#flexed and the sleeves fell off lol

[readerleedigest]

Laugh

TICKLE FIC BELOW.... Finally wrote something lol. It may be trash though.

“Oh my gohohosh,” you laughed, wiping a tear of laughter from your eye. “You all are sohoho stupid.”

“Are not!” Eddie protested, shoving Steve. “He’s the only stupid one. You can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it before—“

You were laughing so hard you almost didn’t see Nancy pick up the phone. She looked concerned, and waved at you to get your attention.

“It’s your mom,” she whispered, cupping a hand over the mouthpiece. “She doesn’t sound happy.”

You grimaced. You’d had a feeling your mom wasn’t thrilled recently, with life, with you, with all of it. This wasn’t likely to end well.

“Hey mom,” you started, taking the phone from Nancy and smiling as she gave you a sympathetic nod before rejoining the boys conversation. “I was planning on coming home in a few, what’s up?”

“Oh, wow. Finally coming home, huh? To do what? You didn’t do the dishes before you left, I doubt you’ll do them when you come back. No no, enjoy your time with your friends, why do anything for your mom, right?”

“You never… you never asked me to do the dishes…”

“I feel pretty sure I did, Y/N.”

“I’ll do them when I get home, I promise, okay? What did you need?”

“Well, an apology would be nice.”

You let out an inaudible sigh.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do the dishes, okay? Is that all?”

“No. I need you to take your brother to and from school tomorrow. I’ve got a meeting early and I won’t be able to.”

“But Mom, I told you last week I had that conference this weekend I’d been wanting to go to. I’m supposed to leave tomorrow morning.”

“I don’t remember you saying that.”

“Well,” your voice cracked, frustration tightening your chest. “I did. I can’t take Sam tomorrow.”

“You can, and you will. It’s just a conference, you can afford to be a little late.”

Silence. You tried to breathe, purposefully not looking at your friends who were pretending not to be listening to you.

“No.”

Now it was your mom’s turn to be silent for a moment.

“No?! Are you kidding me right now, Y/N L/N? What, so I can never rely on you for anything now? Living your own life, without your family, being an IDIOT with your friends—“

“That’s NOT what I’m saying. I’m just saying—“

“I think that’s exactly what you’re saying.”

“Well, then I guess that’s your fault.”

You hung up the receiver, staring at it blankly as you breathed heavily, a sob slowly lodging in your throat. You looked up at your friends, back at the phone.

It was too hot in this basement.

Quickly, you walked up the stairs and fumbled with the front door handle. The cool autumn night air gave you clarity, for only a moment, before you broke down.

It was the kind of crying that you couldn’t control, created by pent up frustration and wild crazy emotions that raged and beat against your chest.

You were exhausted.

You were relieved.

You… couldn’t believe you’d hung up on her.

She was going to yell when you got home.

The tears slowed, replaced by the dread and guilt that ate away at your gut. And you hated it.

Slowly, but surely, you wiped your eyes on your sleeves and steadied your breathing. You’d have hours to cool off and so would she. You’d get home, do the dishes, and everything would be fine.

You hoped.

A quiet conversation had started in the basement in your absence, and you did your best to ignore the way it paused when you went back downstairs, your face splotchy and eyes red.

Sinking down into the couch, you stared at the rug until the patterns made no more sense.

“Hey, Y/N. Did you get tickets?” Steve asked. Robin sighed and facepalmed, but genuinely confused, you fell for it.

“To what?”

“To the gun show,” he and Eddie both chimed, comically flexing their biceps and wagging their eyebrows.

You huffed out some air, a weak smile surfacing, but no more.

“Aw come on, that was a good one,” Steve whined, scooching over so he was sitting in the floor in front of you.

“Sorry,” you shrugged. You were tired, and all your emotions just felt kind of... dimmed. It really had been funny, but you just didn’t want to laugh.

Eddie plopped himself beside you on the couch. “Did I ever tell you about the time I played with a band in the middle school talent show?”

“No,” you responded at the same time Robin chimed, “Yes.” She then quickly corrected herself, saying, “But it’s been a while.”

“Well,” Eddie began, leaning in towards you. “It all started because...”

Eddie began detailing the story of how their drummer had managed to flip a drumstick into his own eye just minutes before the talent show, and how he’d forced the drummer to wear an eyepatch they’d found in the theatre department.

It was a funny story. Really. But you just didn’t laugh.

You saw Eddie’s eyes reflect a sort of defeat as his voice faded, ending his story. You felt bad. You knew they were trying to cheer you up, but it just wasn’t working.

And then Nancy rested her chin on your head from her position behind you, and you felt the tears spring into your eyes again.

Why couldn’t you just be happy for your friends?

Unbeknownst to you, Robin had seen the way your face fell, and quickly sprang to action, doing the one thing she knew never failed to lighten your mood.

Scaring Steve.

He’d been in the middle of describing the massive poster Dustin had made for some project, his arms up and out in the air. Robin launched herself forward, her hands landing on Steve’s sides and squeezing rapidly.

“--and I said, DustINAHAHAHAHA! ROBIN!”

You couldn’t help it. A smile fought it’s way onto your face, as did a small blush.

Robin relented quickly, her mission accomplished, ruffling Steve’s hair as she pulled away.

“Whahat the hell, Buckley?”

“Sorry Steve, but it was the only way to make Y/N smile,” Robin laughed. 

“If you wanted to make them smile, why did you tickle me?” 

Your blush grew as Steve and Robin paused, stared at each other, and then turned to look at you.

“He’s got a point, Y/N. What do you say? You gonna laugh for us?”

“Ihihi-- I can’t juhuhust laugh on command,” you stammered, giggling a little.

“Well,” Steve smirked. “What are friends for?”

Steve grabbed your feet from where they rested on the couch, pulling you down into the floor quickly with him and Robin, who had you corned in the crook of the wraparound couch.

“Where should we start?” Steve asked. Robin opened her mouth to respond, but Steve shushed her, looking directly at you. “I’m not asking you, Buckley. I’m asking you, Y/N.”

“Nowhere?” you shrugged, eyes glancing at where his hands rested on your knees, then wrapping your arms over your stomach and sides.

