#because your ex will literally kill me if i do thanks bye! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ktheist · 4 years

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04 — show me yours & i’ll show you mine | m

➙ muses. seokjin x college student / gamer!reader ft. best friend! taehyung

➙ genre. best friend’s brother au. university au. working au. fwb au.

➙ word. 2.9k

➙ warnings. angst

➙ index. 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | finale | side story 1 |

➙ warnings. explicit content. smut.

➙ synopsis.

“you wanna say goodbye?”

“yes, i would love to say goodbye.”

one second, you’re exiled from taehyung’s room and the next, you’re under lockdown in the same exact room you were forbidden to enter.

the boy who always made a fuss about cleaning up - cleans up his mess without a single complaint. you thought he’d come knocking on the (his) door and ask for your help but after an hour of twiddling your thumbs and swaying your feet in the air, kim taehyung finally walks in with beads of sweat on his forehead and that ugly stain of a vomit on his shirt.

he pulls it over his head and tosses it into the laundry before pulling a fresh mickey mouse printed shirt and slips into bed. the temptation to text jeongguk or hoseok or jimin to pick you up has never been stronger but you bite the inside of your cheek, lay out the futon and turn off the lights.

“good night, tae.” you say into the darkness, not expecting for an answer.

“why did you do it?” the darkness whispers back.

“it just happened,” you know better than to offer half-baked excuses for something you completely intended and would even pursue if you didn’t get caught in the middle.

when silence lapses into the room, you thought the matter done and buried six feet under you and taehyung’s conscience.

not the first time you’ve been wrong.

“why seokjin? why not me?” his lips brush yours, tasting like heartbreak and missing the part where he’s supposed to be drunk and out of his mind for even daring to get so close to you.

to let his hair brush against your forehead. to let his hand snake down your thigh with feather light touches until he’s an inch away from grabbing your ass. if he dared try, your kick wouldn’t be aimed at the air to which he moves it away and places that hand next to your head, boxing you under him completely.

“ew, what the fuck?” and despite the trapped-between-a-rock-and-a-hard-place situation, you manage to lean as far away as you can. or so you’d like to think, but you can still feel his breath fanning your neck.

you wish you have an owl’s ability to twist its neck all the way to the back.

“you’re my best friend, taehyung! get off!” you feel like a child hitting her father with her tiny little fist. taehyung doesn’t even flinch when it hits his chest.

but he pulls away anyway, standing on his knees over you within a lull in time before he falls back on his butt in the space between your parted calves. the wrist of his hand that’s propped against the floor brushes against the side of your foot.

“do you get it now? we grew up together,” his voice echoes into the dark, “my brothers are your brothers- that- what you did- that was messed up, ___.”

“so? was creeping up on me like that necessary?” you retort, pushing yourself up and hearing the thud pillow you vehemently hurled at the silhouette of the man hunched over a couple feet away from you, “you perv!”

“how much do you like seokjin?” he asks, trapping the pillow in his lap, under his elbow, but before you can even say anything, he shoots you another string of question, “do you even like him?”

“stop making it sound like i’m the bad guy,” you huff, “as if your brother’s such a saint. he wanted it just as much.”

“i don’t care who wants it more, fuck’s sake,” he says roughly, “all your past relationships have only been sexual.”

holding up one hand, you find your shadow cloaked fingers much more nails, “your point being?”

“don’t you stop to think about how much things’ll change? how awkward it’ll be at family dinners once you finally got tired of each other? how awkward it’ll be for me?”

“oh, because everything’s about you, isn’t it?” you roll your eyes yet your stomach churns.

only silence hangs over the darkness as your teeth sink into the soft flesh of your bottom lip. taehyung pushes himself out and marches out of the room whilst you stay rooted in your spot, curled into a ball with your legs against your chest.

when morning comes, you’re awaken to the sound of taehyung padding around with a towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping off his hair and trickling down his chest, “there’s no one if the bathroom, if you wanna wash up.”

it’s the only exchange you have in the morning and throughout the drive to your uni until taehyung parks the car in the spot somewhere near your faculty.

“i thought about it,” you finally say, breaking the silence. the way he turns to you in your periphery makes you want to shrink into the seat and crawl away like an ant but you shrug instead, “what you said last night - i thought about it... you’re right, you guys are the closest family i have here. and i don’t wanna ruin that just cause i can’t keep it in my pants.”

the soft hum of the music fills the space between you, making the unspoken truth a bit more bearable than a pin-drop silence. taehyung’s hair sways for the briefest moment as he arches his brows in contemplation before unsmiling lips curl into that signature box smile, “really?”

“yes, really,” you roll your eyes, “one dick wasn’t worth losing my best friend over.”

“i’d hug you but i’m still having withdrawals from what i saw last night,” tahyung’s face scrunches in disgust.

“oh so that’s what it takes to get your sleazy hands off me. by the way seokjin-” trickles of laughter escapes your mouth as you hop out of his car, managing to avoid his swatting hand just in time, “bye! thanks for the ride!”

the mindless banters between you and taehyung never cease, if anything, it goes from playing rock-paper-scissors to decide where to eat to googling up and showing each other pictures of poisonous shrooms in case you get lost in the woods for more than 36 hours.

you used to have lunch together every other day, but taehyung comes to you for a continuous three day, hitting four days streak in between classes this week. each time bearing that boyish grin that could fool just about anyone when it comes to picked-up pieces of a broken heart.

“she texted me,” he shrugs, twirling his chopsticks in the bowl of cold noodles and letting the silence hang stale without any hint of providing more information until you nudge it out of him.

“i didn’t text back.” he says it as if it’s the easiest thing to do.

“it’s so easy for you boys, huh?” you don’t know where in the deities greenland he got the narrowing of your eyes and the scrunching of your nose as-

“seokjin didn’t text you?” the titled smile of his tempts you to smack it off his face right that instance.

“how- wha- that literally has nothing to do with your bitch ass ex-girlfriend who were talking about though?” kim taehyung doesn’t offer any response, only the sway of his shoulders as he laughs before digging into the sweet, savory noodles in front of him.

it’s only after you’ve returned to your faculty, fast-walking towards your lecture, that you find out the subject matter himself sitting hunched over on one of the benches laid out along the roofless pathway that leads to your faculty. the jaws of the girls and gays that happen to be standing a few feet away, drops at the way seokjin looks up, eyes squinting at the sudden intrusion of the sunlight before his lips curl into a smile.

“hey,” there’s that smile you miss so bad.

it turns out seokjin’s little shit of a brother and your ass of a best friend snuck into his room, flashed a light over his face, bypassed his phone’s lock and deleted your number, blocked you on snapchat and unfollowed you on instagram.

“and here i thought you were done with me,” your jaw would have hung loose if you don’t have the tip of your venti mocha swirl keeping your lips together as you stare at the pavement, walking aimlessly with seokjin down the path of rose beds.

“i took the day off, decided to try my luck, and hope you’d see me at waiting for you awkwardly - everyone probably thinks ‘who the hell is this old ass guy hanging around-’“ his words get cut off by your gasp as you feel your face hurting from the way your lips are almost reaching your ears.

“you did?” shoulders sagging, you press a hand to your chest where you heart flutters with a sort of warmth, “for me?” before holding your arms out in an invitation for a hug and retracting them not even a second later, “no wait- i promised tae i wouldn’t do this.”

somewhere along the lines, you find yourself at the sky rose garden because the pathway you found him at, all of a sudden, becomes a runway for the girls and gays. they pass you in a guise of walking by whilst their eyes linger on his broad chest and pants that hug his thighs and the protrusion of his natural size that wasn’t going to get smaller than that.

“what he doesn’t know won’t kill him- or us,” there it is again, the melodic hymn of a chuckle as he opens his arms for you, the action ever so natural, as if he’s done this a couple of million times.

and just like that, you fall into his embrace, cheek mushing against his chest as you inhale the familiar scent of mint seaside and the faintest scent of woody earth. you find it unfair that his heart beats steadily whilst yours thrash in your chest. maybe that’s the cause of your cheeks heating up.

“i can do it, you know?” his voice vibrates against your ears in a honeyed tingles, “i can use my ‘big bro influence’ and get him off our backs.”

you lift your head, breath stuttering at the sight of star glinted eyes gazing down at you with the gentles smiles, “should you?” but you shake your head a second later, “no, he’d hate me forever - he’ll know i put you up to this because you’re too nice. you’d ne-”

a finger under your chin and a tilt of your head and you’re lost in an ocean of galaxy, “i brought up the idea, if anyone’s gonna get in hot water, it’s gonna be me.”

“that’s not what taehyung’s gonna think,” the recollection of your conversation with the aforementioned man floods your mind and almost as if an invisible current wraps around your body, you find yourself taking a step back in surrender.

“and he’s right, seokjin,” the way his eyes flash with a sort of emotion - one that you can’t pinpoint, let alone interpret the meaning of - doesn’t go unnoticed by you yet you go on, “this has to stop. once the passion simmers down and we get bored of each other, what do you think is gonna happen?”

but the words that hits the air is like frostbites to your warm, beating heart, “you already have it in your mind that we’re gonna break up.”

it takes you a second to clear your throat, another to gather your thoughts, “relationships like ours always end with a break up.”

galaxies are littered with illuminating stars but you’re a fool to have turned a blind eye to its dark side. and seokjin’s stars have dimmed, leaving only a trail of shadow in those clouded eyes.

but the half-hearted smile that curls on his lips appears like a ray of sunlight on a cloudy day, “do you wanna at least goodbye?”

your eyes follow his that trail down to the noticeable bulge in his pants.

“yes,” you beam, “i would love to say goodbye.”

the cars and the scenic view of the highway pass by in a blur, not that you’re in a position to stare out the window like a heartbroken woman whose fiancee set out for way.

“slow down,” there’s a desperate plea in his voice, “i don’t want to cum too early.”

the stern, warning look he shoots you is makes you giggle. what with his flushed face and twitching self in your hand.

how adorable.

“but you taste so good, jinnie,” your tongue sweeps past your lips, licking the pre-cum off his oozing tip.

“keep teasing me like that if you want me to pull up and fuck you on the side of the road,” the threat on his tongue sends tingles down your spine.

eyes glinting, you can basically hear the blatant disregard in his voice when he first asked if you’d climb up in his lap while he was hitting the back of your throat after you’d quickly scurried into his car for the last goodbye.

so you take it slow, licking him down his length as his hand settle on your head, caressing your hair.

the door closes behind you as seokjin pushes you against it, his hand on your cheek as he crashes his lips against yours and your hand reaching under his boxers. it looked almost painful as he zipped up his pants before getting out of the car and walking the distance between the parking spot and the apartment.

you distinctly remember the sight of a blanket on the couch and an opened laptop on the coffee table, the red of the cans of energy drinks laying around on the ground and surface of said coffee table - they only ever try to clean up when they know you’re coming for your weekly stay over.

but who are you to judge when your clothes soon join the cans on the floor, forming trails down the hallway.

by the time your body lightly bounces on top of seokjin’s bed, you feel the cold air brush against your skin whilst he stands over you like a beast drinking in the sight of the prey he’ll devour. but you don’t mind if that allows you to admire the beautiful landscape of tight abs and powerful physique.

a sort of dread washes over you at the thought of such length coming close to the apex of your legs. taking him in your mouth was doable but only because you’ve had enough practice to know how to adapt to certain lengths by steadying your breath. but you’ve had enough experience to know you wouldn’t just be able to get use to his size right off the bat.

and he’s the biggest you’ve ever met.

your hand runs over the ridges of his muscles biceps before they twine together over the nape of his neck. it must have been the way you look at him, the yearning that pours through gaze and beckons him like a siren’s song.

the spot of the bed a few inches from your head dips as he props himself on his forearms, lips marking your skin as his.

“seokjin- ah!” you should already used to the bold caress of his tongue around your nipple.

your control is devastated, your thighs are quivering and seokjin’s touches have enthralled you in a fierce flare of yearning.

“ah,” you breathe out, gaze unfocusing as pleasure and discomfort flood from your core while he deliberately stretches you out.

his hand returns to the side of your face as he stays inside you, lets you feel him, take him for what he is whilst he kisses your cheekbone, your jawline and burry his face in your neck.

your breath stutters as you feel him slide out of you, heart beat stammering for the briefest moment when his tip kisses your entrance before he pushes himself in deeper than before.

but you know you haven’t taken all of him in.

not yet.

“you’re stretching me out so good,” you say barely above whisper.

“not even half is in, baby,” is all he says before you feel the muscles in his back flexing as he shifts most of his weight onto his hands, thrusting deeper into you.

“fuck,” you moan, the discomfort fading away as pleasure surge through your body in waves as your arms wrap around seokjin’s neck, face buried in his shoulder until you don’t know where he starts and where he ends.

lost in wicked delight, your fuzzed mind barely registers the sound of your phone despite its blares a few inches above your head where you remember tossing to before slipping out of your jeans and succumbing to the reckless savage lust that neither you nor seokjin should speak about to a single soul.

“pick it up,” the man’s husked voice drums in your ear clearer only because of the cease of ripples of pleasures as he stills.

“wha-” you don’t say much, groping around for your phone before shooting him a pleading look of ‘can’t this wait till after you give me the greatest orgasm of my lifetime?’

“it’s taehyung,” the name that spills out of your mouth strikes guilt into your beating heart.

“hm? you’re tightening up. is it because of my little brother?” the surge of possession in his voice tempers with your sanity, it drips like sweet honey rose and mars your skin with its thorns, “answer the call.”

note. ooof ig yall know what next chapter’s gonna be. maybe.

taglist. @aretha170 @scalubera @ambersaesthetics @heyjiminnie @hyuck-me @fanfuckingfic

#bts scenarios #seokjin scenarios #seokjin fic #bts fic #bts x you #seokjin x you #seokjin smut #bts smut #seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #seokjin x reader #bts x reader #bts au #bts fluff #seokjin fluff #jin smut #jin scenarios

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clynnra · 3 years

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Strongest Together

After that disappointing last ten minutes of the series finale, I didn't think I would ever write for my beloved boys again. But, thanks to binging lots of episodes of the show on ion since it started airing there (happy to post this story on one of ion's Five-O Fridays) and reading many fix-it fics, I had to do this for Danny. I will be forever bitter that our last glimpse of him ever was hurt (physically and emotionally) and alone on Steve's beach. So this is my way of fixing that sad image. There's background (literally, just a few minor mentions) Steve/Catherine and Danny/others, but this is a McDanno story. I didn't want to vilify Steve, since he should take care of himself and find peace, so I hope that comes across. Finally, eternal thanks to my beta PhoebeMiller for making my story way better than it was with her fantastic feedback about story line, diction, and all the grammar. She's an awesome writer in her own right - go read her wonderful stories! And always thanks to SheppardMcKay for inspiring me to post fic.

Steve and Danny. Danny and Steve. Steve left Danny. Danny was alone.

Sighing, Danny knew he had his kids, his family and the team. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt so fucking much. Days like today, it still hurt to breathe.

Danny didn’t begrudge Steve finding his peace. Or his taking care of himself. Hell, he tried to instill self preservation in his Neanderthal time and again. But when Steve finally took his advice and put himself first, it had ripped Danny’s heart to shreds.

It still hurt so damn much because of the way Steve left. The timing sucked. Just out of the hospital, Danny could barely walk even with his cane. This proved Steve was hiding the depth of his own suffering. Normally, he'd never leave Danny when he was injured. Danny smiled and remembered Steve raiding his house for cookies after he'd been shot in quarantine. The fondness bubbling up just about killed him.

More memories of this year from hell came back, and Danny had to sit down. He'd moved himself into Steve's house after Doris died because he sensed Steve needed him. The loss was just too much after Joe's death. When Joanna had died, Steve was there for him, cooking him eggs most mornings, claiming routine was good. Danny knew Steve was talking about himself, too.

They'd fallen into something Danny dared call a relationship when he was awake late at night, insomnia raging. He and Steve lived together. They ate meals together most nights. They walked Eddie, locked up the house and said good night like a couple.

A couple of idiots, Danny grumbled now. Or was he the biggest idiot? He'd made this huge leap into what proved to be a lonely abyss.

What hurt the most was Steve pretty much rejecting the idea of the two of them growing old together on that beach. Danny didn't know for sure when his best friend would return from his Kung Fu adventures. He'd only counted on Steve coming home at some point. Now, when he replayed their last conversation, the dagger twisted in his chest even more.

The sad fact was - Danny loved Steve. Not just like a friend. He loved him like I want to spend the rest of my life with you even though you drive me crazy, you caveman. He never told Steve he was in love with him. Danny was scared and convinced such an admission would be suicide. Because he feared their friendship would be over, was so sure of it, in fact, that he kept all of his feelings locked away. He didn't want to fuck up the best friendship he'd ever had.

Not to mention, Steve was straight. He'd never given Danny any hint that he was interested. Unless you counted Steve's octopus arms and his total disregard for Danny's personal space. Which Danny did not dwell on. No way could he let himself go there. That's why he'd pushed Steve into dating. First Brooke and then the vet. Neither had really worked out, and Danny did not allow himself to question why. He would have kept on searching for the perfect mate for Steve, too, if he hadn't left. Even though Danny wanted it to be him.

No one knew Danny's secret. Although he mostly dated women, he had a few relationships with men while at Seton Hall. He kept his attraction to men close to the vest. He'd thought his college experiments were in the rearview mirror until the giant goof stole his crime scene.

To distract himself from the heartbreak over Steve’s dating, he’d focused on reconciling with Rachel in a vain attempt to stitch his family back together. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, it just didn’t work since he was in love with Steve. When they finally figured out they were better as friends, Rachel shocked him with advice to stop dithering and tell Steve. He was so taken aback by Rachel’s accurate insight into his heart, past all his bullshit, he’d gone to that bar and met Joanna. Like so many other things in his life, hooking up with her to forget Rachel and Steve had ended all kinds of bad. Spectacular didn't even cut it. Joanna's death wasn't his fault. This he knew. But he couldn't stop feeling guilty. She was with him in the car because of how he'd chosen to mend himself, and she'd died after everything he'd done to try to save her.

And of course, there was Catherine. He envied her for having Steve the way he wanted. She knew every inch of him. She knew so many more secrets. Steve had opened his heart to her - and what had she done? She'd pulled a Doris. More than once. And the idiot took her back.

Weren't they a pair? Danny knew he was a hypocrite for being angry with Steve about getting back with an ex time and again. He didn't care. He couldn't help feeling upset that Steve was with Catherine (probably this very minute) and not him.

+++++++

Three months had passed since Steve left, and Danny’s PT was coming along well. He texted Steve a few times a week to check in, while Steve returned his texts within a couple hours. They’d spoken on the phone a few times, and Danny lost himself in the comforting cadence of Steve’s voice. Their calls ranged from about 20 minutes to almost an hour, and their talks were nice. But during one of their conversations, as he listened to Steve chatter on about what he did in whatever destination he was currently staying, Danny realized that Steve’s journey to find himself didn’t include him. Steve didn’t need him like Danny needed him. And that revelation punched the breath out of him. He tried to cover it, but Steve, with his keen SEAL senses, heard it.

