#do you spot the eyebrow piercing?? used it here way before the official release! some of you might remember my struggles lol

[pralinesims]

Half a year later, but while going through my external drive I found some outtakes of my Jazz Club edit 🎷

[infernwetrust]

Marked You [Michael Langdon x Fem Reader]

Summary: Oh you know, just the interesting relationship between you and your best friend, the anti-christ.

Warnings: smut, implied smut, swearing, fluff, smallest amount of violence

WC: 2.0k

A/N: This was literally the first fucking thing on my mind when I woke up at 4:30AM. And reading all my mutuals works got me brainstormin’. Master list, here. Thank you for reading! -Juno

GIF by casikototmblr

Your relationship with Michael Langdon was very, clear. He was your best friend of course, the two of you, inseparable. Friends since the age of 5, you know everything about each other. While the two of you have your own friend group, everyone else knew where they stood when you and Michael got around each other. You trusted him more than anyone else in your life. And while the silly little arguments came, perks of the best friend contract, he never hurt you. He never put you down. A simple cool down period and he was in your room again, making the most ridiculous jokes.

On your worst days, Michael was the first person there. Exceptional at reading tone through text, he was at your door, movie and food ready, followed by a friendly cuddle. On his worst days, and his days were really fucking bad, you were there too. A short walk over to his house, you would allow him to vent angrily to you as you sat on his bed, watching as things flew around, feeling the temperature in the room fluctuate rapidly, but again, he made sure to never hurt you.

That's how it's always been though between you and Michael. Comfortable. And you appreciated that. Time after time, you'd sit in his lap amongst your friends, who thought nothing of it because they knew the deal. And amongst his annoying group of friends who knew better than to say anything out of pocket. You'd hold hands sometimes, walking wherever. Kisses on the cheek and forehead weren't uncommon either. And while that didn't deter every whore at school to not throw themselves at him, it did make it hard for you to find yourself a boyfriend.

To those who didn't know him well, Michael was intimidating. He stood at 5'11, dominating blue eyes, charming smile. Outside of his comfort zone, he was very reserved and closed off, which at times made it seem like he was hard to talk to, but anyone that did know him could say he was the sweetest boy around this dreadful place. A sweet boy who isn't afraid of anything or anyone.

When you finally did get your first boyfriend, he was almost your first everything, until he fucked that up. Yes, he was a douche. Yes, Michael did make him pay. And, while he could of used his powers, he decided to go the old fashion way for a change. And while you had yelled at him the same day, saying he didn't need to do that, that rather large action, brought the two of you even closer. Maybe a little too close?

Senior year, 18, and you were still a virgin. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but your hormones got the best of you at times. You didn't trust very many guys outside of Michael and your friend group and you didn't just want to give yourself to just anybody that even looked at you sexually. You'd listen to all your friends brag about who they've slept with or who they were dating. You knew Michael was sexually active too, but he never went out of his way to talk about that with you, which you appreciated. Not that it would of mattered, right? Wrong.

"This has got to be the dumbest shit I've ever seen." Michael said, referring to the movie in front of the two of you. The both of you sat on the couch in his living room, Ms. Mead asleep for the night, his arm wrapped tightly around your shoulder as you nestled into his side. He waited a few seconds for a response that usually came quick to anything he said, but when you didn't say anything, he turned his head to look at you. And look at you, just staring. "You okay, Y/N?"

You still didn't give him an answer. Instead, your eyes darted back and forth between his eyes and his lips and you swore that you could feel your face inching closer to his. And with Michael's unpredictability at times, you didn't know if it was his powers, but either way he was getting closer too. You gently put your lips on his in what started out as a gentle kiss that soon escalated. Realizing what you were doing, you quickly pulled yourself away.

"Sorry. Sorry. Sorry." you repeated. "I just.. I-, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

"You're sorry?" Michael grinned. He was hot, temperature and looks. "I finally get the one kiss that means something to me and you're sorry?"

"Wait wh-,"

"You're gonna be real sorry if you don't kiss me again." No more questions because you were wanting it just as bad as he was, you slammed your lips back into his. And he got handsy QUICK. Tongues exploring each other's insides, he grabbed every inch of you that he could, pausing momentarily so that he could pull his shirt off, followed by yours. His hands found their way to your breasts again, squeezing them before his fingers slowly trailed down to your stomach and in the waistband of your jeans.

"Wait-..." you mumbled against his lips, grabbing his wrist. "I-, I'm, I'm not-,"

"I know." Michael said, staring deeply into your eyes. "I'll be gentle, but if you want me to stop, I will. But God, and I use that term loosely, I've wanted you forever."

"I don't want you to stop. I just thought maybe you didn't know..."

"I'm always gonna know about my Y/N." Michael grabbed both of your hands, holding them together as he gave them a kiss. "If I do anything to hurt you, please stop me." You nodded and allowed him to resume. And he took care of you, just like he said he would.

"Hey." Michael said to you the next day, startling you at your locker.

"Shit." you said, almost dropping one of your books.

"Did I scare you?"

"You always scare me." He gave a small laugh before he face became serious again. "But about last night..."

"What about it?" he questioned, raising his eyebrow.

"Thank you."

"What are you thanking me for?" he asked confused.

"For being my first. For being so gentle and so caring. And for just being my best friend. Oh and being cute, a bonus."

"It's what best friends are for right?" He leaned up against the locker next to you, eyes piercing through your body as he licked his upper lip.

"I mean, no not really." you laughed. "But I'm honestly glad it was you."

And it just didn't stop there. Sexual encounters between you and your "best friend" became regular. Countless times you found yourself being dragged into the utility closet between periods. And it was always a quicky. Either you were on your knees for him or he was on his knees for you. Thankfully this room was located at the far end of the hall because the noises that came from it were sometimes so ungodly.

Wet and sloppy noises and his moans crowded the room as you sucked Michael off relentlessly, drool dangling from your chin, hand wet as you stroked him at the pace you sucked him. As he got closer, you let him take control, hands finding their way behind him to grip his ass tightly as he released himself down your throat. Re-dressing, he sent you on your way with a sloppy kiss, a smack on the ass, and a "love you". And the next time you knew it was your turn.

If you've never squirted before, you did now. This forced Michael to bring a back up shirt for the days he knew he was going to be between your legs in that closet. He wouldn't let up either, knowing how sensitive you were and how little time the two of you had. An intense mixture of his mouth and fingers, he worked you like a pro, not caring that his face was soaked in your juices. And when you squirted, he took all of it like it was nothing. He's left you speechless and breathless so many times, taking you above and beyond. If he was fast enough, he'd stroke himself for you, leaving his mouth to do all the work, knowing the sight of him got you off quicker and if you, yes you, got lucky enough, he'd orgasm with you, all over his hand, and you'd clean it right up.

There was no doubt that he brought out your inner sexual nature. The joy of being a sinner, yes? Your favorite place to be was in his room, music playing in the background, underneath him. Some evenings it was rough and fast. He'd fuck you deep into his mattress, arms pinned above your head as he hair dangled over his face. Or hand wrapped around your throat as you held onto his wrist. Most evenings though, it was slow and passionate and that's when the both of you realized that it was maybe more than just bfs with benefits.

Michael made love to you more than anything, taking his time to fill you up. Hands carefully and gently roaming your body as you sat in his lap, legs wrapped around his waists. Soft kisses on the lips and neck. When he fucked you, he made sure to hit the spots that made you cry out, every single thrust. He always took care of you first, made sure you came, and more than once. His favorite place to have you was in your room, LED lights red just like he liked it, on top him, forcing you to ride out your orgasm until you either had another one or he reached his.

You two weren't shy of public adventures either. Hand jobs and being fingered behind any hidden surface, as long as the conditions were right and it turned you on so much how Michael could keep a straight face while you did it, but projected his loud thoughts into your mind so only you could hear. You struggled most times to keep yourself together, but obviously not reckless enough to give the both of you up. Dress rooms in the malls were a favorite too as he could pound you as hard as he wanted to, knowing that you couldn't let out a sound or risk getting caught.

And when enough was enough, it was enough. How dare another guy try to flirt with you at a party that Michael was hosting. Sure, you two weren't official, but you were official. Anyone with eyes could see that you were off limits, but not this guy who hadn't stopped talking to you despite your clear lack of interest in what he had to say.

"Clearly she doesn't want to be bothered." Michael said, suddenly appearing behind you, hands clasped behind his back.

"Oh come on, Michael." the guy said. "Can't a guy get a little action every now and then." Michael, already buzzed and now with an even shorter fuse, snapped, grabbing the guy by his throat, drawing the eyes of those in the vicinity who knew better than to object.

"If I see you talk to her again, and trust me I'll know, I'll snap your neck. Understood?"

"Michael..." you said softly, grabbing his arm. "It's okay. Really. C'mon."

"Understood?!" Michael said again, his grip tightening.

"Under... understood." the guy weakly replied and Michael let him go, shoving him back so he stumbled backwards.

"Hey!" you said, pulling him towards you. "I said it was okay."

"No one is gonna flirt with my girl and everything just be okay? Do you want to know what he was thinking about? Cause I can tell you and I promise that you will not be happy." But you had already tuned him out after hearing the words "my girl".

"What did you just say?" you asked, amused.

"Nothing. Just. Come on. Let's go have a drink or something. I've barely seen you all night."

"But all of sudden show up when a guy starts talking to me? Nuh Uh, Michael Langdon. I know you. You were watching me. Your girl, huh?"

"You were always my girl, Y/N. You were always going to be, my girl and you always will be."

Taglist: @jimmason @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid @9layerdevilfoodcake  @xavierplympton @guiltyfiend @mikhalxngdon @fernfiction​ @theneverendinghunger​

[lizbotw]

Could you do an Akaashi Keiji imagine where his girlfriend steals the T-shirt he was wearing after they made out as they got distracted from studying and they playfully argue over the shirt as they both enjoy the view of each other? I’m just soft for Akaashi...

T-Shirt || Akaashi When His S/O Steals His Shirt

same, like honestly who isn’t? i just love him. this ask made me soft, tysm for the request, i loved this ♡ please let me know what you think! also first official scenario/one-shot post :) (even though the others were basically already one-shots on their own but shhh) also, this is gender neutral even though you said girlfriend ♡

warning: suggestive content (making out? but that's about it. also akaashi is hot but we already knew that so here's me describing it)

word count: 3k

Akaashi Keiji

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, excess saliva dragging across the surface. “Ugh, Keiji, get off. You’re crushing me.”

You squirmed, legs kicking out as you tried to use the momentum to roll him off of you. No such luck.

“Mmm, just a little longer...” His breath tickled your neck, hands still dragging down your sides, balling around the fabric of your loose shorts and then releasing it.

You slumped back down, letting your arms fall away from where they had been looped around his neck. Spread starfish on the floor with an immovable force on top you in the form of your boyfriend, you were about to resign yourself to your fate until your eye caught a glimpse of the colorful textbook page still splayed out on his desk. “No. I swear to God if I fail this math test because of you...”

“Yeah? What are you going to do if you fail? Finish the sentence,” came his muffled reply as he buried his face deeper into the crook of your neck. You could feel the vibration of his laugh and shivered at the feeling.

“I won’t come over anymore.”

The vibration increased as he chuckled against your skin and you instinctively brought one hand up to ball into his hair, stretching your neck away from him and in the opposite direction—he knew you were ticklish there.

“Sure you won’t.” You could tell he didn’t believe you and you didn’t blame him—anyone could call that bluff from a mile away.

While you were trying to think of a witty comeback, you felt him shift and suddenly the weight was gone, leaving you feeling empty at the unexpected lack of contact. Blearily blinking up at him, you could make out his face hoovering above yours for a moment as he supported his weight with his arms planted on either side of you before he pushed himself into an upright position with a slight groan, clearly wanting to stay tangled up in your arms a little longer.

Keiji sat back on his heels and studied you, still straddled about your waist, and right as you opened your mouth to stick your tongue out at him in retort to the intense stare, he shifted again and got up (meaning you got absolutely zero satisfaction out of teasing him), carefully stepping over you.

You kept laying on the floor, watching Keiji closely as he rose and stretched, his back to you now and muscles shifting. His shirt had gotten lost somewhere in the scuffle of limbs and lips earlier, so now his entire torso was on display, toned and rippling under his every movement. Your fingers had traced over each of those lines mere seconds ago, yet you found yourself wondering what they felt like now, as if something about them had changed within the short span since you last touched them.

Sure, you had been the one to tell him to get up, ruining the moment with the reminder of the crushing reality that school still existed, but you weren't above redacting your earlier words and calling him back to you just so you could tug on his raven hair with the same cheeky smile you always found yourself sporting in situations like this. You wouldn't even complain about him laying the wrong way on your stomach and crushing all of the air out of you this time either—promise.

Of course, once again, your words died in your throat and you had to change plans when he made for the bedroom door—you had gotten lost tracing the lines of his arms and hadn't noticed when he had stopped stretching his arms above his head—and you sat up with a jolt, your head throbbing a little at the sudden movement.

“Where are you going? You're not getting out of studying that easily, mister."

Keiji paused in the doorway, hands curled around the edges, and he turned to look back at you over his shoulder, eyes half-lidded and gaze piercing—you swore your heart caught on fire (you silently begged for someone to put it out) and you involuntarily gulped, throat suddenly dry. He hummed in acknowledgement of your words, ignoring your stiffening up at the look he was giving you (although you were sure he noticed it, judging by the way his eyes raked over the small signs of your body language before returning to look at your face).

"Yeah? I was under the impression you didn't like studying on an empty stomach but-"

"Oh! Go then! What are you waiting for?" The prospect of snacks had you perking up, although you were still acutely aware of the tingling in your lips where he had bit a little too hard before, the feeling spreading from that one spot to the rest of the area. You ran your tongue over your lips to cool the feeling—it was studying time now, so reminder to self: get your mind out of the gutter. "Bring an extra bag of chips too. I'm tired of sharing with you."

He quirked an eyebrow, pursing his lips in a way that was a mixture of silent disapproval paired with him trying to hide a smile. (The truth was that you were the one who always took his chips and he didn't even need to scold you out loud for you to understand the correction that should be made in your statement—although even if he did say anything, you would have stuck with your claim that he was the real chip culprit between the two of you, no matter how untrue it was.)