“Bingo,” Robin sang. 

Suddenly, Eddie’s hands were grabbing your own, pulling them up and out of the way just long enough for Steve and Robin to begin their work.

You screeched when Steve zeroed in on your sides, squeezing them rapidly like Robin did to him. Meanwhile, Robin was spidering her fingers over your midsection, throwing random pokes you tried desperately to block now that Eddie had released your hands again. 

“NAHAHA STAHAHAP!”

“Mmmmm.... no,” Steve teased, his hands spidering up from your sides and onto your neck, making you squeak and sink downwards, your head getting closer and closer to the floor.

“Aww, how nice of you, Y/N. Making it easier for us to tickle you,” Robin chuckled, straddling your waist.

“GEHEHET OFF!”

 Steve leaned in, brushing your hair out of your eyes. He looked at you calculatingly as you giggled and flinched away from the ticklish hands. He tilted his head, and grinned.

“They were outside for what? Five minutes?”

“Yeah, about that,” Nancy chimed.

“Well then, I’d say five minutes of sad pouty Y/N deserves five minutes of giggles and tickles Y/N, right?”

“IHIHIHIHI’LL DIEHIEHIE!” You protested through laughter, attempting to curl in on yourself as Robin shook her hands into the center of your stomach.

“Of happiness!” Eddie added, unhelpfully.

You didn’t die. But you sure did laugh a lot more the rest of the evening.

[noblesixjm04]

I Cried To The Devil

Pairing: N/A

Characters: Reader. Elite warrior.

Reader type:Gender neutral.

Song:Rainbow Kitten Surprise - Devil like me.

Warnings: Mentions of blood. Swearing. The like.

An: I had this stuck in my head. Hope y'all enjoy! Also idk how old elites live to be so uhh. Dudes gonna be over one hundred and we'll pretend that's normal for stories sake lol. And that the ending makes sense.

You woke with a jolt. Your mind swimming from the blast that thrown you back. You don't remember much after that other than the pain. The ringing in your ears. Still it is present. Deafening in the silence surrounding you.

Your eyes open greeted with the sight of the rising sun. A soft yellow light bathing your armor clad body. The black fabrics soaking in the warmth against the frigid chill of the forest.

With your arm trembling you bring your hand forward. Catching glimpses of the forests canopy between the gaps of your fingers. Your hand is free if it's normal glove. Lost from when you pulled it off to better grip the Worthogs fallen key.

Blood sluggishly runs in rivlets down your hand disappearing in the dark fabric of your sleeve. Your pinky is crooked and garishly bruised. The entire finger and half your palm aches with a rhythmic pulse of pain.

You wheeze in a harsh breath when you flex your fingers. Hot tears pooling in your eyes.

Bad idea. Bad fucking idea.

Your glance to your left and subsequently at the Worthog as well. The front damn near unrecognizable.

You draw your other hand up to it. Tentatively touching your finger tips to the middle. A quick tap then a firmer press once your realized the metal was no longer hot.

Air hisses between your teeth as you hoist yourself to your feet. You stagger as the ground sways beneath your feet. Your stomach lurching into your throat as the ringing in your ears doubled an octave or two.

You squeeze your eyes shut. Draw in one shallow breath after another. Dully making note of the pain in your sides. With any luck it was just heavy bruising. You didn't want to deal with a punctured lung.

Slowly. Very slowly the world stills and you're able to open your eyes. The forest surrounds you on all sides. Dark and looming in it's vastness. Gone is the worn road you traveled between bases to. A curse falls from your lips. Then another. And another. Quiet and timid. As if talking louder would solidify where you were.

"Briggs?" You cough on the name. Throat hoarse and dry. You try again. Another name. "Winston?" You cough again. Your mouth wets. Spills on your lips. You brush your fingers against them.

They come back scarlet.

A million thoughts filter through. Dread pooling in you stomach as every warning bell in your body rings.

You promised her. You promised her you would come back.

You look around. Leaning heavily on the fallen Worthog and attempt to tamp down your growing panic.

Ok. Try to find Briggs and Winston.

You take a tentative step forward leaning your weight against the Worthog. The vehicle lays on it's side.

"Briggs c'mon." A wheeze in. "Now would be a good time." A wheeze out. "For one of your shitty jokes." Your right side ached. Burned. Grew hot with spreading pain.

As you rounded the other side a cry stuck in your throat. Nothing. No one. You tumbled to your knees grass threading between your fingers.

Everything became to real. To crisp. Your eyes followed the path of a dew drop. Caressing the blade of grass before dropping on your hand.

Your breathing shortened as the pressure grew. A lump forming in your throat.

Your began to drop gear. Letting it drop to the forest floor piece by piece. Nails scrapped at your throat as you tried to breathe.

Just fucking breathe.

It hit. Cold and Sharon.

Crawling forward your reached for the nearest bottle of water. You sat. Twisted the top off and drank greedily. Desperate and yearning. You coughed and sputtered the moment it went down wrong. Pain echoing thought your body. From head to toe like falling dominos.

Air left your lungs in one fell swoop. A cry of pain following behind it. You first the fabric of your shirt with your good hand. The other limp and your side.

Are. Are you going to die here?

You dug for the radio. Throwing out MREs and Briggs damned tapes. The radio all but fell into your hands. The hard metal corners digging into your palms as you set it down next to your side.

Quickly you clicked it in. Filtering through channel after channel.

Nothing. Silence. Not even dead air. Desperate you call for help anyways. Leaving your last known location.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Anyone.

Anything.

It hits you like Moses to the rock. You were alone. Truly and absolutely alone. No one is coming back for you. And it's even more likely that no one even knows.

They won't until they're to busy with the Covenant that blasted you and your friends off the road.

If they're alive.

If Briggs and Winston hadn't been dragged off to be interrogated. If they even managed to make it that far. The trek back to either base was a long one.

You stared upwards. Watched the tree tops sway with the breeze. The planet was growing warmer as time passed.

How long had you been out for? A few hours maybe. It had been early morning when the explosion happened. Three maybe four in the morning.

