Yang looks back down at the party, and Blake hears the beat of silence that follows.

Blake pokes Yang’s shoulder. “So, are you having fun up here all by yourself?”

“I’m not by myself. Ruby and Weiss are--”

“Arguing about foot sweat.”

“And I’m having a great time watching.”

“Uh-huh.”

Yang turns to face her fully, and Blake is struck once again by how beautiful she is. The dress is cute, but it’s the attitude, the smirk, the pop of her hip.

“You got something to say, Miss Belladonna?” Yang teases.

“I came up here to say thank you, actually.” Blake rocks away from the railing, hiding her hands behind her back. “But I’m a little confused. You went on and on how much fun this dance was going to be, but you’ve barely done any dancing yourself.”

Yang mirrors her but leans one elbow on the railing. “Sounds like you’ve been keeping tabs on me.”

It’s like their own little unconventional waltz. One leads, the other follows, alternate, repeat. Is it too soon for Blake to know that she would follow her partner anywhere? Is it wishful thinking for her to believe Yang would do the same?

Blake could say something, or she could let her sly silence do the talking.

Yang holds her gaze for a moment, then another, before looking over the railing.

When Yang looks back again, her lip curls shyly, and Blake’s pretty sure she’s not thinking about the fog machine anymore.

“I’m glad you came,” Yang says.

Blake wants to kiss her again, pick up where the left off in their dorm room. First kisses are supposed to be messy, and Blake wouldn’t trade it for anything, but she feels the need to thank Yang for this night in as many ways as possible, with and without words. After all, Yang hears her no matter what. 

But they’re in public, and Blake isn’t sure if Yang would be comfortable with that. For all the attention she commands, Yang doesn’t make a point of sharing personal details with... anyone, really, now that Blake thinks about it. Not on purpose.

Blake remembers when she accidentally saw Yang’s bullet-bruised skin after a heavy fight, and she knows that the rest of their team doesn’t know about it.

When one of their friends needs to talk, Yang is happy to listen. Yet she never brings up anything more serious than a bad homework grade herself. She overwrites her own silences with easy jokes and disguised deflections. If Weiss and Ruby are around, she’s wary. Maybe she doesn’t want her sister to worry.

Blake knows what it’s like to keep the truth from people and think that you’re protecting them.

“Yang?” she asks.

“Hm?”

“You are having fun, right?”

Yang shifts. “Of course. Aren’t you?”

“Mostly.”

That catches Yang’s attention, and suddenly this is a very serious matter to her. “What’s wrong? Did someone spike the punch?”

“You wish.”

“Did someone not spike the punch enough?”

“No...”

“Because I can fix that.”

“Nothing needs fixing,” Blake says. She reaches for Yang’s hand and squeezes, hoping it’s convincing. “Tonight is pretty much perfect.”

Yang frowns. “Pretty much?”

“Well, I’ve barely seen the person who asked me to come to this thing in the first place.” Blake steps closer, and she sees Yang’s breath catch in her chest.

Yang covers it with a light and fleeting laugh. “Yeah, I could have guessed Sun wouldn’t be the most attentive date on the planet.”

Blake almost rolls her eyes because that one is way too easy to see through, but she’d rather watch the blush flare under Yang’s freckles. “I wasn’t talking about Sun.”

“Oh.”

Yang doesn’t move, and she doesn’t say anything more, and Blake isn’t sure what to do. Whatever Yang’s silence is trying to say is drowned out by Blake’s deafening need to kiss her, and it certainly isn’t helping that Yang is still holding her hand.

“Blake...” Yang says the name like she’s starting something, and it’s infinitely more exciting than turning a page.

In invitation, Blake nods her head towards the stairs and tugs just slightly on Yang’s hand. “You promised me a dance.”

“I guess I did,” Yang laughs.

She looks down at their hands like she’s double-checking a lock, and Blake hopes she never gets better at hiding it when she’s nervous.

Maybe she’ll get to kiss Yang later, when they’re walking back to their dorm at midnight after staying late to help clean up. Blake’s legs will be pleasantly exhausted from jumping around all night, and Yang will pull her jacket out of nowhere and drape it around Blake’s shoulders. Blake will pause to shiver and pull the coat tighter, and momentum will carry Yang half a step in front. She’ll turn around to see why Blake stopped following, look up at the shattered moon, and then find Blake’s eyes watching her, waiting. It will take a moment, perhaps two, for Yang to gather her courage, and then Blake won’t feel the cold at all.

It’s a scene right out of one of Blake’s books - but it doesn’t even compare to the way Yang looks at her when they reach the bottom of the stairs, all light and admiration. Blake can’t help but think of the couple she ran into earlier, and she allows herself to make one wish.

She hopes they stay like this always, side by side, braced to spin and fall and catch each other.

Blake certainly isn’t going anywhere.

***

[cross-posted on AO3]

[aces-of-the-center-court]

hello dear anon, when this request came, I was already in the process of writing for the setters (Kageyama, Kenma & Oikawa) for this particular prompt as well, so I have decided to just combine all five into one! I hope this is ok, thank you so much for requesting! :)

warning: long post ahead.

Sakusa Kiyoomi:

When hanging around him and Komori, it would mostly just be you and Komori talking

He would find you strangely intriguing at first because of how similar you were to him in the sense that you both despise germs, but he would still be closed off in the beginning

Gradually as the two of you get closer, he would slowly initiate conversations with you in spite of how useless, unnecessary or unimportant it is

“Where’s Komori?”, “Have you eaten?”, or “Good morning.” – Alrighhht perhaps not too useless but the conversations usually end after your response unless you decide to follow up

When it’s just him and Komori, he would sometimes ask where you were and if you were coming despite it being volleyball practice (which means you would not be around by then)

Yes, to be honest, he would have realised his feelings for you even without Komori pointing out for the 937820th time and jokingly teasing him

He would handle his feelings for you quite well and not act any differently from before – he would listen when you’re speaking, sometimes ask questions or even insert some prickly input before being cut off by Komori

Would not show his feelings for you and would likely take a while to consider asking you out

Each time he sees you, the words he wants to tell you – his confession – would be raging to come out of his mouth so badly he’d lose count of how many times he had stopped himself

Likely to bluntly confess his feelings for you out of a blue, even if you’re not alone with him, be it the classroom, during lunch with other classmates around etc.

I really like you… he would think, “I really like you” he would let out on accident

When those words came out of his mouth, he would be visibly surprised and stiffen up, hoping you did not just hear that

You would have obviously heard it, no matter how noisy the class is, and would recognise that voice anywhere – with or without mask

Sharing the look of surprise on your faces, when you look at him, his eyes would widen and he would flush pink to his ears

Your face would also redden when you noticed his change in demeanor.

Miya Atsumu:

This boy is sure experienced in handling his fangirls, but not so much his rival

Surrounded with fangirls that would unconditionally validate whatever he says, he’s never met someone so insistent in trying to prove him wrong until he met you

You two would constantly battle one another in wits until one of you out-argue the other

Though the battle results have been pretty even thus far, frustration from being proven wrong on multiple occasions would accumulate in him

He’d find himself thinking back on some of the debates and think of some comebacks he should’ve used, then mentally prepares for the next dispute

He’d slowly find the disputes fun and enjoy spending time squabbling with you

Though he’d hate to admit at first, he would know that he’s starting to look forward to the next time he sees you

Would find you more and more amusing the more he learns about you through bickering

He’d realise that he’d want to know more about you – is there more to you than a rival he constantly bickers with?

“You know, I’ve been thinking. It seems that we got off the wrong foot,” he’d say during the next encounter with you before the squabbles start, “how about we start over and get to know each other better instead? Who knows? We could be more than rivals.”

“And risk getting trampled on by your fangirls? Yeah I’ll pass.” You would refute by habit

BUT. THIS. BOY!! Even if you had rejected him 100 times, he would ask you out 101 times

Even if you treat him coldly and ignore him, he would persistently try to get closer to you

Gradually, he would make it quite obvious that he has feelings for you

Would casually tell you multiple times that he likes you though you would just ignore him

He would also continuously act sweet and flirtatious towards you and sometimes even sly to make sure he gets to spend some time with you

If he were to get disturbed when you two are alone, he would be very upset – very, very, annoyed and pissed

And if ever, his fangirls do go threatening or intimidating you, he would be the first to know and immediately send those flies away

You would also progressively start to find him amusing in his stubborn ways and would decide to indulge in him more frequently

Atsumu would have definitely picked up on this and for the 102th time, he would ask you out  ⁠— this time, he may not just be left disappointed with your answer.

Oikawa Tooru:

This man here is very experienced and thus would easily realise his feelings for you early on

He would just be outrightly flirting with you, like he does with many

The difference is that he would find himself naturally gravitating to you and possessing this feeling of wanting to talk and be with you

It might be because he finds you easier to talk to since you understand him well underneath his flirtatious and easygoing front

His flirtatious remarks would hold more meaning and truth to his feelings when it’s meant for you than for others

Would flirt a lot more when with you compared to others

Even among the crowd that he’s flirting with, he would make the most eye contact with you

Due to his flamboyant attitude though, despite sometimes playing along with his flirting, you would not take his advances seriously obviously

He would realise so and decide to start being more serious in pursuing you

While flirting as usual, he would casually add in comments like “You’re the only one for me~” to which you would wittily retort, “Yeah right, how many ‘only ones’ do you have?”