Seemingly realizing that he was going to lose the internal battle of trying not to smile, Keiji pressed his lips together even harder and turned his attention away from you and instead to where his hand was curled around the doorway, watching as his fingers ran over the ridges and bumps. "You got it." And then he was actually gone, out of the room and disappearing down the hallway. You could barely hear his footsteps, even if you tried to strain your ears—they were as quiet as he always was. Reserved and to himself, Keiji seemed to decide that his footsteps would be the same way.

Fully alone now, you flopped back onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling and hands clasp together on top of your stomach. You were replaying the events of that evening in your mind, smiling to yourself as you thought of every little gesture he had made for you.

At some point, plans had been made to study together for the upcoming exam week and that's how you had found yourself on his doorstep, shifting the weighty bag full of textbooks from arm to arm as you waited for him to let you in. It had taken but a mere minute for him to unlock the front door and usher you inside, taking the bag from you—you knew he had been waiting for you, plus he was always a sucker for being on time.

You'd been to his room many times before, but you always looked around to see what had changed from last time, even if it was as minuscule as a stack of papers that hadn't been there before resting on his nightstand.

There was a small, low table in his room, similar to a coffee table, and you two always sat on the floor around it—you found it much more comfortable than sitting on the straight-backed wooden chairs (serious and foreboding in their stance) in his kitchen and dining room. There was a certain freedom of movement on the floor (whether it be to shift closer to him, to spread out your array of pens and highlighters next to you, or to dramatically flop down with proclamation of "I give up!" when faced with a particularly difficult worksheet problem) and a certain aspect of casualness that came with it that set you at ease the same way his presence always did.

This evening had been similar, books crowding the area (and not just school books—“Keiji, I know you like to read, but I have no space for my notebook here and if you don't move your stupid novel right now- What? No, it's not relaxing to read during breaks, what do you think we've been doing this whole time?”) and both of you staring intently down at your work. Keiji had been particularly playful this time though (you thought back to his teasing retorts from earlier when you had told him to get off of you—yeah, he was definitely acting a little different this time around) and one thing led to another before you two were collapsed on the floor next to the table, breaths coming fast and both of you missing your shirts (listen, he had started first, okay?).

Now that you thought about your missing garment, you realize the room was a little drafty, a breeze blowing through his open window and curling it's chilling fingers around your torso. You shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself and sitting up again. Now where was was your shirt...

Your careful glancing around the room stopped short when you caught sight of the bunched up heap of fabric right next to you. You considered it for a moment before reaching out and plucking it from the floor, shaking it out and holding it up in front of you to confirm was it really was; a familiar shirt unrolled from where your fingers pinched the top of the fabric near the neckline. Keiji’s.

Hmm... well it wasn't like he needed it right now. And that was all the justification you needed before an evil smirk spread across your features, mischievous plan brewing in your mind, and you tugged on Keiji's shirt—finders keepers.

Feeling warmer now, you scooted back over to the table, folding your legs under it and messing around with the strewn around papers you had left out, trying to make sense of the mess. You found what you were looking for and straightened up your books, lining them up in front of you before picking up a pen (you were pretty sure that that was also Keiji's) and trying to get back into the working mindset. You actually had to finish this work at some point (even if along the way to the finish line you took a few unplanned breaks in between with your boyfriend’s tongue down your throat—oops, what?) so you easily fell into the groove of writing, your pen scratching against the paper and the quiet hum of the wind outside keeping you company.

It wasn't long before Keiji appeared in the open doorway, balancing a few packets of snacks in one arm. His small grunt when a pack of cookies almost fell off of the top of the stack and he had to angle his arm to keep it in alerted you of his presence (once again, the muffled footsteps paired with your intense focus on your work did not help) and you looked up. Two bottles of water were gripped in his free hand and you reached out to take them from him once he came close enough, allowing him to use both arms to wrap around the mountain of snacks and then carefully let them spill out onto the table so you could take your pick. He sat down next to you, just as he had before, and started to sort the snacks into piles so they wouldn't contribute more to the mess you two had already made.

You pushed a pack of chips off to the side to make room on the table, a small space revealing itself when you did so and on which you rested the water bottles. "No tea this time?"

He didn't even look at you as he focused on the task at hand. "I know you get tired when you drink tea, so no."

"Hmm, but isn't tea supposed to help when you're studying?"

"This isn't a relaxing studying session. We have a lot to catch up on to make up for that missed hour." Even from the side you could make out the beginnings of a budding smirk on his face at your expense. There he was—your responsible boyfriend. He really was going to go all in on you today it seemed—you thought you had escaped his serious study plans because of how playful he had been earlier, but now that he had blown off some steam, it seemed like he was back to his old disciplined self. You internally groaned at the prospect. Couldn't you just go back to cuddling on the floor, even if it was a little uncomfortable?

"Yeah, and who was the cause of us getting sidetracked?" you shot back, not letting him get away with this.

He paused his movement and glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. "...Shut up."

You grabbed a bottle of water and cracked the seal, taking a long sip of the cool liquid to commemorate this small victory over him. "Mhm, that's what I thought."

Keiji finished sorting the snacks into some sort of order moments later and, satisfied with his work, sat back. "Mhm... okay, now that that's done..." He looked around him, twisting in place as he looked behind him, at his sides, and around the table, brow creasing further as he went on. "Where is it?" he muttered, his eyes now glancing further into the room beyond where you two were sitting for whatever it was he was he was missing. "Have you seen my shirt? I could've sworn it was right here...” He shook his head in apology. “Right... sorry, I must have misplaced it, I'll just get another one." He was still racking his brain in bewilderment—trying to figure out where his shirt could have mysteriously disappeared off to—as his eyes continued to rake over the room, but as he moved to get up to walk over to his wardrobe, his gaze zeroed in on what you were wearing. His eyes narrowed in confusion before recognition spread over his features.

You decided to play dumb for now, taking another sip of water to hide your smile. "What are you looking at? Quit staring at me like that."

"(Y/N)..."

You turned to face him fully now. "Take a picture, it'll last longer, Keiji," you taunted, teasing lilt in your tone clearly getting to him as you stuck your tongue out in retort, him bristling at the action (perhaps more so out of a certain type of interest in how the words rolled off of your tongue though, rather than for any other reason).

"If you really wanted to wear it, you know you could have just asked me, right?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"My shirt, (Y/N). Can I have it back? I'm actually feeling a little cold right now." He ran his hands up and down over his arms in an effort to generate some warmth and you remembered the open bedroom window. Good. That's what he deserves for distracting you from studying in the first place.

You picked back up your pen and twirled it in your fingers as you leaned on the table, elbows resting on the surface, feigning nonchalance. Out of the corner of your eye you watched him, you gaze mostly focused on the pen in your hand as part of your "cool, calm, and collected" act (you wanted to play around with having the upper hand here for a little longer). Wanting to get a better look at him though (you couldn't resist the temptation of drinking in the sight of him), you dramatically looked away from the pen and back to him, as if considering his earlier request for his shirt back.

His hair was still messy from when you had ruffled it before when his teeth had found your neck, and now as he took a sip from his own water bottle, you could see the slight wetness the liquid left behind on his lips when he took the bottle away, not bothering to wipe it away. Your eyes widened at the slight glisten—he knew what he was doing—and you resisted the temptation to immediately look away in embarrassment, instead forcing yourself to don a coy grin and return to taunting him.

"I recall you complaining about it being too hot earlier, Kei, so I'm not sure which one's the truth now." That had been when you two were still pressed together, feeding off of each other’s body heat. And now came the dangerous part—an invitation, the anticipation of the results of the light provocation already stirring up butterflies in your stomach. “If you want it back that badly, why don't you just take it?"

You expected the crashing of lips, him cutting you off and swallowing your words, taking advantage of the fact that your mouth was open—but instead all you got in response was a small tilt of his head and then a knowing smile. Ugh, you should have known it would have turned out this way, you falling just shy of triumph. He never even fell for Kuroo's, the master of provocation’s, taunts, and while Keiji let you get away with a lot because you were you, you were naive to think you ever had the upper hand here.

He brought a hand up to cup your cheek, thumb running over your lips. You wanted to bite out a bark of “Quit teasing me, Keiji,” but also didn’t want to risk him drawing his hand away either.

Your impatience was put to rest soon though when he spoke, voice low. “I guess I really will have to take it back then." And then he leaned in, your own eyes fluttering closed, and the soft movement of his lips against your own had your heart doing summersaults. You know what? Maybe this was better than what you had in mind.

“So much for playing nice," you felt him murmur against your lips when he pulled back slightly to run his tongue over them. You shivered at the sensation and wasted no time obliging him with your lips slightly parted now, dropping your pen somewhere on the floor and moving instead to splay your hands on his back for support. Your fingers ran over the surface as you had so desperately longed to do before as he continued the sweet onslaught against your tongue. His hand still cradled your face, but now the other one took a special interest in gripping your waist and toying with the edge of his shirt there—A.K.A. the object of his attention (although that title gradually seemed to be slipping to you as he got more and more engrossed in your quiet, shuddering breaths against him, you practically melting against his chest).

Just like last time, a single kiss turned into many, each one more desperate than the last, and before you knew it, you were on your back again, Keiji's fingers playing with the bottom of the fabric of your shirt and tentatively running his hand over the skin underneath, gradually creeping higher. (He seemed to be making a conscious effort not to accidentally lean his elbow on your upper arm again this time either—that had hurt.) Well... you guessed the studying could wait for later. A few detours along the way were fine, weren't they?

[abizarreyodelingincident]

Our Nightly Confidant 4

War Games

Warriors needs fresh air.

The hand resting in the crook of his elbow is soft, but its grip is threatening to cut off the blood circulation to his hand. The pain has steadily numbed as the ladies exchange thinly veiled insults about this or that province and this or that financial ruin.

He used to like this.

The attention, the admiration, the glory! When did it start to taste like ash in his mouth?

If his queen heard that thought, she'd have another one of her brutal truths for him. 'When war stopped being a game and became a duty.'

When he realized that not even being the Chosen Hero of Courage would shield him from the game. That it made him twice the target every other soldier was. When the bodies of fallen comrades couldn't go past the numb exhaustion that took him every evening.

“Lady Farosh, Lady Ordonas, if you'll excuse me for a second...” he says, flashing them his flashiest smile.

Lady Ordonas brings out her fan to hide her rosy cheeks and agrees with an obvious giggle. Lady Farosh, whose fingernails are on the verge of piercing skin, delays her reply by the barely polite amount of time.

“Oh, Captain Link, you cannot abandon me so swiftly,” she tries, eyes flickering to her father, an esteemed general in discussion with Impa.

“But of course not, only a second to freshen up.”

The instant she releases him, he pulls away and bows. Though, despite his instincts screaming at him, he doesn't run a straight line for the glass doors of the Queen's ballroom. Lady Farosh would take it as an insult. He weaves through conversations, dropping the minimum expected of him here and there, snarks at a Legend that looks ready to murder Lord Lonnayru (and Warriors wishes him to succeed), never touches a drink or bite offered that he did not pick for himself, and eventually reaches freedom.

The cool night air is a balm on his skin as it strokes his hair and face.

Even the small, military tents he's slept in during the campaign didn't feel half as stifling as that ballroom. And some of the tents, he couldn't even stand up inside!

Above, the moon shines its silvery glow down to the garden's fountain. With the ball in full swing inside, no one walks the peaceful path of stone amidst the roses and the arches. Shame. It's a beautiful place. His first stroll there had been a pleasant experience, though not his first conversation with his queen. Impa had chased away the rest of the escort and glared the patrolling guards into submission. Any attempt to bargain had been met with stony silence and a dare to prove themselves worthier of the Queen's protection than her Sheikah general and mentor.

Warriors stops by the hedgerow. If he focuses, he can see the spot where Zelda sat down, where she picked a rose for him, and pinned it on his breastplate.

They had had hopes for the future. Have. He still has hopes. Don't get him wrong. But he's a little more tired than he used to be. Where had the time gone?

'Captain Link, I must introduce you to my daughter.'

Must. Must. Must. Always a 'must', never a 'may'. Duty traps him and the wild beasts know it. They sniffed his blood long ago, and he can only ever bandage the wound so much before it becomes infected.

Traipsing around with the heroes of previous eras is a blessing and a reward that Hylia offered him. A thank you, he feels, and perhaps the beginning of an apology.

“You shouldn't be out there on your own, Captain Link.”

Those are normal words, spoken with careful reverence. Nothing about them should bring his walls up this quickly. But Warriors is no longer accosted by the common soldiers. Hasn't in a long time.

The cracks on his heart spread just a little further. Deeper.

“Someone might try to hurt you, sir.”

The reverence is gone.

And the spear points straight at his chest.

He doesn't have time to bring out his sword.

A snarling mass of fur tackles the traitor, and by the time Warriors can react, the cry of fear stops abruptly. In its stead is a steady gurgle, a fading wheeze. A limb that thuds against the garden grounds.

Warriors doesn't flinch. He's seen worse.

Once his prey has been deemed sufficiently mauled, Wolfie turns to him, muzzle dark with blood, and worry clear in his eyes.

“Good boy,” he says, absentminded, a hand ruffling through the beast's sinfully soft fur.

It's a testament to his companion's state of mind that no warning growl responds to the familiarity. Warriors doubt he would hear it anyway. He's staring at the dead body.

The guard was young. Maybe... Hyrule's age. He must have hated the war, if he'd gone to the front lines. Hell is hardly enough of a description for the dance of bodies and hacked limbs. He had probably lost a brother or a father or a cousin to the fighting, if he was earning his keep in the Queen's castle at that age. Maybe Impa had taken pity on him.

“Simple-minded fools who can't resist basic mind magic,” Warriors repeats, a wobbly chuckle in his voice.

Wolfie noses his hand, and the little shock of cold and wet jolts enough that he can avert his eyes from the traitor. Defeated, the events of the night all playing on loop, he drags himself to a secluded spot by the hedgerow. One from which he can see people coming, with his back to the branches. Wolfie plops down next to him.