Then why couldn't you hear anything? No yelling. Screaming. The crack of gunfire. The smell of gunpowder and heated plasma would have. Should have carries this far.

With that thought your studied the scene around you. The fallen Worthog. The gassed spilled into the grass. The MREs scattered about. The top half of your armor that held dents and scraps from the blast.

Other than that nothing. The disturbed dirt from the Worthogs landing. But. No blood. No signs of a struggle.

Just Winston's helmet. The rocket scratched and rubbed away with wear and tear. You pull that into your lap. Stare at it.

Did they leave you here? Did they die in the blast? The helmet falls from your grasp. Oh Gods. Bile welled in your throat. Burning and acidic. What would you tell his Wife? His son. God his wife just had the twins.

Could you really tell them that he died? If he died?

Your head tilted skywards. Throat tight. You don't think you could look his wife in the eyes. Didn't want to see the glossed look they would take. The paleing of her face. The kid. God the kid would just break. Loosing his dad.

You pulled yourself to your feet using the Worthog to steady yourself. Eyes focused on some distant tree. Pushing yourself off the Worthog you walked in a shamble. You would walk back to one of the bases. Crawl if you had to.

Anything to find out where they were.

You promised her. Them.

You all would come back.

.

.

.

Coming back was in the form of you wanting to fall apart. Chest heaving with every breath and your shirt soaked in sweat. Clinging to your skin and leaving you itchy.

You hears nothing the entire time. No flying overhead. Enemy nor Ally. No crack of guns or explosives. No calling out from either side.

Not even the wildlife made noise. Silence rung in your ears. You hears nothing but the noises of your own making.

You paused. Leaned against a tree. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. Like a heavy weight settling more and more firmly on your chest with every exhale.

On occasion you tasted metal. And chalked that up to the fact you bit your cheek when you were thrown back.

You had nothing beyond the standard issued magnum everyone carried. Gripping it tightly with one hand. The other being used to steady yourself as you walked.

The sun was high overhead at this point. You were only saved from it by the thick canopy of trees. The occasional patch of light would shine through. Despite the shade you were hot. Sweating. Mouth dry and your body cried out for water.

Your legs gave out on your next step. Hitting the ground hard enough for your teeth to clatter in your skull. You swore. Coughed harshly and swore again. High pitched keens left your throat as your body light on fire.

Pain shot through top to bottom. It ran like electricity. Made your eyes blur with unshed tears.

For a brief moment you just laid there. Heart pounding in your chest. Cheek pressed to the forest floor.

When you eventually pulled yourself up to sit small pebbles stuck to your skin. Your shirt coated in dirt and twigs.

You said nothing. Did nothing. Just. Breathed. Your body seeming to sink down into the earth as your eyes grew heavy. And for a moment. Closed.

.

.

.

A branch snapped to the front of you. Your body jolted. Hands shaking as you went from resting to being fully alert and aware of everything at once.

You held the pistol in front of you. Thumbing the safety off as you held you finger away from the trigger but close enough to fire if it wasn't a friend. You could see nothing. Dense brush obscuring whatever was on the other side.

Everything screamed in you to just quite. Lower your arms. Tired. God you were tired.

There was nothing at first. The moment stilled long enough for you to assume it was the local wildlife. Something not to worrying.

Until he stepped though.

A large muscle bound leg covered in grey armor. Followed by his hips and an arm. Until his head finally popped through.

His hand was pressed firmly to his torso. Blood spilled between his fingers. His torso and leg covered in it. Amor missing from where he was hurt.

"Fuck." It left your lips in a wheeze. Still you held your gun in front of you. Arms trembling as if it was the heaviest thing you've every held.

The Elite met your eyes. Shook his head. And sat across from you. The handle of an energy sword left his other hand. Something you hadn't noticed at first.

Still. You held the gun. The sights on his armorless head.

"Stay like that if it makes you feel safe. Just know, I will not be fighting this night anymore." He spoke after a moment.Voice ragged and harsh. His own eyes looking you up and down. His head tilted. "You are injured as well?" You said nothing. Held your gun.

He looked upwards. Sighed.

You waited. Waited to see if he would move. Strike. If this was some weird ploy or trick.

Eventually gravity won. You were to weak to hold the gun up any longer. Instead you held it in your lap. Eyed the Elite in front of you.

You drew in a laboured breath. Struggling to pull in even the smallest amount of air. That got his attention. Watching you as you coughed and choked on seemingly nothing.

He said nothing as you gathered yourself. Your eyes squeezed shut as you realized what had happened. What was going on. The thing you dearly hoped hadn't happened.

"Does your kind fear death Covie?" You looked to the Elite. His mandibles flared. The muscles in his arms flexing as he moved himself.

"No." He spoke. "We face it with honor. Greet it as we walk the path. There is no dishonor in dying." His head tilted. Breathing just as laboured as yours. "And you human? Does your kind fear death?" You snorted.

"Ya. Most do. No one really wants to die." The gun falls from your grasp. No longer did you have the strength to hold it.

"Do you then?" His arm fell. Blood oozed from the wound. To thick to fully coagulate in the open air.

"No. Not really. Not the actual dying anyways." Your cut off as you cough again. A thick mucus spilling from your throat. It's bloody as you spit it out. You look to him. "It's the being alone part that gets me."

It's getting hard to speak.

Silence falls between you. You flex the fingers with your non injured hand. The skin loosing color with every passing minute. It feels like ice when you press it to your cheek.

You glass up to the Elite. His eyes trained on you. Something on his face is. Is almost soft. Sad? Maybe that is the word. You can't tell anymore.

"Human?" Your head jolts when he speaks.

"Mhm. What?" It comes out slow. Becoming harder to move your tongue. As if it were swollen or numb.

"I asked how old you were. You seem young. Even for your own kind." You scoff as this. Your head falls to the left and you right yourself. Jerking as if you had just fallen asleep.

"M'nineteen." The words slurs together. Weird even to your own ears. "N'you?" You ask.

"One hundred and twenty three by your terms." He shifts and you laugh.