“Danno, you okay?” Steve interrupted his story about what he saw in Scotland.

“Yeah, babe, I’m ok. Just still get tired sometimes. Had PT this morning and energy kinda zapped. You mind if we pick this up some other time? I’m gonna have a lie down.” Danny chewed his lips as he lied. It was a white lie, but still.

“Ok… you take care buddy. I love you.” Steve said with a note of concern.

“You too.” replied Danny. He couldn’t tell Steve he loved him on their calls because he didn’t want Steve to hear how in love with him he was. Texting “love you, too” was fine, but when he said it, he felt his heart in his throat.

Putting his phone down, Danny glanced around himself. He was still at Steve’s house sitting on his couch. Eddie was laying on the floor nearby. And Danny came to a decision. Steve was out finding himself, and Danny really needed to do the same. He had spent so much of the past ten years being part of Steve and Danny that outside of being a father to Grace and Charlie and being on the task force, he‘d kinda lost himself. He felt like his life wasn’t making sense after deciding to just be friends with Rachel and then the tragedy with Joanna. He knew that in order to move on with his life, he had to make a change. He would always be there for Steve, but it was time he was there for himself.

A few days later, Steve called again. This time he was in Ireland. He told Danny about the beautiful scenery there, and after he was done, he asked, “So, what are you up to now, Danno? PT almost done right?”

Danny took a deep breath and started. “Funny you should ask that. I, um, I’m gonna move back to my place, Steve.”

There was a moment of stunned silence.

“Why? Danny, is something wrong?” Steve replied, trying to keep a lock on his emotions.

“No, babe.” Danny grimaced and continued. “I just, uh, think it’s time to move back. You know, you’re out there trying to find yourself and your peace without me…”

Steve gasped, “Danny…”

Shaking his head, Danny kept going. “and that’s fine, Steve. I’m not trying to make you feel bad. You deserve to find the peace and happiness you need. I just need to find myself again a bit. After Joanna died, I felt sorta lost. And I was starting to make sense of my life again before Daiyu Mei swooped in…” He didn’t mention and when you left me. Danny shook that thought from his head.

“So, I need to do this. To remember who I was before I was part of Steve and Danny…” he finished with a fake chuckle.

“Danno, are you sure?” Steve asked, a note of sadness in his voice.

Danny nodded even though Steve couldn’t see him. “Yes.”

There was another moment of charged silence.

“Ok, Danno, I got it. You need this, so I got your back. Whatever you need. Hey, I gotta head out, but I’ll call again, alright?” Steve sounded like he was happy for Danny but wasn’t quite believing it.

Danny replied, “Sure. Bye, babe.”

Steve said clearly, “I love you, Danny.”

“You too.” Danny croaked out. When the call ended, he dropped his phone next to him and covered his face with his hands taking in a few deep breaths.

It was time to find who he was again without Steve.

+++++++

Danny finally completed his eight weeks of PT, and his doctor okayed his return to light work aka paperwork. He still had to check in each month since it was his second gunshot wound in his chest in two years. As part of his process to return to Five-O, the governor mandated Danny to complete visits with his therapist since he survived such a traumatic experience. At first, he was annoyed he had to go to therapy again; he’d rather eat pineapple on his pizza. But during the couple of months of sessions about his kidnapping and near death at the hands of Daiyu Mei, he found himself working through various issues including the death of his partner Grace, his guilt over Matty, his complicated relationship with Rachel, Grace’s kidnapping and almost fatal car accident, Charlie’s paternity and medical condition, as well as other work related stresses and traumas. The governor’s directive for Danny’s therapy was once a week for two months, but he continued past that, and for a few weeks, he was going twice a week. He just unloaded whatever was burdening his mind and heart. He felt stronger for it. He even told the therapist about his feelings for Steve, and she suggested that to find closure or peace about it, he should consider discussing his feelings with Steve. Danny knew she was right but wasn’t ready yet. However, talking things out gave him the perspective he needed.

With the end of PT and his ongoing therapy doing well, he told the kids first he was moving out of Steve’s house. They were shocked, Tani near tears while Junior took the news stoically. But once Danny told them why, they were very supportive and helped Danny move to his now renovated place over two weekends. Lou, Quinn, and Adam also chipped in their time to help with Danny’s move. Since Junior moved in with Tani, they figured out a schedule of who would check on Steve’s place and when including the upkeep of the grounds. Junior and Tani told Danny once he was cleared for regular work, he could share some of the maintenance duties. They'd take care of it for now. Tani joked that maybe they could get Kamekona to hire some of his family. Danny rolled his eyes and smacked her. None of them had enough money for that enterprise.

Eddie was another story. Poor guy was just adapting to his master being gone. Now they were relocating him. Danny decided Eddie would live with him, and Junior would take him as time allowed since he loved Eddie, too. It was a good arrangement, as the loyal dog loved each of them. And he enjoyed the extra attention he was getting.

Danny felt like things were starting to get back to the new normal without Steve while he was at work doing paperwork and running point for any cases from HQ if needed. He surprised himself that he got the hang of the HQ computer table after getting lots of help from the team. Quinn was especially patient, and he appreciated it.

While Danny settled back at work, he still kept in contact with Steve. His best friend would mostly text him to check in with how things were going and send some pictures of gorgeous landscapes and appetizing food. When they did talk on the phone here and there, Steve would catch Danny up on things with him. Danny winced when Steve spoke about Catherine, but tried to sound as supportive as possible. He had to keep reminding himself that if Steve was happy with her, he would just have to accept it. And during one of these phone calls, Danny promised himself that he needed to start dating again. He may be in love with Steve, but he also owed it to himself to move forward and not spend the rest of his life pining after his best friend who was happy with the love of his life.

In a bold move, he asked Adam to be his wingman, explaining he needed to shake things up. He wanted to reclaim who he was before Daiyu Mei and even before his last disastrous attempt to get back with Rachel. What he left unspoken was his need to reinvent himself without Steve.

Adam didn’t even raise an eyebrow and had replied, “You got it, brother. You were there for me when I was lost without Kono, so I’m here for you.”

Danny was so grateful. They went to nice bars, the types professionals patronize. Danny did score dates with some doctors, lawyers, and accountants. He surprised Adam by dating both men and women, but after that initial shock, Adam supported his choices, even offering to set Danny up with friends. He even went on a few double dates with Adam and Tamiko. The companionship was nice, and the sex even nicer, but Danny didn’t feel like any of these people would help him get over Steve. At least he felt like his life was more balanced and not just focused on Steve all the time.

When he first mentioned to Steve that he was dating again, there was a silence long enough that Danny thought the call dropped. He could easily FaceTime Steve but just could not find the courage to see his beloved face again. The phone calls offered distance, a buffer. And Danny needed it so he could continue to support Steve and survive his updates when they included Catherine.

Just when Danny was ready to ask his best friend if he could hear him, an exaggeratedly upbeat Steve jumped back in.

“Hey, buddy, I’m glad you’re getting out there again. You deserve to be happy, too.” His voice cracked on the last bit.

After that last odd tone from Steve, they continued like normal when Danny filled him in on the latest with Grace and Charlie. The rest of the call was pleasant with some of their usual teasing.

But on the next call when Danny mentioned how he and Keith went on a double date with Adam and Tamiko, Steve choked and started coughing on the phone.

“Hey, babe, you ok? Don’t choke on the butter in your coffee, alright?” Danny joked.

Steve got his breath back and said, “Sorry, went down the wrong tube. Wait, so you’re dating guys now, Danny?”

Danny didn’t care for Steve’s tone, but answered, “Well, I did date a few guys back in college, but just stopped once I met Rachel.” He didn’t mention and once I met you. “Is that gonna be a problem for you, Steven?”

Steve quickly responded, “Of course not, Danny. I’m just shocked you never told me this in the over ten years we’ve known each other. And for the record, it’d be hypocritical of me if it was.”

Now it was Danny’s turn to gasp. “Wait, when the hell were you dating guys, Steve? In all the years we’ve been together, you’ve only talked about women.”

Sighing, Steve said, “Well, I didn’t really date guys, Danny. When I was deployed, I helped my teammates out like they helped me. So to be more specific, I’ve had sex with guys, but not actually dated them. I enjoyed the sex and was even attracted to some of the guys, but DADT kept me from being open about being sexually attracted to men.”

Danny couldn’t help himself. “Did Cath know?”

Steve chuckled briefly. “Of course, man. I told her I slept with several men and was attracted to some. She was cool with it since she had some bi friends and family.”

Danny admired Steve’s honesty, and he wanted to be honest, too.

“Steve, dating these men and women - it’s nothing serious. Don’t get me wrong, the company and sex are great, but they don’t compare to you.”

It sounded like Steve sniffled on the other end of the line. His voice was slightly hoarse. “And just so you know, partner, no one will ever replace you. No one can. Hey, we gotta grab some food…”

Danny teased, “Try not to ruin your food with pineapple, you animal. Enjoy your meal.”

Snickering, Steve added, “Copy that.”

Steve’s voice became sincere again. “I’ll call you again soon, Danno. I love you.”

Automatically, Danny replied, “You, too.”

Steve’s breath hitched before saying, “I miss you, Danny. Talk to you soon. Bye.”

Danny exhaled, “I miss you, too. Bye, babe.”

Once Danny placed his phone down, he was like, good going Williams. You almost told him you’re in love with him while Cath was right there. Don’t be an idiot next time.

+++++++

It had been a week since that eye-opening phone call and about six months since Steve left, Danny had been back to regular responsibilities at work for about a month. His therapy sessions were twice a month now. He was still seeing people but didn’t feel the desperation to date like when he first started a few months ago. He felt confident in his own skin again, feeling better both professionally and personally. But he was still in love with Steve. Danny finally decided. Fuck it. I’ll always love the maniac, I just have to live with it.

And it came to a head during one of their phone calls almost two months later.

Danny couldn’t keep himself from asking, “You happy with Cath, Steve?”

There was a pause before Steve said, “I wouldn’t know. She left about two months ago on another CIA assignment. She offered to come back when her job was over, but I told her that I need stability and consistency and her work didn’t provide that. I said I was proud that she found her way and happy for her that she loved her job. I told her that I would always love her, but she deserved someone who was in love with her.”

Danny’s heart sped up with hope. “So, what are you saying, Steve?”

Steve pushed air through his nose. “I’m saying that I couldn’t commit to her because I’m in love with you.”

“Steve…?” Danny’s voice shook with emotion.

“Danny, every time I told you I love you when we ended our calls, I meant it as I’m in love with you. You never repeated it to me so I assumed you didn’t feel the same way. But once you told me you dated guys, I got hopeful again. And after that phone call, I stopped sleeping with Cath. And she knew something was up with the no sex but never called me on it. That’s just not what we do. Things are easy for us, and when they’re not, we still pretend that they are. But my heart couldn’t just be satisfied with what was easy and familiar anymore. I needed the challenge and passion. I need you.”

Danny confessed, “Babe, I’m in love with you, too. I just couldn’t tell you since I thought you had your happily ever after with Catherine. When I figured you guys were permanent, I dated to move on without you. But it’s no use, Steve. I want you. I want everything with you.”

Choked with emotion, Steve whispered, “Danny.. I’m coming home.”

“I’m so glad, babe. I love you.”

+++++++

Two days later, Danny was at baggage claim. He spotted Steve immediately, tall and gorgeous with a full beard and short but longer than military regulation hair. Steve saw him too, and his face lit up with a huge smile that crinkled his eyes. They moved quickly through the crowd to each other. As he got closer, Danny spotted the specks of white in Steve’s hair and thought it just made his big goof even more handsome. Finally, they were in front of each other. Dropping his duffel, Steve wrapped his arms around Danny hugging him tightly. He tucked his face into Danny’s hair and inhaled deeply.

“Danno, I missed you so much.”

Danny just squeaked out a “me too” while he hugged Steve. He was too busy inhaling the travel worn scent of Steve. He couldn’t get enough of the man he loved. He rubbed his face into Steve’s chest, reveling in the physical presence he had wanted so much all these months and at long last had.

They moved so their foreheads were resting against each other. Breathing the same air, not aware of the bustle of the people around them.

Danny broke their peaceful bubble by moving his face away so he could look into Steve’s eyes. “Did you find the peace you needed, babe?”

Huffing and licking his lips, Steve shook his head. His left hand held Danny’s face as his gaze never wavered. “Not yet, but I’m working on it. I know I’ll get there with therapy and what I need most.”

Danny tilted his head questioningly at Steve.

“You.”

Then Steve kissed Danny. Eyes fluttering closed, Danny returned the kiss. Like this thing they were doing happened every day.

Feeling a surge of joy, Danny broke the kiss with a smile. Smiling himself, Steve opened his eyes.

“I think I need you to repeat yourself, I didn’t quite hear you,” Danny said with a smirk as he pulled Steve down again. This time, the kiss was firmer. Danny nipped Steve's bottom lip and he opened his mouth. Always the control freak, Steve cupped Danny's face so he could move him where he wanted. He hummed contentedly as he tasted Danny. A couple times, their teeth clacked, but their tongues soothed the minor mishaps. The frantic exploration continued until they needed air.

Eyes opening and panting a bit as their lips parted, they grinned at each other goofily.

“I think we gave the airport enough of a show, babe.” Danny joked.

Steve chuckled. He sobered a bit and said, “Danny, I love you.”

Danny smiled brightly as his heart thudded happily. “I love you, too, Steve. Let’s go home.”

“And where is that exactly?” Steve asked mischievously.

“Wherever you and I are together.” Danny replied quickly.

Appeased, Steve grabbed his bag and slung it on his left shoulder. He pulled Danny under his right arm as they walked to the car.

Danny with Steve. Strong on their own. Strongest together.

FIN.

#H50 #McDanno #Hawaii Five-O #hawaii five 0 #i made this #spoilers #Fic

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snackhobi · 4 years

Text

pairing: min yoonji x reader / word count: 9.7k / genre: f x f smut, assassin!au

summary: a fic inspired by this post and that’s pretty much it-

warnings: sexually explicit content (NSFW), talk about death/assassination (nothing graphic dw! but they are assassins, so), mild violence, unnecessarily sexually charged lipstick application, face riding, fingering, multiple orgasms, oral (f giving/receiving), use of restraints, overstimulation, squirting, kind of dom!yoonji?

a/n: this is an entirely self-indulgent fic I wrote as a gift to myself for my bday, it’s a lil rushed bc I wanted it done for today! women are so very beautiful and I am so very weak, thank you ladies for all being so amazing ily. this was meant to be a short pwp and now it’s almost 10k but I have no regrets bye

la petite mort French literal meaning: ‘the little death’; also an expression used to refer to the brief loss or weakening of consciousness, specifically the sensation of orgasm as likened to death; an orgasm.

“It’s just unacceptable.”

The woman in front of you is clearly wealthy. Her dark hair is perfectly styled and her pale nails are perfectly shaped and her subtle makeup is perfectly flattering; she’s starting to get older but rather than shy away from it, she’s leaning into it, and she looks almost imperious in her beauty, eyes sharp and set of her lips severe. Park Dahye was born into wealth and has clearly thrived in the life that she’s been afforded.

“Mmhm.” You try not to yawn.

“He’s flitting around with some young, silly thing on his arm, with no consideration for the family’s reputation— my reputation,” she continues. Her posture is perfect, from the set of her spine to her crossed legs to her folded hands that rest on her knee, somehow demure and yet highlighting all of her beauty and riches; the jewellery on her wrists and fingers, the expensive heels on her feet, the slit of her haute-couture dress, no doubt tailored for her and her alone. “I’ve already spoken to him about his behaviour, but he’s just ignored my warnings. We may have agreed on the divorce but we’re currently still husband and wife— has he no shame?”

“Awful.” You don’t even try to hide how bored you are, but Dahye is so quietly incensed that she doesn’t even notice as she launches into the next part of her queenly diatribe, and you muffle a sigh.

That’s the problem with rich clients. Sure, they’re willing to fork over stupid amounts of money to you, but they also think that their issues are of paramount significance— like they’re the centre of the universe and their problems are the only important ones in the world. Like you’re interested in what they have to say. Like this is the only job you’ll ever do that holds real weight or meaning.

For them, it’s a life-changing (life-ending) decision.

For you? It’s another Tuesday.

“Yes, yes, that’s just so terrible, gosh, I don’t know how you manage it,” you say once she pauses to take a breath, using the opportunity to cut her off before she launches into another part of her articulate rant. “Anyway. Would you prefer if his death was embarrassing or quiet?”

For the first time since you’ve met, she seems unsettled. “Pardon?”

Namjoon is much better with people than you, smooth and charming with his boyish dimples. Normally any discussions would go through your handler, but this woman had demanded to meet you personally and had been willing to pay for the privilege: so here you are, with your relative bluntness instead of Joon’s winsome smile.

“You know,” you say, gesturing with your hands. “When they find the body. Do you want him to be caught with his trousers around his ankles—literally or figuratively, that’s up to you— or would you rather it seemed like something natural and unpredictable? Like a sudden heart attack in his sleep, for example.”

When it comes to rich clients, a lot of it is about reputation. When someone’s shuffled off this mortal coil, it’s not just that they’re removed from the equation, it’s also about the ripples that their death leaves in the high society that they’ve lived in. Does she want her (soon-to-be) ex-husband made a mockery of, or does she just want him out of the picture?

She can’t see your face, behind your mask as it is, but you can see hers in perfect clarity. For all that Dahye seems put together and almost impassive, you see the tiny flicker in her eyes. Ah. She’s not just mad because he’s ruining their reputation. She’s hurt.

Man, that sucks. Honestly you bet it’s easier being an assassin than a rich housewife. At least when it comes to backstabbing you can literally involve a knife to sort your problems out. (Well, knives are messy, but you get the picture.)

“I’d prefer something quiet,” she decides. “I’d worry that it could lead back to me, otherwise.”

You’d be offended at the idea that you’d leave any trace that could implicate anyone or that this man’s sudden death was in any way suspicious, but she’s paying you enough that you find that you don’t care. You take pride in your work, but for the amount of zeroes involved in the fee you’re being paid, you think you can take an unintentional insult or two. Or three. Or ten.

You like money, what can you say.

“Sure thing,” you say, giving her a lazy, two fingered salute. You’ve been reclining against the desk of the hotel suite, flicking the complimentary, heavy metal pen between your fingers, twirling it like the world’s most underwhelming baton. You straighten up and let the pen drop back into the pen pot—wait, no, of course it’s a handmade porcelain jar, an alarmingly well-made Joseon porcelain replica. Everything in here stinks of money. “RM will confirm where the money is to be deposited. Half of it now as collateral, and half upon completion of the job,” you say. “If you change your mind between now and then, we’ll be keeping the original 50%, but if for some reason something goes awry, you’ll receive that money back. Sound good?”