“Mind magic. What I wouldn't give for that to be the case,” he confesses to the wolf-like companion. “Hylia. I'd take cowards over this. I'm not asking them to fight my battles for me. Not even fight by me. Just...”

His fingers curl into his scarf. Holds onto the lifeline.

“I just want to be able to turn my back on the people I protect. Is that really so much to ask for?”

Soft fur fills his sight. He ought to resist the urge. An officer must be strong. Cannot let the soldiers down. Fear spreads like wildfire. One spark, and the whole army goes up in flame.

He knows this.

He knows, and he sobs anyway. Farore, please, just for an instant, allow him to be weak.

He buries his face in Wolfie's shoulder, relishes the warmth and protection that comes from the sacred beast. It doesn't matter that some blood splatters might stain his official knight armors. It doesn't matter that for a split second, he doesn't scan his surroundings for exits, potential ambushes and traps. He gives the taut ropes of tension inside him just enough relief.

Until he pulls back.

Sniffs twice, wipes his face once and plasters the charmer smile.

“I'm alright, Wolfie... I'm alright.”

Wolfie doesn't buy it. Makes an inquisitive little whine. A question.

His hand trembles in the fur. “I am. I will be.”

Wolfie turns, quick not to notice one's tears. Strange for a wolf, but he doesn't pounce on their weaknesses. They trust he never will.

Silly as it sounds, there's more than a few noble daughters in that ballroom that could take lessons in civility from Wolfie. At least, in his presence, he doesn't feel like a bloody piece of meat dangling in front of a pack of wolves. Now, that's irony.

“You know... you kind of make me miss Midna.”

Warriors jumped back when Wolfie suddenly straightened, his eyes laser focused.

“Yeah, I know her,” he said, feeling a hint of a real smile. “We have a statue for her in the Temple of Souls. Hell of a woman.”

His hands went to his sword the second his ears picked up a low growling noise, only to realize it had come from Wolfie. Was... was their canine companion protective of the Twilight Princess? Or, Hylia forbid, jealous? Goddess, that was too cute.

“Shh, don't alert the others,” Warriors said, hands held in front of him in mock surrender.

Wolfie, with very Hylian-like intelligence, puts a paw first on his muzzle, then scratches one of his ears. It's a good point. He'd know first.

Warriors relents before Wolfie starts nipping. He remembers Time's mud bath. “She mentioned you too. Called you her favorite pet.”

He hadn't know what disgruntled looked like on a wolf before, but now he had the perfect picture. No wonder Midna had loved to tease him.

“She went into battle with this shadow spell. Wolf-companions.”

Wolfie's interest shifts into disguised wariness. There are hints that he might like to pull back a bit, but Warriors' hand remains firm on the back of the wolf's neck.

“Called her main one Rinku,” he adds, waggling his eyebrows. “Reminds you of something, huh?”

Wolfie blinks. Then blinks some more. He's almost completely frozen, like he has no clue what to make of that information. Or is trying to choose the right way to react. And when he does, Warriors bites down on a burst of laughter.

The puppy eyes. The good boy smile. It's worrying how they almost work.

Almost.

Warriors keeps a sly grin on his face and waits. He's in no hurry to return inside the palace.

It takes another change of beat in the music coming from the ballroom before Wolfie gives, and shadows swallow him.

“Since when?” Twilight says, sighing.

Warriors' smirk is immensely punchable, he's aware. He loves to live dangerously.

“Are you implying that I would deliberately play dumb so that one of my fellow Hero of Courage would act like a dog when he doesn't need to? That I knew from the very beginning and asked Wild to take pictures for posterity? For shame, Twilight.”

A vein twitched under Twilight's jaw. “No, I wasn't implying that. I was saying you're an asshole, Wars!”

Warriors fails to dodge the lunge, half-paralyzed by muffled chuckles. The momentum throws them on the grass, and there's a split second of disorientation before his back hits the ground, and a weight lands on his chest. A heavy weight. Goddesses be good, the farmer lifestyle paid, huh?

“Twilight, move your fat ass.”

The mullish expression on his brother's face would have made a raging moblin sweat. “No. We're still doing this. I have a great track record, and I'm not letting you narcissistic goatfiddler break it by being your usual self. Talk.”

His eyes widen in alarm. “Really? This is the setup? Me, suffocating, and you, thinking of a place to hide my body. What is this, a deathbed confession?”

“You could have had the amazing emotional support of everyone's favorite wolf. But noooo, you're too good for that, so spill. Better be fast, because I had double serving of Wild's chili. Gives me gaz like thunder.”

“You. Wouldn't. Dare.”

The silent glare he receives is all Time.

Warriors squirming renews. “Farmhand, I will skewer you on the Master Sword myself if you don't-”

“Why would you go off on your own like that? We were all in the ballroom. You could have gotten any of us.”

“Let's not reverse the roles here,” Warriors hisses, one eyebrow raised. “I'm not the one playing double-life around our group. You can't talk about trust when you constantly hide in plain sight. You want trust? You tell me why.”

The boyish, almost light air between them breaks. Guilt blooms on Twilight's face. He can't meet Warriors' gaze and doesn't even try.

“... It's Dark Magic.”

“I couldn't care less. I've fought amongst noble fighters with dark magic and against monsters with the opposite. Next.”

Twilight's ears droop slightly. It's dog-like, and amusingly fitting for a moment of hesitation. Every second that passes without a word hammer the fact that 'dark magic' is the surface excuse for Twilight's shifty dealings about their group. Warriors tries not to be angry. Twilight did just save his life with that very secret.

“I've had...” Lips mull the words for a few seconds. “Mixed reactions.”

Warriors feels himself frown. “Mixed how?”

“You know me, the country boy, raised in the small farmer village lost in the woods. Country bumpkins, the lot of us... You ever heard what they think of wolves?”

His breath hitches. Slow dread creeps on him. He hates the ease with which images come to him. He's never seen Twilight's hometown, never met any of his family, but he's suddenly overwhelmed by the idea of a mob of pitchforks and pickaxes held high, of dogs barking through the woods as a grey wolf scampers. Narrowly avoids a bear trap snapping its deadly maw on thin air instead of a limb. Overhears angry grumbling about making a pelt out of his skin.

They should be farmers, but he sees old faces instead. Soldiers. Commanders. Officers. Brothers-in-arms he's long trusted. Thought he could trust.

“W-what do they know about those majestic beasts?” he says, jokingly because he's afraid to let the mask slip an inch. (It'd fall a mile, shatter too hard for him to ever glue back the pieces.)

“My father threatened to skewer me,” comes the quiet admission, less than a whisper.

Warriors' heart squeezes. “Twilight.”

“Didn't know it was me though,” Twilight adds, failing at even a small smile. “To him, I was just this wild animal circling the village right after most of the children had been stolen. He... he only threatened me. Just words. Nothing like what you had to deal with.”

“The words are the worst part for me,” Warriors hears himself say. “I hear them in my nightmares, even if I forget what they tried to do. Couldn't tell you who came at me with a spear, with a sword, with a dagger. But I see their eyes in the mirror, the hate as they died.”

“The fear. The 'Get back, beast!' and the screams.”

“'It's your fault!'” Warriors repeat, the same tone that echoed in his head. “'You should have died instead!'”

Twilight's face twists, and there's a split second when Warriors thinks his heart will give out. Even the shadows of Twili magic can't compare to the darkness that covers the blue of his eyes. But Twilight turns his head to the side and spits in disgust.

It hits the traitor's cooling corpse.

“Bastards,” he says, venom lacing his tongue. “Should have made that last.”

He says, with blood all over his face , Warriors thinks dryly.

It's a sharp contrast, that violence on him. Twilight has always had that air of earnest, straightforward honesty. One look at him and strangers will put their trust in him without hesitation. He lacks the battleworn scars (at least where it's visible), is old enough to be taken seriously and his bumpkin accent breeds familiarity with most commoners they meet. Warriors himself has to deploy all his charms to get the same results, and he's still being glared at by a lot of the men.

They peg him a charmer, and not without reason.

“I don't like it either,” Warriors says, quiet.

“What?” Twilight replies, an eyebrow raised.

“The knight act, you know.” And before Twilight's mouth can drop – “At least, some of it. The game. The doublespeak. The mask. It all feels pointless sometimes.”

“I... really?” Twilight's baffled words hurt, just a little.

Warriors scoffs. “Yes, really. I'm not meant to play knaves and daggers. I'm a soldier. An officer. I'm meant to be out there, defending the kingdom I love. Inspiring the people to fight back against darkness, to stand up for their lives. To be at the front of an army, to lead as one amongst the great... it's incredible. It's what I was born to do, I know it in my bones. The act is necessary. But by the Goddesses do I wish I could live without it.”

He sees the way his meaning worms itself past Twilight's gaze, understanding dawning on him. “No matter where one goes, huh?” Sheepish ruffle of his own hair. “Is it something in the water?”

“Like they'd lower themselves to drinking water,” Warriors sneers, a smirk hidden underneath. “Wine only, my good sir. And only the finest year, from the finest yard. Vintage, my good peasant, it's all the vintage that shows breeding.”

“They do know that for everyone else, breeding is something you check for your horses and your dogs, right?”

“I... couldn't tell. I've stopped listening a while ago. I just nod and play my handsome part. It is the only use for a Hero once the King of Evil has been defeated, it looks like. I don't know if I even should call myself a knight anymore.”

“Wild was touched, y'know?” Twilight says, looking up to the moon. “When you called him an honorable knight,” he adds with a sigh. “He's always associated his life before the Calamity to knighthood, to that incredible soldier that had trained for a decade before facing his destiny. Someone whose shadow he chased for months, not realizing it's his own. You might have been the first to call his current self a knight.”

“He is!” Warriors near jumps to his feet. “Wild may be unorthodox, but he is a loyal, devoted man that served Hyrule to the best of his ability despite having lost everything but his life to the cause. Most generals in my army could not even measure up to his standard.”

“Should have seen the look in his eyes when I mentioned it.” There's a hint of sadness beyond the pride and joy of this memory.

He hates the curdling feeling that brings forth. “Remind me to knock a couple of heads together next time we visit his Hyrule, would you?”

Twilight's chuckle is fond, gentle. “Yeah, that's what I meant. I never thought to tell him in those words. To me, he was always good enough. But you saw that side of him too. You know what it's like to want it. I can't relate that well to this, but... well, anyone under your command has to look up to a guy like you.”

Hands ball into fists. Eyes drift to the corpse. “Not everyone does. Obviously.”

Twilight bumps shoulders with him. “I'm sorry, pretty boy. I'm sorry these assholes think they have any right to blame you. To resent you. You're an amazing leader. Much better than me. I... I honestly admire you and your skill.”

Warmth settles in his stomach. He can't... For a second, he needs to blink away tears.

“So he admits it.”

There's a wry, wolfish quality to Twilight's grin. “You speak a word of it, and you'll meet an unfortunate fate, Captain.”

“As if anyone but my Queen could make me fall in battle,” he laughs, pushing Twilight's shoulder, hard.

“Careful there.” His brother's grin sharpens, and the returning shove almost sends Warriors crashing into a bush. “You might touch my cursed stone, and then you'd be stuck as your true self. What would your queen think if she saw a plague-ridden rat try to command her armies?”

Laughter bubbles in his chest. “Be happy to send the rat to infect the goat-loving hillbillies before they spread out of their mudholes! Imagine the half-goat, half-hylians that would invade Hyrule!”

Twilight's gauntlets fall to the ground. Knuckles are cracked. “A'right. Someone needs an asswhooping.”

He could not stop smirking if the Goddesses ordered him to. “Bring it, dog-boy. I'll put a collar on you.”

Taunts, past this point, become superfluous. The breath they would waste could be better utilized trying not to die (lose) against this moblin (his brother) and his freakish strength (no, really, he pushes giant metal crates on ice, the goron-born idiot). The honor of Hyrule rests on his victory.

At some point, they roll over in the fountain.

This does not, in fact, stop their roughhousing.

                                                    ***

 “Should I ask why you both have black eyes and split lips when no one noticed any monster for miles?” Time wonders at his seconds-in-command. “While we were attending a ball?”

“No,” they growl with a ferocity to chill bones.

“Not fair!” Wind protests, to the nodding of most. “Why did they get to have all the fun?”

Ah, youth.

[prettywordsyouleft]

Band Sessions: Dowoon

Pairing: Yoon Dowoon x reader

Genre: band au / university au / fluff

Warnings: none

Word count: 2681

Thank you to everyone who supported Band Sessions.

Index: Jae | Sungjin | Young K | Wonpil | Dowoon

It was the biggest scoop thus far for you to take on as a reporter for the campus newspaper. You had only transferred to this university at the start of the semester, and since the roles in the editing room had been well established before you came along, you had been lucky enough to be writing a weekly column as it was. Still, there was only so much of your journalism skills you could exercise in the highlights reel you had been assigned to.

So when a seasoned writer for the paper, Maggie, had fallen over skiing in the weekend, well, you had been worried for her, of course.

And secretly grateful for the opportunity to snag some of her workload.

“This is a big deal, Y/N. Day6 won another band competition on Friday night and we need someone to interview the members and write about their growing population on and off campus as a band.”

“I can do it,” you assured your editor-in-chief with a confident nod.

Gerrie sighed and looked around at the rest of the hustle in the office and then back at your face. You could tell he was hoping he could rely on someone else, perhaps someone who had already proven their talent in his eyes.

But this was going to be your moment. You had been accepted onto the newspaper team because of the stellar recommendations from your past university. There, you had usually held the third most important story of each edition. You had even saved the dying campus cafeteria after writing about their surprising culinary art.

So writing about a campus band would be a piece of cake.

“Alright, you have four days to interview them and present your article to me. It’s running in our next release.”

“I’ll get it to you on time, Gerrie,” you confirmed and picked up your notebook you had been scribbling in, shifting up out of the chair in front of the senior.

“Y/N,” he called out and you stopped to look back at Gerrie. His gaze pierced yours. “Don’t mess this up, I’m counting on you.”

“I won’t let you down, boss.”