“I’m serious.” He would say in a deep voice, free from his usual flirty tone as he locks eyes with you

He would want to make sure you’re aware of his feelings for you so that you would start seeing him in a different light

To show the sincerity in his confession, he would stop his flirting altogether and would only focus his attention on you

When you notice the changes in him and his flirting, you would start to take him more seriously

He would take his time before conveying his renewed confession to just have some quality time together with you genuinely

He would be very straightforward when confessing his feelings for you though it would be out of the blue, perhaps when you’re walking home with him and just chatting casually, he would declare his feelings there and then.

Kozume Kenma:

Other than his games, Shouyou and volleyball, Kenma was starting to have you on his mind more than he would like to admit

Whenever you’re with him, he would feel his heart throbbing and would be very conscious of it, causing him to stiffen up especially when in close proximity with you

As he’s unfamiliar with these types of situations, he would not know what to do and may act awkwardly around you as a result

He would think to himself that this is not the type of situation or position he should be in due to his self-consciousness and how it disrupts his rhythm

It’s tiring to keep feeling like this… maybe I should just put these feelings away… He would decide to try to brush off these feelings of his

Despite that however, he would find that his eyes unconsciously drift to you whenever you’re around

He would also start to talk more about you or bring you up in conversations e.g. “y/n seemed a little tired today, I wonder what’s wrong…”

Kuroo would have quite instantly notice the change in Kenma and tease him, asking why he’s so concerned about you lately and if he likes you

He would be a little annoyed at Kuroo and put off his comments, saying that he’s just worried for you as a friend

Although he wouldn’t admit it at first, he would later realise after contemplating Kuroo’s remarks that he does seem to have feelings for you

Subsequently, he would try to have more contacts with you by initiating interactions

Would express his feelings in his own way, that is, in game – giving you special limited edition items to help you win and level up for example

If he senses some competition (e.g. someone flirting with you) he would feel annoyed, but would not express it and would just be quieter than usual

At this point, it’s safe to say that most of the team would have realised what this new change in Kenma means

With Yamamoto trying to exert his seniority in his experience with unrequited love, he would try to give him advice on how to ask you out etc while Yaku would tell him with a warm motherly smile and happy tears in his eyes that he can come to him if he needs help

Basically, the team would be very supportive (while teasing him occasionally) which would annoy Kenma a whole lot to be honest

It would take him a lot to actually confess to you but when he does, it would be when you two are alone, probably in a space he’s comfortable, and tell you his feelings forthrightly.

Kageyama Tobio:

Whenever you’re around, he would feel himself heating up

In class or during volleyball practices, he would constantly be distracted with trying to figure out what he’s feeling or with thoughts of you

If possible, he would wish to put these feelings to an end so he could focus on volleyball, but things have been this way for months now

After a long contemplation, he would finally decide to seek Sugawara’s advice but face much trouble describing his feelings and end up replacing words with “bah” and “gwah” instead

Despite the initial difficulty faced while trying to understand Kageyama, Sugawara would shortly come to an understanding and explain that what Kageyama is experiencing is a crush he has on you while slightly teasing him and tousling his hair saying how he has grown

Though he would still be confused after hearing it and unable to comprehend his feelings, he would try his best to act as normal as possible around you – not without failing completely

He would be very conscious of your presence and start acting weirder unintentionally

Concerned, you would confront him to clarify if you’re making him uncomfortable

“No, not at all! That’s not the case! It’s never been!” He would insistently deny in an awkward manner, leaving you to heave a huge sigh of relief (even though you would still feel that something is amiss), and you would return to your usual smile

At the sight of your smile, he would start getting flustered all over again

What… why is my heart palpitating even when I’m not engaging in any physical activity? It was at this moment that he would finally understand that he does, in fact, likes you

After this realisation, he would always be a little restless around you

He would also quite often offer you his packet of yoghurt or milk and share the food he has on him, but would yell at Hinata if he tries to steal a piece

When he gradually feels comfortable enough to confide in you, he would bluntly confess in a descriptive manner

“My face feels hot and my heart races when I see you or think about you, which I can’t help but always do by the way. I don’t know what I should do…”

Basically, he would describe the way he feels for you in an attempt to seek help from you about this foreign emotion

[joontier]

The King’s Guard | Chapter 7 

pairings: kim seokjin x reader ; jeon jungkook x reader ; min yoongi x reader

series rating: R(18+) | genre: angst, forbidden love, longing, immense pining 

warnings: none to note 

word count: 6.6k

g/n: HAHGFJFIE FINALLY!!!!!!!! that is all. ((also painfully and regrettably unedited)) thank you. THIS IS THE MOMENT WE’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR ASJDFOAWJEFI SEND ME YOUR THOUGHTS PLEASE? 

The King’s Guard - Masterlist  ||  navi.

The King’s Guard | Chapter 7

“Hoseok.” 

Yoongi keeps his voice low as he attempts to poke the general awake, vigorously, yet with the right amount of caution so as not to wake the naked sleeping court lady in his arms. Chaeyoung, was it? The southern king ponders on wistfully as he pulls the blanket up again to maintain the modesty in the room - if there was any left, that is. 

The young king of the south had already sensed the tension between the pair when they were first acquainted with each other. Yoongi, not a stranger to the wants of the flesh, already knew this was coming. If it only weren’t for the places they hold in the palace, they would have made a great couple. 

Surely though, the two were old enough to know that clothes were still warranted even after what Yoongi could only assume to have been a steamy evening between the two. It wasn’t appropriate to just go sleeping in the nude especially when one could easily barge in at any time of the day, just as Yoongi had done. 

The blonde-haired king continues poking at the general by the ribs, cursing when the latter won’t respond and instead rolls over to the other side, pulling Chaeyoung closer in his arms. 

Good heavens. Why does this have to be so hard? 

For one, he’d already wasted time this morning trying to locate Hoseok, who he reckons no longer enjoys sleeping in his own quarters; finding more comfort in the danger that lies with sleeping in the court ladies’ quarters instead. He makes a mental note to address this to Hoseok later as this was going to be a major headache later on. 

Should this relationship of theirs proceed with its imminent direction, not only the general will be facing the grave consequences of their actions, but the poor court lady will have to take responsibility as well. 

“Hoseok.” The young king of the south nudges him once more, this time stronger than the last. Yoongi hears the general groan in response, and lets himself sit back against the wall in relief. At least this reaction was better than the log he was trying to wake just moments ago. 

That is, until he realizes he spoke too soon. 

Hoseok rolls over and proceeds to lie on his stomach. Yoongi cards his fingers through his temple, jaw clenched as he tries to figure out a more effective way to get the general up on his feet. 

He spots a vessel on top of Chaeyoung’s dresser, and Yoongi smirks as an unorthodox idea of waking up someone pops in his head. Quietly creeping up from the floor, he grabs the clay container by its neck and tilts the vessel, pouring the water onto Hoseok’s bare back. This ought to do the job. Just as expected, the liquid had the southern general scrambling to his feet. 

Squinting his eyes as he looks around, Hoseok comes face to face with his king, eyes trained on him like a tiger waiting on his prey. Hoseok immediately sits up, cowering under the king’s daunting gaze, “M-my king…”

Yoongi promptly gets up, not wanting to bother himself with another look at Hoseok’s naked form. “Get up. Meet me by the stables,” the king orders, sliding the door open, “and next time, please maintain some dignity and remember to put clothes on before sleeping.” 

The general clambers from the court lady’s yo, taking his discarded clothes by the corner of the room as the southern king heads to the stables first. 

“Did she really knock you out that bad that you were harder to wake than a sleeping cow?” 

Even at dawn when the sun hasn’t risen yet, Yoongi sees the general blush under the sky’s soft shade of purple. “If I could say so for myself, she was quite flexible, your Highness…” Hoseok whispers shyly as he chews on his lip. Yoongi’s mouth falls agape at his general’s confession, grimacing at the awful mental images it brought to his mind this early in the morning. 

“General.” Hoseok straightens himself atop his steed, knowing that the king meant business when he calls him by his official title. “You should know that what I had said was a question I needed not answered.” 

“My apologies, my King.” Hoseok says, expression unchanging when he whispers under his breath. “It’s not like I’m the only one who’s getting frisky with the women of the palace.” Yoongi’s eyes narrow as he glares at the general, guiding his horse nearer to Hoseok’s, seemingly taunting the latter to say more. “Ah yes,” the general gets the message and bows, but Yoongi doesn’t miss the small smirk playing on the younger man’s lips, “this is the part where I keep my mouth shut.” 

Bored out of his wits (and disrupted from his very lovely sleep), the general turns to his king, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, jeonha, but where exactly are we headed to at this time of the day?”