She seems surprised at your directness. “I—”

“Fabulous!” You clap your hands together, although the sound is muffled by your gloves. You’re not about to leave your fingerprints everywhere, geez. “Alright, time for me to skidaddle I suppose! I’ve got work to be doing, people to be watching, men to be killing!”

Dahye flinches imperceptibly, but by this point you’ve already slipped out onto the balcony and into the night.

Being an assassin is hard work.

Technically, everyone has the capacity to kill another human being. But killing as a job involves a lot more than just caving someone’s head in with a rock—that’s why Cain isn’t referred to as an assassin, what with how he’d just bashed his brother Abel with a convenient stone that happened to be lying nearby. He was just a straight up dick.

No, when you kill professionally you need to be familiar with an array of different techniques, each one far more sophisticated than the last. You need to know how to be stealthy, how to blend in as you watch your target, how to set up the scenes of their death in a way that doesn't arouse suspicion. Or, instead, how to set the scene up in a way that lets any onlookers know that this person had been offed by someone who knew what they were doing, and knew it well. There's a difference between being a killer and being an assassin and you are firmly in the latter category.

So, if your client wants her husband to be shuffled off quietly, then that’s what she’ll get.

They really have pulled out all the stops for this charity gala. Everything is shining, glittering and bright: the surroundings, the food, the people. Especially the people. The rich elite have come together for an extravagant and exquisite night of ostentation and luxury, all in the name of raising money for some needy cause. (You try not to think of the irony and/or hypocrisy behind that.)

It’s almost laughable how easy it is to blend in here. Namjoon had secured (forged) invitations for you both, and so you hang off his arm as you make a slow sweep of the room, trailing unnoticed after your target. You’re not planning to make a move right now but you want to feel out exactly what he’s like: the more information you have about the person you’ve been contracted to assassinate, the better.

Plus it’s an excuse to dress up nice and eat free food— though that last part is mainly Namjoon.

“God, these canapés are so good,” Namjoon moans quietly to you, hoovering up the flaky pastry crumbs from his fingers with single-minded intent. You dig your fingers subtly into his arm.

“I thought we agreed on not eating tonight, Joon,” you mutter to him, although you say it with a beatific smile in case anyone is watching; the place is heaving with people but you’re always on guard. (Even if Namjoon is right. The hors d’oeuvres that are on offer do look incredibly tempting.)

“You have a glass of champagne,” he points out.

“And you may have noticed that I haven’t drunk any of it.” You titter, as if he’s just told a funny joke, and lightly slap his arm. Again, you’re fairly certain no one is watching, but you can never be too careful. “It’s all about creating a facade, Joonie. It’s what we in the business call a ruse.”

Even throughout your back and forth, you’ve kept your eyes on your man of the night: Park Minjae, a middle-aged businessman who’s been greeting people and getting swept up in conversation, all while a slip of a blonde clings to his arm, stuck to his side like a pretty limpet. She’s cute, sure, but she lacks the poise that Dahye has, so you frankly don’t get it. Then again, not everyone finds strong women as attractive as you do. Weirdos.

You’ve been focused on Minjae but your eyes have also been flitting around the room, drinking in your surroundings, drawing up a detailed map of your environment (of course you’d scoped out the building before tonight, but with all the banquet tables and chairs around the layout is a little different). The people, too, have been subject to your scrutiny, although so far they all seem summarily unimportant and uninteresting, just as you’d suspected. You lift your glass to your lips and pretend to take a tiny, demure sip, glancing up through your eyelashes to scan the room again, and you freeze.

Holy shit.

You take back what you just said about everyone being unimportant and uninteresting.

The woman who’s just walked in is fucking stunning. Her sleek dark bob is unstyled, but perfectly frames her beautiful face: sharp eyes, soft nose, flushed lips. Her cocktail dress lets you see almost every inch of those perfect legs, the line of her thighs to her calves and— oh, you swear you could shed a tear of joy. She’s already tall and she’s made even taller by the heels she wears, towering above most of the men here, a fucking Amazonian goddess who looks powerful and undeniably elegant at the same time.

(Thank you for your service, tall women.)

You don’t know who she is, but goddamn, do you want to. She’s scanning the room, and for a brief moment, your eyes touch. A tiny thrill shudders up your spine at the darkness of her keen eyes, that quick and astute gaze.

It’s only the tiniest of moments that’s over as soon as it’s started. The dark-haired beauty looks away and is already disappearing into the crowd before you realise, and it’s only then you notice that you’re staring, utterly drawn in by her cool poise and presence. You’ve been frozen in place with the rim of your champagne glass resting against your mouth, and your eyelashes flutter as you blink and glance down.

The imprint of your lower lip has been left on the glass, stark red visible against its edge, and you squeeze Namjoon’s bicep.

“How does my lipstick look?”

He takes one look at you as he swallows down another tiny vol-au-vent. “Like half of it is missing,” he says, and you frown.

“Ugh. I’ll go touch it up in the bathroom. Keep an eye on our guy, I’ll be right back.”

It’s not until you’ve made it to the toilets that you realise that you do not, in fact, have any lipstick in your ridiculously small clutch bag. When it comes to your actual work, you’re meticulous and thorough and well-planned, but for some bizarre reason, a tube of lipstick is never the top of the list when it comes to equipment. Unbelievable. (You knew you should have worn the 24/7 stuff, but it was always such a nightmare to get off.)

You’ve been so busy rummaging through your bag that you’re completely caught off-guard at the sound of a quiet voice from behind you.

“Lost something?”

Oh, fuck. It’s her, your dark haired and dark eyed beauty, meeting your gaze through the mirror when you glance up from where you’re resting your bag against the marble counter (marble, marble, marble, it’s all marble: the floors, the counters, the sinks; why do rich people always love marble?). She looks altogether too amused at your plight and at how your eyes have widened perceptibly upon seeing her again. But can she blame you? Her presence is so graceful and commanding and she’s so dizzyingly attractive it’s insane. Surely she must get this all the time.

You stare for a little longer than is probably polite, and even behind her fringe you can see how one of her eyebrows rises.

“Sorry for staring,” you say once you notice. “You’re just so beautiful.”

She pauses as she takes in the compliment. You see how her eyes flicker over your face and settle on your mouth; your upper lip, tinted burgundy red, while the lower is faint and smudged.

“Lipstick problems?” She cocks her head at you, still staring at your lips in the mirror. God, she’s so hot.

“Can you tell?” You sound rueful as you glance down at the reflection of your mouth, touching your bottom lip lightly with a fingertip. “I forgot to bring any with me so now I’m stuck.”

She finally looks away from you. You hear a small, metallic click as she unclasps her evening bag— marginally larger than your own— and lifts out a small tube of liquid lipstick. “Would you like to use mine?”

Fuck yes you would.

“Oh, would that be alright?” You finally turn around, and you have to tilt your head back to look at her, taller than you in her heels. Jesus Christ. She’s going to be the death of you. Why are women so gorgeous? Who gave them the right? “I’m not sure the shade will match, though?”

You watch her beautiful mouth curve up into a small smirk as she pulls out a tiny pack of makeup remover wipes from her bag, and you swear could propose to her there and then. Beautiful and tall and organised? Holy shit. What a woman.

She’s got her bag in one hand, while the lipstick and wipes are clasped in the other; her hand is held up in such a way that you think she means for you to take them from her, but when you reach out she shakes her head.

“I’ll do it for you,” she says. The quiet note of authority in her tone makes you go weak at the knees.

Thank god the toilets you chose aren’t the main ones, because it means there’s no one around to see how she tilts her head at the marble counter in the universal gesture of get on there. It’s entirely unnecessary, but you, of course, immediately comply. You brace your hands against the cold stone before hitching yourself up, careful with the draping folds of your dress; the cold touch of the stone is noticeable through the material of your dress, but it’s instantly forgotten when your enchantress steps closer.

You spread your knees so she can stand between them. Holy shit, she’s even better up close. Her lashes are wispy but they’re the perfect frame for her gorgeous eyes, which are dark and intent. You suppress a shiver. You hold yourself still as she leans forward and around you so she can put her clutch and lipstick down, trying to ignore how close she is, but there’s no way she can’t realise what she’s doing. Your heart is pounding. You wish you didn’t have a job to do tonight because you would so much rather be getting, ah, acquainted with this woman rather than following some old businessman around.

The only noise in the bathroom is the sound of peeling plastic as she opens the tiny packet of wet wipes before she curls one around her finger, glancing at you through her lashes.

“Open,” she instructs.

Your mouth drops open immediately. She sweeps the wipe over your lips, bottom, then top, touch firm but careful, drawing away the red from your skin; you stare at her as she works, how her eyes are cast down as she stares at your mouth. She’s using her free hand to grip your chin and you feel deliciously powerless in her grasp.

You purse your lips a little to try and help her, watching the way her eyes flicker as she pulls the wipe back over them— somewhat firmer, this time, with more intent. Lingering. The only barrier between her finger and your mouth is soft and flimsy, the texture of the wipe against your lips like cotton as it drags across them, and it would be so easy to pull it out of her hands.

She flicks the dirtied wipe aside, heedless of how it lands on the unsullied marble, before reaching for her lipstick. She twists the tube in her fingers, motions of her hands precise and deft, and you’ve never been so attracted to how someone’s uncapped something before.

You watch her hands. (She watches you.)

Your eyes trail over the wand as she pulls it out, dragging the doe foot against the rim to catch the excess before turning it towards you, putting the tube by your thigh, near where your hand is bracing against the marble. She takes hold of your chin once again. You stay quiet as she starts to sweep the lipstick over your lips, painting them the same flushed pink as her own. Once again she’s staring at her work so you’re free to drink her in, almost drunk from her beauty, eyes catching on the tiny moles on her pale skin, the smallest freckles that are only noticeable because you’re this close.

The squelch of the applicator sliding into the tube is almost lewd in the silence of the bathroom, and this time you can’t suppress a shiver when she pulls your chin down to open your mouth so she can go back in again on your lips, drawing a sharp, crisp line. Tracing the edges of your lips, the flushed swell of them, the peak of your cupid’s bow.

She glances up. For a moment you’re both still, staring at each other, tension in the air palpable, but then she smacks her lips and you copy the motion, evening the application of the makeup on your mouth.

“Perfect,” she murmurs. “One more step.”

A small, confused frown flits over your face. She’s put the lipstick aside but then she lifts a finger and points towards your still parted lips. You take in a small, shuddering breath when she speaks again and you realise what she means.

“You don’t want to get lipstick on your teeth, do you?”

Both of her eyebrows have risen and she’s looking at you like you’re being silly if you disagree with her.

“No,” you say. You’re not about to deny her. “No, I don’t.”

Your eyes remain locked. You lean forwards, taking that perfect, long finger into your mouth, dragging your lips upwards so that any excess lipstick is caught against her pale skin, a ring of deep rose circling her bottom knuckle; you curl your tongue around her, hot and wet, feeling the crease of her knuckles and pad of her fingertip against your taste buds as you slowly, slowly pull away.

It’s undoubtedly indecent and risqué and you can feel the flush of arousal settling in your lower belly, an almost embarrassing flush of wetness leaking out of you at the taste of her skin. She, however, remains unmoved, although she lets her finger linger just for a moment on your bottom lip, almost rough against their softness— but before you can swallow those fingers back down and ruin her meticulous work, she pulls away, lifting the discarded wipe to sweep it around her finger, catching the lipstick you’d left on her skin.

“Done.”

She steps back and you feel like you can finally breathe, a breath so deep you can feel how your lungs fill, oxygen rushing to your brain so fast you feel lightheaded. You watch as she sweeps everything back into her bag, clicking it shut with a note of finality; the sullied wipe is cast carelessly into a tiny, chrome bin with a flick of a wrist, her every motion regal.

You slide off the counter. You still can’t take your eyes off her and you don’t want to. It feels like whatever heaviness was in the air has dissipated, gone in an instant with a turn of her head— normally you’d let it slide, even if you feel disappointed, but she’s just so magnetic.

“Thank you,” you say. You can see yourself in the mirror now and to your complete lack of surprise, your lipstick is perfect. The shade is lighter than one you’d have chosen for yourself but it’s beautiful on her, of course.

“You’re welcome.” She’s in the middle of washing her hands, but she glances over her shoulder at you, and the firm set to her face lightens a little as she smiles. It’s a small, sly thing, and you realise with a start that she knows exactly what effect she has on you.

I’m coming back for you, you think to yourself. You have work to do tonight, but—

“What’s your name?”

She pauses. She shuts off the tap with a quick motion, reaching forward for a rolled hand-towel, a neat stack on a metal tray nearby. You wonder if she’s not going to answer but then she speaks, looking at you instead of the soft cotton she’s rubbing over her skin. “Yoonji,” she says. “I’m Min Yoonji.”

Min Yoonji is the most gorgeous fucking woman you’ve ever seen.

“I love your dress, Yoonji,” you say, and it’s true, you really do— but you’d prefer it if it was off. Not that you’re about to say that, of course.

She lets out a breath of laughter. “I know.” Oh, god, you love confident women. “What’s your name, darling?”

You have that same split second of hesitation, similar to Yoonji’s only moments prior. You use a codename when you work, of course, and you have a plethora of fake identities that you use and are intimately familiar with— but the idea of your real name falling off Yoonji’s flushed, petal lips? Woof.

“Y/n L/n,” you say.

Oh, Joon would be so unimpressed right now, giving some mysterious woman your full, real name just because you think she’s the sexiest thing since sex, but whatever. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

“Well, Y/n,” Yoonji says. You were right, your name sounds so good falling from her mouth, the mouth that’s turned into a small, almost smug smile. “I certainly hope to see you at the charity ball in a few weeks?”

“Of course.” Your schedule has been magically cleared and you’ll definitely be in attendance for whatever ball Yoonji is referring to, even if you have no idea what it is. You only come to these things if you have to for work but for Yoonji you’ll make an exception. You’ll make a hundred thousand exceptions. A hundred thousand quinquagintaquadringentillion exceptions. “I’ll make sure to remember my lipstick next time.”

And there it is, the thing that seals the deal, the final nail in the coffin: Yoonji glancing at you out of the corner of her eyes, a sharp, dark touch that shoots through you as her smile edges into hunger.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’m sure it won’t stay on your lips long enough to matter.”

The thing you’ve discovered about Minjae is that, with his divorce due to be finalised soon, he’s apparently lost any sense of routine and is revelling in his new found freedom, which is kind of irritating when you’re trying to tail the guy. Sure, you’re still going to take him out, but you prefer it when targets have some sort of schedule that they adhere to— makes it easier to set up a kill.

“You’re certain that he’s going to be here tonight?” You’d been sceptical considering how the guy’s apparently thrown his schedule out of the window, but Namjoon had been certain.

“Positive.” He’d said. “He’s there every Tuesday night. You’ll have plenty of time.”

The house appears to be deserted. The driveway is empty and all the windows and doors are locked tight. It’s just one of the properties that the Parks own in the city, and for all its size and lushness it appears as though this one is rarely frequented; you imagine that the cleaners and gardeners spend more time here than the owners themselves.

It doesn’t take you long to evade the watchful eyes of security cameras to pick a lock and slip inside. You're grateful for the dying evening light that helps cover your tracks from any onlookers from the street, although you imagine the high walls do good work at preventing people from seeing into the grounds anyway.

There’s still enough light to navigate through the house, the golden tinged sunset casting warm shadows across the spotless furniture and fixtures; you take a moment to let your eyes slide across a huge canvas hanging on a wall that spans two storeys, some impressionist piece that’s surprisingly ugly for all the talent that’s obvious in its brushstrokes. Maybe that’s why the Parks are never here? You’d certainly try to avoid seeing this thing if you could. Eurgh.

Even though the building is empty, you’re careful as you start to make your way forwards. You always place your toes down first whenever you take a step, soundless as you start to map the house out in your mind; there are so many rooms you can hide in, but you’d prefer to be close to wherever Minjae ends up. Saves faffing around later.

You’ll overpower him, inject the toxin into his blood and wait for him to die before setting him up on the toilet— it’s surprisingly common for people to die while on the shitter, the strain leading to an untimely heart attack, especially in older people. The poison you’re using tonight will mimic the symptoms of a heart attack in the case the coroner decides a post-mortem needs to be undertaken.

(Being found on the bog might not be a particularly graceful way to die but when you’re dead it’s kind of hard to be embarrassed.)

You’ve eased the door open into a large bedroom, and you’re just inspecting if it looks like this room sees more use than the others when you pause. It’s deathly silent in this building, the air still minus where you glide through it as you move, but there’s a feeling in your gut, some instinct that makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You freeze, ears straining to catch any noise to let you know if there’s someone else here, when—

There. In the reflection of a burnished pot, the tiniest shifting movement.

You react almost faster than the eye can see. You spin to parry a hit that was aimed for your head, and the strength behind it shudders through your arms. You only have a second to take in the details of your assailant— dressed in dark clothing, masquerade style mask in place, a professional just like you— before you’re deflecting another flurry of blows, flipping backwards out of reach before spinning into a kick, hooking that burnished pot with your foot and sending it flying towards the other assassin.

They dodge it. You both ignore the sound of clattering metal as you lunge forwards, trying to catch them off guard after their sidestep— your fist makes contact with their palm instead of their face, your hand engulfed in theirs, and you startle at their speed. You might not be the strongest but you’re damn fast.

There’s a pause, and you can only see a slither of their eyes through the sockets of their mask, but you can tell that they’re impressed. And honestly? So are you.

The moment shatters when they use the hand they're holding to twist you, locking an arm around your neck and putting you into a chokehold; they’re strong, stronger than you, cutting off your airflow. You need to get out of this before you fall unconscious, but if they’re trained as well as you then they’ll know how to combat the usual ways you’d use to get out of this.

So, in a demonstration of your flexibility you kick a leg up, using the strength of your thighs and calves to slam it into the arm that’s around your neck. Your assailant lets out a noise of surprise and pain as you slip out of their hold and cartwheel across the room before spinning to face them.

There’s a beat. The air is tense. You get another chance to take in the details of whoever’s just tried to choke you out; you stare at her as she stares at you, the two of you poised and ready to strike, watching and waiting.

Knives might be messy but of course you’re not unarmed. You have multiple sheathed weapons in your clothes, though you don’t make a move to draw any of them. Yet. “I suppose you wouldn’t tell me who your employer is, would you?”

Your opponent tilts her head. “You don’t know?” She sounds amused, even through her mask. “Minjae took out a contract on the assassin who has a contract on him.”

Your lip curls back from your teeth. The only way Minjae would have heard about your contract is if Dahye had told him. Presumably to try and shock him out of his behaviour, or something, who knows. “This is the last time I’m accepting a job from these rich old farts,” you mutter.

“That’s for certain,” she says.