Returning to your desk, you let an elated smile cross over your lips momentarily. You were wired up, excited to finally let your reporting prowess shine. Glancing down at the name written in the middle of the page of your notebook, you picked up your pen and circled Day6 a couple of times.

Oh yes, this would be amazing.

Once you found out who Day6 even was, that is.

Thankfully, it was never all that hard to research anything and your lack of knowledge about the five member band had been replaced with notes on all of their current accolades, how many gigs they had played this year, a fansite address, and most importantly, where their studio was located. You had even contacted the band over their official Instagram account and arranged an interview for the following evening. On your way over, you hummed along to one of their songs, Better Better, playing on Spotify through your phone, feeling more than ready to meet the band now known as regional finalists.

You could tell upon the studio door opening that this title was a big deal for them.

Sungjin, their leader, laughed heartily after greeting you, clasping his hands together and looking towards his members as he gestured for you to take a seat. “I never thought we’d be interviewed by the school paper.”

“Given you were interviewed by the local news station, it can’t be all that bad to have me here today.”

Having memorised all the members’ names, you smiled at Wonpil when he bashfully smiled, waving his hands around to dismiss the notion. “No, we’re really happy. Thank you for thinking of us!”

“Dude, you’re shaking, are you really happy?” Jae teased and leaned forward in his chair. He attention then switched to you. “You’re not taking a photo of us tonight, right?”

“No, I can use a photo from your latest gig, if you’d prefer. Your manager has sent me more than enough photos to pick from,” you offered and he somewhat relaxed, a lazy smile crossing his lips. You smiled knowingly, he definitely had a relationship with their manager as you suspected from her glowing conversation about the lead guitarist in particular.

Clearing your throat, you launched into your prepared questions after confirming it was alright to record the interview. It didn’t take long for Brian and Jae to take over, answering what you needed to know with relative ease. You picked up that whilst Sungjin was the leader, answering questions on the spot was more Brian’s forte. Still, the former was present, throwing in some witty remarks and making sure his younger members did participate.

You noticed that every time Dowoon talked, his ears would turn pink and he’d chuckle a lot. It was rather endearing, and you wondered just how many of their fans liked his shy persona. You could almost guarantee he was the type to get embarrassed being stopped on campus for a signature or photo.

“Oh yeah, he’s totally the type,” Jae confirmed with a laugh at the expense of the drummer. And then he nodded. “But Dowoon is the dark horse of our team.”

“Without a drummer keeping you all on time, how can you effectively work together,” you agreed, smiling brightly at the student now almost as red as Wonpil’s shirt. “How do you feel about the term Jae mentioned?”

Dowoon rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly and then grinned. “Well, uh, I guess I’m kind of important.”

“Kind of?” Brian echoed with a laugh. “You’re definitely important.”

“Shall we go as far as to dub you the most important member?” you offered with an encouraging smile and Dowoon shook his head. “Come on now, if you don’t keep the time, then how can you play together as in sync as you do?”

“I guess that makes sense.”

You clapped your hands together and beamed at the rest of the group. “Thank you so much for your time today. I’m looking forward to your future achievements. And the show this weekend, as well.”

“Oh, you’re coming?” Sungjin asked and you nodded.

“Sweet, if your article goes well, you can come to the after-party,” Jae offered and shrugged when Wonpil gaped at him for suggesting it on those terms.

You merely chuckled. “Well I’ll consider myself invited since you all made it easy for me to write this up, I can tell.”

You thanked them all again for their time and then headed towards the door to the studio, smiling back at everyone before stepping out.

You felt relieved. Not only had the interview gone well, but you already felt inspired to draft up your first copy of the piece. Hurrying towards the elevator, you only hoped that your hands could keep up typing the thoughts now swirling around in your mind.

“Well, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m super impressed,” Gerrie announced when you handed in your article for submission. You beamed with his compliment, watching as he tried not to smile at you when he looked up. “I guess the highlights reel was not the right place to put you.”

“No, I think it humbled me.”

“Well, I’ll have to do some rearranging of the team. We’ll definitely need more of your articles running in the paper, Y/N.”

Thanking him repeatedly, you waited until you were out of the office before you began to celebrate. Pumping your hand up into the air, you let out a cheer, did a little dance on the spot and then patted your own shoulder.

When you were done singing your praises, you looked up and found someone watching you. Instead of feeling embarrassed, you grinned happily and approached the tall man whose ears were now the same colour as your blouse. “Destiny called you here, right?”

“Who’s Destiny?” Dowoon wondered and then eyed you carefully. “Are you alright, Y/N?”

“Never been better.”

“You ran around in a circle,” he pointed out with a small smirk. So he had enjoyed the performance you had just put on.

Nudging him playfully, you couldn’t contain your happiness. “My scoop on Day6 was a hit. I was complimented by the steely Gerrie Moore. That is not an easy feat and it’s all thanks to you.”

“Really?” he genuinely enthused and grinned. “Let me buy you a celebratory coffee then!”

“Only if you allow me to buy you a piece of cake to say thanks for helping me out,” you compromised and Dowoon laughed, nodding once.

“Are you free now?”

“Didn’t you see me just run around in a circle? Do you think I could possibly be up to anything more productive?” you mentioned with a laugh and Dowoon chuckled.

“Well then, coffee and cake it is.”

You had believed that conversation with Dowoon would be hard to achieve. Admittedly, at first, he had seemed shy. But he persisted through in asking you how you had been and you easily steered the conversation towards your hobbies and interests.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to learn the drums,” you mentioned and Dowoon’s eyebrows arched curiously.

“Really?”

You nodded. “Of course. How cool would it be to vent your annoyance by banging something?”

“There’s more to drumming than just banging at the instrument, Y/N. It takes a lot of skill.”

“Of course there is,” you agreed and then leaned over the table towards him. Dowoon eyed you cautiously. “Reckon you could show me sometime?”

“You… you want to learn?”

Nodding eagerly, you pointed to the exit. “Are you free now?”

“You just do everything on a whim, don’t you?” he asked with a laugh and you shrugged.

“When I have an idea, I want to follow it through. So, can you teach me?”

“I bet after thirty minutes you’ll never want to drum again,” he proclaimed and you gaped at Dowoon, rolling up your sleeves as if you were preparing yourself to prove him wrong.

You smirked. “I’m competitive.”

“I can tell.”

“Come on then, let’s go so I can prove you wrong!”

You did in fact, last longer than thirty minutes. But you had to admit, it was a whole lot harder than you expected. Most of the time, Dowoon had you simply kicking the bass drum in a stable rhythm. That was relatively easy until your leg tired.

Dowoon smirked. “It’s not easy, is it?”

“I can do it,” you corrected, heaving in a deep breath and trying to regain your tempo. When you had it, you smiled smugly and gestured for what was next.

“Y/N, most people learn the basics for weeks on end. You need to build up your leg muscles on the kick drum first.”

“No I want to try and incorporate my hands too!” you bit back, looking at the drum kit before you. Pointing at a part of it, you looked over at Dowoon. “This is the floor Tom, right?”

“You know your parts,” he replied with a surprised smile.

“When I research something I have an interest in, I like to know all the facts,” you commented, heaving in another breath.

Maintaining this beat was a lot harder than you wanted to let on.

“Oh yeah, is that how you knew stuff about us?”

“Of course. A reporter’s job is to find the facts and bring the story to life with them.”

“So you know about us?” he repeated and you glanced in Dowoon’s direction, your focus narrowing as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “I bet you know a lot about Jae and Brian. They’re popular with the fans.”

“Your favourite colour is red, you have a dog and a cat, you love most types of meals with meat in them and you strangely like green tea ice cream.”

Dowoon blinked, and his ears turned red. “You know all that?”

“What, that’s just after a simple search from your fansites. Kind of crazy to think you have fans compiling lists like this, huh?”

“I’m grateful,” he mumbled and you nodded.

“I thought you would be.”

“Do you know anything else?” he wondered, his hand mindlessly playing with the cymbals. You examined his motion for a moment before giving up on kick pedal, collapsing over the snare drum.

“I know that my leg is about to fall off,” you heaved and Dowoon chuckled. Looking up at him, you smiled. “And that you have a nice talking voice. Your laugh is really cute too. And when you smile, I almost forget what I’m talking about. At the interview, you were the one I wanted to hear from the most.”

“Really?” Dowoon tried not to grin but it spread across his lips all the same. “You like talking to me?”

“I do. And admittedly, you were right. I don’t think I’m cut out for drumming. You’re super talented, Dowoon. I just wanted to spend more time with you.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

You chewed on your lip with hesitation. However, you were known to be bold with all your thoughts. It was how you were an excellent reporter. Sometimes, the risks you took were worth a moment of feeling out of your depth.

“Well, I saw what your ideal type was listed as and hoped I matched up well enough for you to want to spend time with me. And maybe go out on a date?” For a moment, Dowoon was frozen. You weren’t even sure he was breathing still and you watched carefully to ensure he wasn’t going to collapse or anything. And then he seemed to come back alive again, unable to control his emotions. His eyes were bright and he swapped between chuckling and grinning giddily. His ears were pink, as was his neck too. He seemed to be overheating.

Reaching out for his hand, you squeezed it, hoping he would calm down a little. It seemed to work, even though Dowoon had rested against the wall to hold himself up. “You’re bold.”

“I told you, when I show an interest in something, I need to know all the facts. There’s no point in me trying to play coy with you when I like you. But, if you don’t feel the same-”

“No, I definitely do. I just… you really do match my ideal type. I’m kind of surprised that you actually exist.”

It was your turn to blush finally and Dowoon seemed to like this a little too much. “Hey, about that after-party this weekend…”

“Want to come as my date?” Dowoon asked before you could suggest anything and you nodded happily, swinging your still linked hands back and forth gently.

“I’d really like that.”

“Can I request something though?”

“What?”

Dowoon grinned. “I don’t know nearly as much as you do. Reckon you could write up a facts list like the one you found on me? That way I can learn about you too.”

“Don’t you want to find out slowly like how most people do whilst dating?”

Dowoon shook his head. “If you’re going to know all you do about me first, I want to level out the playing field.”

“I’ll have it to you by tomorrow then,” you answered, standing up from the drum kit. You weren’t prepared for how weak your leg was, and stumbled, Dowoon reaching out to catch you. Your hands went to his middle and your eyes snapped up to his.

“Oh,” you commented, blinking slowly. “I guess that’s true too.”

“What is?”

“That drummers tend to have really good bodies.”

“Y/N!” Dowoon spluttered and then laughed. “Maybe you know too much.”

“It’s my job to know a lot about things,” you countered and Dowoon nodded. You then slipped your arms around his waist, nestling into his body. You waited to see what his reaction would be but he didn’t pull away, his arms gingerly sliding up to pat you gently.

“Let me catch up. I want to know a lot of things about you too.”

_________________

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[notthatiwilleverwriteit]

Don’t Let Go

Fandom: Given Pairing: AkiUgetsu Rating: E Tags: Smut, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Anal Fingering, Marijuana, Sexual Inexperience Summary: Ugetsu had gotten some weed. Hornyness and neediness ensue. Set in high school.

Akihiko’s warning bells jingled immediately when he came back from the bathroom and found Ugetsu smiling at him. Wiping his hands dry on his pants, Akihiko’s steps slowed down. He frowned at Ugetsu.

“What?”

Akihiko had come to bring him his homework. Ugetsu had been absent the whole day due to a violin competition. Regionals. Apparently, that also meant he was free to laze around the whole afternoon in his pajamas and ignore the pile of notes Akihiko had written for him. According to Ugetsu, it was his reward for winning by a landslide. Akihiko had pointed out it had been the first round and Ugetsu should have been able to win it with his eyes closed and left hand tied behind his back.

“I’ve got something.”

Ugetsu perked up in the middle of his messy bed. His deep brown eyes squinted and twinkled at Akihiko. His hands were cupped in his lap, but Akihiko couldn’t see what he was holding.

Wary of Ugetsu’s mysterious tone, he stepped closer to get a better look.

What was revealed deepened his frown. Nestled on Ugetsu’s cupped palms rested a metallic lighter and thick cigarette. Only it was wrapped weirdly and was too lumpy to be an ordinary cigarette.

Akihiko glared at Ugetsu who was still smirking.

“Where did you get that?”

“It’s a secret,” Ugetsu said and wiggled to sit on the edge of the bed. He reached the white lumpy joint for Akihiko. “Try it with me.”

Akihiko let out a chuckle that had a nervous edge to it even to his own ears. He slumped on the floor, effectively facing away from Ugetsu and his treasure. He grabbed his phone from the coffee table to fiddle with.

“Try yourself.”

The bed creaked behind him. Annoyed, Akihiko glared up when a shadow was cast over him and the phone screen. Effectively knocking Akihiko’s hands out of the way with his foot, Ugetsu situated his weight to straddle his hips. Awkwardly Akihiko’s hands dangled on his sides, not being able to naturally settle anywhere. He stifled his urge to shift.

“Oi,” he said. “Go sit somewhere else.”

Ugetsu wiggled his ass, trying to get comfortable.

“But I like this spot.” He conjured the joint and lighter from behind his back. “Are you sure you don’t want to try with me?”

“Yes.”

“Suit yourself, then.”

Akihiko’s eyes widened when Ugetsu’s lips closed around the wrinkly stub. The heavy, metallic flick of the lighter rang loud in the quiet basement. Akihiko’s phone dropped to the floor with a clatter when his hands came to try and nudge Ugetsu off.

“I said do that by yourself!”

But Ugetsu’s thighs pressed tighter against him as he anchored his weight deeper in his lap. The flickering flame hovered close to the small tip of the thin rolling paper until it whooshed alight. Distracted, Akihiko’s resistance died down as he watched Ugetsu’s thumb and index finger pinch around the stub. His lips tightened and brown knotted. The lit end glowed red and orange as Ugetsu dragged through it.

His body stiffened in Akihiko’s lap. It looked like he was holding his breath. Akihiko caught himself mirroring him, closely monitoring his face.

Just as he was about to ask was Ugetsu alright, thick white coughs erupted from deep inside Ugetsu. His shoulders shook as he hacked. One of his hands came to lean on Akihiko’s shoulder for support as he nearly doubled over.