“We’re already here.” Hoseok, with his question answered in the most unexpected manner, gives an awkward nod as a reply to the southern king. He studies the place where Yoongi had led him to in this early morning and in recognition, his would seemingly winces at him as he remembers the day they’ve faced death in the eyes, and luckily got away with it.

In subconscious reminiscence, Yoongi flexes his shoulders, a short tinge of pain stings through the breadth of his back. Hoseok, in similar thought, does the same, reaching over to his side to feel the slowly healing wound.

The small clearing was not as ghastly as it had been when they had first arrived at this part of the forest.  The previously horrific scenery was no more; the doltap shrine, formerly made from dead bodies toppled over each other was now replaced by actual rocks and other mementos of the deceased.

Yoongi dismounts from his horse, a small cloud of dust appearing as he lands on the ground. Just like that, he’s taken back to the same night he’d met Seokjin – the same night he and Hoseok had narrowly escaped the hands of death. The southern king closes his eyes, reliving the scene like it was just yesterday.

“Forgive me, jeonha, but why are we here? If I should say so myself, my king, we we’re lucky enough to get away last time…if we stay here any longer, I’m not particularly sure what or who could be waiting for us this time.”

“We have to look for something.”

“Which is?”

“I’m not sure too. Just… I don’t think Seokjin is dead yet.”

Hoseok looks at him, worry painting all over his features. Yoongi had never concerned himself with the capitol, all the more with its king. The southern general couldn’t quite put a finger on it yet, but he is sure that there is a missing piece of the puzzle he has yet to discover. It won’t be long before he does.

Jungkook watches you from the shade of another nearby tree, indulging himself with an apple he picked earlier on the way to the gardens. You’ve just finished teaching five new characters to the class, and as a reward for their exemplary behavior, you decided to treat them with a story – one you’re telling with such animation right now.

He joins the children in laughter when you imitate a creature: an elephant, he reckons, though he’s never seen one in real life. Subsequently, you use your arm as a trunk and even start to make the strangest sounds to mimic the animal. Peels of the sound of amusement resonate throughout the open space. Even the court ladies you’d initially came with join soon afterwards, making their best impressions of different animals.

The sight was most endearing. You’re a natural when it comes to children, Jungkook attests to himself. You were patient, caring, and kind – all the traits of a good mother already inherent in you. It was no question that you child will grow up to be just as wonderful as you are.

Being a widow though? Not so much.

Despite the bountiful radiance brought about by these children, he could still see the sadness in your eyes. Gone are your usually bright orbs, mirth and brilliance swimming freely in your pupils.

It’s only been a week since the news of Seokjin’s passing and the announcement of your pregnancy. You’d maintained your cheeriness but Jungkook fears it all might have been just a façade because your smiles never reached your eyes unlike before.

Jungkook knew you were strong. Even the whole palace would agree on that fact. You were stronger than anyone could ever admit and you were far stronger than you think you were. It was a trait of yours that even only the bravest could only hope to be bestowed with. Your resilience was one of your many characteristics that Jungkook admired so much.

But at the same time, he fears this mask of courage you put on was going to be the same thing that was going to destroy you slowly from the inside.

Jungkook understood where you were coming from. Truly, he did. He’s dealt with enough royals all his life to know that a simple display of weakness could be perceived for something far greater than it is. Royals are groomed and nurtured to perfection from the moment they are born, and in their lifetime, they are only afforded a specific set of standards they had to live by strictly, else they lose the respect of the council and subsequently, their people.

It was madness at the least, to think that royals are supposed to be as stiff as their forefathers now commemorated by figures made of stone or some precious mineral. How strangely ironic.

Crown aside, you are but a human being, a woman, who had just lost her husband, and is now burdened with having to deal with your pregnancy alone. On top of all the responsibilities of a queen, including those of which Seokjin had left you.

Jungkook knew he was a mere soldier in your eyes, but he wanted to help you in the hopes to alleviate the pain you were going through; he wanted you to know that he feels your pain and he knows the suffering of one who has likewise lost a loved one.

He knows you’re constantly pre-occupying yourself with these things, always looking for a distraction to forget your personal sentiments. Jungkook could only imagine what struggles you’re going through right now and how badly he wishes he could hold you in his arms and tell you it’s going to be alright and he’s going to be there for you no matter what.

“Jungkook? Captain?”

“Huh?”

Jungkook scrambles to his feet as he sees you looking down on him as he rested by the bark of the tree. “Jungjeon-mama!”

Chuckling, you remove a stray leaf that stuck itself to his pants. Jungkook’s heart flutters at the small gesture. “Are you alright, captain? I’ve been calling for you but you seem busy staring off into the distance…” He gulps.

“Alright. Will you accompany me to the doltap shrine then?”

“Of course, Mama.”

Just like before, the two of you walk in comfortable silence, although the captain beside you looks more tense than ever. “Jungkook. Are you sure you’re alright? If you’re unwell, I can just go on my own. You can head back to your quarters.”

The captain quickly shakes his head, but when you meet his eyes, there’s a heavy weight in his stare that you wish to mention, but you don’t want to push his boundaries any further, especially when the two of you had been closer than any of you would have imagined.

You look away as you reach the top of the tiny slope, the dock finally in view. Jungkook immediately offers his elbow for your support, and you place a hand on the same with much gratitude.

He steps into the tiny boat first, readying the oars where he can reach them easily for later. Extending a hand out, he beckons you over to the canoe. Due to an unknown factor, you miss the gap between the boat and the dock, tripping slightly as you get inside. “Mama! Our– the baby!” You laugh at your own clumsiness before placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I’m fine! I’m fine… stop acting like I’m a porcelain doll…” you joke, settling yourself on the seat.

“I’m just concerned about your well-being,” Jungkook mumbles, not meeting your eyes as he fixes the oars with a pout on his face. What a big baby. Gently, you put a hand on his knee, urging him to look at you, “I know,” you give him a warm smile, “and I’m very thankful to have you nearby all the time.”

It was the whole truth. Ever since Minho came barging in with your husband’s clothes and until the announcement of your pregnancy with the council, Jungkook has always been there. Since then, you’d opted to stay inside your hanok most of the day, unless you had to come out for your official duties.

He’d always be there, waiting outside your hanok as you’re about to leave for your responsibilities. You’d even suggested having Yunho come with you instead but the stubborn captain insisted, telling you it is his greatest honor to be your personal guard.

The boat pushes forward and you tilt your head back slightly, enjoying the cool, crisp air. “It’s a beautiful day today isn’t it?”. Jungkook smiles this time, “Certainly, wangbi.”

You decide to leave the shrine late in the afternoon as Jungkook wasn’t able to bring a lamp with him. The sky is becoming a lovely purple, and as the captain manages to safely bring you both back across the river, you make your final request of the day from him. “Why don’t we sit here a while longer? Enjoy the sunset perhaps?” You’re already patting the grass beside you, leaving Jungkook no choice.

Jungkook finally gathers up the courage to ask you this time, “How about you, Mama? Are you alright?” Jungkook doesn’t know what kind of response to expect but he hopes that you will be able to recognize the true depth of his sudden inquiry.

You don’t answer at first. It seemed as if you were trying to gather your thoughts before you reply. “I’m alright,” you retort with a smile. There it is again – the ingenuine grin. “Taehyung had just visited me yesterday to recommend meals I could have prepared that will give me and the baby enough nutrition.”

Right, you were also pregnant. He almost forgot that for a moment. That was another reason he couldn’t sleep at night – could he possibly be a fath-

“How I wish my child’s father was still here to witness him or her grow up.”

Oh. Right. Jungkook chokes back a sob.

This was only one of the many times he’d realized he’d been a fool all along, but this realization had been the most painful yet.

Just as if on cue, Jungkook feels something cold hit his cheek from above. There’s a grey cloud reigning over them, like it’s giving a warning signal of the storm that’s about to come.

He turns to you, worry apparent in his features once more. “Mama, we have to go back!” Just then, there’s a downpour of water, evidently drenching you both. He extends his arm out, even offering you a ride back home on his back. You stand up on your own though, but you don’t take his hand, nor did you follow him back to the palace.

“Mama?”

“Let’s stay for a little while longer.”

“But you might catch a cold, mama.”

“Since when was a cold fatal?” The smile on your face is almost devilish and Jungkook finds himself powerless to say no. “Come on!” you urge, clapping excitedly. “When was the last time you played under the rain?”

“When I was a kid?”

“All the more reason to have fun then!”

The last time he purposefully stayed under the rain was with you, and he promised himself that he would never do it again if you weren’t going to be with him.

You were both young and your rendezvous at the southern forest were nothing short of cherished moments. There were days when the downpour was ultimately unavoidable, especially when you’re playing in the middle of the forest. Rain hadn’t stopped you both from meeting nonetheless. There were also days when he just waited at your designated meeting place, only accompanied by the angry clouds while his body shivered from the cold.