She starts to move and you catch her arm just as she goes to unsheathe a wicked looking blade, knocking it aside before she overpowers you and you start to wrestle. It’s messy and graceless but sometimes you just have to fight dirty.

Whoever this woman is, she still has the upper hand because she was expecting you and you weren’t expecting her; she knocks you onto the bed and pins you down, swooping the knife up from where it had been thrown onto the mattress. You go utterly still as she holds it against your throat, towering over your from where she’s straddling your waist and kneeling on your arms. Any sudden movement from you now could lead to your untimely demise— and, unsurprisingly, you absolutely want to avoid that at all costs.

Namjoon would never let you live it down if you were killed on the job.

You hum. “It seems like we’ve reached an impasse.”

She doesn’t respond. The knife doesn’t dip any lower, though; you’re undoubtedly at her mercy but you notice she’s careful to keep the knife still, hovering above the skin of your neck, but not making contact.

“Well,” you continue. “At least I’m going out the way I’d always hoped to.”

Even in the dying light and with how her face is covered, you notice her face shifting behind her mask— a silent, questioning raise of an eyebrow. You give her a cheeky smile that crinkles your eyes.

“In bed with a beautiful woman, of course.”

At this she huffs out a laugh. “Do you flirt with every person who tries to kill you?”

You’re trying to look as non-threatening as possible to keep that knife away from your jugular. The longer you talk, the longer you live, even if you can’t see a way to get out of this situation right now. “Only the pretty ones.”

The small laugh she lets out this time seems more like a scoff. “You don’t even know what I look like.”

“Please.” You roll your eyes. “Any woman who can fight like you and knows how to handle a knife? Automatically hot. I don’t need to see your face to know that.”

The knife still hasn’t moved. She continues to stare you down and you go tense when her free hand moves. She tugs the cloth of your mask down to reveal your face, the air of the room almost cold against the suddenly bared skin, your breaths free to curl out unhindered.

“Usually I like to be taken out to dinner at least once before we get this intimate, but for you I suppose I’ll make an exception.” You’re still grinning cheekily at her, but your mind continues to race as you try to think of a way to get out of this, especially now that she’s seen what you look like—but you suddenly notice that she’s gone very, very still.

“Y/n?”

The grin freezes on your face. Oh, you’re so boned. You’re so very boned. Like, yeah, you’ve been seconds away from death for the past, hmm, five minutes, but this is somehow worse. How the fuck does she know your name?

You’re given the answer almost immediately. She withdraws the hand from your chin and reaches for her own mask. Your eyes widen and your breath stutters in your throat once you see who it is.

“Holy shit,” you breathe.

Yoonji is staring down at you. She’s every inch as imperious and stunning as the last time you’d seen her— hell, even moreso now that you’ve seen what she’s capable of. No wonder you hadn’t been able to find out anything about her after you’d met at that garish charity gala. Because she’s untraceable, just like you.

“Well.” You stare back at her, not even attempting to keep the surprise off your face. “If anyone has to kill me at least I can die satisfied in the knowledge that it was you. Can I make a request? I’d be eternally grateful if you smothered me to death with your thighs. Just a suggestion, feel free to ignore it if you want.”

Yoonji cocks her head. Her bob is tied back, but there’s a loose lock of hair curled by the side of her face that shifts at the motion. Your fingers twitch. If she wasn’t kneeling on your arms you know you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from tucking it behind her ear. Any excuse to touch her. “Do you always talk so much?”

“Hey, if it means I get to feel your legs around my face before I die, I’ll give a full fledged TED talk,” you say. “I have to admit, though. When I pictured us in bed together I didn’t think it would be like this.”

The knife still hasn’t moved from your throat. She continues to stare, as if considering what to do next, though her face remains impassive. “What did you think it would be like?”

“Well, you know. Less knives and clothes involved and a lot more making out,” you answer. “You, telling me what to do. Me, entirely at your command. Anything the lady wants, she gets.”

The human body is a fickle and strange beast. Ever since you discovered who’s straddling you, you’ve been growing wetter and wetter, even if you’re trying not to let on that you’re steadily growing more aroused— you’re still distinctly aware of the knife that’s only centimetres away from your skin, but somehow your body is more focused of the fact that the woman you’ve been daydreaming about is finally in front of you again.

(Well, less in front of you and more on top of you, which is an admittedly preferable option, sans the knife involvement.)

You see how Yoonji’s eyes are darting over your face. No doubt taking in how your pupils are dilated, how your breaths are a little shallower, quicker— signs of fear and signs of arousal are surprisingly similar. You wonder if she can identify which it is. Probably. You’re not exactly very subtle in your attraction to her.

“I forgot my lipstick again,” you add, and Yoonji’s passive mask finally breaks when she rolls her eyes.

“Didn’t I say you wouldn’t need it?”

Even the way she throws the knife aside is gorgeous. The sharp undulation of her wrist as she sends the blade skittering across the polished wood floor is careless and fluid. Her hands cup your face as she bends down, and you send up a mental thanks to any god or higher being who might be listening before Yoonji presses her lips to your and your brain goes blank.

Apparently Yoonji likes it messy. One of her hands is grasping your chin in a mockery of the last time you’d met and she’d painted your lips— your mouth is open and she licks past your lips as you shudder beneath her. She’s still got her knees pressed into your arms, pinning you down, but you desperately crane your head towards her, chasing that kiss; you tilt your head to deepen it, and the whine that leaves you when she pulls away is almost embarrassing.

The sun has finally dipped below the horizon and the room is dark, painted in shades of grey and deep blue. You wish you could see Yoonji properly and you can’t help but wriggle a little underneath her, but then you watch her raise her hands and clap three times in rapid succession before the room floods with dim light. Sound activated lights? Damn.

Yoonji’s mouth shines, covered in a sheen of your mixed saliva, her pretty lips flushed rose pink; even without makeup they’re beautiful and their colour is deep, the blooming petals of a flower. Your eyes trail over her face, down her neck, over the fall of her chest and stomach— you’re both far too covered up in these stupid ensembles of yours and you want to strip the clothes off her. You want to see every inch of her beautiful, majestic body, bared for your lips and hands.

Fuck, she’s so gorgeous.

“Not to, um, ruin the moment, but my hands are going numb.” The weight of Yoonji’s body being pressed into your arms has pretty much cut off the blood flow to your fingers and you can feel the telltale sensation of pins and needles spreading through your skin. “Can I have those back, please?”

Yoonji lifts her knees just enough for you to slide your arms out from underneath them. You immediately shed your gloves and go to grab her ass but she gives you a sharp look and you freeze, slowly settling them on her thighs instead, which she allows with only the slightest raise of her eyebrows.

“Watch,” she commands, and who are you to disobey?

She reaches for the tie in her hair, tugging it out and letting her dark locks fall to frame her lovely, beautiful face. You hungrily swallow down each sight that she feeds to you, the skin that’s revealed as she shrugs off her layers of clothing. She unbuckles the weapons hidden underneath her clothes as she sheds them; she’s a veritable arsenal of firearms and knives, all cast carelessly aside until her upper body is finally, blessedly naked. You’ve been staring at her the whole time, the graceful column of her throat, the delicate lines of her collarbones, and your gaze falls to her breasts, small and perfect, nipples dusty pink and hard. You want to put your mouth on them.

“Holy shit, you’re perfect,” you say.

She smirks. You watch as she rolls her body, lifting up from her knees and standing up, towering above you on the bed—your hands fall to the mattress as she pulls her trousers down, tight material dragging against her skin as she slides it over the curve of her hips and down her long legs. There’s a dagger strapped to her thigh, which she unbuckles and lets fall to one side, but god, if she used it to kill you right now, you would die a happy woman. The image of Min Yoonji towering above you in nothing more than some flimsy underwear is one you want to take to the grave.

You can see how the material around her entrance is darkened with her arousal, and you feel your own body react to the sight, pussy throbbing, your own lower lips slick underneath all your layers of clothing. Yoonji hooks her thumbs into her panties and pushes them down, and you’re enraptured as you watch how the wetness clings to them, before that last bit of clothing is cast aside too.

You moan, unable to stop the sound bubbling up in your throat. From how she’s standing above you, legs spread from how her feet are either side of your hips, you can see everything—how her cunt is flushed, how wet she is, her folds shining. You bet she tastes so fucking good.

You let your mouth fall open, tongue lolling out in a way that’s obscene. You see Yoonji’s eyes flicker as she traces the motion, the way she takes in your expression: wide, hungry eyes, parted lips, wet tongue. Your hands skim up the back of her calves as she shifts forwards and returns to her knees, her naked core so, so close to your mouth, and you dig your fingers into her skin.

“Bon appé-fucking-tit,” you murmur, and then you pull her onto your face.

Yoonji gasps.

(You were right. She tastes so, so fucking good.)

You’re utterly shameless as you slurp up her juices, the wetness that continues to leak out of her as you bury your face into her cunt, tongue lapping over her entrance as your nose brushes her clit. Your hands have moved to the flesh of her ass and you encourage her to grind against you, rolling her hips towards your greedy mouth; you’re staring up at her, drinking down her reactions, the way her face twists with pleasure and the shuddering breaths she takes in, perfect little breasts jumping at the motion. There’s a flush spreading down her neck and chest, pale skin blushing pink, and it’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen.

You purse your lips against her clit, circling it with your tongue before dipping back down between her folds. Each time you breathe in all you can smell is her scent, heavy and dark, all your senses filled with Yoonji, Yoonji, Yoonji. When you hum against her, Yoonji arches her spine and throws her head back, so when you press your tongue into her you hum again, letting the vibrations shiver through her.

“Yes,” she gasps, rutting against your face. “Yes, yes—”

Her thighs tighten around your head. You redouble your efforts, watching her face as you continue to swipe your tongue up her slit and through her folds; you wish you could swallow each of the noises that are falling from her lips as she reaches the crest of her pleasure, the little gasps and moans each time you move your tongue in a particularly wicked way.

“There,” she says. “There, there, just like that—”

Your jaw aches but you don’t even register it, too intent on keeping your mouth open and hot and wet against her. It only takes a few more swipes and flicks of your tongue before she shudders violently, canting her hips towards your mouth as her legs go tense and she cums. She continues to straddle your face as she rides out the waves of pleasure, and you swallow down the wetness that flushes out of her rippling cunt, ignoring the throbbing between your own legs.

You can’t talk, muffled by her as you are, but your mind is singing. Look at you, you think. Look at how gorgeous you are. God, I could eat you out all day. (What a blessed life that would be.)

You can tell when Yoonji’s edged into oversensitivity, jolting when your tongue sweeps over her swollen clit; she settles back, knees spread as she rests against your heaving chest, legs tensing each time an aftershock shivers through her. Your mouth is open as you pant in air, but she watches as you swipe your tongue over your lips, catching the lingering taste of her on you, your chin opalescent with her arousal.

“Okay,” you say, breathless. “I’ve done everything that’s worth doing. I’ve peaked. Everything is downhill from here. You can kill me now.”

You’re only half joking, but your thighs instinctively go tight to rub against each other when you see how Yoonji’s eyes darken.

“I’m not done with you yet,” she purrs.

Yoonji might be naked while you’re still clothed, and so still armed, but she’s undoubtedly the one who’s in control right now. You are so, so okay with that. You watch with wide eyes as she shifts back, her hands grabbing the material of your jacket to tug you upwards, but before she can strip off your clothes you capture her lips with your own.

The taste of her is still heady and deep in your mouth and you nip at her bottom lip before pressing your tongue forwards. The kiss is already slick from Yoonji’s wetness and when you pull away, there’s a thin string of saliva that connects you for a moment before it breaks, which Yoonji wipes away from your chin with the pad of her thumb.

“Dirty girl,” she says, and you bite back a moan at the unabashed lust in her voice. Her grip on your chin is firm. “Did I say you could kiss me?”

“No,” you answer. “I couldn’t help myself.”

She tuts, as if disappointed, and every one of your nerve endings feels electrified, ready and anticipating whatever Yoonji is going to do next. “Such a shame,” she says. “You just can’t keep your hands or mouth to yourself, can you?”

“Can you blame me?”

Yoonji huffs out a laugh through her nose. She strips your jacket off in one sharp motion and then your shirt is similarly pulled off with single-minded intent, along with every other piece of equipment cinched to your arms and body. When you reach for her, though, she captures your wrists, her face stern.

“If you keep moving without permission, I��m going to take that privilege away from you.”

You don’t have to see your own eyes to know how your pupils will have dilated from that statement, blood thrumming through your veins, and you can tell Yoonji has noticed when her expression shifts.

“Oh.” A small, triumphant smirk appears on her face. “I see.”

You lift your arms up so she can pull your sports bra off (of course if you had known you’d been running into Yoonji again you would have worn something nicer). Rather than touch your heaving chest, however, she pushes you down onto the mattress, a hand around your wrists so they’re held above your head.

“Keep still,” she says.

She reaches for the holster that you’d had around your upper arm, lazily casting the knife aside before looping it around your wrists and pulling it secure.

Yoonji’s fingers ease under the nylon as she checks the fit. It’s tight, but not so much so that it’s painful or dangerous, and there’s a hushed moment when the realisation hits you— Yoonji and yourself are both skilled enough to know that you could easily free yourself if you wanted to. It would only take a little motion of your wrists and hands and you could slip them out of the makeshift cuffs in an instant.

You melt into the mattress. Yoonji’s eyes shift away from your wrists as she takes in the way you’ve gone utterly relaxed and limp below her, staring back at her. You see an expression flit across her face faster than you can see, before she slides down your body so she can push your legs apart.

You lift your hips to help her strip your trousers off. Her hand lingers on the concealed holster around your thigh, eyeing the small pistol nestled inside it, before that too is stripped off and cast aside. Her hands trail over the soft skin of your hips and stomach, eyes skimming over the bared length of your body before settling between your legs, the slickness of your inner thighs.

“You got this wet just from eating me out?” Her pretty mouth is curled into an expression that’s almost mocking, and your legs jolt as she runs her fingers lightly over your lower lips before rubbing her fingertips together to feel the wetness she’s gathered. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Your nails dig into your palms as your hands twist against each other and you shift your legs further apart. “Please, Yoonji,” you plead, shameless from desperation and arousal.

She laughs at your obvious hunger. “I suppose I should return the favour, shouldn’t I?”

You watch breathlessly as she lifts her fingers to her lips, swallowing them into her mouth to get them slick and wet. The motions of her tongue are languid as she licks across her fingers. You’re like a livewire, thrumming with electricity, and the sensation of her finally sinking one of those fingers into you sends sparks throughout your body.

Yoonji’s maddeningly slow. Your body takes her readily, her long finger gliding easily in and out of you, but she makes no move to speed up; you let out a small noise and she moves upwards to kiss you, as if indulging you, and you’ve just relaxed against her mouth when she plunges a second finger in.

She swallows your gasp as her fingers speed up, before she starts to kiss across your jaw, your neck, between the valley of your breasts and then closing her mouth over one of your nipples— she times the flick of her tongue with the thrust of her fingers, and then you feel how she takes her thumb to press your clit at the same time and you’re gone, falling over the edge faster than you’d expected. Your orgasm is fast but deep, your walls clenching tight around the fingers that continue to curl in and out of you, but she doesn’t stop.

“Yoonji,” you gasp. “It’s too— oh—”

Those two fingers continue to rub your sweet spot as you edge into oversensitivity but Yoonji doesn’t let up. She continues to lick and bite at the skin of your chest, putting her mouth to your other breast and circling the hardened bud of your nipple with her tongue before kissing down your stomach, your pubic bone, and then pressing her lips to your swollen clit.

You whimper. Her pace of her fingers has quickened, and she curls them each time she almost pulls them out, the squelch of their motions obscene as they slide through the cum of your first orgasm. She stares up at you, lapping at your clit with her tongue, and you can feel the saliva that’s dripping from her mouth and over your flushed core, every inch of you oversensitive but screaming with pleasure.

It’s almost painful, but you can feel an orgasm creeping through that ache; you wring your hands together and sob as Yoonji continues to finger fuck you without mercy, her pace almost bruising, the thrust of her knuckles against you each time she bottoms out just one more layer on top of that overwhelming pleasure.

“Yoonji,” you gasp. “I’m g-gonna cum again.”

She hums against you, and you make an incoherent noise at the feeling of that sound against your clit, almost too much— and then she presses one more finger into you, and that’s it, that slight burn and stretch sending you hurtling over that edge again. When you cum, your hips buck and you gasp, air rushing into your lungs before it escapes you in a moan of ecstasy; the only sensations registering in your mind right now are the ripples of pleasure spreading through your cunt as Yoonji pulls her fingers out of you, pressing down on your clit in a way that’s almost cruel, and you sob as your legs instinctively try to tighten but are prevented from doing so by Yoonji’s unyielding presence.

She’s staring down at you as you start to go lax, and you think she’s finished with you, but you watch with widening eyes as she takes her ring and middle finger to run them through your sodden folds. You sob again when those fingers plunge back into you, palm pressing against your clit each time she curls her fingers, and you squirm underneath her.

“Yoonji, it’s too much,” you cry.

“One more.” Yoonji’s leaning back and staring at you, taking in the sweat that’s beading across your skin, the tears that are gathering in your eyes and threatening to spill down your face and into your hair. “You’re doing so well, darling, you can give me one more, can’t you?”

Your reply is incoherent, a small noise that shudders out of the back of your throat. You’ve never been thrown so thoroughly into pleasure like this, overstimulated and aching, but there’s that flicker of pleasure still between your legs, growing each time Yoonji beckons with her fingers, curling over your abused sweet spot again and again and again.

“Just say the word and I’ll stop,” Yoonji says, the wet plunge of her fingers into your abused pussy so messy and loud but not enough to drown her out. “One word and I’ll stop.”

You don’t say anything. You just let your eyes roll back into your head as you cant your hips towards her, trying to latch onto that thread of pleasure that’s thrumming through you below all your screaming nerves, and the noise Yoonji makes is pleased.

“There we go,” she praises. “Look at you, so good for me. Pretty darling.”

You can feel how your pussy clenches around Yoonji’s fingers, how the coil in you is squeezing tighter and tighter, how another orgasm is somehow creeping up on you— you tilt your hips towards that feeling, towards Yoonji’s hand, and then she’s pulling her fingers out of you in an almost rough motion and you’re cumming harder than you ever have before.

“Oh, fuck!” You sob.

It’s indescribable. The sensation rips through you as your back arches off the bed and you’re cumming and squirting and gasping and you can feel the wetness that slicks out of you, your toes curling as your brain goes blank from the staggering pleasure and static consumes every one of your senses. Your entire body feels like nothing more than a vessel for the ecstasy that’s shooting through your veins, spreading out from your core and to every corner of your insides and limbs.