"Fuck your old." You give a hiccuping laugh. A sob stuck in your throat. Why do you feel like this? Body sluggish and heavy. Cold and warm at the same time. "M'friends left me. Ya know? Left me." Something rolls down your cheeks. Hot as it trail downwards. Cools as evening air takes it away.

"And you a very young." The Elite is in front of you before you register it. A quick blink of your eyes turned a minute long. His large body sets next to yours. "And those are not good. Friends. As you call them." You say nothing. Lay your head back.

There is a disdain in his voice when the Elite next speaks. "Truly. They let you fight?" You laugh. Smack his arm as if he was a friend.

"M'hmm. Gotta fight you guys. Cuz y'all wanna kill us." Still. The tears fall. "M'sister. She's. She's gonna. She." You can't get the words out. Don't want to speak them. Don't want to make it true.

"I joined. To keep her safe." You can't pull in air any more. "Will. Will you stay." You ask him. The Elite says nothing.

"I told you already. I can no longer fight this night." You find yourself resting against him. Hands trembling in your lap. You can't focus you sight on anything anymore. Everything blurring as seeming to drain if color slowly.

A hand rests on your knee. Engulfs it. "Rest. And walk your path." You don't understand what he means. Barley even register that he spoke. Already you were swimming downwards. Falling into a deep sleep.

[sexybread-png]

[gayregis]

is it weird to think of back in black as a geralt song

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

dreaming in reality, m | myg, jjk

pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: The wrong guy shows up in your car – Jeon Jungkook. Again. He’s less drunk this time, but no less weird. Then the right guy shows up. Min Yoongi. You know, the guy you fucked in Jungkook’s bed that one time. Guess he can convince you to do anything. Like, say, take Jungkook’s virginity. Don’t worry, he’ll help.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, tiny bit of crack; alcohol consumption; violence? someone gets slapped lol; technically Jungkook’s first time; smut (fem reader, threesome, slightly degrading dirty talk, nipple play, fingering, f-receiving oral, penetrative sex, partial handjob); non-idol!AU - friends with benefits / lovers? with Yoongi; Yoongi is a very bad boy and he knows it; JK is blond and wearing his ‘ON’ and ‘Dynamite’ GDA 2021 outfits (except w/o the white blazer)

a–dick–ted au yes that’s what I’ve decided to call this this was supposed to be just more Yoongi smut but then Jungkook decided he’d like this to be about him, what can you do?

--

"Can you pick me up tonight?"

"Mhm. What are you wearing?"

A deep chuckle. "Eager to undress me?"

"I'm doing you a favor. There's no guarantee you'll get more than that."

"Hmmm." That low raspy voice did not believe you. "White dress shirt, black jeans. Can't miss me."

He hung up. 

White shirt, black jeans. You remembered to lock your car doors this time, so you turned around to press the button so he could get in. The door opened and the young man slid inside, reeking of alcohol. Wait. Some kind of belt harness around a thin waist. Ashy blond hair. Hand tattoos. Thick thighs. Chiseled jaw.

Fuck!

Again?

"I need to talk to you, noona."

"Get out."

Jeon Jungkook was not as drunk as before. He was definitely drunk, but not piss drunk like last time. His eyes were unfocused and he was nervously biting his pink lower lip. The mole underneath bounced up and down as he chewed it mercilessly. He swallowed and undid the first few buttons of his shirt, revealing his tan, muscular pecs. Oh, thank the Lord, Jungkook remembered to wear a shirt underneath, although it was a very low-cut white t-shirt. He kept running his hand through his currently blond hair tensely, revealing the shadow root. Well, it was well done at least. He had a good hairstylist. You hadn't realized Jungkook changed it, so he must have done it recently.

Probably to get attention and remind every human being that he was hot.

Blergh.

You still weren't convinced he wasn't a dirty little fuckboy.

"Why are you sitting in my car showing off your nervous ticks?" you said irritably.

"I gotta ask you something."

His black boots were a little dirty from the party. Outside, the drunks were as loud as ever, with the same seven girls on the porch craning their heads to gawk at Jungkook in your car. Different house, same scene, and drunk Jeon Jungkook sitting in your passenger's seat, once again being the wrong guy sauntering into your car. 

Where the fuck was the correct guy?

"Look, psycho, fucking spit it out or yeet. I'm not repeating what happened last time."

Jungkook's dark brown eyes flickered to you, turning his body to face yours. Running his tattooed right hand through his bleached hair over and over, spreading the golden strands, the ashy tone catching the low light of the lampposts. Jaw flexed, tiny pink tongue darting out and licking his lips. He was a little sweaty, cheeks hollowed in a little with how hard he was breathing. 

You raised an eyebrow. 

"You have ten seconds before I kick you out and believe me when I say I have leg strength."

"Are you and Yoongi-hyung dating?" Jungkook asked suddenly. 

What?

"What?"

You made a face at him.

He sucked in a breath, brows furrowing at your response. “Because I could have sworn…”

Your mind flickered back to that faithful night. Shit. You shouldn’t have let Min Yoongi convince you to sleep right there in Jungkook’s apartment. You remembered his wicked smirk, his deep, raspy voice in your ear, Jungkook’s not going to know and don’t you want to do bad things with me? Don’t you want to be bad with me? He could make you do anything at this point. You two fell asleep on Jungkook’s bed. Next to hungover Jungkook.

Naked.

You mentally slapped yourself.

“What made you come to that conclusion?” you snapped, narrowing your eyes.

Jungkook tilted his head, sucking in his cheek. It made a sharp sound and his tongue flashed against his white teeth for a split second. You almost flinched. He pursed his lips and kept his gaze on you. You were wearing a tight white high-necked crop top, oversized black hoodie, and high-waisted black shorts. Dark pink and violent violet chunky sneakers. Almost no makeup. Hair tied back into low pigtails with one pink and one purple scrunchie to match your sneakers.

Oh shit. The hoodie wasn’t yours.

Hopefully Jungkook wasn’t perceptive enough to figure that out.

“Noona.”

He said it strangely, breathlessly. Almost sexually. You recoiled a little. Jungkook was leaning forward, giving you a clear view down his shirt, blond hair falling into his face, covering one eye. His alcoholic breath floating towards you, far too close for your liking.