Rolling his eyes, Akihiko let his body relax. He let out an angry huff. A sweet scent tickled his nostrils.

“Idiot.”

Still sputtering a little, Ugetsu smirked at him. The coughing had brought tears to his eyes, making the chocolate brown twinkle even brighter than usual.  

“Congratulation,” Akihiko said, “you’ve officially broken the law now.”

Ugetsu’s mischievous smile widened and his eyes narrowed down at Akihiko.

“Shows what you know about the law,” he said. “Possession is punishable, too. I could be put in jail just for having it.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Akihiko said. “I’d finally get rid of you.”

Ugetsu’s eyebrows arched. His head tilted a little, and the dark bangs shifted.

“Is that so? I guess I’ll have to make you an accomplice then.”

The lit end glowed up between them again as Ugetsu drew another hit. Before Akihiko realized what was about to happen, Ugetsu leaned forward and sealed their lips tightly together. Taking advantage of Akihiko’s shock, Ugetsu’s tongue pushed in easily, deepening the kiss. His free hand had sneaked to cradle the back of Akihiko’s head and keep him in place.

Thick smoke filled Akihiko’s mouth. It didn’t taste as sweet as it had smelled. It had a rather earthy and dark flavor to it. Grassy. A little spicy. It made him gag.

Finally gaining his senses, Akihiko pushed Ugetsu off by his shoulders and freed his lips. He coughed which only sucked the smoke deeper into his lungs. Glaring, he wiped his mouth.

“The hell?!” he croaked.

Ugetsu leaned back on his lap. His eyes looked darker. Not the usual deep brown but almost black.

“Now we’re both criminals. Do you think they’ll let us share the cell?”

More curses tickled on Akihiko’s tongue.

“You’re such a fuc – “ he began but clenched his jaw.

“A what? I’m a what?”

Akihiko released a frustrated sigh. It wasn’t worth it wasting his breath when Ugetsu was being like this. Ugetsu would do what Ugetsu wanted to do when got that tone in his voice. Akihiko gave him another nudge, harder this time.

“Get off me.”

“But I said I liked this spot.”

“And I said get off.”

He grabbed Ugetsu by his hips and proceeded to hoist him off. But the warm weight shifted in his lap. Small arms reached to wrap around Akihiko’s shoulders like stubborn vines. Soft wisps of hair tickled his cheek when Ugetsu clung to him.  

“No, I want to be like this.”

Akihiko’s hold didn’t slack, but his resolve had faced a big loss right off the bat. He was always weak to this side of Ugetsu.  

“Forgive me”?

Akihiko chuckled humorlessly.

“Why?”

“Because,” Ugetsu said and rubbed against his shoulder, “when someone says sorry and means it, you have to forgive them. That’s what the teachers always said in kindergarten.”

“So, you’re saying you’re sorry from the bottom of your heart?”

Ugetsu fell silent. All Akihiko could hear were their breathings, slightly out of sync. No sound could pierce through the cocoon of the basement. It held everything in, muffling the violent soundwaves trying to disturb their way through.

“I don’t think my heart has a bottom,” he finally said quietly. “Sometimes…”

Akihiko stiffened when he perked up his ears. There had been scratches of the needle in the sound Ugetsu was emitting. Sometimes it was difficult to hear him through the scratches.

“Sometimes,” Ugetsu's voice had gained a distant tone, “I don’t think I even have a heart. It’s just…a pit. And I’m sinking into it. Or floating. And no one can reach me.”

Akihiko shifted and gently pushed him back.

“Alright,” he said, “I think this is enough crime for ya for one day.”

Carefully he took the smoldering joint from between Ugetsu’s fingers. He didn’t resist. Akihiko reached behind him to put it out against a plate left lying around on the coffee table. The cigarette’s fire died with a swirl of heavy smoke.

“What if,” Ugetsu went on in his quiet, distant voice, “one day you won’t reach me either.”

Akihiko frowned.

“What are you talking about? I’m right here.”

“I’ll be in so deep that you can’t reach. And you don’t even want to. Not anymore.”

With a sigh, Akihiko brushed some of the tousled bangs out of the way and examined Ugetsu’s face. Apart from his ever-darkening eyes that were now drooping a little, he didn’t seem much different.

“Hey, you alright?”

The heavy-looking eyelids slid close until Ugetsu’s dark, thick lashes fluttered against his cheeks. He nodded.

“A little dizzy. Like I’m floating.”

Akihiko scoffed softly.

“I bet you are, Space Boy.”

Even in the weightless state Ugetsu currently was, he still managed to muster his offended frown.

“I don’t want to talk about your stupid comics.”

“It’s Astro Boy, not Spa – “

The words died in his throat when Ugetsu rolled his hips and something hard brushed against Akihiko’s groin through the clothes.

“Aki.”

Oh, he knew that tone.

“Mm?”

“I wanna do it.”

“No.”

Ugetsu made a quiet whine and rubbed harder against him.

“Why not?”

Akihiko stilled his hips gently but firmly.

“You know why.”

A bit clumsily, Ugetsu pushed back to prop his palms on Akihiko’s shoulder. His bottom lip was jutting out slightly as he glared down at him.

“I bet if I was a girl, you would have done it with her already. You just don’t want to do it with me.”

Akihiko almost laughed out loud. Nothing could have been further from the truth. He wanted to do it with Ugetsu so badly it hurt. Had wanted to ever since he had kissed Ugetsu clumsily behind those goldfish and candied apple stands.

“It has nothing to do with that. You always say it hurts too much and we have to stop.”

Ugetsu pushed his hips against the restrictive hold. Akihiko could feel where the arch of the jutting hipbone pressed against his palm.

“I won’t say it this time!”

“You will.”

Akihiko could see the discovery of changing tactics on Ugetsu’s face. It seemed being high disarmed Ugetsu from his usual grace and veil somewhat. Akihiko was coming to realize he found it increasingly amusing.

A warm breath came to ghost over Akihiko’s neck and a pair of lips to nuzzle the little hollow. Thin, nimble fingers sank through the soft spikes of his hair and nails scraped gently the scalp. Akihiko’s hold on the hips slacked, and they rolled almost languidly now, matching the soft lips dragging against the side of his neck.

“I want to do it,” Ugetsu mumbled next to his ear. “It’s okay if I want it, right? Even if it hurts a little? I want to do it. Aki.”

And by every god in the universe, Akihiko wanted it, too. He wanted to flip them over, hold Ugetsu down, and bury himself into the tight velvet warmth till he could reach no further. Get his fill finally instead of grinding his teeth and pulling out when Ugetsu was rigid and gasping under him.

“No,” Akihiko said and grabbed Ugetsu’s hand that had been sneaking down towards his crotch.

The teasing lips puffed out a frustrated sigh. The wandering hand submitted to capture. Akihiko swallowed at the fingers that had managed to edge close enough to his own hardening front.

“I mean,” he said thickly, “that doesn’t mean we can’t…practice.”

Ugetsu’s tufts of hair twitched.

“Practice?”

“Yeah. Get you used to it more. I mean, it’s easier to hit triple stops if you loosen the bow a little.”

“You do that?” Ugetsu said, and there was a familiar teasing lilt creeping back to his voice. “I can play them just fine without loos – “

The rest died on his lips when Akihiko pulled his hand down to its desired destination. The sparkling dark eyes widened and shot up to stare at Akihiko when Ugetsu’s fingers brushed against the growing hardness between Akihiko’s legs. They wrapped tentatively around it and risked a couple of firm kneads. Akihiko’s eyes fluttered close at the contact.

“I want to do it, too,” he muttered inches away from Ugetsu’s lips, parted in silent awe. “You have no idea how much I want to, but not yet, okay? It’s still too tough on you. So – “

Ugetsu sucked in a shuddering breath when Akihiko’s hand wiggled under the loose waistband of his pants and reached for his groin.

“ – let me do this properly.”

The deepening chocolate eyes slithered open to look at Akihiko quietly.

“Okay,” Ugetsu managed in a thick, quiet voice. “Alright. Just – “ he pulled Akihiko’s free hand and pressed the cup of his palm to cup his cheek, “ – just don’t let go.”

A ghost of a smile played on Akihiko’s lips.

“I won’t.”

Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, Akihiko’s thumb lowered to Ugetsu’s mouth and nudged its way inside. Instinctively, Ugetsu gave away to the intrusion. He blinked at Akihiko. Indeed, he looked like he was floating.

“Lick it.”

Ugetsu took a hold of Akihiko’s wrist with both hands and started to lick the palm with broad, wet strokes of his tongue. With hooded eyes, he lapped the rough skin. One by one, he also bent the fingers to suck them into his mouth as deep as he could, When he pulled them out, he gently dragged his teeth over the bumps of the joints.

Akihiko’s eyes narrowed.

“That’s enough.”

Ugetsu looked down in the lap between them and sighed when the freshly dampened palm wrapped around him inside his underwear. Akihiko gave him a couple of slow strokes from the root to the tip. Eagerly, Ugetsu began to push inside the warm, rough tunnel of his hand. His breathing becoming labored puffs as he rocked back and forth, picking up speed quickly.

“Here,” Akihiko said and now held out his other hand.

Almost greedily, Ugetsu snatched hold of it and started licking again. He drooled into the small dip of the palm and spread the wetness with his tongue. Saliva trickled down his chin and Akihiko’s wrist. He let out quiet sighs and hums as Akihiko kept massaging him inside the pants. Occasionally Akihiko pressed his thumb against the weeping tip and rubbed it gently.

Ugetsu popped one of Akihiko’s fingers out of his mouth. His puffed-up lips glistened with spit.

“I’m close,” he said, out of breath.

Silently Akihiko changed hands again. This time Ugetsu didn’t waste time but started to rock more demandingly. Akihiko tightened his grip and squeezed a little towards the tip every time he pulled back. Ugetsu’s fingers clutched almost painfully on Akihiko’s shoulders when he held onto him for balance and leverage.

Akihiko raised the released hand to his lips and sunk his index and middle finger into his mouth. He could taste Ugetsu on his tongue. Less sweet than how he smelled. Spicy. Far more intoxicating than the white, thick smoke.

Ugetsu’s eyes dropped to follow Akihiko sliding his fingers in and out between his lips, coating them with spit. Each time they came out shinier. Ugetsu’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

When Akihiko pulled his fingers out, a thread of thick saliva stretched in the air. Never taking his gaze off Ugetsu’s flushed face, Akihiko reached behind him and pushed his hand under the waistband. Almost hungrily, his fingers groped the soft bump of Ugetsu’s ass, wiggling their way deeper and searching for the valley.

A half moan, half whine released from Ugetsu’s throat when the slipper tips of Akihiko’s fingers brushed against the sensitive pucker and rubbed it in circular movements. Slowly Akihiko coaxed the tip of his middle finger inside. Ugetsu gasped and clung to him a bit tighter.

“Shh,” he said quietly. “It’s okay.”

He sped up jerking Ugetsu off as he pushed his finger into the twitching heat till the hilt dug into the soft flesh of Ugetsu’s ass. Ugetsu’s back arched and a low moan raised between his parted lips. His body quivered in Akihiko’s lap. Akihiko mouthed a couple of small kisses along his jawline.

“I won’t move,” he said, “for now. You decide the pace.”

Ugetsu’s hips began their familiar dance again. His breathing puffed sweet between them. Every time he pushed into the tunnel of Akihiko’s palm, the finger slid out. And every time he pulled back only to push back in, the finger was forced back through the tight opening.

Before long, Ugetsu was captured in a pendulum that swung between sweet pleasure and even sweeter ache.

When Akihiko lined up his index finger to cram it inside too, Ugetsu let out another cry.

“Aki…”

“It’s okay,” he said.

“Don’t let – ” Ugetsu panted. “Don’t…let go.”

“I won’t.”

Ugetsu’s whole body jerked as Akihiko’s index finger worked its way in, too. There was more resistance now. He could feel the muscles working hard to adjust to the intrusion.

When both of the fingers were finally buried as deep as they would go, Ugetsu’s hand fled down where Akihiko was gripping him between his legs. Hurried and trembling fingers stuffed inside the underwear to accompany Akihiko’s. While Ugetsu kept pushing in and out, his hand guided the speed, angle, and pressure of the warm tunnel. The dark brows were knotted in deep concentration.

“Aki, I’m almost…I’m –”

Akihiko could feel the orgasm rolling down before it actually reached Ugetsu’s consciousness. The muscles tightened around his fingers. Ugetsu’s body arched and he stopped his almost feverish back and forth. But Akihiko continued the pendulum swings for him. He sped them up in both directions and didn’t let up until Ugetsu’s mind was overwhelmed and all he could do was to throw his head back and gasp and moan. Nothing else needed to exist between right now than the dizzying sensations.  

Slimy eruptions filled the inside of the underwear and spilled hot over Akihiko’s hand. The viscous liquid squished between his palm and Ugetsu’s bare dick, slickening the rubbing. Akihiko slowed down (at this point Ugetsu’s fingers have already slacked around him) and he kept milking to the last drop until Ugetsu started to jerk and flinch at the touch.

Boneless, he slumped against Akihiko’s shoulder. His heavy breathing huffed next to his ear. Little trembles and aftershocks ran through his body. When Akihiko pulled out his fingers, Ugetsu made a quiet sound in his throat and clung to him.

“Don’t let go.”

He reached to kiss the side of Ugetsu’s head. His lips pressed gently against the soft hair.

“I won’t.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

Ugetsu relaxed. Akihiko listened to his breathing calming down. His weight became heavier and heavier in his lap. When there was a little yawn next to Akihiko’s ear, he nudged Ugetsu’s hips gently. The contents coating his hand inside Ugetsu’s underwear were starting to cool off.

“Hey, Space Boy,” he said, “we better change your pants or you’re going to give yourself a rude waxing.”

[taelaxies]

s e s s i o n s | intro

“It’s nice to talk to someone that doesn’t judge you.”

Summary: Could Jungkook be cheating on her? The thought obsessed Yoona until she found the solution: you, her friend and psychology student. Her plan looked great in her mind, but what she didn’t realize is that you could become the problem.