When the years had passed by, Jungkook didn’t find anything enjoyable with staying under the rain so he stayed indoors most of the time, unless it was part of his official duties. Besides, everything else seemed to lose its purpose if you weren’t in it.

Life for him was a storm he was waiting to pass, but since he’d met you that day in the forest all muddy, he learned that life was about learning how to dance in the rain. Ironically enough, you were also the sun that brought light to his life, providing him with enough energy to last for centuries.

You feel something by your feet, prompting you to jump into Jungkook’s arms in fright. The captain gets surprised by your actions, causing him to almost lose his footing. Jungkook looks down to see any damage and sees a brown slimy creature camouflaging with the grass, “Mama, it’s just a frog…”

You frown adorably, giving him a hard time with an irresistible pout. How he wishes he could just kiss you right now. “I’m not particularly fond of these creatures…” You gasp when another one croaks, tightening your grip around the captain’s arms. Jungkook’s mouth twitches in silent celebration at your touch. He may or may not have flexed his muscles too on purpose – but that was most likely a primary instinct when the woman of your dreams encourages physical contact, albeit subconsciously.

Jungkook’s jubilation is cut short when more frogs start to appear out of nowhere, causing you to squeeze even tighter, your grip bordering on pain. For some unknown, you’ve managed to latch on his back with your constant avoidance of the tiny, slimy creatures. “Jung!” you shout, now relentlessly slapping his arm; Jungkook huffs - so much for his fantasies. “We have to get out of here Jungkook!!”

The quick-witted captain crouches low enough, telling you to jump on his back. He didn’t need to actually tell you though, because the moment he’d turned around you already had your hands hooked over his shoulders, trying to get him to hurry. Because of all the movements and the noise, the frogs share the same level of alarm as you – one even manages to fasten itself on your shoe. You flail your foot about, subsequently making it fly about a few feet away and thus, making Jungkook burst into laughter.

He remembers the time he’d surprised you with a frog inside a box in front of the whole class, and now you’d managed to get a whole army of frogs chasing you both. It was a living nightmare – for you at least, Jungkook on the contrary though, is positive that he’s having the time of his life watching frogs terrify you.

Just as expected, Jungkook loses his breath from laughter, setting you down gently as you go over the slope. You’re a little bit too hesitant to let go though, that even when Jungkook has turned to face you, you’re still clinging onto his jeogori as if your life depended on it. It’s a relief when he hears you giggle in his chest, assuring him that you were no longer frightened.  

Only silence remained as the laughter dies down. There’s the muted croaking of the frogs in the distance, but other than that, you’re left standing in his arms, quiet as ever. “Is it alright if I hold you like this for a while?”

Your sudden request throws the captain off guard. He’s powerless to say no, not when this is the moment he’d been waiting and imagining for years. “Can we just stay like this for a moment longer, Mama?” His voice almost breaks, pleading at the least.

“Of course, Jungkook.”

It seems like a hug is what you both just need.  

Just as the rain pours over them, Jungkook feels his own tears rolling down hotly against his cheeks, contrasting the cold droplets of rainwater. His heart hurts. He’s crying.

Actually, you both are.

You find Yoongi lounging extremely close by the doors of your hanok two days later.

The proximity of the southern king startles you and as a gust of wind blows by, some of his bright yellowish hair fly straight into your mouth, “Yoongi!” He fumbles as he pushes his hair back over his shoulder. “Apologies my queen.” There are at least two strands left in your face and Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to reach out his hand, taking out the strands with such tenderness, shivering when you feel the cold pads of his fingers against your cheek.

It takes you a moment before you realize what’s happening and you pull away, turning on your heel. “What are you doing here anyways?” you ask, sliding your doors close. You’re meant to wake a lot earlier than you did today and if you don’t hurry, you might just miss your music class with the village kids.

Yoongi hurries after you, trying to keep up with your pace, “I was…um…wondering if I could come to your class today?”

“You?” you think out loud, not sparing him a glance. You don’t put much thought to it with your haste to make it in time, and you tell him he’s free to do whatever he wants. He doesn’t say anything else after that, so you quicken your pace towards the palace gardens.

You reach the reserved spot in no time, with the children already settled in, chatting and playing among themselves. Just as you’d requested the night prior, your gayageum has been assembled just underneath the oak tree.

“Jungjeon-mama, who is that ahjussi behind you?” Turning to see who the child was pertaining to, you come to see Yoongi standing behind you, seemingly offended at how he’d been perceived to be way older than he actually is.

“Ahjussi?!” Yoongi exclaims, face twisted into a grimace, “Who are you calling ahjussi, kid?”

The children are taken aback by the tone of his voice, unaware that he hadn’t taken any offense with the child’s question. The poor boy’s lips quiver in fear. You give the southern king a quick glare before calling the boy over and letting him sit on your lap. While Yoongi approaches the both of you with a softened gaze, the boy nuzzles his head by the crook of your neck, murmuring his fright over the man’s temper.

“Hey little bud,” Yoongi crouches, tapping the boy’s shoulder twice to get the latter to face him. The boy peeks slowly from your neck, eyeing the blonde-haired man warily. “I’m sorry about earlier son. I was just surprised because no one had ever called me that –“

He wasn’t actually going to explain it is he? You clear your throat, interrupting him. Yoongi’s mouth presses into a thin line.

“Right. Say, could you tell me your name?”

“It’s Jinseo.”

“Hello, Jinseo. It’s nice to meet you. My name is Yoongi. Could I make it up to you by playing a song?”

Jinseo paused, head titled slightly to the right as if in deep thought. “It isn’t mine to give you permission. You should ask Mama,” he says smartly, pointing at you. Kids are getting smarter these days.

“Jungjeon-mama?” Yoongi asks with an expectant look. With the other children following suit, you are left with no other choice but to say yes. Reluctantly, you lift yourself up together with Jinseo and taking a spot next to the other children.

“Let me just try to…” Yoongi adjusts himself on the seat, plucking the strings in an uncoordinated manner, “remember…” All of a sudden, he claps like he’d just produced gold from thin air, startling everyone around. “I got it! I got it now, don’t worry.”

You and Jinseo share a look.

If there was any discipline of the arts you could take pride for in yourself, it would have been music. Your father, King Daesin of the south, aside from occasionally practicing medicine, also had the ear for music. He had taught you how to play the gayageum, an instrument you’ve been acquainted with for as long as you could remember. Because of fair years of playing, you could freely boast to anyone that you’re quite exceptional at it, but now with Yoongi and his hands on your beloved instrument... Yoongi was tremendously better at it than you probably ever will be.

A smile creeps onto your face when you realize his acting earlier, pretending to be a beginner with the instrument when he could totally be mistaken for a musical prodigy. What a humble bragger. Yoongi had his eyes closed, pouring his emotion and soul onto the instrument, and even without having to enunciate lyrics to get the message across, it was clear to everyone that the song conveyed sadness in all forms. Each vibration of the string – every sound it made spoke in volumes, moving everyone present in class. By the time he’d finished, all the children were as silent as mice, rigid as statues. This was the first time you’ve seen them all well-behaved.

It also dawns on you that this was the first time any of you were deeply moved by music.

The rest of the class stay silent moments later, all in deep contemplation despite the differences in your ages. From your side, you hear a child sigh to the girl in front of her, “I came to class happy this morning. Now I’m sad.” All of a sudden, Jinseo scrambles out of your lap and rushes to Yoongi, hugging the older man’s side in an awkward manner. Yoongi is caught off guard by the gesture, patting the little boy’s head in a similarly awkward manner.

“Ahjussi,” Jinseo calls once more, maintaining his hold on Yoongi’s waist. The southern king heaves a deep sigh, knowing he’s going to have to deal with that a lot longer than he intended to be. “Why are you sad? You played sad music for us. Now we’re all sad too.” Yoongi is rendered speechless and looks at you with wide eyes, seeking for your help. “Uh...Jinseo, why don’t you ask your Yoongi-hyungnim to play us a happy song then?”

“A happy song!” Sheepishly, Yoongi cheers, clapping his hands in an attempt to get everyone back in high spirits. Thankfully, the children seem to enjoy the idea, so they goad the ahjussi on, wanting to see if he’s just as talented with cheery songs as he is with sorrowful ones.

With a small smile, Yoongi mouths a ‘thank you’ in your direction before placing his hands on the gayageum once more.

“Thank you for saving me a few times earlier during your class,” the southern king says, leaning towards you while he mimics your movements as you wave goodbye to the children. “You haven’t had much experience with children, haven’t you?” you raise a brow at him while a laugh escapes your lips.

“I’m afraid I don’t,” Yoongi replies, chuckling to himself.

“It’s good practice though, what you did earlier. One day, you’re going to be a father as well.”

Yoongi eyes you slowly from the side, checking if you realize the gravity of your words. His eyes lower down to your stomach, imagining if the baby growing inside of it was his own blood. Perhaps it was? Perhaps it wasn’t?

He’d been especially concerned about your well-being since last week when shocking news had been continuously delivered right to your arms. He wanted to approach you badly during those rough days, but you were far too pre-occupied to even spare him a second glance. The young king wonders how much of a difficulty it might be for you, but all he wanted was to show you that he was willing to support you in any way that he can.