“I…” Jungkook swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I want… to…”

The door to your passenger’s seat was roughly yanked open.

Jungkook jumped, throwing his back into the seat, brown eyes wide and staring at the newcomer. White dress shirt, two sizes too big, with ties at the wrists to cinch in the bishop-style sleeves. Black jeans, distressed with several mismatched patches. Silver chains on his black leather belt and around his pale neck. Black hair, pointed dark eyes like a cat.

A single, cocked eyebrow.

“Let me guess,” drawled Min Yoongi, the correct guy you were supposed to be picking up, looking from you to Jeon Jungkook, who was impossibly flat against the car seat. Yoongi sounded amused. “He just waltzed in.”

You narrowed your eyes. “No, I locked my doors this time.”

Yoongi’s gaze flickered to Jungkook, who still seemed mildly terrified, and then back to you. The glint in his dark brown eyes was far from innocent. His fair cheeks were a little pink.

“Ah, so you wanted Jungkook in your car?” There was an edge to his voice, almost dangerous, but to you it was Yoongi’s usual teasing. Jungkook looked like he was preparing for his own death. Both of you ignored him for the moment.

“You said white dress shirt and black jeans,” you scowled. You gestured Jungkook up and down. “Hello?”

Jungkook’s thighs tensed and bulged against his tight jeans. Eyes still as wide as saucers. He hadn’t blinked in a good thirty seconds.

“We have the same excellent taste and style. How fortunate for you,” Yoongi purred. Then he finally patted Jungkook’s thigh, making him start and let out a panicked squeak. “You want noona to drop you off, Jungkookie? She’d be happy to.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” you gritted out.

“Yes, she would,” Yoongi said cheerfully. He slammed the front car door and opened the backseat. You rolled your eyes and stared straight ahead. Even from here you could smell the whiskey. Yoongi hummed and you snuck a glance at him through the rearview mirror.

He looked positively beside himself with glee.

Hmph. Fine.

His loss.

“You bleached your hair, Jungkook?” Yoongi said absentmindedly as you started up the car.

Jungkook ran a hand through it once again. “Uh, yeah. What do you think, hyung?”

“Hm, looks good. Too much upkeep for me, personally. Seatbelt.”

Jungkook hastily went to grab his seatbelt and put it on. Too bad. You were ready to brake hard and send him flying out the windshield. Just kidding. Maybe. Well, you would have to be going real fucking fast for that to happen. Maybe over ninety or some shit. You pulled out of the neighborhood of houses, already knowing what direction to go in to the correct apartment complex. Yoongi and Jungkook lived in the same building.

So convenient.

You thinned your lips into a line, ignoring their conversation, until Yoongi snapped his fingers and called your name to get your attention. You glared at him through the rearview mirror. Yoongi’s legs were wide open, flopped in your backseat. He grinned at you and placed his hands on the inside of his jean-covered thighs.

Fucking tease.

“What?”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to dye your hair at some point?”

You shrugged. “Yeah.”

Jungkook sat up, looking at you. You didn’t look at him. “Oh? You’re going blond too?”

You snorted. “I said I wanted to dye my hair, which means a color.”

“What color?” Yoongi asked lazily.

Your eyes flickered to him in the rearview mirror again. He flexed his long fingers and pressed them against his jeans. You tucked your tongue in your cheek. Yoongi was aware Jungkook couldn’t see him and he was also aware you were watching him. Your eyes went back to the road.

Yoongi was also aware that because of Jungkook’s presence, neither of you were getting any tonight, so he resorted to teasing you like the bad boy he was.

“I dunno. Pick one for me,” you said impassively.

Yoongi chuckled, a deep, husky sound, revealing his pink gums and straight white teeth.

“Red.”

-

“N-noona?”

You curled your lip, looking around you. Ugh. You hated parties like this. So loud, so annoying, so many idiots. You didn’t understand why Yoongi came to these things. It was probably because of his lively friends. Being social like this was probably a great thing, but this was not your scene.

“No time to chat, Jungkook. Have you seen Yoongi?”

Jungkook was flapping his gums at you. He was still blond. He must be keeping up with his hair care because it still looked soft and ashy. It was swept to one side this night. Powder blue dress shirt, tight against his muscular pecs and white slacks that seemed to be choking his thighs. Brave man, wearing white around this much alcohol and lunacy.

You had to admit, Jeon Jungkook had guts looking like a prince to a peasant’s party.

“Where is he?” you muttered. “Kim Seokjin called and told me to get him because he was asleep.”

“U-uh…” Jungkook looked around as you stepped into the party house, your heavy black boots thudding against the hardwood floor. Short black skirt with silver chains and a black hoodie that said ‘WHATCHU MEAN?’ in neon lime green across your chest. Phone and keys in your hoodie pocket. Other than that, you weren’t wearing anything as of note. Oh.

Except.

Your usual ‘fuck off’ mentality.

“I haven’t s-seen him in the past hour,” Jungkook stammered.

“Fat lot of help you are.” You clicked your tongue and moved past him.

“You dyed your hair,” Jungkook blurted suddenly.

You turned your head and looked back at him. “Yeah, so?”

Your hair was now a gradient from a long black shadow root, to dark purple berry, to bright neon red. It was half-tied up with a black scrunchie, a few strands hanging around your face. Jungkook kept staring at it. You raised an eyebrow and turned away from him. Eh, you had no time for this. You needed to grab Yoongi and get the fuck out of here.

“I-I’ll look you help.”

You raised your eyebrows as Jungkook squeezed past you, his hard back pressing against your arm.

“You can’t even speak, you drunkard,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“I mean, I’ll help y-you look, noona,” Jungkook corrected himself, licking his lips nervously, running his right hand through his hair.

He’s hopeless.

Well, better than going alone.

Wordlessly, you followed him throughout the party, opening doors and craning your head over the bodies. So many topless people. Ugh, it was pretty late. By the time you two reached the back of the house, you never wanted to see another nipple ever again. You saw Kim Seokjin at the karaoke machine, blasting eardrums with what you assumed were supposed to be high notes, but, in reality, was simply screaming.