Genre: Angst || Warnings: Mentions of sex.  Pairing: Jungkook x Reader A/N: So the poor Jungkook will be the victim of these evil women and their plan in my new fic. It was going to be posted yesterday but it was my birthday and I had a party and all those things you do in your birthday (?). But finally here it is. Will be just a few chapters long, so hope you like it. Words: 2.8k

“Jungkook!”

He heard his name, but he ignored it and kept looking at the screen. Biting his lip, he moved his fingers on the joystick, trying to finish the level.

But then, the screen went black.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” He snapped, tossing the joystick on the couch and standing up, “I was almost done!”

The girl looked at him with an incredulous expression written on her face. Her mouth opened and two of her long slender fingers pointed at him, “What is wrong with you!? You don’t even care about me anymore!”

“That’s not true!” he rubbed his face with his hands and stepped closer to his girlfriend, “I performed all weekend, I’m tired! I want to play a stupid game sitting on my couch!”

They were the golden couple. The actress and the idol. Why was that so difficult? She watched him turn around and walk to the bedroom. Alone and in silence.

Was he cheating on her? Was that the reason why he didn’t care anymore? Nah, Jungkook was too shy for that. Or not? The same question repeated like a mantra on her mind.

And that was how a week later Yoona and Jungkook were sitting on two red leather chairs, waiting for you to arrive and take a seat on the bigger black chair opposite to them.

His right leg could not stop trembling and his fingers moved nervously, drawing circles on his knees. He felt that this was some kind of test. Glancing at his girlfriend, he noticed that she looked way more relaxed than him. Did that mean she felt he was the only one that was wrong?

The door finally opened and a young woman dressed in white entered and made her way to that black chair in front of a big and clean desk.

He frowned and took a card from the pocket of his jeans with a name written on it, “Y/N?” He read, clearly confused.

You found it funny and a tiny smile spread on your lips, “That was my name last time I checked.”

“I thought you were a secretary or something. My therapy concept is an old woman wearing a sweater and showing us some weird drawings.”

“If that is what you’re looking for, you came to the wrong place.”

 You opened a drawer from your desk and pulled a notebook and a pen out of it. He watched you cross your legs and place the notebook on your thigh. The smirk from your face disappeared the moment you met his eyes and officially started the session. “So Jungkook, right? And…” her eyes moved to the chair next to him, “Yoona?”

The couple nodded.

You watched the two of them sitting uncomfortably far from each other. The woman, Yoona, looked sad but relaxed and Jungkook looked… stressed. “Do you know why are you here?” You asked him.

“Didn’t Yoona explained when she called?”

“She did. But I want to hear it from you.”

He filled his cheeks with air and released it out again through his mouth. He spotted Yoona scrutinizing him out of the corner of his eyes and swallowed hard before speaking, “My girlfriend thinks we’re getting cold and distant and thought that the couple therapy was a good idea.”

“Then you don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I just think is pointless. I have a show this Friday and I should be practicing, not sitting here. Couples fight, it’s normal. Nothing’s like the movies.”

Yoona raised her hand asking for permission to talk like it was some kind of classroom. You signaled her to speak and she said, “Couples fight, but we don’t even speak. He should date his group members next time,” she faced Jungkook with a frown and pointed a finger to herself, “You think this is pointless? This is me actually trying to solve this. You don’t even wanna fuck me anymore!”

His cheeks burned and Jungkook wanted to be swallowed by his chair. His eyes danced between his angry girlfriend and your expressionless face and no word came out from his mouth. He looked very embarrassed and you felt bad for him. Jungkook watched you write something on your notebook. Were you writing about his non-existent sex life? Did you think he was the worst boyfriend of all?

The air felt tense and you thought it was a good moment to change the subject and talk about facts, “How did you two meet?”

“We were at the same event. She’s an actress and some of Taehyung’s friends knew her and told me she had a crush on me.” his lips formed a melancholic lopsided grin, “we talked and agreed on a date.”

“He didn’t know how to invite me to dinner so I did.” his girlfriend continued, “he looked so handsome.”

“That’s cute. What do you like about each other?”

Yoona was the first to talk, clearly more comfortable around you than he was. “His smile is one of the cutest things I’ve seen. And his body is so hot, right babe?” He covered his face with his hand and she giggled, “He’s hot even when he’s shy.”

Jungkook watched your reaction from behind the space between his fingers. He saw you biting your lip and trying to keep your features serious, “What about you Jungkook?”

“I… I…. Ah… she’s beautiful.” He stuttered bringing his hand down from his face to his lap, “she’s confident and clever. Her eyes are very expressive, you can tell how’s she feeling just with a glance at them. Maybe that’s why she’s a good actress…”

He really didn’t know what else to say and hoped that was enough for you. You didn’t say anything but he noticed a quick look you gave to Yoona that scared him even more.

“You seem to like each other physically speaking. Why are you not enjoying intimacy?”

Her question was directed to Jungkook and he was not ready for an answer. His mouth went dry and his profile burned because of the piercing stare of the girl beside him. He needed air.

Yoona and you watched him stand up and walk through the door, leaving the two of you with your eyes wide open and your eyebrows raised.

It took a few minutes for Yoona to panic and place her palms on your desk, “Fuck, you think he noticed?”

“Notice what? That this is all fake? I don’t think so,” you shook your head, “he felt intimidated and left. Maybe it’s best if I see him alone.”

“How do you know he’s going to talk to you about what I want to know? Jungkook only feels comfortable around his group members or with those stupid video games.”

“He’ll talk, trust me. Not all of this is a lie, I’m studying psychology after all. I can make him talk.” You comforted her. “I don’t think he’s cheating on you. But we’ll find out.”

You did not know when all this started. Maybe was that night with your friends, sharing a few drinks and talking about boys. Jenny thought her boyfriend was hiding things from her and you said they should do couple therapy.

But far from that, you ended up using your psychology studies for pretending to be a couple therapist and finding out if your friends’ boyfriends were hiding something. In Jenny’s case, she was right. Her boyfriend had been seeing this older woman that worked with him for a few months.

Yoona was part of that group of friends and did not thought she would need your help with a man. After finding out about Jenny’s boyfriend she started noticing little details about Jungkook that made her insecure about her own relationship with him. She knew she was beautiful and she could probably have any man she wanted, but the only problem was that she wanted Jungkook and Jungkook only - she had since the first time she saw him perform with his group, BTS.

Was this a desperate measure? It was. But she was desperate, feeling him slip through her fingers like sand, something she could not understand why.

You were a good friend and she knew she could trust you in this. You said no at first, but her sad voice through the phone made you reconsider and eventually consenting to her request.

“I trust you, Y/N. I wouldn’t be here if I don’t.”

Jungkook didn’t know about your plan for his first ‘private’ session until he was there, in your fake office that in reality was your living room.

He was more embarrassed than before, since he escaped from you last time. He took a deep breath and stepped in after cleaning his sweaty hands on his jeans.

“What kind of therapist are you?”

 His eyes looked shocked, examining the room. Two chairs where one next to the other and in front of them a huge screen. Sitting on one of them, you offered him a kind smile and gestured him to sit beside you. The desk he had seen last time was now against the wall and useless.

“Overwatch?” You asked raising a joystick.

He did not know what to say and you knew you took him by surprise. He slowly made his way to the chair next to you and sit.

Of course this was not included in one of your university classes, but truth is you needed to make him feel at ease around you, comfortable enough to let go of his fear and just be brutally honest.

“Is this part of an odd method of yours?” He took the joystick from your hands.

“Actually it is,” you said, “I want you to feel comfortable and realize that I’m not going to judge you for anything you say here.” You took the second joystick and started the game, “and maybe this can help you relax.”

He nodded, silently agreeing with you. One of the reasons he enjoyed games so much, was that it was his own stress relief. In a game no one could tell him what they thought about him. What they expected from him. If he was good enough or not. He just played and get happy when he won - or tried again when the game was over.

Jungkook found himself enjoying the silence and the game with you. You watched the muscles of his shoulders relax, and his jaw fell slightly as he tried to shoot some enemies out of his way. You wanted to finally ask him something but you didn’t want to interrupt his game - he looked so childish and manly at the same time: aggressively pressing the buttons of the joystick, causing the veins from his arms to pop.

“You know, if you keep staring we’re gonna lose.” he spoke without taking his eyes off the screen. He suddenly paused the game and turned his face to you. “I know you are not a therapist.”

He knew? How? You tried to hide your panic, clearing your throat and pushing your hair back from your face, “What do you mean?”

Jungkook pressed his lips into a thin line and placed the joystick gently on the floor. “Well, you are… young.” His eyes travelled from your body to your face, “younger than you should I guess. And this?” He pointed at the screen. “This is not normal right?”

You relaxed. Of course he did not know about Yoona’s plan, he could not unless she told him. He just felt this was weird, and you knew he was not wrong. But you offered him a sincere technical answer, “Actually it is quite normal. Playing games is a way of getting to know the client better, how frustrated or relaxed you get, if you are able or not to make decisions fast, if you are tolerant. There are plenty of things a psychologist can learn through games. And thanks to this you have relaxed enough to ask about me when last time you couldn’t answer a simple question without feeling embarrassed.”

He slowly nodded. He believed you, it made sense. He tilted his head to a side and smirked. “So, as a therapist you can’t tell Yoona anything I say here, right?”

You swallowed hard, feeling his question stuck in your stomach. You felt guilty under his gaze and had to use all your will power to lie to him face to face: “I can’t.”

“I thought this was a plan from Yoona to see if I would cheat on her with you.” He confessed, and you realized he was not that far from the truth, “You are…” Looking at you, he tried to find the right words. “You are… young and pretty. It looked suspicious to me. I’m sorry.”

He was the one saying sorry to you, when you were actually being the double agent here. He’s cheeks flushed slightly and Jungkook ran his fingers through his hair, trying to look more confident than he really was. “She did something like that before?”

“Once. She sent a hot girl to me and my friends’ dorm, just to see my reaction.”

“Would you?” you asked without thinking.

“Would I what?”

“Cheat on her.”

Jungkook shook his head, “No,” he breathed, “but she is obsessed with the idea. I’m just tired and it’s annoying to hear her yell the same things at me all the time.” He thought you would say something in her defense but you didn’t - you remained silent and just waiting for him to continue talking. “Look… I want to fix things with her, but I can’t. I feel all this pressure all the time and I don’t want to make her sad.”

“Have you talked about this with Yoona?”

“No, I’m not… I’m not good with words.”

“You seem good enough to me,” you gave him a reassuring smile, “maybe if you play another round…”

He laughed and it was like magic to your ears. His bunny smile appeared and you could tell he was more comfortable now. “It’s nice to talk to someone that doesn’t judge you.”

“It’s my job” you lied.

“Then you’re good at it.”

 Following your agreement, you told Yoona what Jungkook had said that day, as soon as he was gone. You read her texts with a frown on your face, scrolling through the conversation with the tip of your finger:

Yoona (7:43 PM)

SO, if he’s not cheating then why is he so distant I could literally walk naked in front of him And he would go to sleep without even looking at me.

You (7:46 PM)

You should stop asking so much from him and keep things more relaxed maybe. I think you are stressing him.

Yoona (7:47 PM)

I’m stressing him? Can’t you see I’m stressed too? I can’t focus on reading a fuckin’ script Your on my side, not his. Keep telling me things about him.

Were there any sides? You were just being honest and a friend giving advice. Yoona was more insecure than Jungkook, but he could see it and she couldn’t.

You (7:51 PM)

I thought you just wanted to know if he was cheating on you. He isn’t. Done.

Yoona (7:52 PM)

That alone won’t fix anything. I need to know more. Meet him again next week and tell me. Plssssss.

Jenny’s ex boyfriend was a dick and made the job easy for you, it felt like you were doing some kind of justice when you recorded him saying he had cheated on your friend many times.

But Jungkook was nothing like him and your heart broke a little everytime you saw him standing at your door waiting for his chance to talk to you about everything he could not talk with Yoona.

Each session that passed, the more information you gave to her and she wanted even more.

She wanted to know what his friends said about her, specially Taehyung. Why didn’t he talk about her in front of the media or during the many interviews he gave.

After four sessions, you really did not want to do this anymore. Your strategy had worked and Jungkook was not embarrassed around you then - He talked to you more as a friend than the (fake)therapist you were. He was explaining how loved he felt when his eyes met his fans’ and how frustrated he felt when he made a mistake on the last choreography. He seemed to had forgotten that it was supposed to be a couple therapy and avoided Yoona’s name as much as he could.

“Y/N?” his voice brought you back from your thoughts. “What do you say?”

“Sorry I was…. Thinking. Say about what?”

“About… scheduling more sessions together? Just you and me?”

[howsit-going-toend]

Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down) Pt. 3

A Kwon Jiyong x Reader AU series featuring Kim Jiwon and Choi Seunghyun

Genre: Crime/Mafia/ANGST

Word count: 3,100+

Summary: You joined the police force years ago to help clean up the streets of Seoul and rid the city of organized crime. You’ve seen some shit. You’re surely prepared for anything...but how are you supposed to feel when the big bad crime boss you’ve been after turns out to be a familiar (to say the least) face?

Part 1 Part 2 ... Part 4

Key: Y/L/N- your last name

(A/N: shit is going DOWN...and it is only just beginning)

Everyone in the station was impressed with how quickly your team prepared themselves for Tuesday. Under your direction, the warehouse was bugged that morning, while a group of men were assigned to keep a lookout in an undercover vehicle and monitor recordings. Three separate groups of four; yourself and Seunghyun included, would be ready to storm the building at a moment’s notice.

Having been a part of numerous busts and stakeouts in the past, you felt more than ready for the mission with the utmost confidence in your teammates. The plan was fool proof.

9:35pm

“Van 1: Move in. I repeat: move in. Most of you have done this before but some of you haven’t so I’m going to say this and I’m only going to explain it once: You’ve got to keep a low profile, otherwise any of his men keeping a look out will spot you in a second and give us all away. Do not, I repeat, do NOT let yourselves be seen. Officer Choi and I will be listening to the audio as you all are receiving it and will inform the rest of the officers when the time is right. Report any and everything you see immediately as you see it so the rest of us aren’t going in blind. Is that clear?” You gave your orders through the walkie-talkie while Seunghyun and the rest of your team assumed a low profile in parked cars along side streets.