Yoongi sees Hoseok approach with the jumeoni he’d personally prepared early in the morning. He sees his brother trail not far behind, studying the silk bag in Hoseok’s hands. The southern king had been nervous since last night, continuously practicing his lines to the point where he’s not sure why he’s doing it in the first place. It’s now or never.

“Jungjeon-mama?”

Yoongi winces inwardly as he hears his own voice wavering. Heavens. Why was he so nervous around you? You turn to him with a warm smile. Ah yes – that’s why.

“May I invite you for a walk?” The southern king asks as he beckons his general over who hands him the silk bag. “And lunch perhaps?”

You pause for a moment, recalling your thoughts if you had anything else planned after your music class with the children. Yoongi tries hard to not show too much excitement when he hears your yes. Extending his arm out, he motions for you to walk with him. He feels Jungkook follow you both, and he leans to your side a little, whispering, “I was wondering if we could perhaps…go alone?”

You look at him, as if studying his facial expressions. Turning around, you tell Jungkook to stay put. The captain’s eyes dart back and forth, giving his own older brother a steely gaze before nodding his head and bowing to you. “Don’t worry captain. I’ll scream loudly if anything bad happens,” you tell him as a reassurance.

“In all seriousness, Mama…” Yoongi says, putting on a stern face, even though you are both experiencing clear difficulty with keeping a straight face after hearing Yoongi’s stories. “…do I seriously look like an ahjussi to you?”  

You place a hand over your mouth, ineffectively hiding your giggles. Yoongi grimaces, clutching his chest to express his hurt over your reaction. “We can’t blame the kids though. And besides, Jinseo had a valid point.” The young king gives you a playful glare.

Yoongi had been expressing his sentiments over the whole ‘ahjussi’ situation earlier, arguing that he didn’t have enough wrinkles on his face to be even considered one. In Jinseo’s earlier defense though, he stated that only old people had white hair, and if he wasn’t old – why would he even have white hair in the first place. To which, of course, an agitated Yoongi replies: “It’s not white. It’s yellow…ish. And it’s bleach! It’s something I discovered during an overseas travel! A lot of people have this kind of hair color…”

“How are you feeling? Is your pregnancy going well?”

“How did you know about my pregnancy?” Yoongi shrugs as he replies, “Walls are never thick enough to hide news like that.” “Oh.” ‘Oh’ is an appropriate reaction, Yoongi reckons, as he’s had the same sort of response when he’d heard of the news.

“Well, for one, our royal physician Taehyung had scheduled regular visits to keep my condition in check. So there’s that. He advises that as long as keep a stress-free environment, my pregnancy will be just fine.”

Using your chopsticks, you fiddle with the mandu he’s made hours prior, deep in thought as you stare into the distance.

Yoongi hopes that the apparent death of your husband isn’t conducive of stress of a stress-free environment. He makes an inward scoff – as if that’s most likely going to happen. If he’s already thorned by occurrences that seem insignificant to those of the capitol’s then he could only imagine the sort of struggle you have to go through, especially when the backbone of your government is composed of vile men who are strongly displeased by the thought of having a woman on the throne.

The young man lies on his back, stretching out his legs to get rid of the tingling on his soles due to their prolonged sitting. With a long exhale, he closes his eyes, letting his thoughts drift along with the steady breeze.

He knows he’s neglecting his duties as the king of the south by prolonging his stay here, but Seokjin’s death won't settle with him nicely. He has to get to the bottom of this. Even if he’s still holding a grudge against Seokjin for taking you away from the south (and had even secretly wished him dead at some point) he could never plunge a sword to another king, much more to the same one who had taken care of the woman he wanted to call his wife.

He hears rustling from your side, and Yoongi opens his eyes a little to check on you. He watches you clean the bowls and reorganize them back onto the bag he’d brought. You slowly start to turn to face him and Yoongi quickly shuts his eyes, solely relying on his other sense to figure out what’s happening.

“Oh? You must’ve fallen asleep huh?” Yoongi hears more rustling around. “Maybe you could still listen to me even during slumber…” You inhale deeply, “You know…Seokjin was always good with children.”

Yes. Of course, speaking of the spirit.

“Jinseo was one of his favorite students. Jinseo was actually really shy and quiet at first – yet for some inexplicable reason, Seokjin had successfully helped him to come out of his shell and the little boy has been brighter since. Seokjin was always so playful yet so gentle at the same time that whenever he’d visit our classes the children would go crazy over him.”

Well, that’s nice to hear, especially when he’d made a particularly bad first impression with the children earlier.

There’s momentary silence. Yoongi hears a sniff – and a shaky exhale afterwards.

“I miss him Yoongi.” Another sniff. “I miss him so much that it hurts every day. Everything reminds me of him.” The sound of your silent crying rings throughout his ears, yet he can't bring himself to get up and wipe them away, fearing it might cause you to stop pouring your heart out.

Mourning was part of healing. You’d feel lighter after crying. At least that’s what he’d learned from having lost his mother too.

At the same time, Yoongi feels his chest constrict at your words. While you pour your fears out to his sleeping form, he struggles with maintaining a stoic face to keep his act up. His empathy is fighting to register in his features, and when he can no longer hold it in, he turns his back to you, swallowing back his emotions that threaten to pour out after years of hiding.

“Jeonha, I can't seem to find any sign of him anywhere.”

Hoseok slowly and carefully gets back up from his crouching position, groaning in relief as he hears his joints cracking as he twists his torso from side to side. Yoongi does the same, shaking his legs one at a time to get rid of the numbness.

It’s been a few hours since they’ve arrived and Yoongi is getting more hopeless with every passing moment. They have searched everywhere for anything – any sign that he’s still alive.

He’d promised you he’d find your husband and bring him back. Even though you hadn’t exactly heard the silent vow of the southern king, he was a man of his word and he’ll be sure to do everything in his capacity to do it.

Yoongi couldn’t even find the reason why he was going to do it or why he should do it in the first place – whether it be for his own peace of mind, for your happiness, or for the future of the country.

He knew they’d left Seokjin that night and the chances that his fellow ruler was still alive was almost slim to none. He knows that trying to look for a clue and actually succeeding was going to be a long shot, especially when it has already been quite some time Yoongi had returned this morning to make sure but after hours of looking, the place was clean and empty, thus pushing down that gut feeling that maybe, just maybe, your husband was still alive.

Else he’d be forced to prolong his stay and resort to more meddling to protect you from harm.

They’ve already gone through this area, Yoongi thinks, recognizing the same stump he’d seen earlier. He settles himself on the tree remainder and picks up a fallen leaf. Just then, something glimmers from the ground and the curious king bends over once more, picking it up. It’s a bracelet.

Yoongi scoffs to himself: an even more shocking discovery. It’s not just any bracelet – it’s the kind of bracelet only royals can have. And if that isn’t the most astounding part of it yet, etched in the gold pendant is the emblem of the south.

Besides you, there could only be one other person who’d be wearing the same. If he’s still alive that is.

The man’s wife places a comforting hand on her husband’s shoulder, massaging them gently to ease the tension on his muscles. She’s never seen him his distraught since…since they left their previous home. Eunkyung is unsure how to give her husband the least solace, not when the circumstances only allow them to hope for the best.

For a moment, they stay like that, quiet and observant. In fact, they had been for almost a full moon, just watching the man they had taken into their home. The man had been looking for firewood that early morning, and he’d found this severely wounded man barely alive in the woods.

He’d carried the man on his back and hurried back home, his initial quest and the pains that came with old age completely forgotten. He had closed off one of his rooms reserved for his patients to tend to this not-so-stranger and had let his wife tend to his other patients while he carefully worked this man back to life for weeks.

“Do you think he will still wake?”

The man is unable to answer promptly as he tenderly takes the sick man’s hand in his and says a short prayer to his ancestors, as well as incorporating a lesson he’d learned back when he was still an apprentice – that human touch was an integral part of the art of medicinal healing.

The physician faces his wife and pulls her closer, likewise placing her hand on top of his and letting her join in his silent prayer. His thumb runs over the ring on the man’s finger, remembering a similar one of his own possession quite a few years back.

“He will. That is what I believe and that is what we are also praying for,” the man replies, checking the temperature of the cloth he’d laid on his patient’s forehead. It’s warm when he takes it, and he makes a mental note to cite this observation in his notes.

“Daesin,” Eunkyung calls, touching her husband’s now bare wrists, “your bracelet…where is it?”

The man sighs heavily, deflated as he rests his weight on his calves. “I…I don’t know, really. I must have lost it when I carried him home.”

It was the only thing reminding him of his past, of you, especially. Now it’s gone – but it really doesn’t matter anymore, not when something, or someone else rather had come into his life so easily. His patient was far more important than any bracelet that proved his previous rule over the southern city.

“I really hope he will get better soon.”

“He has to,” Daesin reiterates, hoping they’d eventually come true, “He has to get better because he’s my son-in-law.”