You didn’t even want to walk up to him to ask.

“He might be upstairs,” Jungkook said, swallowing hard.

“Lead the way,” you sighed, annoyed this was taking longer than it needed to.

You made your way up the stairs, pressing yourself against the railing to avoid touching people. Kept your hands in your kangaroo pocket and a scowl on your face. Jungkook suddenly stopped and you collided into him. Fuck. Why did he feel like he was made out of rocks? Stupid muscles.

“Hold on.”

Some guy was sprawled all over the middle of the hallway, unconscious.

“I’ll just step over him.”

Jungkook growled. “No. What if he wakes up and looks up your skirt?” He bent over and picked him up, propping him against the wall. You raised an eyebrow. Like anyone cared what was up your skirt besides Min Yoongi. Whatever. If he wanted to play the part of noble prince, you weren’t going stop him. You waited as Jungkook pushed the guy’s chin down to his chest and motioned you to the hall, towards the many doors. Probably mostly bedrooms. You winced. Probably going to see more nipples. And dicks. And pussy.

Sigh.

And, yep, you were right.

Jungkook tried to shield your eyes, but to be honest, he looked way more scarred than you. You merely shook your head and moved on, door to door. Opened one and saw a girl in a tight black dress crawling on a bed, over a guy in a black biker jacket and acid wash jeans. The hole in the knee was so big you could see half of his pale leg. Hmph. Why bother even wearing pants?

You were about to close the door when you paused. Wait. You’ve seen that black mop of hair before. The girl was kissing down his neck, yanking down the white t-shirt and ripping it. You recognized the grunt of sleepy annoyance.

“Get off him.”

The girl shot up; red lipstick smeared from making out with his neck. You stepped inside and jerked your head towards the door. Voice cold and unrelenting.

“Out.”

She furrowed her brows at you. “Who the fuck are you?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Doesn’t matter. Dude’s asleep. You shouldn’t take advantage of someone who’s asleep.”

“He’s my boyfriend,” she shot back defiantly.

You snorted inelegantly. “No, he’s not. Don’t be stupid.”

The girl shoved herself off the bed, advancing on you, nasty snarl on her lips. “How would you know? Who do you think you are?”

“Not an idiot,” you barked sharply, completely forgetting Jungkook was behind you, gawking at this entire exchange. You looked her up and down and took a step towards her, the aggravation of the past hour reaching breaking point. All that time spent getting here, not being able to find Yoongi, and then discovering some bitch crawling all over him was pissing you off. Like everyone else, alcohol clung to her like the plague. She was furious, ready to catfight you, although you were pretty sure you were going to win this one because you were sober and your boots were a lot more stable than her tall heels.

“Look here, bitch, leave me and my boyfriend alo–”

You slapped her.

Hard.

Not holding back, not making a sound, just straight up slapped her across the face. The sound was so loud it could be heard over the bass of the music. She nearly crumpled at the force, gasping and choking at air as she stumbled, eyes wide in disbelief, slim hand cradling her face.

“He’s not your boyfriend,” you growled. Your voice was absolute zero with how cold it was. “He will never be your boyfriend. Now get the fuck out of my face before I rearrange yours into the next century.”

She squeaked at you.

Your eyes narrowed and you raised your hand again. She bolted, stumbling on her heels, seeing Jungkook staring, opening her mouth to say something, but you made an inhuman, grating noise deep in your throat. Her shaking eyes connected with yours and you cocked your head in the direction of the door, popping your neck loudly.

She scrambled out of there like her life depended on it.

It did, because you had enough at this point.

“Dumb bitch,” you spat, before releasing the tension from your shoulders. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jungkook’s mouth wide open, deer-in-headlights look on his face. “What?”

“W… Why do you look so hot when you’re angry?”

You scoffed. “What are you talking about?”

“Fuck, you are damn hot when you’re angry.”

Deep, raspy voice that made your spine tingle. You turned your head to see Min Yoongi on his elbows, licking his pink lips. He was definitely drunker this time, cheeks flushed. His fair skin on his neck and cheeks were covered in red lipstick marks. You clicked your tongue at him.

“When did you wake up?”

Yoongi smirked.

You frowned.

“Maybe when you slapped her.” His dark eyes glittered in the low light of the bedroom, lips curving higher and revealing his teeth. “Maybe when you got her attention.” Full-on, open-mouthed smirk now, devilish and wicked. “Maybe when you opened the door.”

A muscle in your forehead twitched. You strode over, looking down. Yoongi slowly lifted his head, pink tongue sliding out and tracing his teeth, cocking an eyebrow. You clenched your jaw.

“I like your hair,” Yoongi purred softly. “You took my advice.”

“I didn’t care what color it was,” you responded evenly. “I left the hairstylist do what she wanted.”

Yoongi arched an eyebrow. “She made your hair match your body. Hot and sexy.”

You matched his raised brow. “You saying my hair wasn’t attractive before?”

Crafty dark brown eyes on yours, intoxicating you like whiskey.

“It always needed me to mess it up before it was truly as sexy as you.”

“Are you guys sure you’re not dating?”

Oh right.

Jungkook was still here.

You turned your head to face him. You hadn’t even noticed that he had walked all the way up to the bed, standing next to you. The door was closed. Who closed it? It was also locked. Your brows furrowed and your eyes flickered back to Jungkook. He was watching you, blond hair covering one chocolate orb, pink lips wet and slightly parted. Tan skin radiant in the low light.

“What are you still doing here?”

His visible eye shifted down your body, pausing at your legs and then shifting to Yoongi. Yoongi gave him a neutral expression. The eyes shifted back to you.

“I was going to help you carry him if hyung was still asleep.” His voice had dropped several octaves.

“Well, he’s obviously awake,” you said dismissively.

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed, more blond hair sliding down, shadowing his face.

“You want me to leave so you can fuck him? Or so he can fuck you?” Jungkook accused.

You raised your eyebrows.

“I told you he liked you.”