“Clear. Moving in now.” One of your men responded. You nodded your head silently as you continued to stare forward, waiting.

“Time, Officer Choi.”

“9:39.” He announced, to which you released a deep breath. “All right. In five minutes, we should head in.”

Seunghyun had been visibly anxious for majority of the night thus far. You took notice each time he shifted in his seat, tapped his knuckles on the dashboard and any small twiddle of his thumbs. He was staring out the passenger side window, his left knee bouncing in place, when you offered a conversation starter. “Did you receive thorough simulation training for a night like this at the academy?”

He turned to you with a smirk. “Definitely. I’m ready to get in there.”

You nodded your head with a chuckle, opening your mouth to respond before he beat you to it. “You don’t…uh, I noticed that the station doesn’t have any record of what G-Dragon looks like…is that right?”

You sighed. He’d brought up the one fact that bothered you the most about this case. The piece of information that everyone constantly gave you shit for not possessing. You couldn’t keep your head from dropping slightly and releasing another chuckle.

“That’s right. Our profile regarding his appearance is pretty useless, gathering the little consistencies we’ve managed to find amongst those we’ve rounded up that claim to have seen or worked with him before. In all honesty, I don’t have the slightest clue what this man looks like.” You watched as Seunghyun nodded in response before you continued. “But I’m not worried about it.”

His head tilted slightly. “Why’s that?”

“He’s their boss. Their leader. If this meeting goes down the way Park Jihun leads me to believe it will, it’ll be a no brainer which one is him. He won’t say much, but it’ll be made very clear that he is the only one in that room whose opinion matters.”

He smiled back at you. “That makes perfect sense to me. You know, I noticed that-”

“Senior Y/L/N. Come in.” A transmission over your walkie talkie put an end to your conversation. It was the team responsible for alerting you and your men when the coast was clear.

“What’s going on? What do you see?” You replied hastily.

“Just did a quick scope of the perimeter. At least five men in the basement. We’ve got sight of two we’re suspecting on guard duty on 5th and 6th. But if you and the rest of ours come up from the south side, you should be in the clear with access to windows. Lieutenant Park and his boys will cover the two guards whenever you give word.”

“Copy that. We’re heading in now.” You replied confidently before looking to Seunghyun with raised eyebrows. It appeared Jihun hadn’t bullshitted you two after all.

Everything continued to go according to plan as Seunghyun and your team of four gathered behind a bush near the closest window viewing the basement.

There they were: five men gathered around a table topped with glasses of liquor and ashtrays. Each of them in button ups and suit pants, sporting gold watches. It was a scene straight out of a movie.

From your angle, the only man whose face you could not see was seated at the head of the table; he wore the only blazer and his fingers were decorated in rings.

Bingo.

You didn’t even need to put your ear piece in to tune into the room’s audio to confirm who he was. While the other men sat leaned forward with their fists on the table, he was sitting comfortably slouched to the side of his chair; his left hand supporting his head while his right gripped its side of the chair. You watched intently as he ran his fingers through his slicked, jet black hair while he listened to his men discuss business.

You payed attention to their lips moving long enough for Seunghyun to nudge your right arm. Your head whipped to the side as you made eye contact with him. His hand was holding his ear piece close; the look in his eyes was a silent reminder for you to do the same.

“We’ve got him.” He whispered in a low voice.

You wasted no time in placing your piece in your ear and turning it on. Your heart rate increased as their voices became clear, matching the movement of their lips.

“I’m not saying I think he’s a problem; but he knows we’re not exactly dealing with legitimate businesses here.” The man on the far right corner spoke.

The man opposite to him chuckled, taking a sip from his glass before countering. “Everyone in the goddamn city knows we’re not involved in legitimate businesses.”

“Correct, but he knows a bit more than everyone.” He muttered reluctantly.

“…And what exactly is ‘a bit more?’”

Chills ran up your spine as their boss spoke. It was the first time you’d officially heard G Dragon’s voice and it put your stomach in knots. It was almost familiar.

All of them turned their gazes to him with concerned expressions before the man who brought up the topic replied. “Well…He knows about the rackets, the extortion...the dope.” He said his third point with clear caution, understanding the list was more than enough.

You held your breath as you placed your thumb on the transmission button of your walkie talkie, ready to give the word to your team as soon as G Dragon gave some sort of confirmation to their organized crime.

Just as you heard him let out a chuckle and watched as his shoulders bounced up and down in sync with the sound, a transmission came through the device, making you jump.

“Senior Y/L/N, we might have a problem.” Detective Park whispered amongst the static.

A look of frustration pulled at your eyebrows as you silently suppressed any instinct to panic. He was responsible for watching the men guarding the corners and taking care of them once you gave everyone the signal. What could possibly be going wrong already?

As you pressed the button down and opened your mouth to send a reply, Seunghyun leaned in to interrupt. “I’ll handle it. You keep listening and I’ll be right back.”  

It was an extremely reckless decision to make during a mission as important as this, but there was a look in Seunghyun’s eyes that made you trust him. You just nodded your head as he made a swift break for the outside perimeter and you checked back into their conversation.

“So...what you’re saying is...”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you twice. Fucking handle it, the same way you handled Jongsoo.”

Your eyes widened as the crime boss made a blatant reference to one of the recently slain men. He’d been suspected of working with G Dragon right before his death. You looked to your left and right and met the eyes of the other two men in your group, anxiously awaiting your signal, but saw no sign of your partner.

You sighed, quickly making an executive decision to proceed. But as you pressed your thumb on the button of your walkie talkie, a piercing whistle made itself known from the other side of the building. All three of your heads sprang up, abandoning your watch on the scene in the basement.

“Fuck.” You hissed. There was no mistaking that sound.

Someone had been spotted.

Your eyes darted back to the basement as you noticed everyone remove themselves from their seats, having heard the distress call. The four men shouted to each other, while G Dragon stood in a visibly annoyed stance with his hands on his hips and his head looking down, still with his back turned to you.

“The fucking cops! They found us!”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

“Fucking damnit, GD, what do we do?”

“Whose idea was it to meet in an abandoned warehouse? How suspicious is that?!”

“Would all of you just shut the fuck up?” He announced.

Another shiver ran down your spine as a nervous sweat made itself clear on your forehead. You all needed to act, and you needed to act now.

You stood up and immediately motioned for the two men to follow you while you held your walkie talkie close to your face. “I don’t know what the fuck just happened and why no one informed me exactly what was going on but it is time to move. I don’t care that we’ve been spotted, we need to get in there and we need to get in NOW. Everyone get inside exactly as we planned. Stay alert and stay armed. Report any and everything to me. If I am making myself crystal clear then MOVE.” You urgently gave your orders over the radio as the three of you sprinted to the nearest entrance.

You swung the door open as your two men entered with another team of four; everyone’s pistols were drawn and aimed forward, ready for anything. Nobody was leaving until somebody was put in handcuffs.

Your paces drastically slowed down as the door shut and the darkness of the building swallowed all of you. All that could be heard was breathing, along with muffled yelling in the distance.

“Someone get their damn flashlight out.” You snapped.

As the bare halls and floor beams illuminated before you, another transmission came in; this time it was Seunghyun. “They’re on the ground floor and they’ve disbursed.”

You wasted no time in giving follow-up orders. “All right, separate and cover all walkways. Do not let them flea this building.” You didn’t even bother to take the time to question what your partner had been doing this whole time. Everyone parted ways in pairs of two while you, without thinking, ran forward alone.

You could envision Jiwon’s look of disapproval perfectly once your own breathing was all you could hear and everything in front of you had gone black. You whipped your head in all directions as you walked for what felt like ten minutes until you saw a small light from afar, paired with the sound of voices.

You paced forward with both hands locked on your gun as the sounds became louder. You pulled the hammer back as you approached what you now recognized as a room and made a quick 90 degree turn to enter into its dim lighting.

The room was wide and empty aside from some broken furniture and mounds of dust and cobwebs accompanying them. There were large windows straight ahead of you and openings to the rest of the warehouse on either side of the one you’d entered through. But it wasn’t the layout that caught your attention. It was the out of breath, well-dressed man standing before you; G Dragon himself.

He was standing in one of the more poorly lit areas of the room with his back turned about twenty feet away, but you’d recognized his stature. “Don’t move a fucking muscle!” You warned, announcing your presence as you took aim.

He stayed in place, saying nothing. “Do you fucking hear me?!” You shouted after what felt like too long of a pause.

He released a cynical laugh before slowly turning to face you. “Yeah, yeah, I hear you...”

“I said don’t move a mus...!” You stopped. Your eyes widened and your heart immediately sank as his face finally revealed itself in better lighting.

The familiarity of his voice over the speakers finally made sense as you now heard it in person, clear as day. 

All the intense months you’d spent trying to gain a proper description of his appearance and location flashed before your eyes. No amount of training, or trips to the psychiatrist for that matter, could have prepared you for this moment. Never again did you think you’d see this face, especially not like this.

“J-Ji-...Jiyong?” You questioned with a broken voice as you subconsciously loosened grip on your gun.

The corner of his mouth pulled into its signature shit eating grin. “Hey troublemaker.”

You couldn’t move. All you could do was stare and try to absorb what was absolutely impossible to process. Your chest clenched as anxiety flooded your veins and a million thoughts fired inside your head.

“Wh-…What are you doing? What is this?”

You could barely speak, but you forced it out, knowing just how many people in this building wanted to see the man in front of you…may he be dead or alive.

He merely raised his eyebrows and narrowed his eyes.

You scoffed out of frustration. “So…you’re G-Dragon?”

The words tasted just as bitter as they sounded. For a singular moment in time, you convinced yourself that your head must have slammed against something in the dark, somewhere in the warehouse. This couldn’t be real…you had to be dreaming, and your body was just laying on a floor beam, waiting to be found by your teammates. You refused to believe it...until you heard him laugh.

It wasn’t the same dark, twisted one you’d heard just moments before. It wasn’t “GD.” It was Jiyong…your Jiyong.

He held one hand on his waist, while the back of the other blocked his smile. He was acting like an embarrassed child; and you could hardly handle the memories it brought back.

“I know. I’ve got a lot of explaining to do.” He said to the ground, before locking eyes with you and nodding. “So you really became a cop after all.”

You inhaled sharply, pushing through the tears that had subconsciously flooded your eyes and readjusted grip on your gun. Your chest was heavy as you aimed it towards him. “Don’t fuck with me right now.” His smile fell. “Don’t try to distract me. Don’t try to downplay ANY of this. YOU are a fucking criminal.” You continued, flabbergasted. A few tears fell from your eyes, but you refused to blink. You sniffed and clenched your teeth. “And I’m supposed to take you away in handcuffs.”

His expression darkened. He placed his hands inside his pockets and sighed deeply. “You don’t understa-..”

“Shut up!” You shot back. “Don’t you say another word to me!”

You took a deep breath, trying to ignore how badly your hands were shaking. It felt impossible to maintain any sort of intimidating demeanor. More tears filled your eyes as you grew more frustrated. “Surrender, and come quietly, and no one has to...” 

You’d barely began to state the ultimatum before one of his men flung themselves into the room.

Everything happened so quickly. It could have been thirty seconds for all you know, but it all seemed to pass by in slow motion.

He ran to Jiyong’s side, screaming something unintelligible. Your mind was just barely able to match his face to one from the basement. It was the man who’d sat on the far corner of the table; the one who’d brought up tonight’s topic, and evidently the one who’d felt he had something to prove. 

Your eyes had fully adjusted to the lighting of the room just in time to see the gun in his hand. He’d ran in and immediately pointed the illegal firearm at you with a crazed look in his eyes. You had almost no time to think.

Jiyong bared his teeth, acting fast and grabbing the man by his collar and pulled him towards his face. His expression was scolding as he muttered under his breath.

Your breathing had increased exponentially. “Yah! Drop the gun!” You warned, now pointing yours at the room’s newest occupant.

Jiyong whispered one last thing before letting go of his collar.

“Stop the whispering and drop the gun! This is my last warning!!” Your pulse ricocheted between your ears.

Jiyong looked down to release another sigh before returning his gaze to you. “Y/N.”

Instead of replying, you merely switched aim from his cohort back to him. You felt the sweat begin to drip down your neck. 

His pokerface didn’t falter. “This is nothing personal.”

As you opened your mouth to question him, his henchman quickly took aim once again.

You heard the sound before you felt anything.

BANG! BANG!

You heard the gunshots echo throughout the warehouse as you fell to the ground. You looked down, dropping your own gun, and seeing the pool of crimson red gathering around your right leg. You felt a sensation that could only be described as excruciating, radiating from your kneecap to your ankle. Your breathing was labored, working as hard as possible to keep you conscious. You cried out helplessly.

Your vision blurred as you looked around the room in a panic. The man had fled, but your eyes immediately found Jiyong, who was now climbing out of a window.

He paused to look at you, feebly laying there, with a clear sadness in his eyes. A groan ripped through your chest as you clenched your teeth, trying to bare through the pain. Before disappearing into the night, you saw him look to the hallway behind you; his expression suddenly becoming angry and alert.

You watched him duck out the window frame before you found the strength to scream, releasing every last ounce of energy. “YOU MOTHER FUCKER!”

The last thing you could remember, before surrendering to the agony and losing all consciousness, were Seunghyun’s arms hoisting your body into the air while he shouted for someone to call an ambulance.

[mobbtown-blog1]

Destiny’s child vs. the wu tag clan (fan fiction)

Its been ten years since the release of Destiny’s Child farewell album; Destiny Fulfilled. To celebrate the anniversary, Sony Records booked a concert at the Barclay Center in Brooklyn, New York to celebrate the milestone. The girls, Michelle, Kelly, and Beyonce had not performed with each other since the Super Bowl 47 Half time show in 2013 Where the Ravens beat the 49ers. Kelly was building an international fan base with her dance club vibe. Beyonce just shocked the world with a self financed secretly released visual album and Michelle just got her eyebrows waxed at the mall. The ladies were picked up from their hotel in Williamsburg and shuttled over to the arena, by limo, early in the morning.