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Tell me what you think? x

© joontier 2020

[author-morgan]

SUP you’re probably busy but PLZ give us some hate love relationship with alexios or eivor not enemies but kinda not getting along you’re so sweet btw 🥺

♥♥♥ Here you are, nonny. Hope you enjoy! And apologies for how long it took for me to fulfill your request.

Alexios x fem!Reader

THE ONLY REASON Alexios has not thrown you over the side of the Adrestia is that Barnabas considers you something akin to a daughter, and he’d rather not get an earful from you or the captain when he has to fish you back out of the Aegean. The two of you were always at odds —clawing at each other’s throats over even the most trivial of things. Herodotus claims it’s because you both fancy one another but are too stubborn to come to terms with the realization and subsequent emotions. The old captain is inclined to agree. 

Barnabas can hear you and Alexios bickering from the Korinthian dock house. He and the historian exchange a knowing look and a long sigh. The crew takes it as their signal to begin preparing the trireme for departure. Stomping across the wharf, you step up onto the deck of the Adrestia, cheeks aflame with hands balled up into tight fists. Alexios trails but a few steps behind you, a similar look of irritation about him. You turn at the top stairs leading to the helm, blocking him with another harsh stare and a finger waving at him. “You are the most pompous, pigheaded, daft man I’ve ever met!” 

He dares to smile. “Keep going,” Alexios mocks with a laugh and an almost playful glint in his tawny-gold eyes, “those words were starting to hurt.” 

You turn to the helm, fingers curling around the railing. What you desire now is some peace, something nigh impossible to attain with Alexios around. “One more word from you–” you grit, thinking of a threat he’d be inclined to believe is a promise. 

“Or what?” He interrupts, folding his arms across his chest. “What will you do?” You shove him backward, hard enough that he almost loses his balance. Alexios stares down his nose at you. You’ve both done this before —an argument turning to a spat. Last time, you broke his nose though you walked away with a fair share of burgeoning bruises from the scuffle. Afterward, you and Alexios were surprisingly civil toward one another, something Barnabas and Herodotus had never seen.

Barnabas steps between the two of you. He means to keep the peace. Exchanging insults is one thing, but he will not have bloodshed needlessly aboard his vessel again. “He started it!” You cry, regretting how childish it feels and sounds to pin the blame on Alexios, even if the whole ordeal had been his fault.

“As I recall, you were the one to make a scene in the market,” Alexios reminds you, shaking his head. Every vendor in the agora had turned their attention on the two of you. That was after he left a trail of bodies around the temple of Aphrodite, though. 

“Because we were being followed!” You snap. The more eyes watching, the less likely your pursuers would be to act. Only you seemed to have the nous to see that. A fight would’ve gone sour with neither you nor Alexios having a wink of sleep in three days —and on an empty stomach at that. 

His brows furrow, eyes narrowing. “I told you I would handle it,” he says. A handful of street thugs would’ve hardly been a challenge.  

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “I know how you handle things, Alexios,” you bite back. He would rather stick his spear in someone’s gut and then ask questions. His method lands the two of you in hot water more often than naught. Besides, there’s already a hefty bounty on the Eagle Bearer’s head that’s caused more than a few troubles on the road —you both couldn’t afford to have more mercenaries sniffing out your trail all over Hellas. “We would have left with thrice the bounty we already have on our heads.” 

“Didn’t mean you had to kiss me,” Alexios notes, his disgust feigned. 

“It was the only way I could get you to shut up!” You tell him. Alexios claims Sokrates loves the sound of his voice too much, but there are times you’re certain the Eagle Bearer loves the sound of his voice, too. You’d taken his face into your hands, pulling him down with a quick tug that he didn’t try to fight. His lips had been soft and rough and warm against your own when you kissed him, and after his initial shock, you had felt Alexios’ lips part and move —he meant to deepen the kiss before you pulled away. “Besides,” you smirk, “you didn’t have to kiss me back.”

Alexios feels heat rush to his cheeks. “I did not!” He refutes. 

You lean toward him with a taunting smile, patting his shoulder. “We both know that’s a lie,” you say, lips kinking into a smirk. A hasty kiss in the Korinthian market doesn’t change that it was your quick thinking that let you and Alexios escape the streets and return to the Adrestia without running into or starting another conflict. “A simple ‘thank you’ would be enough.” You tilt your chin up, waiting to hear his reluctant gratitude.

He steps closer, fingers wrapping around your wrist. His façade of irritation cracking. “If I kiss you, will it make you shut up?” Alexios asks, one brow raised. A poor excuse for the chance to have your lips against his again. 

Your eyes widen, and you shake your head, hoping the setting sun will hide the heat rising to your cheeks. “No!” You pull your hand from his, turning back to see the docks of Korinth growing smaller in the distance. “It will not because I am never kissing­–” the words die on the tip of your tongue when his lips brush over yours. You part your lips, feeling him wash over like a wave of warmth as his frame leans into yours and his arms settle at the curve of your back to press you closer. 

One hand curls into his chiton, the other settles at the base of his neck —both drawing him further into the kiss. He groans softly, low in his throat. Every insincere quarrel comes rushing back, all of them a guise to avoid what lay beneath a shallow and false layer of animosity. Alexios pulls back, resting his forehead on yours. The back of his fingers brushing over your cheek. “Can we stop arguing now?” He asks, breathless and smiling.

“I don’t think so,” you note, lips curving into a smile, “it’s too much fun.” Alexios laughs. “I’m not taking back what I said either.” He could be pompous, pigheaded, and daft sometimes, but you wouldn’t have him any other way. 

He rolls his eyes. “Of course not.” You push up on your toes, and Alexios bends down, meeting your lips halfway. Barnabas and Herodotus glance at each other, smiling —gladdened to know you’d both come to terms before they, or even the gods, would have to intervene.

[taglist: @kvitravn  @nemo-my-name-forevermore @khaoskrossed @wallsarecrumbling  @novastale  @maximalblaze  @elizabethroestone  @kitkitvm ]

[aclosetfan]

8

And Np

(ask game)

haha dude you’re like my new best friend now lmao thanks so much for being interested enough to ask about my dumb ideas!

Eight is titled “Artistic Aspirations” which isn’t a creative title at all. It’s another multi-chapter, no powers au, blues fic!! Personally, I think it's too safe and boring to write. The story spans a few years; I’ve shortened the outline to make it readable, but it still ended up being too long, sorry.

Background on the girls at the start of the story:

Bubbles is 21 and a broke, struggling artist finishing/right out of undergrad. Lives in Cityville. she’s on the verge of having to crawl home to her family with her tail between her legs

BC is 23 and finishing her physical therapy program in Townsville. Still lives with the Professor, but she practically lives full time at her boyfriend's place. She’s semi-neurotic about her relationship, not because it’s unstable, but b/c she thinks it’s too good to be true. Butch, for what it’s worth, doesn’t blink an eye—just a chill dude in this one. VERY into BC.

Blossom is 25 and starting her law career. Lives on the East Coast, working for a successful firm. Would like to move back home at one point, but she hasn’t really had the “right” reason to.

Plot (under the cut!)

It opens with Bubbles at a diner waiting for her sisters at their regular booth. Life isn’t all rainbows and sunshine like she had hoped. At the diner, Buttercup announces that she and her long-term boyfriend are finally engaged! Bubbles has met Butch plenty of time as well as Brick, Butch’s older brother, but she has yet to meet his youngest brother. In fact, Bubbles doesn’t even know his name. Butch just affectionately refers to him as “my dumbass little brother,” which Brick (a defense lawyer here in Townsville) wholeheartedly agrees with. Butch has also said “he’s into all that artsy stuff like you. Draws and shit.”

Until they finally meet at the wedding

He wasn’t there for the wedding rehearsal because his flight was delayed—he was somewhere “fancy” according to Butch b/c of some “art thing, idk, he’ll be here.” “He better be!” Cries HIM, who is one of Butch’s dads, but Bubbles doesn’t really know how exactly b/c everyone is adamant that HIM and Mojo (their other eccentric father) have never once been in a relationship

So when Bubs finally meets the brother she’s walking down the aisle with, she—a person who has an undergrad degree in art (haven’t decided what kind yet lol)—is like WAIT BOOMER JOJO THE BOOMER JOJO?!?! He’s like, “lol sup” and she loses her mind because Butch’s dumbass little brother doesn’t just “draw and shit,” he’s actually an art world prodigy, who despite being very young and very alive, is considered very renowned in major art circles.

(Not Banksy per se, but he’s like one of those Bad Boy artists that would make other artists roll their eyes) (also a man of many projects but doesn’t have the follow-through for a lot of them—which if he wasn’t so good at the stuff he actually finishes, would bite him in the ass; he’s flaky, gets bored easily).

Bubbles is amazed she hasn’t made the connection between the brothers and Boomer just laughs.