You exhaled, shifting your gaze to Yoongi. He was wiping the lipstick off his neck with the collar of his ruined shirt. He looked displeased, nose scrunching as he did so.

“Wanting me to desire him is not the same as liking someone.” You swung your head back to Jungkook, ticking your chin at him. “Isn’t that so, Jungkook?”

There was a moment of silence.

If silence could be bass-boosted music, screaming downstairs, and a bottle smashing somewhere nearby. But in this random bedroom, it was as if time stopped, you staring at Jungkook, Yoongi looking up to witness what was about to unfold, and your slow realization that Jungkook was not answering fast enough.

The younger man shook his blond bushel of hair very, very slowly.

“No, noona.”

His other eye was revealed, both of them trained on you.

“I want you to take my virginity.”

Silence.

He must be joking.

“And there it is, out in the open,” Yoongi mused.

Jungkook continued, hands in his pockets, chest sticking out from under the tight blue dress shirt.

“Hyung knows this. I told him.”

You let out a soft breath. “You know, Jungkook, you could get any bitch in this house.”

“Don’t want a bitch,” Jungkook retorted, dangerous edge to his voice, slipping into his Busan satoori. “Want you, noona.”

He was way too serious to not mean it. You tucked your hands into your hoodie pocket and flicked your head to remove red strands from your face. 

"Kinda out of left field, kid," you muttered.

You heard Yoongi sit up on the bed and looked at him out of the corner of your eye. He shook his shoulders out and hooked his legs over the edge of the bed, sandwiching one of your thighs between his own. His shirt hung down, ruined and covered with red lipstick from where he tried to wipe it off his neck and cheeks. His neck was pink with irritation.

"Not really," Yoongi chuckled. "He's been eyeing you for a while now. You never noticed because you're too busy being crabby."

He wasn't touching you with his hands and insulting your character instead.

"Speak for yourself, grump."

Yoongi squeezed your thigh with his and you involuntarily shuddered at the slight skin on skin contact due to the giant hole in his pants. Shit. Yoongi snickered. 

"Are you guys dating?" Jungkook snapped irritably.

"No."

Both Yoongi and you said it at the same time, glaring at each other. Jungkook might as well have been a lamp. You stared deep into those mischievous brown orbs, black hair messy and covering his brows, teasing smile on his lips. Dating wasn’t the word for it. You weren’t sure there was a word for what Yoongi and you were doing. You could tell he didn’t know either.

It wasn’t dating, that’s for sure.

"Did you guys fuck on my bed or not?"

Before you could respond, Yoongi broke your gaze and looked straight at Jungkook. Jungkook's jaw was clenched tight, dark eyes flashing. Yoongi's voice was slipping into his Daegu satoori as well, deepening and slightly slurred from whiskey. 

"We did."

You clicked your tongue.

Great. Just great. 

"Ate her out and fucked her hard, all over your sheets. Right next to you. She even touched you."

"An accident," you hissed. 

Yoongi ignored you. "Her hand slid up your abs and chest." He chuckled. "It was sexy. You have a nice body, Jungkookie."

"Stop telling him this shit." You raised your hand to smack Yoongi in the arm but he whipped his head back to you, grabbing your wrist out of the air. You stiffened at the touch. He turned your palm to face Jungkook and directed his attention back to him. 

"This hand, in fact."

Were you surprised? No. That was the game. Push the limits, up the ante. You just didn’t think Yoongi would tell Jungkook something like that. Maybe he wouldn’t if he was fully sober. But Yoongi wouldn’t regret it either. He would roll with the wave, as usual.

You were a little irked that you weren’t the one who took the plunge first.

You finally snuck a glance at Jungkook. His jaw was no longer tense and his cheeks were flushed pink. He raised his head to look at you, blond locks swinging, and you looked away. Fucking Yoongi. Always trying to cause trouble. But that's why you kept fucking him. Because he was always finding ways to make your life interesting. 

Maybe you were addicted to the adrenaline he gave you.

Maybe you were just addicted to Yoongi. 

You sensed movement. You tried to pull your wrist out of Yoongi's grasp but he held it tightly. You finally looked back to glare at him, only to be greeted by the sight of Jungkook's blue shirt mostly unbuttoned, his sculpted abs and chest fully on display. Your eyes widened, taking a step back, realizing how close he was. Yoongi yanked you back, grin on his lips. 

A beat passed. 

Your gaze locked with his. 

Don't you dare, Min Yoongi. 

He planted your hand on Jungkook's torso. 

You tried to twist away, but Yoongi held you there, pressing your palm into Jungkook's hard muscles. The younger man sucked in a breath, surveying you through his lashes. A strange shiver traveled from your hand to your spine, pooling down to your core, setting it aflame. Yoongi slid your hand up to Jungkook's pecs. You could feel how hot and heavy Jungkook's breathing was on the back of your hand. His heartbeat raced under your fingers. 

You gulped. 

"Yoongi." Your eyes were on Jungkook and his blown-out pupils, blond bangs all over his forehead. Your pulse roared in your ears. "You said he was sappy. That it had to be the love of his life."

Yoongi chuckled. 

"Noona," Jungkook replied for him in his husky voice. "I’ve been planning for it to be you."

Your eyes flickered back to Yoongi. His other arm slid around your legs, pulling you to him. He made you breathless, looking down into those devilish eyes, pink lips parting a little. You could feel his hand on your thigh, stroking your skin, making you tremble with his touch.

"He asked you to take it," Yoongi purred softly. 

You inhaled deeply. Whiskey. Leather. Yoongi. Your hand was still on Jungkook's chest. You dug your nails into his skin a little. Jungkook moaned, breathy and deep. 

"I'm not taking anything," you whispered. 

Yoongi's hand released your wrist and slid up the back of your hand, each of his long fingers sliding between yours, pressing your joined touch into Jungkook’s chest. Fingers spread over his skin, his breathing vibrating though your palm. All Jungkook had to do was take a step back. 

Why wasn't he taking a step back?

Yoongi squeezed your fingers with his. You could feel the heat building inside you. Desire. His voice became smokey. Lustful. Purring your name softly. 

He could make you do anything when his voice became like that. 