It takes you a while to come back around, aftershocks wracking through your body. You feel sluggish and slow as your mind slowly clears, focusing on the sensation of warm hands stroking over the skin of your stomach and hips and thighs; your eyes flutter open and when you glance down you can see the shine to Yoonji’s skin, evidence of your pleasure painting her in a thin sheen of liquid.

“Oh my god,” you moan. “Holy shit.”

She smiles. “You were so, so good for me,” she says. She leans down to press a light kiss to collarbones and you shiver. “So beautiful. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve died and gone to heaven before coming back again,” you reply. “Oh, that was so good, Yoonji. I’ve never squirted before. I didn’t realise I could. God.”

Yoonji laughs lightly. You can’t help but watch the way it transforms her face, the way her chest jumps at the motion, every inch of her gorgeous and majestic and cute and pretty. “You did so, so well,” she praises, before she kisses you, her mouth so soft; you barely notice the sudden easing of pressure around your wrists as she releases you, more intent on the sensation of her soft petal lips against your own.

You stare up at her as she pulls away. Powerful, amazing Min Yoonji, kneeling between your legs, naked but not helpless. Definitely less vulnerable than you right now. And yet she’s still making no moves to grab one of the many weapons littered around the bed so she can finally finish her contract by completing the kill. It would be so easy for her.

The silence of the room is suddenly broken by a tiny buzzing noise. You both glance over at the sound, one that Yoonji doesn’t recognise but you do— the communicator in one of your wristbands, the one you use to keep in contact with Namjoon.

You watch the twisting of Yoonji’s body as she leans over the bed to hook the band with a finger before proffering it to you. You pause, but then grasp her wrist and lightly pull so she ends up pressed against you, softness of her breasts against your own, and you hold the communicator between your faces as you accept the call.

“Thank god you answered.” Namjoon’s voice is obviously frantic even through the tinniness of the small speaker. “Dahye cancelled the contract because Minjae wants to reconcile with her, but apparently he’s already put a hit out on you— tonight was a ruse, Minjae isn’t going to be there, you have to get out of there—”

“Bit too late for that,” you interrupt. Yoonji’s hair is tickling your cheek. “Don’t worry. I have it in hand. Send some flowers to Minjae for me, will you?”

“Flowers?” Namjoon sounds understandably confused. “Why?”

“As a thank you for taking out a contract on me,” you say. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m a little busy.”

“With what?”

“With me,” Yoonji says, and you hear Namjoon’s surprised intake of breath before you cut the line.

You end up laughing to yourself. “Oh, he’s going to hate me for that,” you giggle. Yoonji’s hand trails up your stomach and you continue to giggle at the ticklish sensation. Her skin is still slick against yours, and you suddenly realise how cold it is in the room, the air touching the cooling liquid that’s rubbed off against your skin, and you shiver. “Mm. I think it’s time to clean up. Want me to scrub your back in the shower? I give very good massages.”

Yoonji’s eyes are dark and warm before she presses her nose to your neck, lips soft as they touch the delicate skin of your throat. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

#yoonji x reader #min yoonji #yoonji smut #cypherwritersnet #bts smut #bts oneshot #one day I'll learn how to efficiently use tags... one day #joy.masterlist

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justsomefluff · 3 years

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Can you do an ateez reaction where the reader gets jealous??

of course I can! took me a while lmao but thank you for being patient, here ya go, precious!

Hongjoong:

Low-key super oblivious to your jealousy

Like he’s having such a good time at whatever event your attending

Kind of gets lost in the fun

Loves making new friends and meeting people who share similar interests

And don’t get me wrong, you’re happy that he is happy

And you are so proud and love listening to all the compliments he gets on his work

You know how important feedback is to him, but you also know that praise is his weak point

(He deserves every bit of it too)

But some people really just don’t know where to draw the line

Sometimes people skip past his work and start complimenting his physical attributes and making flirtatious remarks about his great personality

Like yeah… I know his personality is great he’s my freakin boyfriend

If you say something like that under your breath and Hongjoong catches it?

LMAO

Giggling and excusing himself from the conversation immediately

Thinks its really sweet and funny, but also wants to reassure you

Maintains a steady balance of his attention on you and on networking for the rest of the night

Seonghwa:

I feel like Seonghwa is the type of significant other to be really in tune to your needs and just generally good at picking up on what you’re feeling

So if he thinks that something is bothering you or making you uncomfortable in any way?

Bye. We are leaving.

If you are somewhere that you can’t really leave (like an important business gala or something idk what famous people do)

He will just take you outside for a breath and a conversation

Tries to take your mind off of whatever you were thinking

Assures you that everything being said inside is strictly business related

YOUR BICEPS ARE NOT THEIR BUSINESS

He chuckles at you a little bit and pulls you into a hug when he thinks no one is watching

Will lead you back into the event and just do things to subtly remind you that he’s there with you

Physically and mentally

Holds your hands, keeps an arm around your waist, or just stands close beside you during conversations

Super sweet and just wants you to be happy and comfortable

Yunho:

Don’t take this the wrong way but…

He’s gonna make fun of you

Hard.

Like for real

“Oh you thought-? HA”

And if you’re pouting at his teasing, he’s gonna laugh more

Even though he’s dying inside because you’re so cute

Will say stupid, annoying things the whole time

“Ooh, would you look over there? My ex”

“That person has been checking me out all night, maybe I’ll go say hi”

And you’d whip around every time like ??? ‘Scuse me???

PSYCH

You’re like two seconds from slapping him in front of his boss and all his peers

But then you see that adorable, goofy grin of his

And all your frustration just sort of melts away

You know he only jokes because he finds it ridiculous

Like why would he ever look for someone else when youre right there?

But I’m sure you’ll find a way to get him back for being a brat somehow

Yeosang:

This one will not understand why you’re jealous

More the type to let you simmer while simultaneously doing things to soothe you

Will rub your back or your arm during conversations

Will brush a hair back from your face every now and then

But he’s not just doing these things to remind you that he loves you

No no

He is also doing these things so that whoever is hitting on him will take the hint

Like?? Shut up?? Go away??

And in the end, you forget that you were jealous and you’re more just irritated

Like quit saying weird things to my man

When they finally go away, you both look at each other with big eyes and sigh really loudly

But then you’re laughing because did that really just happen?

And he’ll tease you a little bit for being jealous before you both go back to talking about how creepy the other person was being

Low-key making fun of them; making up new ridiculous compliments that fit their vibe

“Oh, Yeosang! You know I’ve been a fan for oh so very long and I’ve loved watching your muscles grow!”

Discomfort pretty much forgotten, you just go about your night like that didn’t even happen

San:

Okay this fool

He thinks you’re really cute when you’re jealous so he’s gonna make it worse

Will be super sugary sweet with whoever is flirting with him

Thanking them and complimenting them back

Too bad the compliments are empty and he’s only using them to make you pout a little more

Eventually he ends the conversation because he thinks you’ll catch on to his evil plan if he keeps this up much longer

Drags you away into a quieter area of the event

“Were you jealous?”

He’s smirking because I mean… duh

“You were doing that on purpose weren’t you?”

If looks could kill he would be belly-up in the pool rn

But then he’s laughing and apologizing and trying to justify himself

“I mean how could I resist when it makes you look like this cute baby oooo”

Full squishing your cheeks in public like… sir

But he does it enough that you’re smiling again and batting his hands away from your face

When he realizes that he was successful in returning your mood back to normal, he’ll pull you back into the party

Mingi:

Does not realize you are jealous

Oblivious

Carries on the entire night like everything’s cool

Totally didn’t participate in mutual groping with some random fans

An awkwardly placed hand

An accidental brush against the wrong body part

I mean you know its not his fault

But ooooohhh did it make your blood boil

Literally doesn’t even mention it until you’re home because he genuinely doesn’t think anything happened

And you’re like??? Hello???

You touched their butt???

And then his face goes so red

Like you think for a second he’s gonna explode like those old airheads commercials

“I TOUCHED THEIR BUTT???? THATS SO EMBARASSING NOOOOOOOO”

But then you’re laughing at him because he is more horrified at the situation than anything else

He face plants on the couch and just yells into the cushions for a minute because my god how could he not realize

#mortifiedmingi

And then you’re the one comforting him explaining how the fan surely knows it was an accident and blahblahblah

But at least there was an easy solution to your problem lmao

Wooyoung:

I think that he will actually be concerned

Like if he realizes that you’re jealous he’s gonna think that he did something wrong

Even if its someone else’s fault that you were feeling that way

Hes gonna feel responsible

And he’s gonna wanna make you feel better

Will make some excuse about one of you not feeling well and hightail it out of there

When you tell him you didn’t have to leave the event just because of that he’s like Nono

And he’s gonna spend the rest of the night giving you his undivided attention and making sure you feel loved and cherished

Like I think he is gonna be genuinely worried about how this kind of thing will make you feel

Always wants you to feel safe and secure in your relationship

Never wants anything to damage your self esteem either

So if he thinks any of those things are in jeopardy, he’s gonna do something about it

Might tease you for it sometimes, but darker. emotions are something he tends to be gentler with and more serious about

Jongho:

Does not get the memo

Jealous? Who?

Has to be told by the members lmao

And sees you sulking somewhere away from him

Then he’s rushing to you like a confused puppy

Sits with you quietly for a minute because he doesn’t even really know what to say

“I feel like a bad boyfriend now” is what he chooses to open with

And then youre not jealous anymore

youre in protective mode

“Noooo, baby, why would you ever feel like that youre the best boyfriend ever”

And then he’s like??? Thought you were upset???

And you’re like… maybe

But who cares? Because he’s still a good boyfriend

I mean you know he cant babysit you at events and stuff and youre always happy when he’s having fun

Youre just a little selfish sometimes and want him all to yourself

But who can blame you?

And he completely understands because… well he feels the same way about you <3

#ateezatinyateez fanfictionfanfictionateez imagineimagineateez reactionreactionateez scenarioscenarioangstateez angstateez hongjoongateez min

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fakeloveaskblog · 3 years

Note

Janus! Janus! Janus! Janus! Have you tried. dressing up in goth style!? Please do!!! I want to know your friend's reactions! How 'bout this? You wear a goth outfit (with accessories and make up [maybe put makeup on like snake scales??]of course~) for a whole day, preferably the day you're going to "couple's therapy" and see everyone's reactions!

(Words: 1447)

Janus was rotting away in his bed, buried under 3 blankets and with his snake plush tightly gripped in his arms.

"....Oh right couple's therapy....had forgotten....Sorry I totally haven't been distracted and crying a lot since the fiasco with Logan....I can try....Hopefully it'll cheer me up"

He rolled out of bed and fell ungraciously down on the floor. Sadly he didn't own any make up but he did have a lot of dark clothes. After a lot of worrying about how gross he looked he decided on a long sleeved black shirt with a dark red button up over it. He put a black corset over them to give them that poofy look he'd seen online. He added a few dark rings and necklaces he'd found over the years.

Lastly he unsurely put on a long loose black skirt that reached his ankles. He'd never worn it in public before. It'd just laid hidden in his closet for yeards, sometimes before he moved out he'd put it on when he had been home alone.

"You sure this looks good?" He asked you. You of course didn't answer. He imagine you giving him a thumbs up.

When janus got to the place the therapy was held he was over 10 minutes early like usual. He got anxious otherwise. Remy sat on the parking bench outside smoking. They’d just gotten done with their therapy.

When they saw him they took off their sunglasses to look at him better. They put out their cigarette before taking their cane and hurrying up to him.

“Look at you Janny boy! JanJan! Janiga! Janice! You’re looking tots super good girl! Why the change? You killed your ex husband didn’t you? Took his money?”

“Yes. I put poison in his drink and let the maiden he had been cheating with find the body” Janus replied “A.....friend told me to”

“Classy”

Janus couldn’t help but blush. He hadn’t thought someone as beautiful as Remy would ever think of him as anything but gross “It totally wasn’t meant to be goth but well I have no makeup so I am more like a pretentious emo”

“Oh I know loads of those!”

They took his hand. HOLY SHIT THEY TOOK HIS HAND. And quickly led him over to the bench. They sat him down and started looking around in their bag. He could see several bottles of pills in it, a knife and also all kinds of makeup.

“don’t worry girl! I always got some makeup with me for emergencies! Y’know I don’t wanna wear it unless my boyf is in a good mood but you never know. Alright you want like a trad goth or more like casual?”

“Never tried makeup before. Anything works!”

“Aight girl. Gotya!”

They cupped his cheek to bring his head closer. Janus could feel their cold breathe against his skin as they leaned in and instructed him to close one of his eyes. The brush strokes were so so light against his skin, it almost tickled.

Remy looked so focused it made Janus’ blushing even worse. All he could think about was how easy it would be to lean in and kiss them. Instead they took out an eyeliner pencil and carefully drew dark wings that covered his entire eyelid.

“Sawry but I don’t have any black lipstick. Is red fine? Is red the viiibbee?”

“R-red’s fine! It’s my favorite color!” (it wasn’t) “Same color as my murdered husband’s blood!” Janus babbled out.

“That’s the spirit girl!!”

They brushed their thumb over his bottom lip before putting the lipstick on. They took out another brush and grabbed onto the hair at the back of his head.

“Can you lean your head back a little? I just wanna make sure your cheeks stand out since they already look like a dream” He of course did as told “Good boy”

Janus choked on air. He coughed pretending like it was because of the smoke still surronding Remy. They looked at him with a smile. It didn’t quite look like they were smiling at him but not completely like they were smiling along with him either.

“Alright. All done!”

They held up their phone on mirror mode so he could look at himself.....oh goD HE WAS HOT!!! For once he couldn’t only see imperfections. He just looked...good. Chill, laidback, good.

“Thanks” Janus said, a bit breathlessly.

Remy leaned their chin on his shoulder “I tried to give you a gothic Jessica Rabbit kinda eye! She’s my fav character like ever! She made me start trying feminine things”

“Oh no you totally failed. It looks horrible!” He said sarcastically.

“So true girl! It’s pretty stupid but I kinda like relate to her a lot. Like the whole I’m not bad I’m just drawn that way thing. I mean you of course know this with how you are but people will just assume things when they’re attracted to you”

Janus’ eyes widened “You- You think I would be able to relate to that??”

They twirled his hair between their fingers. They had a soft smile on their face “’course girl!....I kinda like thinking of myself as Jessica and my boyf as Roger” They forced a fake chuckle “Y’know so many people have assumed I’m cheating on him”

“I can’t assume! I have a medical disease that makes it so I’m unable to assume!” Janus lied in a nervous flurry. He wanted to facepalm immediately afterwards. He was an idiot.

Remy laughed. A soft laugh. They closed their eyes and leaned their head back. Janus’ heart fluttered just hearing it.

They stretched their fingers one by one while their laughter died down “My fingers are sore just from doing the makeup. That’s pretty pathetic huh”

Janus gently took their hands and cupped them between his own “Not at all. You’re able to come all the way here every week and everything which certainly isn’t pathetic. Being in pain is never pathetic” He gently blew onto their hands to try and warm them them thinking maybe that would help.

They froze up as if they weren’t used to anyone not agreeing with their negative talk “Girl I’m always drunk when I come here anyway! This coffee is like 2 thirds vodka! Can never do therapy sober. Pretty stupid”

He continued to gently massage their fingers “Of course not. I don’t know why you go or why you need the cane but it’s obviously not stupid”

“fibromyalgia” They replied “I mean that’s why I use the cane. It’s a chronic pain thing. The cane helps with some of the pain. I uh also have hypersomnia but that’s a whole different thing”

Janus sent them a warm smile “That sounds tough”

“Yeah” Their voice broke slightly “Yeah it is”

They shook their head and moved their hands away. They forced a smile

“Cute, funny And kind huh? No wonder you have a ‘boyfriend’. Speaking off him” Remy pointed over to Remus coming down the sidewalk.

Janus went into defense at the way they had said boyfriend, almost on instinct “He sure fucking is my boyfriend! Even if he doesn’t fully look like it in some people’s eyes he’s more of a man than I’ll ever be!”

Remy held their hands up to look innocent “Girl I’m literally trans, calm your snitties. I meant that I know you two ain’t actually going to couple’s therapy. I mean it’s like obvious, Just as obvious as Certain other things about you! You’re not a subtle person! What you actually doing?”

He wanted to facepalm even harder “We- uh-”

“Picani is secreltly a succubus and he helps us summon demons to have orgies with every week” Remus filled in.

“Aww babe no inviting meee?” Remy pouted “You don’t deserve me anyway” They got up. Janus handed them their cane “Well I best be going before my bae gets anxious about my bus chrashing. See you in your wet dreams!”

“Bye Rem” Remus waved.

“Bye Rem” Remy waved back. They put their hand on his shoulder and leaned in “He’s good. Real good. You should keep him” They whispered before continuing to walk.

As soon as they had rounded the corner Remus sighed and collapsed onto the bench “They’re so pretty. I would sacrifice a goat for them”

Janus nodded along “Same”

Remus turned to him and whistled before punching his shoulder “And look at you looking like a nightmare! Which is a good thing!”

“Thanks”

“You better give me a goth makeover some time! If I already look good as a darkly clad horror I would kill, literally, as gothic”

Janus smiled “It’s a promise!”

“Great! Alright ready to fuck up Picani’s day?”

“Always”

#desleep #mini fic #remus sanders #janus sanders #remy sanders #sanders sides

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stuckinapatriarchalbullshitland · 4 years

Text

Hi guys! As promised to that Anon, I wrote the timelines. I decided to write only the key points though because these are things we already know, and then, I’m sure there are more than a thousand proofs around and people who have already spoken about it. Enjoy.

Drum roll, please 🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

Let’s start with the first competitor: Tyrone William Griffin, aka Typical Dish Snacked Ty Dolla $ign 04/13/1982, the man who liked to tweet things like “I’m the curator of lesbians”.

PRen Tyren: As I already mentioned in the post “There is a light at the end of the tunnel”, it all started on the evening of November 15, 2016, when 5H went to the Epic party. Due to Laucy’s picture of the wedding and the ‘official’ coming out then occurred a few days later, on November 18, 2016, Lauren needed a boyfriend. That same night at the party, Typecast accepted the management’s proposal.

Typo tweeted “LMJ” on January 4, 2017, and then immediately deleted it. First move to create speculation since, presumably, Lauren ‘was’ still with Ludicrous. Shortly thereafter, a blind item about L who was having an affair with a married man came out. On January 10, 2017, Nicole Cartolano posted that picture of Laucy in the snow with a piñata. After wishing her a happy birthday, as we already know, luBYE. On February 13, 2017, there were the first PRren pictures at the Grammy after-party, so that people would start believing the blind item, BUT, making it clear that he wasn’t a married man, but a taken one, and yes, MAN, since Tyred is 14 years older than her, and therefore inculcating the idea that L was really cheating on Luggage. On March 9, 2017, Tymbal posted a picture of them together, coincidentally, the day after he advertised his upcoming album ‘Beach House 3’.