There’s, quite predictably, an instant connection between the blues. Butch, who cares for his sister-in-law, is like “Bubs don’t date my brother. He’s not mature enough to be dating anyone.” And Bubbles doesn’t listen!! Because she’s desperate for love and this could also mean she’s finally getting her big break!! Their relationship is really intense and Boomer does end up getting her a nice cushy job at some indie gaming company that he’s dipping his toes in. But just a quick as the flame is lit, it goes out. Boomer gets bored, Bubbles’ art isn’t being taken seriously, and she ends up getting fired for creative differences. Fired and despondent, she gets her break-up text from Boomer the next day. The day after that, he’s dating a model.

Absolutely crushed, Bubbles packs up her bags, leaves his apartment, and moves back in with the Professor. Butch and Buttercup (and Brick—but he’s at work) are ready to kick ass. Bubbles though would rather forget about it and holes up in her childhood bedroom. Eventually, BC gets her out of the room, brings her to Butch and her’s home, and is like “listen I know you’re heartbroken, but ima need you to do something for me—“ and Bubbles is like omg srsly?? Right now?? And BC is like “I need a mural on that wall, something cutesy, ya kno a stork or something?” And Bubbles is about to snap but then, she's like WAIT A STORK!!! And a new baby on the way really brings Bubbles out of her stupor—it gets her painting again. (Bubbles is full of love and you can’t tell me she doesn’t love babies)

So the mural is a hit at the baby shower and Robin (longtime best friend, also pregnant), is like Bubbles please paint me one, and her partner Princess is like MONEY IS NO OBJECT IF ROBIN WANTS IT SHE GETS IT. And then, subsequently, Robin’s (and Princess’s) mural takes off in the rich, white lady community, and soon enough Bubbles is being commissioned for more than just Baby Murals. Princess goes around bragging that she was the one who “discovered her,” and becomes Bubbles' “business agent.”

Basically, Bubbles is on the rise. As opposed to Boomer, who is on the fall. He’s hit an art block. It’s really bad. His melancholy is really bad. Very much plays the “woe is me" card. Hasn’t been back to Townsville in a while, so when his nephew (who he’s met briefly over facetime lol) turns one, he decides to fly in for his birthday.

Plans to mope and bum off his brothers for a bit, but is shocked to see Bubbles, who he then realizes he shouldn’t be so shocked to see. Has a ream “this was a mistake, she’ll make scene” moment, but Bubbles greets him as if nothing between them had ever happened (LIKE A QUEEN). Boomer takes this personally. Then Boomer meets Princess, who gloats about Bubbles, and then, looks at the award-winning boy and goes, “so anyway, who are you again?”

This pisses Boomer off even more and then, over the course of the week he stays with the greens, this anger builds up. He eventually takes it out on Bubbles, like, “you wouldn’t be who you are without me.”

[cue that one blinking gif] Bubbles goes off. Boomer storms off. Romance is in the air.

Jk

[well I guess the reds are hitting it off, but that’s c-plot and who cares]

Princess isn’t privy to this growing resentment and only sees an Opportunity™. She reaches out to Boomer’s agent. Then, she reaches out to a museum, and is like “I’ve got the most BITCHING exhibit for you.” Then, she tells Bubbles about the gig she booked for her.

Bubbles and Boomer are like no way am I doing a collab with them. Boomer’s agent is like “chief ima be real with you, it’s this or nothing.” Princess looks at Bubbles and tells her to suck it up. So, they end up working together, which means Boomer is back in Townsville.

Cue lovers to enemies to friends back to lovers speedrun. Hello yes.

Because they’re forced to collaborate, because Bubbles is more confident, and because Boomer has been knocked down a peg or two, they actually (finally) get to know each other on a personal level. And being closer to family helps Boomer, in some ways, mature. It’s a whole connecting back to your roots “ive grown and im better now” character development for Boomer.

Ends ambiguous ;) but it's happy.

[majesticbrownjawn]

Delicate

Violet reluctantly goes to a house party with her bestie. Meets Erik. Is subsequently turned out. 😩

————————————

"So you coming girl? It's gon be lots of niggas there."

"I'm good. I'm not tryna meet no niggas. I'm tryna meet a man."

Violet was thirty-three and far past the time for games. She was focused and didn't want a man to come and throw her off her game. That's what her 20s had been for and she'd left them behind almost four years ago.

"I need you to be my wingman though. Pleaseeeeee."

"Fine. I'll come, but I'm driving and just know I'm leaving yo ass when I'm ready to go."

Three hours later she was in her car listening to Siri giving her directions to the kickback.

"Girl, where the hell we going?"

"Uhhhhh..." Trina knew if she'd told Violet where the party was, she wouldn't have come. She loved her friend, but she could be uptight and snooty.

"Um, hello. I'm not talking to Siri's ass, Trina.

"Oakland," she squeaked.

"Trina!"

"I know. But I really wanted to come. This is Devante's best friend's party and I didn't want to go alone. I won't know anyone else there."

Trina was the opposite of Violet in that she was blinded by her desire for companionship. Most times she'd end up hurt or used, or both, only to make the same mistake with the next guy. Devante seemed to be a little better, but Violet hadn't met him yet, so she couldn't say for sure. Violet had a keen intuition and she rarely read people wrong. She was eager to see what Devante was all about.

Violet looked at the GPS and saw they only had about 10 minutes left on their ride. If they hadn't been so close, she would have turned back in the direction of her condo.

They pulled up to the home and compared to the others on the block, it looked out of place. It was, well, nice. No doubt an anomaly among the rest of what comes to mind of what people like Violet might think stereotypical Oakland looks like.

Violet groaned when she realized they'd have to park about a block down the street. Cars lined the area and she hoped the people who drove those cars weren't in the same place they were headed. It was a futile hope and as they got closer, the smell of ganja overwhelmed them. They were hit with another wave when they opened the door to the home.

"You're paying to get my hair washed, Trina!"

Violet was forced to yell in her friend's ear. Music was blaring from a wall of speakers to her right. It was artistic in a way. They resembled something she'd seen at a museum last summer in Brooklyn.

The pair weaved through the crowd of people. Some looked like Oakland natives, some looked like hipsters, others looked like something else entirely. It was just mid-afternoon but there were already people here and there passed out drunk.

A group of older men sat around playing spades and cracking jokes at each other. The sight was strange, down to the cheap fold away table. The house was immaculately decorated and the table just didn't fit in. Violet figured one of the men probably brought it with them. Maybe they lived just on the other side of this house on a block that looked more like the Oakland she saw on TV. She and Trina squeezed around the men to enter the kitchen, where they found Devante, but more importantly for Violet—drinks. She was already eager to leave and they'd just arrived. She meant what she said about leaving when she got fed up, but it wouldn't have been fair to tell her best friend she was ready to go now. Especially not after she saw the way Trina and Devante made heart eyes at each other.

"What up doe? I'm Devante." He extended his hand to her and she took it hesitantly.

The first thing she noticed was his strong accent. He was an Oakland native. Devante also wasn't yelling. The kitchen was far away enough from the speakers that one could have a conversation without risking losing their voice from screaming. They talked for about 20 minutes, but it was a one-sided dialogue that consisted of Violet asking him questions and him answering. He took her interrogation in stride, responding patiently and thoughtfully. At the end of it, she decided he was corny as fuck. But in a good way, kinda like Nick Cannon, but with a West Coast vibe. Her gut told her he was OK, for now. She wasn't interested in watching the two of them carry on like teenagers, so she made her way out of the kitchen and back out into the crowd.

She quickly regretted her decision as she was tossed about in the sea of people. She held her drink close to her chest, a strategy she hoped would save the Henny in her red Solo cup. Violet huffed as she finally made it to the front porch and glanced inside. There was a corner left and she scowled at it like that would magically refill it. She shotted the remaining liquid and licked what was left of the spillage from her index and middle fingers.

"Damn girl. That's how you feel?"

Violet nearly broke her neck moving her head in the direction of the voice. It came from across the porch. A shadowy figure stood just out of clear view, which was strange because it was still daylight outside. She hadn't noticed before, but the porch was of the wrap around variety and this person stood just as the porch took a turn for the other side of the house.

"Excuse me?" She was embarrassed that someone had seen her, but she'd be damned if she let one of these Oakland dudes shame her.

Shame.

Hmm.

The shadow man took a step forward and revealed himself to be quite interesting. She had a habit of looking at men she met from foot to head. She used to judge a man on his shoes first. She wasn't as shallow as she had once been, but the habit of doing it never went away. He wore a pair of those sock looking sneakers, gray joggers and a fitted long sleeve Henley tee. His thick muscular frame filled in everything beautifully.

To put it simply, he looked good.

"You ain't never been to the Town before, have you?" He took a few more steps into view and sat on an outdoor couch on the opposite side of the porch.

"What town?"

"Guess not," he scoffed.

She scrunched her brows confused and annoyed. She didn't like not knowing something. Was the Town a club? Maybe he thought he'd seen her there befo—

"Oakland. That's what we call Oakland."

Oh.

She watched him as he rolled his sleeves up casually, but there was anything casual about the way his forearms looked. Violet's intuition sensors started going haywire. The alarms in her head were about as loud as the music inside the house.