Their liaison, Eduardo De La Mucho, met the trio and scuttled them through the parking lot into the back entrance past an already burgeoning crowd of fans camping out in tents, sleeping bags, and trailers all decorated with images of the girls singing and whirling amiss airbrush images of the Milky Way. Although, the girls were inconspicuously dressed in trench coats, dark shoes and a vail of nondescript ball caps; they failed to allude their voracious fans, yelling and jockeying for their attention: “Kelly, I love you girl, keep repping for us co-co skin sistas, girl!” “Bey!! Bey!! Bey!! I love you Bae!!” Oh girl I wish I was you girl, I do, cept, I wouldn’t be with no damn Jay-Z, doe, girl! I know he got all the money but I couldn’t, with his camel lookin’ ass!! “Blue Ivy cute and all, but bestiality is a crime against God and nature, girl!” “Michelle…Michelle… it’s me yo cousin Sweet Meat, your mother said give her a call, your half of the cell phone bill is due. She said,If you ain’t wanna do your part, you shouldn’t have signed up for the framily plan, Michelle.”

Once inside they meet up with their celebrity Manager, Nigel Cumberbatch, E! corespondent and first cousin of actor Benedict Cumberbatch.

“Hello, Nigel, you look marvelous, darling.” purred Michelle.

“That’s because I’m looking at you, love."

They embrace and share a friendly kiss on both cheeks.

"A little sugar with my mocha always gets me up in the morning, love.”

“Oh, stop it.”

I can’t, love, you’ve already got me started.“

"Why are you here so early? you’re not due in until this afternoon for sound check.:” asked a quizzical Beyonce.

“I had an interview for the network  with the cast of "Real Housewives of Rikers Island. Since i’m in the neighborhood why not stop by.”

“Who knew a show about prison man-wives would be so incredibly popular?” said Michelle.

“Yes, well you take the momentum of the Real housewives brand, everyone’s obsession with queer culture, and mix it up with the urban grittiness of prison life and you’ve got a ratings juggernaut. This show is literally too gay to fail.”  Nigel said with a wry smirk.

“Speaking of…” free falling into cursory though.

“Where is MY personal assistant? He was supposed to come in early this morning and set up your dressing rooms.

I’ve been texting him since six to no avail.” said the liaison, who up until this point had been quietly busying himself updating the Destiny Child website. Actually, that’s what he was supposed to be doing. He’d finished all of that an hour ago. At this point he was trolling Tinder and Grinder for any hot clerks around the arena who may be cleaning out the bathrooms or working the hot dog stand.  

“So who decorated the dressing rooms?” asked Nigel

“I did,” cheered Michelle.

“Shelly, You didn’t have to do this.” said Beyonce, nonplussed.

“Just happy to help, guys."

"That’s peculiar, I just spoke with Kevin last night. Everything seemed fine. I hope nothing happened to him.” Stated Nigel with model concern.

“Kel-vin’s a really sweet guy.” said Michelle, exerting extra effort on the “elvin” in a subtle attempt to correct Nigel on his mispronunciation of the interns name.    

“Yes,” replied Nigel picking up the clue.

“Kelvin, stopped taking his Wellbutrin ever since he didn’t get that callback for the live action Jem and the Holograms movie, Truly Outrageous. Very dissonant murmurs of suicide,and not Facebook suicide, real life suicide.”

“I’m sure it will work out. Things always work out; at least for me they do.” reasoned Beyonce

“Do you like the wall draping Bey?” Asked Michelle

“I got them in Beijing. They’re fresh spun silk from virgin worms. The color is called Red Velvet.”

“Like the cake?” asked Beyonce.

“Just like the cake.” answered Michelle.

“Lets blow out these $5,000, diamond studded, champagne scented candles and adjourn to the stage.” Nigel blows out one and speaks before whistling out the other Luxury Soy Candle.

“Let’s save the fire for the stage, shall we?”

The girls traverse the corridor and Kelly lets loose a sly chortle.

“Hey guys, you ever see that movie "This is Spinal Tap? It used to come on t.v. all the time.”

“I don’t own a t.v.” Sulked Michelle.

“I own a t.v.,I mean I own like ten of them, but I’m so busy being on t.v. that I guess i really don’t have time to watch t.v.” said Beyonce

“Why do you ask?"

"There’s this scene where the band is trying to get to the stage but they keep getting lost, in like, a labyrinth of corridors. It’s hilarious” Kelly said with glee.

“Getting lost isn’t funny.” Warned Beyonce

“Getting lost is scary.” Said Michelle with a passive whine.

The girls took position and the sound engineer qued the instrumental track for the albums biggest hit; “Lose My Breath”.

Practice plodded on for an hour and it was clear the girls were out of sync since the year and some change they performed on that triumphant day the Baltimore Ravens won the shit out of Super Bowl 47.

“Alright darlings,” cringed Nigel. “this officially an Asian car crash. Let’s take a ten and regroup, yes?"

"I’ll make a coffee run. What do you want?” asked Eduardo.

“I’ll have a grande black tea with lemon and honey.” said Michelle.

“I’ll have a vente soy half calf latte; one Splenda. beckoned  Beyonce.

"I want a low-fat caramel Macchiatto, extra caramel.” replied Kelly with precocious joy.

Nigel glared at Kelly with noted incredulity.

“What?!? I’m making up for the extra caramel by getting low fat milk! balked Kelly.

Nigel exhaled dramatically, raised his trademark eyebrow, and crossed his arms in protest.

"Fine, the regular amount of caramel.” she responded with a pout.

Nigel frowned and nodded in continued discontent.

“No caramel?!”

Nigel smiled tightly and nodded in approval.

“Fine,” Kelly snapped back and smirked.

“But, after the show, I’m gonna have a caramel AND a Vanilla cappuccino.

Suddenly the overhead lights shut off leaving the girls awash in darkness. The shrieking sound of maniacal screams echoed through the arena.

As quickly as the lights wiped out; the overhead spot pierced through the sheet of onyx to reveal an upstage silhouette creeping through the shadows.  

"Help!” shrieked Michelle, reduced to tears; cradling herself on the floor. “I’ve been molested.” she babbled.

“Look!” squawked Beyonce. “There’s a mysterious silhouette lurking in the shadows!”

“Let’s get him!” Nigel rallied Eduardo; they ran to apprehend the mysterious figure.  

Eduardo and Nigel cornered and captured what appeared to be the Brooklyn Nets mascot, The Brooklyn Knight.

“Is that the Brooklyn Nets mascot, the Brooklyn Knight?” queried Kelly.

“Yes.It is.” Answered Eduardo, frankly.    

“See?"Eduardo blithely snatched the head off the anonymous violator and turned to face the appalled crowd. "It’s a mask”

Kelly interjected.

“Look guys!” she directed everyone’s attention to the unmasked marauder.

“It’s Papa Knowles”

“Daddy!” Beyonce said shocked and repulsed.

“Why are you dressed up as the Brooklyn Knight, and why are you molesting people?” she asked puzzled and disgusted.

Papa Knowles lifted his head crowned in shame. He blathered.

“I’m sorry girls, I didn’t mean to scare ya’ll and fondle Michelle. I just like to show up to ya’ll shows and push Michelle. It’s how I get my jollies these days."

"See, I told you all I was pushed at the Super Bowl.” said Michelle defensively.

“I really didn’t want to touch you in your nether regions Michelle, I just got disassembled in the darkness.” He whimpered.

“So it wasn’t you who cut the lights off, Daddy”

“No It was not,Bey. Now I really should go because this is more embarrassing than that time I got caught impregnating another woman while still being married to your mother. Can I be your manager again Bey?"

"No, daddy.”

“Well can you call me a cab?”

Just then the lights went black again and a tremulous baritone polluted the stage. When the lights came to, Papa Knowles lay slain in Nigel’s arms.

“Oh, my gawd, he’s, he’s, he’s dead!"

Oddly, the women bellowed this refrain in perfect three part harmony.

Before the women had a chance to mourn their former mentor, a thick tide of smoke came pouring out from the audience. Beyonce noted the pungent aroma.

"It smells like burning pine needles.” Said Beyonce.

“It smells like Snoop Dogg’s dressing room. Said Kelly.

"It smells like the BET Awards” Said Nigel.

“It smell like weed.” said Eduardo.

“Bong, Bong, my luscious song birds, what it do beautiful?”

crooned method Man.

“Oh my goodness, It’s the Wu-Tang Clan!” said Michelle.

All eight remaining members stood arms akimbo, blunts in mouth, side by side, triumphantly.

“What are you guys doing here?"

"We were in town shooting a new Tyler Perry movie,” intoned a severely herbalized Raekwon.

"Medea Joins the Wu-Tang Clan.“ Howled a blazed out Ghostface Killa.

"Yeah we got a summons on a terrestrial plane that your chi was being disrupted, so we teleported over here to to dissect the math, my queen."

"See that’s why you my favorite Rza, cause everything you say is confusing, but it sounds lyrical, so it must be poetry.” said Kelly, coquettishly.  

“Well we have a show tonight and I shouldn’t have to perform under these conditions. I’m light skinned; I woke up like this.” Petitioned Beyonce.

“My experience as an Inspector has taught me that the best way to apprehend a culprit is to divide into groups and explore the area in quadrants, that way we cover the most amount of ground in a shorter amount of time.” Theorized the Rebel INS a.k.a. Inspeckta Deck.“

"Are you really even an actual inspector, like my first cousin Benedict Cumberbatch, star of the British series, Sherlock?"

"No, but I’ve seen all the Scooby Doo mysteries.”

“How about the Shaggy Doo spin off?”

“Those too.”

“Alright people, listen to this man!"

The Inspeckta divided everyone into clusters and assigned them to different sections of the Barclay Center. They all splintered off and left Papa Knowles festering on the stage in a puddle of his own blood and guts. Eventually morphing into twinkling embers and ascending into the rafters.

Although everyone was supposed to  be hunting down the cloaked culprit, mainly they all just got high and passed out by the concession stand. Beyonce woke up separated from her group and worried the solitude would mark her as easy prey. She trundled the hollow corridor in search of her musical companions. She pressed past a set of doors and tripped over a prop surfboard. When she regained her footing she stood up and locked eyes with:

"Ol’ Dirty Bastard!!”

“How do you do, Miss Beyonce?”

“Oh, shit, ODB, What are you doing here?”

“Oh you know what this is.We in Brooklyn, I’m from Brooklyn, even in death I muthafuckin rep Brooklyn to the fullest!!”

“Are you the one that’s sabotaging our show and killed my daddy?”

“I don’t even understand what you is asking me right now, and what is you doing wit dat surfboard?”

“Yonce blushed and dropped the surfboard. The blunt thud temporarily ceased the awkward silence and offered a chance for Yonce to recover.

"Would you be interested in performing a guest verse during our show tonight?”

"But I'ma ghost. How is you gonna pass some shit like that off to the crowd?“

"We’ll tell everyone you’re a hologram, like they did with 2 Pac at  Coachella.”

“Yeah, Baby, I’m wit it, but I’m a spirit trapped in the astral plane. In order to cross over to the lucid world I must leave your cerebrum and enter through your body.”

“O.k….Wait. Enter my body; is this ghost sex?”

“No! My inserting myself in your scrumptious body has nothing at all to do with sex.”

“O.k.,Well I guess it’s O.K. then.”

Beyonce takes the ODB into her body and his aura causes her body to rupture and shake.  

As her body continues to tremble she feels a firm grip on her shoulders rattling her back to consciousness.

“Bey, It’s like ten minutes to curtain. Are you o.k. to perform?

Beyonce took a second to consider if what just conspired actually happened or if it was just a by product of too much Loud.

The curtain rose to thunderous applause as the overhead announcer introduced the sensual sirens of R&B.

"Ladies and gentlemen I’d like to introduce ya’ll to a very special and unexpected guest…"

The crowds excitement could barely be contained the volume  threatening to reduce the Barkley Center to rubble.

The uproar bled beyond the building, pouring out into the parking lot causing cars and their alarms to rattle and hum. Among the parked vehicles sat a late model yellow checker cab with its wheel man standing astride the driver side door frame. He wore a tattered army jacket, dark aviator sunglasses, and his hair was cut into a Mohawk. It was ancillary Wu-Tang Clan member Cappadonna . He waived his arm in the air and a giant blunt shot from his sleeve. He lit the "L” and inhaled deeply. He moved to the trunk of the cab and opened it up. Kelvin was hog tied and crying on top of a spare tire. Cappuccino, as he was sometimes known, blew second hand blunt smoke into Kelvins face and slammed the trunk. He jumped back into the drivers seat and took another pull of the blunt before turning on the ignition and driving off into the twilight.

1 NOTE

DESTINYSCHILD

WUTANGCLAN

FANFICTION

BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH

SCOOBYDOO

SHORTSTORY

DESTINYSCHILDVSWUTANGCLAN

BROOKLYN

BARCLAYCENTER

MARCH 7, 2014

10:43 PM

mea culpa by mike smith

I heard you got yourself a new man, and living in a cabin upstate in the woods. You always hated the smog of the city,baby. I hope the fresh air is treating you good.

1 NOTE

FLASHFICTION

SHORTSTORY

EXTREME

POETRY

POEM

CREATIVE WRITING

MARCH 4, 2014

9:57 PM

Do what thou wilt by: Mike Smith

She always peeling my scabs for blood

shes always testing me to see what im scared of

she don’t believe in God

she’s always on her knees but

she’s not praying to me

I saw her lurk in the dark

she’s got a sample of

my specimen in his and her dolls

She wears a mask like Norma Jean

She sleeps with one eye open and she keeps it on me

She’s Madonna post 1993

She’s a scene

She thinks she’s Alister Crowley

She’s reality T.V.

She howls during sex

She talks with an S

She’s my Queen

So if you see me in a graveyard mumbling a poem

by a bard back from 1719

just recognize it’s not me

i’m possessed by my bitch

oh my Lord

She worships Satan