On March 22, 2017, we had ‘Bare With Me’ and Nicole Cartolano’s interview with MTV News. On the 23rd, we had, still very coincidentally and totally unplanned, “no I hate it because it’s invasive, scary, delusional, disrespectful to us both and was never real…Ever”, because, because, SHE DECIDES. NOT US. PERIOD. (sorry, I had to 😂. This is another of L’s tweets dating back to July 2, 2017: “I decide. Not you. Period.”) Joking apart, because she was single and she certainly couldn’t let the fans have hope for her and C, so she tried to kill the Camren ship for the umpteenth time. “Hey, hey, Lo, how’d it go? That bad, eh?” “Let me try again in 2020.” “Laur, babe, I’ll tell you what. I’m from the future, okay? It didn’t work, honey. And I don’t think it’s gonna work either in, I don’t know, in 2030.”

Back to the program.

The day before Nicole’s MTV article and eight days later, Twix posted a series of tweets (21: “Lo” - 30: “You look better on me 👀”, Cuban flag, and “I think she like me 😍”) [👈🏼 ‘Great grammar’ said in Lauren’s voice] which he then of course deleted to make everything more and more mysterious, and thus making people connect and figure out who was that ‘LMJ’ tweeted in January. On April 14, 2017, we had a picture of L with TyPod and his family dating back the night before when they celebrated Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’s birthday, followed by the blurred picture of the 15th of them together at Coachella. On April 18, 2017, Alycia Bella, Tinky Winky’s ex, tweeted “when you get cheated on w a 5th harmony member & all you can do is laugh.”, and then immediately deleted it, thus giving even more confirmation to people that both had cheated, despite Teletubbies denied and defended himself: “been moved on :) no cheating. Keep it Taylor’d. gang gang 🤘🏽🤘🏽”. The same Alycia who complained of being cheated on by Telly for ‘another girl’ during the reality show ‘The Platinum Life’ which aired on October 15, 2017 and that was recorded MONTHS BEFORE.

There were other tweets that Tyronic continued to tweet and then delete (April 1: “I think about you all the time” - April 3: “You my favorite” and “I don’t know what I did to deserve you” - April 7: “Really like what you’ve done to me”), Insta-stories and posts by both, and other public appearances together to increase the public’s curiosity. Such as: 1) Mani’s birthday. 2) August 16, 2017, when 5H did that famous and messy phone interview with The Sun for Dan Wooton’s podcast, one of Salmoned Cow’s well-known puppies friends, during which Dan asked Lauren about his relationship with Twinkly and she replied that they were just vibing. 3) Lauren’s birthday. 4) On September 11, 2017, Lauren posted pictures about the FentyxPuma party, and in one of those posts with pictures of her and Troglodyte, she put the caption with three hearts emojis, thus confirming to people that she and Tipsy were together.

February 2017 was the chosen month for Pukeren to ‘become’ official, confirmed by Typed in an interview at the Power 105.1 FM morning show The Breakfast Club on October 31, 2017, though, so a long time later and when the waters had already calmed down. By saying February, Tyring confirmed the cheatings exactly as it was planned. In another interview with BigBoyTV made on November 2, 2017, Typology showed the interviewees how even the background of his phone was a picture of Lauren. Picture that, by the way, Lauren herself posted 21 days before that by wearing Tijuana’s merchandise sweatshirt, so not even a personal picture that you’d normally expect to see from a real boyfriend.

Blah blah blah, Lauren never needed to defend a person so much in her life, blah blah blah, weed and booze and parties, blah blah blah, dogs (and fake allergies when convenient), blah blah blah, #Laurenthegroupie, blah blah blah, Tara and social media don’t get along very well, blah blah blah, #freepoorTweed ⛓️👮🏼 who was just having some fun with his friends, blah blah blah. We know the rest of the farce, and moving on to two years later, and therefore at the end of the PR, on April 15, 2019, Tic Tac tweeted a broken heart before zeroing his social media and Lauren a post on her social media, both implying the end of their oh so real ‘relationship’.

🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

Let’s move on to competitor number two: Maturely Hushed Matthew Hussey, 06/19/1987. The scammer par excellence (since 2012). The salesman who pretends to be a life coach/dating advice expert by deluding poor women who fall into his bullshit. The charlatan who has an infinity of fraud charges and even a restraining order for stalking and harassment by a woman named Samantha C. of San Diego. [this woman continually talked about the situation on her Instagram account, cheating_matthewhussey. Even Chelsea Briggs liked a picture.]

Ewmila Mattmila: The skit was supposed to start a lot sooner in reality. They ‘met’ for the first time on September 29, 2017, on the set of NBC’s Today show (performance that C dedicated to the Dreamers), but nobody has heard much about it, right? There was only a single Billboard article that did that. Following that meeting, it was supposed to start in October 2017, when they also started to follow each other on IG, but everything was postponed because C’s album was postponed. The album was released on the 12th, and by pure coincidence, on January 11th, 2018, during the interview with Elvis Duran, and COMPLETELY OUT OF THE BLUE, C mentioned Matilda for the first time by saying she was a fan of his. The same Mattress (10 years older than her) who coincidentally was there that day, so a setup for the public to make believe that they’d met that day.

The next day, at the release of the album ‘Camila’, C performed at Good Morning America, and Macaque, again by pure coincidence, had a small slot in the same program. On January 15, 2018, during the interview with Zane Lowe, when he asked if she had someone special in her life at that time, she replied with “maybe”, which was a big yes when she read “I can’t say your name without smiling” just before from her phone notes. On January 22, 2018, on Zach Sang Show, C said that she’s a private person and that she doesn’t like the ‘public thing’ since the Austin fiasco. Another bullshit said to make the public believe that it was the truth and take advantage of the events that would happen shortly thereafter, since, literally 18 days later, on February 9, E! News exclusively posted the first Burpmila pictures on vacation on a beach in Cabo, Mexico.

Blah blah blah, we know, blah blah blah, they lived in airports to get papped, blah blah blah, they even paid fans to do it, blah blah blah, “He’s great”, blah blah blah, “She’s great”, blah blah blah, #They'reGREAT!, blah blah blah, let’s kiss in a children’s playground #Sinu #needyCamila #someonepleaseteachStMatteohowtoholdagirl #SofiwasdecidingwhethertoreturntotheSagradaFamiliaorgoontheswingratherthanwitnessthatugliness, blah blah blah, let’s get to the first oh so real oh so important obstacle in their story.

On August 12, 2019, a Dutch singer named Elieve did an interview in which she confessed that she and Camila were dating the same guy (Matchbox) at the same time. Elieve was in London from the beginning of January to the beginning of February 2018 and Matzo was in London from January 14 to 19, so they met on one of those days.

Blah blah blah, let’s pretend we’ve overcome this obstacle, blah blah blah, let’s pretend we’re a super happy couple, blah blah blah, Disneyworld, blah blah blah, let’s go skiing, blah blah blah, trip to Italy, blah blah blah, Shawn’s entry, blah bl- wait… Oh yeah, it’s the second PR’s turn. Goodbye Ew! ‘Thank you very much for nothing. Bye-bye!!’ said in Lauren’s voice. End of ‘story’ on May 11, 2019, that is, the last time they were photographed together, news confirmed on June 25, 2019, only 4 days after the release of Señorita.

🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

Even if it wasn’t part of the request, this is a bonus of mine just because.

Señorita + Shitmila Showmila Shawmila: On January 27, 2018, Camila, Shaky, and Andrew, Shavable’s manager, were papped in a restaurant eating pizza before the Pre-Grammy Gala in New York City. That meeting took place to propose the idea of the PR to C to help increase both Shallow’s music sales and his image. Camila was uncertain. 2017 had been a great year for her as a first time as a solo artist, and she knew that she would’ve to play her cards even better during 2018; plus, the PR with Matryoshka hadn’t even officially started and had already been postponed for a few months because the release of her album ‘Camila’ had been postponed.

Andrew explained to her that the PR with Chauffeur wasn’t going to be done right away at all, also because as C would have her PR relationship with EatchEW, Shanty would have that kind of PR relationship/not relationship with Hailey Baldwin (now Bieber) that only served to make people speculate and maintain the idea that Shazam wasn’t gay. Andrew also explained to her that their future PR relationship would benefit both of their careers because there would be a collaboration, a number 1 hit, which they would look for and use as a launchpad for the narrative. #friendswhothenfallinlove #RomeoandJulietbullshit

This perfect duet, went first to knock on Camila’s door, and then to Shuttle’s one in April 2018 in the form of Andrew Watt who already knew everything about the charade. Watt (he also worked on Havana and 7 songs for Romance including Señorita) co-wrote the song in April 2018, shortly before contacting Shitto, along with Jack Patterson, Ali Tamposi (she also worked on Havana, Consequences, and 6 songs for Romance including Señorita), and Charli XCX. [The same Charli who did an interview on October 21, 2019, in which she gave the true version of the story without even remotely mentioning Scab: “This Latin Pop flare just wasn’t right for who I am because I am not a part of that culture, I’m not from there. Whereas Camila has that in her blood, so when we wrote the song we thought about her and sent it to her.”]

Now that they had found the perfect song, and with the addition of Benny Blanco and Cashmere Cat in the production, all they had to do was convince Camila and her team. Charli XCX and C were the opening acts for Taylor Swift’s Reputation Tour from May 8 to October 6, 2018, during which Charli tried to persuade her to do the song by explaining how perfect it was for her. And who knows, maybe even since then they started working on it together since Camila, as she used to do, rewrote almost completely the lyrics to make it more her own. Ask that also to ‘Care About Me’ who turned into ‘The Boy’.

On August 4, still during the Reputation Tour, Shampoo went to the concert date in Toronto, and Taylor posted an Insta-story in which she put make-up and glitter on Shank’s eyelids. Sweaty regretted giving Taylor permission to post the video because people have always thought he was gay for years, and on November 26, 2018, the RollingStone interview was released in which he admitted that he felt the need to be photographed and seen with a girl to prove he isn’t gay. This was a great leverage they used with Camila since she could understand and help a friend in need. The work of persuasion lasted for about 9/10 months, from January 27, 2018, to the end of November/beginning of December 2018. Indeed, on December 5, 2018, both posted a picture taken on the 4th in the backstage of KISS 108’s Jingle Ball 2018 in Boston. Thanks to those pictures and C’s comment, word of their possible future collaboration began to spread. The plan was by then in place.

P.S. remember what happens to Romeo and Juliet, don’t you? Yeah. They die. And like Romeo and Juliet, they’re gonna (metaphorically speaking, of course) die too. Be patient, my babies, be patient.

🎉the🎊end🍾

I want comments now, guys. Which of these competitors you can’t stand the most and why, I’m curious. Put this 🐙 for Tissue, this 🐽 for Matte, and this 🐔 for Shrunken accompanied by the motivation. Let’s have some fun. 🥂

🖕🏼 this is mine for all of them, by the way.

As always, thanks, Mari. 🥰 Bye guys, I love you. Always with love, F. ❤️

#submission #f anon #mattmila tyren showmila timeline #so funny #anon #ask #how many names on this post #thanks you too much faby

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lassieposting · 3 years

Note

Hi i havent read the books post-resurrection so im kinda lost on why you dont like phase 2 val? She was easily one of my favourite characters ever, she was flawed (and the books took time to acknowledge them) and relatable and still really admirable (intelligent, brave, loyal) and i really liked her and really appreciated that she wasn’t perfect unlike every other young adult heroines. What went wrong😢😢😢😢

Okay I'm gonna put this under a cut because I very strongly dislike phase 2 val and I know it bugs people who don't feel the same, so. Dead dove dont eat

Okay so first off, phase 1 val and phase 2 val are completely different people. literally. phase 1 val was based on an ex-friend of lardo's who used to apparently be involved pretty heavily in like, editing the books and "she'd react like this" or "val wouldn't say that", and that val she was one of my favourite fictional characters from when book one came out to the release of resurrection. phase 2 val is based on his whiny little girlfriend who likes to start shit with 14yos on twitter, and you can absolutely tell she is no longer the same person. so the long story short of "what went wrong" is "the original irl val's friendship with dirty laundry ended for whatever reason and he decided to retcon her entire personality to suit his gf"

Phase 2 Val, in my opinion:

Weak, like won't even fight back when she gets jumped bc boo fucking hoo she's so awful, bitch get up already, nobody signed up for ur pity party

Whiny. So fucking whiny. All the time. And she's the POV character so it's inescapable.

"Pacifist" but in a really pathetic virtue-signalling kind of way like "Oh, I've done such terrible thiiiiiiiiiiings I'm so awfulllllllllllll look how good I'm trying to be nowwwwwwww pay attention to meeeeeeee" kind of way, it was both boring and a massive eye roll. It's a book about magic and asskicking. Kick some ass. We're here for escapism not "realistic" whining. Yes, irl she'd be a mess. As an author it's his job to strike a balance between the "realism" he wants to portray and making his readers so depressed and done with his heroine that they quit reading, and in my case, he absolutely failed.

Everything must be about her at all times. Skug is having personal problems? Fuck him, they're about her now. Everything is about how it affects her, and her feelings, and be damned to the person actually having the problem. Fucks phase 2 val cain gives about anyone except herself: 0

Bitter and jaded. Which yeah I get why but it's like jesus christ what do we get out of reading about this? It's not even good bitter and jaded where it makes you empathise or admire her strength in adversity or whatever, she's just become a really nasty person with no redeeming features that I could see. Which? Landy outright said she's based on his gf? If your boyfriend is gonna drag ur entire personality through the dirt like that and write "you" as just a collection of incredibly negative traits...yikes.

Really ungrateful about the awesome life she leads? Which bugs me bc I fucking hate mundanity and knowing that all there is to life is fucking working and bad mental health. I would kill to live her life. All she does is moan about it. Like? Quit then. Fuck off back to being a mortal if it's that bad and live the shitty life you wanted to get away from in the first place. That way we'd get no more books, and quite honestly, thank fuck for that. But anyway, she needs to pick one, stick with it, and stop complaining about whatever she chose.

The girl wallows in self pity. And if someone else isn't indulging her enough, she'll wallow harder and louder and more obviously. Yawn.

Her POV is now so depressing to read that Resurrection literally tanked my mental health. I'm not kidding. I fell off the self-harm wagon, the suicidal thoughts came back, reading her dissociating would make me dissociate, I just did not cope whatsoever. Being in her head was just like being in my head during my worst points, and I hate myself, so naturally, I hate her too. Like I get why some people like phase two val. I get that her depression is "realistic" and that trauma does just make some people completely dislikeable and self-pitying, and if people want to read about that, then...sure. you do you, my dudes. But I live that reality, I am that person whose trauma made her a dysfunctional, isolated bitch, and I hate, passionately, having it infest the media I consume to escape.

Essentially if I wanted to engage with a bitter, spiteful, depressed piece of shit in her 20s who pushes everyone away and sucks at everything, I'd live my gd life. Yall see me tryna engage with my real life? Hell nah I'm on tumblr dot com burying my head up the ass of whatever fandom will force my brain to produce some s e r o t o n i n and that is what I need this series for

Also? The dynamic she had with skug in phase one? "Until the end"? "You save me, I save you, that's how we work"? Forget that, it doesn't exist anymore. I stopped reading after Midnight, because she was written like he was a coworker she could barely tolerate. They went from "Lardo confirms on twitter that they talked on the phone a bunch while she was in america and he'd always ask her to come home" to "she comes home and proceeds to blank him for five months while she sits in her fuckin multimillionaire's mansion feeling sorry for herself". Their friendship completely disintegrated, they were totally separated for most of the book, she's written as not giving a single shit about him. She treated him like dirt, and their dynamic basically felt like it was becoming "Local Man With History Of Gravitating Towards Abusive Women Makes Same Terrible Choices For Fifth Time" and? that was the point of no return to me. he supports her unconditionally, no matter what he's going through at the time, he's walked on broken bones to try and get to her when she was in danger, she can tell him anything and he'd never use it against her. I did not, for one second in phase two, believe she felt the same about him. tbh it felt like she could - and wanted to - drop him at the first opportunity and not even feel bad about it, and that's not the dynamic that made me so emotionally attached to phase one. i signed up for "until the end", not whatever bullshit phase two has going on.

Apparently she's "less depressed" now and their relationship is "better" in the books published since midnight, which! might well be true. but I haven't read them and don't intend to, and she's gone from one of my favourite fictional characters ever (which! was impressive! because i almost never bond with the female lead - i normally get attached exclusively to the character i crush on, which would be skug here. val was the first female lead i actually cared about since xena! so im deeply salty about losing her!) to a character i? honestly prefer to pretend doesn't exist. i live in war era dead men/generals crackship land because that way, i don't have to acknowledge her or the fuckin character assassination phase 2 pulled on her.

so yeah, no hate towards phase one val at all. phase one val was awesome and flawed and gave me something to aspire to despite my shitty mental health and trauma, and if she'd kept her original personality she might still have been those things. but the original "real life" val is no longer involved (and doesn't talk to landy at all anymore, apparently), and the val based on landy's insufferable gf? i cannot get behind her at all ever, four for skug and none for phase two val cain bye

(tldr; you're not missing anything by quitting after spx)

#skulduggery pleasant #valkyrie cain #anti-val #extremely anti-val #but like only anti-phase two val #bc phase one val was great and i loved her #come back friend!laura val needs you #lardass can't write her without ur input

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an-absolute-travesty · 4 years

Text

Secret Santa fic!

Heya @all-eternity it was me all along! I hope you enjoy this :) very much looking foward to actually being able to follow you after this without looking sketchy lmao

Also shoutout to my lovely beta reader @keepersandqueens as if I don’t talk about Salas enough here lol

Warnings: underage drinking, drinking in general, hangover, drugs/medication mention (not abused, basic over the counter stuff dw), mentions of vomit (not described)

Pairings: Kam, background marelinh, ex titz

About: Kam coffee shop college au

Word count: 5,205

Tag list (tell me if you want to be added or removed): @cadence-talle @ruewen-and-rising @lemontarto @a-lonely-tatertot @clearlyvacksen @percabetn @sewersewersewercouch @everyonehasthoughts @imaramennoodle @enbies-and-felonies @blxckh0les42 @rainbowtay-11 @callas-starkflower-stew @impostertamsong @appalyneinstitute1 @stars-and-splendor @anna-without-an-e @mistythegenderqueermess @we-have-no-bananas-today @we-wont-dissapear @jadenightthewriter

Tam stumbled into his first 8 am class, anxiety making his heart feel like it was pounding out of his chest and stomach doing backflips.

If he could survive bouncing between foster homes, a short stint at juvie, and worst of all high school, he could survive college.

Well he thought he could until he saw a familiar person right next to the only available chair in the room.

God fucking damn it.

"Hey Bangs Boy!" Keefe waved him down, causing a scene. Tam had no option but to sit beside him, both because of the lack of chairs and the fact that everyone was now staring at him.

Not a great start.