"Want more?" A sly half grin swept across his face as he tempted her, waving a nearly full fifth of Hennessy at her.

"You looked like you wanted more...the way you were licking those fingers a second ago."

She stared at him, fuming. Even more embarrassed now.

"C'mere."

She didn't want to, those alarms were still warning her to stay away from this man.

But Hennessy.

She took a deep breath as she rose and walked to him. The few steps felt like miles.

"Sit."

Violet plopped to the far end of the outdoor couch.

"Why you all the way over there? You scared?"

Yes.

She hadn't been close to a man this fine since—never, actually. He was the finest man she'd ever laid eyes on. She was certain of it now that she was up close. The realization made her nervous.

"What's your name babygirl?"

"I'm not your baby or a girl. Are you going to give me some or not?" She raised her empty cup to his face. Her attitude and entitlement was almost unattractive but it was something different than what he was used to. She intrigued him.

He grinned again, shifting closer to her.

"Yea, but first lick your fingers again for me."

Violet yelped at the request. She'd never been asked something so vulgar in such a forward manner, by a complete stranger. Had she not been in the hood and had this man not been so damn fine, she likely would have slapped him and got up to find her friend. She instead just stared at him appalled, offended and anxious.

He crept closer, as close as he could get, approaching her like a jaguar ready to pounce. The shadow man's arm rested behind her head on the back of the couch, the smell of him refusing to be ignored.

Mahogany.

Coconut.

Cedar.

The combination of sweetness and spice made blood rush through her veins like whitewater in a rapid. He leaned into her neck and her eyes fluttered at how close he was. She could feel the heat leaving his body.

"I don't like to repeat myself, babygirl." He rested his hand on the curve of her neck, his thumb rubbed back and forth across the length of her throat. He finally gave her a bit more breathing room, but his hand stayed put.

Violet was a deer in headlights. Completely struck by the situation. His boldness. His beauty. His dominance. And that she was fighting the fact she liked it. She glanced down at her own hand seriously contemplating doing it. Not for the Henny, but because she wanted to please him.

She looked back up at him.

"I-I dunno—"

And suddenly her fingers were in her mouth. He'd grabbed her hand while she was distracted trying to make a decision.

Violet's eyes widened and she let out a soft whimper as he guided her fingers in and out her mouth.

"That's right. Look at me. You got some pretty ass eyes." He spoke his words slowly and carefully, allowing her to see the slugs on his lower canines for the first time.

She cursed herself in her head as she now willingly sucked and licked on her fingers, giving him what he wanted.

After he was satisfied, he removed her fingers from her mouth and studied how wet and blush her lips were now. The thought of sliding his dick between them made him twitch.

"Open up." He tapped the bottle to her lips and gave her a shot's worth before pouring more in her cup. He got up and headed for the front door.

"Where are you going?" Her question sounded desperate. He heard it too, the smug look on his face was a clear indication of such.

"We going back inside. C'mon."

Violet sprung up like a weed. She was surprised to see his hand outstretched to her. She didn't want to take it so easily, but she knew the mass of people standing around on the other side of the door would likely separate them if she didn't. She held his hand and marveled at how warm it was. She felt this odd sense of comfort holding it.

Violet's gaze then became fixed on his arms and those scars. She moved her hand above his wrist and gently padded the first few rows on his forearm. The touch made him jerk his head back at her and the look he gave scared her enough to move her hand back to his and keep it there.

She noticed her and Shadow Man's walk was much easier than hers and Trina's. People seemed to move out of his way as he approached them. Some moved out of the way with a look of awe, it seemed. Or was it respect? Maybe even fear? His stride was smooth and confident as he parted the crowd like Moses and she wondered just what she was doing with him. What possessed her to follow him in here, holding his hand? What did he have planned for her?

She was relieved when they approached that table with the men playing cards. Maybe they were headed for the kitchen and Trina could talk some sense into her.

"Y'all old niggas still playing? Ain't it time for y'all to report back to the nursing home?" The table erupted in laughter. Violet even snickered to herself a bit. The Shadow Man had a sense of humor it seemed.

"If you don't get yo' mop head ass outta here, E," one of the old men replied.

Another gentleman threatened to 'whoop his ass' like they used to for wearing that size ‘smedium’ shirt.

"Watch ya mouf unc!" Shadow Man joked. Or was it E? The first man called him E. It should've mattered. She didn't plan on telling him her name anyway.

Violet was disappointed to see that her best friend wasn't in the kitchen. That meant she was on her own in trying to be rational about this situation.

"Why you looking like that?"

She raised a brow at him.

"All worried and shit." He pressed his thumb against the wrinkles between her brows. She was sure he didn't mean for it to be, but the action was calming. She shrugged at him and that seemed to be answer enough.

There were still a few people milling about in the kitchen, but it mostly cleared out when they entered the space. He seemed to know the few stragglers still there and it made her wonder just who he was.

"Who are you?"

He laughed at her question as he leaned on the counter across from her. He was taking too long to answer and her mind raced with the possibilities of who he might be.

"I don't like repeating myself either...E." She took a satisfied swig from her cup.

That'll teach him.

Shadow Man didn't seem to like it though. He quickly stepped to her and forced himself back into her space, clenching his jaws.

"You went to college, huh? Prolly grad school too." Not the response she expected but he was right, nevertheless.

"Yea. And?" She didn't feel as intimidated as she had before.

Had to be the Hennessy.

"You smart." She smiled at his compliment.

"Problem is," he continued, "You think you smarter than me and everybody else in here."

E was also a good read of people. He knew her type and she stuck out like a sore thumb here, but only because of her bougie ass disposition.

"You not though." He cupped her ass firmly.

"See, I know I'm smarter than yo uppity ass...Cuz I knew you'd like my hands on you like this."

He slapped her behind and the sting rang across the kitchen. The short, thin dress she wore did nothing to muffle the sound. She started to look around her to see if anyone was looking but he grabbed her chin, keeping her eyes and focus on him.

"And you weren't smart enough to stay away from me." Her heart pounded. He was telling her everything she knew already.

"Why should I stay away from you?"

"Exactly, babygirl."

What? That's wasn't an applicable answer to her question.

He was watching her lips again, but this time she noticed. His tight little eyelashes blinked slowly at her pout before traveling back up to her 'pretty ass eyes.'

"You wanna kiss me,” she whispered.

"That's a question or a statement?"

"You tell me, since you so smart, E." He slapped her ass again for her sarcastic remark. This time she didn't try to scan the room for a potential audience. She didn't seem to care.

His frame enveloped her, despite her being a good 5'8" and thickly. She rarely felt small but she did now and it was a complete turn on.

One hand on her ass and the other on her face was how he started the kiss. She started it with a gasp. His lips were velvety soft. Her eyes were open at first. She had to make sure he was really kissing her. When she saw his were closed, she followed suit and was thrust into a kiss unlike any kiss she'd had in her life. Who knew thug type niggas kissed like this? It was rough, yet gentle and hot all at the same time. He pulled away from her only after suckling her full lips and finishing their kiss with a surprisingly sweet final peck.

She was stuck there for a moment, eyes still closed and leaning towards him. Until she realized he was gone. She looked back out the kitchen, past the old man card table and saw his short, stiff, dreadlocked ponytail hovering just above the crowd. She darted out the kitchen after him.

She found the courage to muscle through the crowd, because this time she had good reason to. Her own height assisted in her effort to keep an eye on the tips of his locs. Where the fuck was he going? The fact that he'd abruptly left after their kiss made a swell of insecurity rise up in her, yet she continued following him.

Violet felt some relief when she saw him heading up a flight of stairs above her. She hurried to the base of the steps and took a deep breath. She didn't want to be here just an hour ago and now she was following the Shadow Man up the stairs in some stranger's house.

Those pesky sirens in her head were blaring now. She could barely hear her own thoughts.

When she saw him disappear into the darkness of the hallway upstairs, her feet involuntary took the first step, and the one after that, until she found herself at the top looking down into the sea of people below. She continued down the dark hall looking for him. There was a slightly ajar door at the end of it that had a light shining from underneath it.

She pushed the door open slowly. There were sketches and what looked like computer parts all over the room. She gave herself a tour of the room and assessed that whoever lived in this house was probably a genius or at least smart as hell.

Impressive.

She was intrigued to the point that she momentarily forgot about him. When she was done being nosy, she headed for the door, flipped the light off and simultaneously felt two hands around her throat. The strength of the person was terrifying. It had only been a few seconds and she already felt lightheaded. Violet's arms flailed around, trying to grasp the light switch. If she was going to die tonight, she would at least see her killer. They must have sensed her plan and pulled her closer to them.

Mahogany.

Coconut.

Cedar.

"E...," she croaked as her hand made contact with the forearm of her attacker. His raised skin gave him away. She felt relieved that she knew it was him, despite the fact that his grip hadn't loosened around her neck.

"Please...I'm gonna...pass out..." she tapped at his hand and he released her.

"The fuck you doing up here, babygirl?!"