"What a coincidence! I notice you still haven't taken my suggestions on your hair, I'm telling ya' you'd get all the girls and or guys and nonbinary pals with a man bun." Keefe looked smug at the fact he'd be able to taunt Tam for another semester, minimum. Tam was already making a mental note to check when he could swap out of classes.

"Keefe, if I knew you were going here I would've just gotten myself back in jail, oh wait, you were the one who got me in there in the first place." Tam shot him a look, praying that he'd suddenly develop superpowers and shoot lasers from his eyes.

"Hey, just because I came up with the idea...and helped with some of the execution, doesn't mean I'm responsible for you trashing your parents house. Besides, you were only in there for like 3 days max before you got out," Keefe said, shrugging as if 3 days in jail was no biggie.

"Most peaceful 3 days of my life," Tam sneered, turning back to the front of the room as the professor walked in.

"Good morning class!" the prof turned to the white board, writing his name. "I am Dr. Harding," he tapped it for emphasis.

The class was silent.

"And you say good mor..."

"Good morning Dr. Harding," The class said in unison, they all sounded tired and bored.

This wasn't going to be fun.

~*~

"Grande ice vanilla latte for...Hen-are-y?"

The man shot Keefe a look as he grabbed his coffee.

"Henry." He dropped a tip in the jar, fifty cents. How generous.

He had come in before, and never left good tips. Keefe made it a game to pronounce the names of anyone who wasn't a college student and left bad tips wrong, no matter how much they came in. It was a wonder he hadn't been fired yet.

As he turned preparing another drink, the bell at the top of the door rang. He ignored it at first until he heard a quiet, "Fuck," come from behind.

"Bangs boy!"

"Why are you here?"

"I work here obviously," Keefe walked up to the counter. "Now, what'll it be?"

Tam sighed. "Iced caramel macchiato with two extra shots of espresso."

"Size?"

"Venti."

Keefe whistled thinking about how much caffeine that was as he wrote down "Bangs Boy" on the cup.

"Alright, that'll be 5.75, may I ask why the insane amount of coffee? I believe I remember you saying caffeine makes you anxious in high school."

"Yes, but it also helps me focus, and I have a quiz tomorrow I haven't studied for."

"Fair enough," Keefe said, going to prepare the drink. "It'll be ready in five."

Tam nodded, walking off to the side and scrolling on his phone. Keefe made the drink, occasionally sneaking looks over at Tam. He didn't seem to notice, thank God.

Soon after, they finished the transaction.

"See you at class," Keefe said, he was trying to be genuine, but it came across more taunting.

Tam grimaced, muttered "Thanks for the coffee," and walked out the door.

~*~

The class fell silent as a disheveled Dr. Harding walked in, a pack of gatorade in one hand and bottle of tylenol in the other. He popped one as he sat down.

"Hello class it seems today I have the worst headache imaginable, just give me about 5 minutes of silence and we will go over your assignments."

Keefe leaned over to Tam's desk.

"Well, we know what he got into last night," he whispered. "Heard the bar on the corner of 5th was giving out two for ones for professors."

"Isn't that place run by the alumni?"

"Exactly. Gotta thank Alvar tomorrow, Fitz said it was his idea."

"Wait Fitz goes here too? Why did I not-"

"Boys!" Dr. Harding practically yelled. "I am tired of the racket." He put his face in his hands where his elbows rested on the desk, bald spot showing to the world.

"We were whispering!" Keefe made a 'what the hell' sort of gesture. Tam glared at him, hoping he could communicate 'I will kill you myself if you say another word' with just his eyes.

"Sencen, do I look like I care?"

Keefe winced a bit at the use of his last name. That was something Tam could understand.

"Look, boys," Dr. Harding stood up and turned to the chalkboard, writing something down. "If you all like talking so much, you'll love this next project."

He walked to the side, revealing the board, that read '10 page essay, due the 25th'

"With the person next to you, you'll be writing a 10 page essay on um...the importance of keeping your oil changed in your car. You'll then present it to the class. It's worth 25 points."

A student raised their hand.

"Luka?"

"Sir, I thought this was a psychology course?"

"It is. You are all excused."

With that, he left the room with his tylenol and gatorade in his arms. The students glared at Keefe and Tam as they all got up, muttering amongst themselves about the pure bullshittery of it all.

"So..." Keefe said, slowly standing. "Does the library tomorrow at 3 work? I have work until then, so it can't be any earlier."

"Yeah, sure." Tam promptly walked out of the classroom as fast as possible, he didn't know why but his anxiety was spiking. He tried to tell himself it was just because he was a useless gay that didn't know jackshit about cars, yeah, surely that was it.

Just a useless gay.

~*~

Tam waited at a table in the library, it was 3:05, Keefe was late.

He didn't know what else he expected from him, he always seemed to do stuff like this. At the same time, Tam didn't have the energy to be particularly mad at him. This was going to be the stupidest essay ever written in the history of man, might as well put it off.

The library door slammed open, and in came Keefe. He balanced a large stack of papers and books along with four drinks. He stumbled over to Tam and practically threw them down on the table.

"Sorry I'm late, I thought it would be nice to, like, get you a coffee, but I didn't know how much caffeine you wanted, so I got one decaf caramel macchiato, one normal, and one with an extra shot, and also hot chocolate for me."

He sat down in the chair by Tam, as if getting three different coffees for someone you were forced to do a project with was totally normal.

"Um...thanks, I-I can pay you back-"

"Don't worry about it." Keefe turned to him and smiled, bright and friendly. Tam was frozen. "Okay, now it's car time." Keefe turned back to the desk.

"Yeah."

They were silent for a while as they researched, Keefe going through his piles of papers and books and Tam on his laptop like any sane person would.

Tam finally worked up the nerve to talk.

"So um...this is out of nowhere, but I think you mentioned Fitz went here?"

"Oh, yeah." Keefe put down the absurdly large textbook that was set up in front of him. "He's my roommate, he uh thought it would be best not to tell you after everything, I guess."

"That's fine," Tam shrugged like he didn't care. "I'm over it."

He was, really. They only dated like 2 weeks, sure it ended with a...pretty big fight after Fitz claimed he wouldn't be able to date someone who had gone to jail and Tam reminded him it was his best friend that got him in there in the first place, but he was still over it. There was still something bothering him, nothing to do with Fitz himself but...something. He just couldn't put his finger on what.

"Alright, I'll take your word." Keefe shrugged, setting his giant book back up in front of him.

Tam felt the need to start talking again, but didn't. They were mostly silent for the next 40 minutes or so, just researching and the occasional word exchanged between them.

Keefe checked his phone.

"Shit," He got up. "Work emergency, I gotta go. Same time tomorrow?"

"Yeah that works."

"Chill, see ya' later."

"Bye."

Keefe waved (with a wide grin Tam would've called idiotic in high school) as he went out the door.

Tam found himself with a smile on his own face, he quickly stopped, hoping no one saw.

~*~

Keefe hurried into work, pulling his apron on as he saw the absurdly long line and a panicked Marella frantically making coffees behind the counter. She sighed with relief when she saw him.

"Thank God," She said as he stepped behind the counter with her. "There was a scheduling error, Forkle's useless at that stuff."

Mr. Forkle, their well-meaning but often mistaken manager, was out of town at the moment. The fate of the Starbucks rested on two college kids, what could go wrong.

And so they went, Keefe taking orders and Marella fulfilling them until there were no more to serve.

Marella, quite literally, threw in a towel she had wiped her face with. Promptly going to the back, presumably for her break. Keefe followed her.

"Alright, I think you can probably go back to whatever you were doing before this now if you'd like," said Marella, inspecting the small braids in her hair in the nearest shiny surface.

"Nah I was just doing a project with Tam for Harding's stupid class, he's probably left by now, I might as well rack up some overtime."

Marella turned back at him, clearly caught off guard at the name.

"Tam? As in my-girlfriend's-brother Tam? As in you-had-a-massive-crush-on-in-highschool Tam? As in dated-Fitz Tam? As in you-got-him-in-jail-"

"Yes! Yes! Why does everyone remind me of that, it was one time."

"When you get someone in jail, people tend to remember," Marella went silent for a second, thinking, before looking Keefe in the eye. "Wow, that must be awkward as hell, I mean seriously, if I were you I'd straight up file a restraining order just to avoid him. Maybe move to another country. I hear Estonia is lovely this time of year."

"Eh, it's not as bad as it seems. I mean it was awful at first, mostly because I tried to resume right where we left it on the taunting front, but I think it's ok now."

"Hm. Well good luck with that," Marella turned back to go to the front, but Keefe grabbed her arm to stop her.

"Uh, actually I need your advice on something. It has to do with Tam."

"Shoot."

"Well I was thinking of maybe, I don't know, asking him out or something? Look, yeah, it's an awful idea but is it 'he never wants to talk to me again' awful or 'he attempts to strangle me' awful?"

Marella looked him up and down, eyes uncomfortably cold, as usual.

"I mean, no hetero, but despite your annoying qualities you're a decent looking guy. Plus Tam's, like, super anxious according to Linh, so maybe he'll be too awkward to say no. You can probably squeeze at least one date in there."

"Wow, thanks Mare," Keefe mumbled, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Yes, I try. Also don't call me Mare."

"Alright Ella!" Keefe called as the front door's bell rang, signalling a new customer. Marella went off to take care of it, unable to respond she growled back at him.

~*~

Tap tap tap tap tap.

Tam glared from across the table.

Tap tap tap tap tap tap.

"Why do you keep doing that?"

Keefe looked up, muttered a simple "Fidgety" and went right back to it, tapping his pen against the table. Tam said nothing more.

Keefe had been quiet for this entire meeting, something highly unusual for him.

"Ok, seriously dude, what's up? I haven't seen you this quiet literally ever."

He only seemed to get more fidgety at this question, his bouncing leg shaking the library table.

"I...um..." he looked down, running a hand through his hair "I have a test I need to cram for and no one to study with and keep me accountable. Y'know, ADHD issues."

Tam didn't overthink for once in his life but the moment the sentence was out of his mouth he regretted it.

"I have a test too, maybe we could study together?"

Keefe smiled his annoyingly charming smile.

"Sounds good."

"Good."

Tam quickly looked back down at his computer, trying to look like he was still doing car research when in actuality he was processing he just actively offered to spend more time with Keefe Sencen.

If Linh found out about this he'd never live it down.

He didn't think he cared.

~*~

Dr. Harding walked through the classroom door, clearly much less hungover than his last appearance.

The students waited, would they get an apology? Any sort of remorse?

"Alright, who wants to read first?"

Apparently not.

Keefe raised his hand with too much confidence for what their essay looked like. Tam gave him a confused look. He had his scheming face on, never good.

"Mr. Sencen!" Keefe winced at the use of his last name by the doctor. "What an amazing start, it's only appropriate. One of you boys come up and present."

Tam gave Keefe a look of 'do you want me to do it?' Keefe just smiled and got up from his chair. This would either be really good or really, really bad. Tam was all too familiar with the scheme face.

"Doc, I did depart from the source material a bit here, hope you don't mind. And I use 'I' because Tam had no involvement in this, he deserves full points for his essay."

Keefe cleared his throat, the room was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

"Doctor Harding deserves to get fired: an essay. (And it's only been a week!) Paragraph one, his drinking problem-"

"Sencen! Back to your seat now. I will see you after class, or I will not see you in my next class, understand?"

Keefe gave a thumbs up as he sat back on his chair with a thud.

A few minutes later, in the middle of another student's essay, he passed Tam a note with his loopy handwriting.

"The amount of comebacks I had for 'see me after class' is absurd but if I get kicked out there's no way Elwin is helping me pay tuition a second time."

Tam tried not to smile, certainly failing, as he wrote his response.

"Yeah I think the time you talked back to Miss Cadence she wanted to expel you. Lucky Principal Alina had a thing for pseudo-dad Alden."

"Oh God I haven't talked to him in a whiiiiiile."

"?"

"You haven't heard? Yeah, he sorta found out like ALL his kids were ell gee bee tees and freaked out. Della found herself a new gf though!"

"Sounds like a lovely extra punch in the gut for a queerphobe."

"Yep. Honestly I recommend looking through his Facebook sometime. Just a million rants about how the gays destroy everything, great entertainment."

"Duly noted."

At that point it seemed like the doctor started to take notice of their note passing, and they stopped quickly. Tam wouldn't be surprised if he did the whole high school read in front of the class thing with the way he had been acting so far.

Tam was 100% sure tenure was the only thing keeping this guy's job intact. Apparently being a drunk asshole wasn't near enough to get a person out of their position. He tried to ignore the professor's annoyingly smug face for the rest of the class.

~*~

Keefe sat in his usual spot at the library, Tam sitting across from him, his brown eyes dancing across the textbook page and lips mumbling along the words. He didn't have much to do, often finding himself just staring at Tam, quickly looking away if he seemed to notice.

Eventually he sighed, sitting back.

"Ugh, this test is in a week and I have so much other crap to do, I'll never get this all memorized by Friday."

Keefe silently thanked his brain for managing to get around the having to study thing. Yay, photographic memory!

"Oh, uh, well I'm free to study more tomorrow if that would help? We could do, like, flashcards or something."

Tam seemed to repress a smile. He did that a lot. Keefe always noticed.

"That's okay, I'm sure you have better things to do. The Starbucks is always pretty packed."

"Eh, sometimes you have to get away from Marella. She's mean to me."

"Not just you, once she told me if I ever made fun of Linh's cat's name again she'd make me cut off my own bangs."

Keefe nodded sagely. "The shorter you are the closer to hell. That's why you're worse than her."

"Hey!"

Tam flicked a stray rubber band at Keefe.

"I'm at least 2 inches taller than Marella...we measured."

Keefe thought up about 12 inappropriate jokes he couldn't make before flicking the rubber band back.

"Two inches only counts in roller coasters, none of which you can ride."

Tam stuck his tongue out before returning to his studies. Unlike Tam, Keefe didn't hide his smile.

~*~

Tam strolled into the Starbucks that Friday morning, no longer surprised to see Keefe working the counter. He could barely hold still in line as he thought about the amount of cramming he'd have to do in the next few hours.

When he reached the counter, Keefe said nothing, just busily worked making a drink.

He stuck it right out at Tam.

"One venti iced caramel macchiato with 2 extra shots of espresso because you have a test today in political science and still haven't studied everything and also a muffin because you probably haven't eaten today. On the house. Good luck with the studying."

Tam froze.

"I- um- th-thaks. Y-you too...sport."

Oh, you fucking idiot.

He quickly scurried out of the Starbucks with drink and muffin in hand. Wow, he had screwed that up.

But...

Keefe...

He...

He remembered his order and that he had a test and that he forgot to eat when he was stressed holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit-

Okay, deep breaths Tam, you got this. You can totally handle a frustratingly cute guy showing care for you this is fine...

Not fine, not fine, gotta tell Linh.

He called Linh with no forewarning. Despite the fact that she was currently across the country at a different university, and it was about 3 am for her, she picked up. He barely let her get out a groggy "Hello?" before explaining everything. She only seemed to think a moment before responding.

"Hm. Well it's good to know that college is going good for you. Do you need advice or comfort?"

"Yes."

"Well, first of all, everything's gonna be okay. And I know that doesn't help much but just try to remember we're eighteen, and it's not the end of the world. Second of all, try to ask him out or something. It doesn't have to be framed as a date, like Marella and I got together on a walk in the park, seriously it can be anything."

"Thanks Linh."

"No problem, also can you hug Marella for me?"

"If she doesn't try to kill me first, yes."

"Nice. Okay go do what you gotta do, also don't wake me up at 3 am again or else I'll sic Purryfins on you, I had just gone to bed."

With that she hung up and Tam continued on his way, still trying to not completely freak out.

~*~

Keefe stared blankly as Tam walked right out of the door. Marella appeared by his arm.

"So, how'd it go?"

"Well, he called me 'sport'."

Marella inhaled through her teeth.

"Yikes. Comfort, advice, or distraction?"

"Distraction, please." Keefe replied, absent-mindedly preparing a cup for the next customer.

"Uh, well I meant to ask you what ended up happening with that ass of a teacher, but I got a bit distracted at your attempt to woo Tam-"

"Hey I said distraction not reminder. But basically I just got a slap on the wrist because, and I quote, 'Your father is Cassius Sencen! He wrote half the books we use in this class, I'm sure he can straighten you out!'"

"There's absolutely nothing papa Sencen could do to make you straight, I'm pretty sure he tried that, and it obviously didn't work."

"He actually tried a few times and it most definitely did not. Lucky he doesn't have my number anymore or else I assure you he'd keep trying."

Marella laughed.

"Well, moving on from grade A assholes, I'm supposed to tell you there's a party tonight. I'll have to send you the address later, I have it on my phone though, I am told there's gonna be booze, so I'm going."

"Eh, I'll probably go. Just to get my mind off everything."

"Thata boy." She lifted her phone. "And my shifts over in three, two, one, and I am out of here! See ya' tonight Hunkyhair."

"That's Lord Hunkyhair to you."

She just rolled her eyes and clocked out, leaving Keefe to deal with both the customers and his own thoughts.

~*~

Tam sat in his dorm room alone, constantly refreshing his grades for the possibility that his 70-year-old professor would post the test results at 1:30 am.

His roommate was gone for the weekend, actually he was gone most of the time. Tam didn't think they'd even had a full conversation before.

He jumped as his phone began to ring, a call from Keefe of all people. He hesitantly picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Tam! Tam Tam Tam Tam Tam" Keefe's slurred speech was too loud for a phone call, Tam held his phone a bit away from his ear. "...fuck wait why did I call you..."

There was a long pause, neither said anything.

"Oh yeah! I needed to tell you something...but uh I uhm I forgot what it was."

"Keefe, where are you?"

"At a paaaaaarty, well, actually just outside a party because it was hot in there, but now it's cold out here so uh yeah."

Tam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Okay, send me the address, I'm coming to pick you up. Wait right there and don't move."

"Okie dokie."

Tam heard a thud sort of sound and the rustling of grass from the other line before Keefe hung up and soon after got a message of his location.

After 20 minutes of walking in the cold, Tam came up to what seemed to be a frat house with Keefe sitting on the lawn in criss-cross, patiently waiting in short sleeves and basketball shorts, way too little clothing for the weather. His ruddy face smiled as he saw Tam approach.

"Tam! I remembered what I was going to tell you." He stood up, face falling right after. "Oh no wait I forgot again. Ooh! You need a drink."

Keefe grabbed Tam's hand, pulling him towards the house. Tam stayed in place.

"Hey, let's get you home dude."

Keefe pouted.

"I don't wannaaaa."

He slouched down, pulling on Tam's arm like a child having a tantrum.

Tam pulled him back up to his feet.

"C'mon, if you go to your dorm without fuss I'll buy you ice cream tomorrow."

Keefe seemed much more ok with going along with Tam with the ice cream deal. He pulled off his own coat and placed it around the very drunk boy, he didn't complain.

Keefe began humming some annoying song from the early 2000s that was playing from the house earlier as they walked back in the direction of the dorms.

Suddenly, Tam remembered something.

Fitz was Keefe's roommate.

Shit.

"Hey uh do you think Fitz is at your dorm?"

Keefe nodded confidently.

"Yep! Said he was gon' study. Wouldn't come to the party because of his 'reputation' or whatever."

Around reputation he did exaggerated finger quotes, nearly knocking Tam's jacket off his shoulders.

"Hm...in that case let's go to my dorm, ok?"

Keefe shrugged, apparently willing to go along with most things in his current state. Thank goodness Linh had made Tam bring extra pillows and blankets to college, he could sleep on the floor and just hope Keefe didn't get sick on him in the night.

It was ridiculously hard to lead Keefe back to his dorm. He tried to pull down his pants halfway there and Tam almost had to carry him up the stairs but soon enough they got there. He sighed with relief as he led his inebriated friend into the room.

"Okay, you can stay here for the night. I'll sleep on the floor."

Keefe plopped himself down on Tam's bed laying flat for only a moment before sitting up with a snap and a look of realization in his eyes.

"OOH! I remember what I was gonna tell you again!"

"Oh?" Tam said playing along, expecting him to forget again.

He patted the spot next to him on the bed, Tam continued to play along, sitting next to him.

"So Marella said that I should just tell you this, and it worked for her, so I'm gonna. And uh and you have to promise to listen 'cause I'm not sayin' it again."

At this point Keefe grabbed his face with both hands, staring right in Tam's eyes and squishing his cheeks.

"You're listening right?"

Tam nodded, mostly to shake Keefe's hands off his face.

"Okay."

Keefe took in an over dramatic breath as if he was preparing to preform in the Olympics before getting another grin on his face.

"I really like you."

"You really like me?"

He nodded mumbling "mhm".

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I like you. Like, like like you."

"Like...as a friend?"

"I said I wasn't gonna repeat myself. As a booooyfriend." At this point Keefe fell back on the bed, looking at the ceiling. Tam's cheeks were burning.

"How long have you liked me like that?"

"Mmmm..." Keefe seemed to ponder for a moment, "Prolly high school."

"Oh um...good to know. You should get some rest. I'll be down here if you need me."

"Alrighty."

Tam shut off the lights and Keefe started snoring quick. Tam could only stare up in the darkness, unable to sleep.

~*~

Keefe woke up that morning in a room he didn't recognize to a killer headache and dead phone.

He turned to the side, seeing a pile of blankets and pillows with a large gatorade, bottle of tylenol, and a note next to it. Suddenly last nights memories came flooding back.

Oh, shit.

He scrambled out of bed, headache and nausea hitting him harder as he stood up.

Despite the fact his head was spinning, he picked up the note from the ground and read it.

Hey, meet me at the reservoir around 6, we need to talk -Tam

F. U. C. K.

Had he really said all that stuff last night? Surely it was a dream, right?

Oh God.

He gathered his few belongings, plus the things to help the hangover, and left the dorms as fast as possible. Only having to stop once along the way to throw up in one of the campus trash cans, hopefully no one would notice.

Keefe didn't have anything to do and he really didn't want to face Fitz so he went about his day in last nights clothing. Then again, it was a college campus. Someone walking around with rumpled clothes carrying a gatorade probably wasn't that big of a deal for most people. By 5:30 he sat impatiently in the empty park where the reservoir was located, it was colder closer to the water.

Just as promised, at 6 o'clock he saw Tam approaching on the horizon.

~*~

Tam was damn near a panic attack as he walked around the park attempting to find Keefe. Eventually he found him, sitting on a bench still in his clothes from last night, face once again ruddy from the cold. He sat next to him wordlessly.

"So," Keefe started.

"So," Tam replied, looking down at his lap.

"Tam I-" Keefe turned to face him. "I'm sorry about everything last night, I probably just made everything super awkward. Not to mention it's a giant violation of the friend code to even have a crush on your best friend's ex-"

"Yeah, about that."

"What?"

"You're gonna maybe kill me for this but uh," Tam pulled on his bangs. "I sorta talked to Fitz about it, I figured you wouldn't and apparently I was right. He said he was okay with it as long as we were ok with it."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Tam sighed, "Perhaps."

Keefe once again wore that shit-eating grin of his.

"Can I hear you say it?"

"Why don't you have to say it?"

"Already said it last night! Your turn now. Why did you take care of me while I was drunk?"

Keefe stared at Tam excitedly waiting for the answer. Tam sighed.

"Because I love you, little shit."

"Ooh you said it-"

Tam smashed his lips against Keefe's, both quickly melting into it. After only a moment they pulled away.

"Agh, you taste like gatorade and vomit."

"Well you taste like salt so really what's worse."

"Definitely the vomit."

Despite this, Tam leaned back in. This kiss was a moment longer than the last, and when Tam pulled away Keefe chased it.

"Ok, look I'm sorry but you look like shit Keefe you have to go change." Tam removed his jacket, throwing it around Keefe once again and helping him up from the bench. Keefe laughed.

"Yeah, you're right. Ooh now that we're a thing you need a new nickname!"

"I do?"

"You do, how about 'Bangs Boyf' ooh or maybe you can be my 'provoked partner' or my 'snappy spouse' my 'agitated accomplice' perhaps."

"Do you just have these ready and prepared for any situation?"

"A magician never reveals his secrets."

"You aren't Houdini, you're an 18-year-old boy that currently reeks of frat party."

"Eh that's basically the same thing. I've seen some 18-year-olds at frat parties preform tricks Houdini could never dream of."

Tam sighed dramatically. "It's a good thing you're pretty, you know."

"Hey!" Keefe jokingly shoved him.

For the first time Tam's smile wasn't repressed.

#hope you like this elliot!#kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kam #keefe sencen #tam song #kotlc fic #scheduled to post at 9 am and ill reblog once i get back to my phone because ill be doing x-mas stuff

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shhhlikeme · 4 years

Text

“Losty Aone” / “Losty Mountain Man🏔” Series:

Outtake Collection #15:

———————————

A/N: last one! I hope you guys liked it and I’d love to hear your feedback! Thank you so much for reading and being on this Losty journey with meeee🥳💕💕💕

TABLE OF CONTENTS

———————————

A Pair Of Broken-Hearted Losties Have To Pair Up For An Assignment 📚🤩

Over the next few weeks, at the advice of Kenji and Kogane, Aone avoided you at all costs

Every morning he sat there thinking about you and trying to figure out what he did wrong.... ultimately feeling worse and worse

It was incredibly difficult seeing you around school, but if it is one thing Takanobu knew how to do it was make himself scarce when it came to you, so at least you’d be fine. After all, it took you two years to even notice his existence

Aone decide to have lunch in the library now because you’d never go there by your own free will.

He spent that time going over his own homework, or helping his two friends with theirs, or just staring out the window doing another type of math calculation: the heart wrenching attempt to calculate how in the world he convinced himself that you would settle for him when you could get any guy you want

He should be glad you even gave him a chance for a year.

To be honest, Every day was a struggle for Aone to get out of bed—even weeks later—but he did it because he kind of told himself in some weird pathetically twisted way that you’d find him more attractive if he did; if you saw him as someone who could withstand hurricaines.

At the advice of his friends, when Takanobu would see you in the halls, he’d just look away or walk faster…. Knowing that his heart wouldn’t kill him as much if he only moved rapidly

The only time that was truly difficult was in the class mountain man had with you— the same class you first noticed him in when he defended you against the class snitch—the class where you sat only two seats to his right.

It took everything in mountain man not to stare at you for the entire hour like he’d grown so accustomed to doing, remembering how when you two were dating you’d wink at him when you caught him staring, making him blush profusely

It literally took all of his concentration to stare ahead at the teacher or down, and even then he still slipped up and caught himself enamoured with your side profile and new found quietness, when before you were always chatty… then again whether you could probably speak alien and Aone would still be in love with you.

When he failed to not be captivated by you at least once a day and glanced over at you, Aone kept falling in love over and over again.

His best friend would kill him if he admitted it out loud but Aone couldn’t bring himself not to like you anymore simply because you didn’t like him.

Besides, He’s been in this position before and it never wavered his emotions. Sure, he’s hurt—he is really hurt, but the heart knows what it wants.

You didn’t lose your beauty or perfection, simply because you didn’t want him: Go figure.

His heart just couldn’t take the whirl of opposite emotions. Love and Hurt. Why did you have to be his dream girl? Why couldn’t he think about anything else but you? Why was his biggest dream in life to be your husband, still? This was torture. Pure torture.

Before, Aone used to be sad about it, but when he caught himself staring at you in class and felt like his chest was empty of a heart because it had been shattered in pieces again, he had never been happier that graduation was right around the corner.

At least in University, you wouldn’t be in his classes

Anyway, as usual, Kenji would meet Aone outside of that class everyday, and Kenji couldn’t help notice the look on Aone’s face whenever he left that class. It looked eerily and alarmingly similar to Aone’s face when he was standing in the snow that night.

Fuck.

Things got worse when the teacher announced assigned partners for this small project he wanted the students to work on as a major final project.

As luck would have it, Aone was randomly paired up with his heart & heartbreak: you.

“Hi,” You said quietly as everyone including you swapped seats to sit next to their partners.

Aone just nodded, not trusting his voice....

This was like some awful deja vu.

he’s absolutely screwed

His heart beat 5x faster than normal when you came closer, like always. Mountain man had to let his mind work overtime so that he didn’t just beg you to give him another chance

He felt like the green school tie he was wearing was getting tighter by the second, and this was all so hard for him

You surprisingly took the reins on this small school project, knowing from Kusa that your ex boyfriend wasn’t speaking much lately, which Aone decided he liked you more for.

He was falling harder for the girl who broke his heart. How morbid is this?

The deprecating thoughts persisted.

Yep, he is screwed for life.

When you got answers wrong, Aone would point to it and shake his head kindly, offering his hand for the pencil and then starting to write the correct answers

When he looked down at the paper, you took this opportunity to take in the man’s gorgeous features…

his dark, broody demeanour on such a light palette of colours: the white of his hair, the beige of his skin, the light pink on his cheeks….You wanted to sigh. He really does look like Santa & Mrs. Clause’s son that models for GQ.

Geez, Aone Takanobu is so...................sexy. 🤤

It had been so long that you’d been near him.

All of your nights consisted of thoughts of him. But your days consisted of actively avoiding him, hoping that he let another girl in then hoping that he didn’t

You cried basically every night.......and the only nights you didn’t was when you fell asleep on Group FaceTime with Katana and Kusa.

You missed Aone with ever fibre of your being. But you were doing this for him. He would never break up with you, so you had to.

And while you had to fight back tears at school every time you saw him speaking to another girl because you didn’t know their relationship, all of that only made this moment to admire him when he wasn’t looking more crucial: you had to take advantage of this project and this temporary closeness that you’re basically addicted to.

Because it may just be your last.

Instead of just staring at the background of your iPhone where there displayed a picture of Aone and Perdu, you took this chance to check out this incredibly attractive mountain man in the flesh:

Your eyes roamed unabashedly from the tip of his scribbling pencil over his long, beefy arms: obviously muscular even through his Date Teko jacket....

up to his broad shoulders that were perfect to hold on to during intimate time.....

your eyes cascaded over his neck where his Adam Apple bobbed and made you whisper ‘all man’ in your mind......

up to his pink lips that were pressed together in a straight line.

Those LIPS. YOU’D ALMOST FORGOTTEN. 😩😩😩

you couldn’t help but recall the force and passion behind those heavenly babies on your lips when he was gripping your hips and forcing you down on him in a successful attempt to cause friction on his erection......

Even though you were dead-set on putting Aone first like he deserved, just like he did for you all those years when he crushed on you— sticking to your guns about this breakup so that he could find someone better was absolutely the brutal. Oh god, did you miss him. And oh god, did you want him to grab you and fuck you silly just li—

“Y/N?”

You were pulled out of your daze momentarily when those lips you were staring at called your name in question.

Aone had finished writing down the answers at about the same time your eyes reached his neck on their little journey, and he’d been staring at you staring at him ever since. He realized you didn’t notice he caught you staring, because you probably would have looked away. But like the whipped man he is, even now, he purposely waited to stop you because he liked being stared at by you. It made his cheeks flare up like a cherry and his heart soar. Not to mention when you were staring at his arms, neck and neck you looked one way—but when your eyes stopped on his lips for longer than a minute something in your expression changed—and you were staring at him like:

Which evidently made all the blood from poor Mountain Man’s cherry cheeks waterfall down to his groin. Maybe he had been misreading your look as one that communicated sex, but it was pretty hard to decipher now when his penis was screaming at him for months worth of negligence. Aone’s poor mind went straight to the gutter, wanting to take you and have you sit on his face for hours on end. Holy, shit, you can’t look at him like that! Takanobu had to stop you then, only because his urge to consensually bend you over this desk was getting way too strong way too quickly. He had to remind himself that you broke up with him because you don’t want that with him. So, he reluctantly called your name.

The man had no clue that you would have wanted nothing more than to satisfy him right here and now.

“What? Me!? Ummm yes?!”

“The bell just sounded. We did not get too much done today, but we can continue in class tomorrow. And perhaps meet up outside of class, if you are comfortable with that. We have all week to start.”

All week...? You pretended to ask. So I can continue checking you out until my panties are wet tomorrow too....? Oh God.

It took you a second for your thoughts to catch up to what Aone was actually was saying to you and not Dream-Aone. You forced an excited nod. “Oh. Okay, um.... tomorrow., then. Um, bye.” You smiled at him sheepishly, scurrying out of the class behind all the other students.

***

Five minutes later, Aone remained seated there at his desk. The class was empty. It’s not like he could get up yet with how hard he was currently, anyway, so he was waiting until his member calmed down. When Futakuchi poked his head in the classroom because he was curious as to where his friend was, Aone groaned and threw his head back, covering his agonized face with both hands.

“Uh oh. It’s Y/N, isn’t it? 😒” Futakuchi guessed while walking in slowly. Kenji did not need confirmation, but Aone nodded anyway.

“What did she do this time? Talking to other guys in front of you?”

Aone groaned and shook his head again, still covering his face with his hands.

“……Oi, is she being a bitch? Giving you the cold shoulder or something?”

Another groan and shake of the head from mountain man.

“Wait. Don’t tell me she asked out another—“

“No.”

“Then what is it! Why do you look like you’re about to sink down to the damn floor? What is Y/N doing?!”

Aone spoke through his hands, his smooth voice muffled by his wrists. “She’s being beautiful. I have absolutely no self control around her, Kenji-san, she is the most attractive person I.have.ever.seen. And now we’re partners for the final project. I am so in love with her, and on top of that she—How can I ever get over a girl that looks like that?”

Kenji rolled his eyes, annoyed, but a realist through-and-through.He figured right away the Y/N must have unintentionally turned Aone on in class. That would explain why he’s still sitting down with red cheeks.

Kenji sighed. “Yeah, I do wish Y/N wasn’t so hot. But I mean, you just have to do the project and then we are off to College together and she probably won’t get in with her grades—“

Speaking negatively about the love of Takanobu’s life was a sure fire way to get his erection to soften. Aone should thank his friend. But instead, he groaned once again, shaking his head. “Cheerleading... scholarship.”

Futakuchi deadpanned.

“.......Shit.”

A nod.

“When you look at her for the rest of this project, just imagine it’s like a dead squirrel or something. I can spam your phone with dead squirrel pics all class if that will help.”

Aone sighed, finally removing his hands from his face and sitting upright. His response surprised Kenji, making it known to both of them that this breakup was going to be harder no pun intended than either of them thought. Aone still couldn’t get the visual of you checking him out seductively out of his head, and it was not only making him hard again, it was screwing with his hormones and emotions and just everything, FUCK.

“Send the photos, Futakuchi-san. Please. I have a feeling I will need all the dead squirrels I can get.”

After weeks of feeling depressed, Aone was guiltily able get himself off that night. ✨

———————————

Mountain Man: The Sequel (Post-Nut Clarity) ✨💫

After mountain man arched his back, his entire body trembling due to force of yet another orgasm that had been waiting to be released for months, he discovered something.

He doesn’t need Futakuchi and Kogane’s plane when you are simultaneously Aone’s destroyer and healer.

You are like no other girl he will ever meet in his life. This Aone knows for sure.

This is clear due to the fact that now that Aone is working alongside you for a project, he has been able to crawl out of depression the more time he spends with you, simply because your mere presence made him feel better. THAT says something.

Aone wants to be anything to you but a stranger. It’s the only way his heart stops aching and if all you can give him is a friendship after this project is over, then that was what he would willingly accept

Aone realized that even though he struck out the first time and failed to make you choose a life with him, he had nothing to lose if he tried again.

He just had to prove to you that he’s deserving….somehow.

For years, Aone left his love life and his desire to be with you up to chance..... hopelessly pining after you and being way too shy to ever make a move until you did.

But, tonight’s post-nut clarity changed everything. That old Aone who waited for you to make the first move was long gone. Now replaced by an Aone that goes for what he wants!

And what he wants is you.

***

The next morning, the K_nji’s were woken up by the amazing smell of breakfast wafting into their guest rooms at Aone’s house.

They both drug their feet into the kitchen, Kenji tired - Kogane excited…. and they were flabbergasted by the scene they were greeted with. Their jaws dropped and their eyes widened like:

Standing there in his apron, whisking around the kitchen..... was their best friend—the same broken hearted best friend who rarely spoke the past few weeks, who rarely smiled, and who disappeared every chance he got to sulk in his room alone— that same best friend was making breakfast......and whistling.

They’d never heard this giant whistle in their entire lives.

“Aone-san…? Kenji whispered , rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, wondering if he was still dreaming. Upon hearing his name Aone had just noticed their presence, looking up and smiling only with his eyes.

“Good morning! I made you both breakfast!” Mountain man greeted in a higher tone—still monotone— but the loudest they’d ever heard him speak with.

Futakuchi stuttered. “Aone-san.... wha—why—?”

Takanobu grunted and shrugged.

“I thought I’d do something to commemorate the first day I...... well, the first day I put a plan I have in place.”

“What plan, mom?!” Kogane asked, no longer shocked and digging into the rice. “This tastes amazing…”

Aone chuckled lowly, which is also so out of character for him! Futakuchi’s heart dropped because not only was this the fucking Twilight Zone, for the first time in his life the Justin Bieber look-alike is not able to read his best friend. Futakuchi tried hard, and came up with nothing.

“What is this plan?” The brunette asked apprehensively.

Aone took a second to think about his wording before giving both friends a determined look. The blonde visibly stood straighter, speaking with conviction:

“My plan to take charge of my love life for the first time in my life. In other words, grab a plate and allow me tell you both about my plan to.... to get the girl of my dreams back.”

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Outtake #16: CLICK HERE!

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