"I'm telling you to take it."

Your mouth went dry.

"Why?"

Yoongi leaned forward, resting his chin right between your covered breasts. So close. Your heartbeat fluttered. Fuck, you wanted to kiss him so very much. You wanted to kiss that naughty mouth, the mouth suggesting sinful and treacherous ideas. Whenever you were with Yoongi, danger always seemed like a good thing.

"Because you feel good when you do bad things."

God, Min Yoongi was a bad boy. 

"And I love watching you do bad things."

Dark orbs glittering with trouble. 

"I’m here with you."

I’m here with you.

His arm around your legs tightened. Your panties were absolutely soaked. Yoongi had you right where he wanted you. He knew it too, even as you pursed your lips. Yoongi finally looked away from you.

"You don't mind that, right, Jungkookie?"

Jungkook shook his head quickly. "No, hyung. Whatever..." He paused, knowing what he was about to say was wrong. His eyes flickered to you. You didn’t look at him. You just stared at the black pile of hair that was Min Yoongi.

Wondering what was going on in that head of his.

"Whatever it takes."

Yoongi removed his hand from Jungkook’s chest. You pulled yours back quickly, still not looking at Jungkook. Yoongi placed his large hands on your hips. Raised his head. Fuck. Trapping you in his devious eyes. He mouthed words at you. So sexy. So fuckable. You mouthed words back. You’re bad. Yoongi grinned, licking his teeth.

“Stand in front of us, Jungkook.”

And Yoongi spun you around to face him, pushing you into his arms. Jungkook’s hands gripped your upper arms, holding you in place. And, for once, Jungkook wasn’t drunk. He wasn’t stumbling into your car by mistake, he wasn’t reeking of alcohol and nervous ticks. If anything.

Jungkook smelled good.

You were staring into his tan chest. Slowly, you looked up. Up his pecs, up his prominent collarbones, up his shapely neck. You could smell the cologne, fresh like clean laundry mixed with the sharpness of the sea. Your eyes continued up, up his sharp jaw, up to the tiny mole under his lower lip, up to his high cheekbones, up into those chocolate orbs. His blond hair hovered over his eyes, shrouding them with gold. Jungkook sucked in a breath as you made eye contact. You cocked an eyebrow.

“I still don’t see why it has to be me.”

Jungkook licked his lips, leaning in.

“Has to be you, noona,” he whispered, breath hot against your lips.

For some reason your heart was beating fast now. Was it Yoongi’s hands sliding down to your thighs, squeezing them? Or was it Jeon Jungkook, pupils dilated and grip tight on your arms, nearly shirtless in front of you?

“I dream about you,” Jungkook breathed. “All the time. The only woman I’ve ever dreamed about touching me, teasing me, feeling all of me.” He frowned a little, tilting his head. “I had sex dreams before, but none of them felt real. None of them were like the ones I had with you. The ones with you were always extremely detailed. It was like all the things you did were really happening. I could finish with them.”

You didn’t have to guess what that meant.

“I could feel everything.”

Jungkook pressed his forehead against yours, ash blond strands mixing with dark red.

“Your nails digging into my skin, you moaning above me.”

His eyes burned with determination. Yoongi’s hands slid up your legs, fingertips sliding under your soaking panties. You were so distracted by Jungkook’s words that you barely felt it. But your body remembered. Your body remembered that orgasm right above Jungkook, Yoongi’s tongue inside you, your hand on his abs, nails curling into them as you came. Jungkook’s voice was so low that it felt as if your heartbeat was resonating with it.

“Make my dreams real.”

Yoongi circled your clit with his index finger, not touching it, making you gasp.

“Taint me, noona,” Jungkook murmured.

You pressed your lips against his and Yoongi pressed his finger against your clit. You whimpered into Jungkook’s mouth, hand slipping inside his shirt to hold his waist, kissing him deeper. Jungkook’s hand came up to cup your face, holding you close as you moaned, feeling Yoongi stroke your sensitive bundle of nerves slowly, working you up. His other hand was holding your ass, squeezing it hard. In comparison, Jungkook’s lips were soft, tongue hesitantly sliding into your lips. You latched around it, sucking on it roughly. Jungkook squeaked, trying to pull away, but you held on, tugging as you bobbed your head back and forth, eyes cracking open as you moaned deep in your throat.

Jungkook was staring at you, fascinated.

You released his tongue and snaked yours into his mouth. Pushing it in, sliding it back out, steadily and deliberately. Jungkook’s eyelashes fluttered, pressing his body into yours, needy cries in his chest, trying to get more. Pleasure spread throughout your hips, spurred upward by Yoongi’s touch. You felt heady and tense, increasing the force you were using to fuck Jungkook’s mouth, breathing in shallow gasps, closing your eyes again, so close, so close. So wrong, making out with Jungkook as Yoongi stimulated your clit to orgasm.

So wrong, but so, so fucking good.

You sucked your tongue back and moaned directly into Jungkook’s mouth as you came, legs shaking, clit throbbing against Yoongi’s fingers as your panties soaked even more, the scent of sex suddenly prominent in this random bedroom. Jungkook gasped, body shuddering and shaking at your exhale, roughly shoving you into his hard chest. Your crotch hit his and you could feel his erection through his tight pants.

The party kept thriving, bass booming the walls, blind to the events about to unfold.

Jungkook drew back, panting. You felt Yoongi withdraw his hand, heard him lick it off. But you were staring at Jungkook, at his swollen lips, at his blue shirt half-pulled off from your touch, revealing his right shoulder covered in black tattoos, blond hair covering half his face.

Beautiful and dangerous, like an angelic incubus.

You felt Yoongi’s hands on your hips again, unzipping your skirt. Slipping it down. Your body reacted, kicking it away. Jungkook’s eyes were fixated on your black panties, pushed to one side from Yoongi’s touch, soaked with your juices.

“Take off your shirt, Jungkook,” Yoongi said as he reached down to unzip your boots.  

Jungkook yanked his shirt out of his pants and tossed it aside, watching Yoongi slowly strip you. Taking your boots and setting them next to the bed, gripping your hoodie and yanking it over your head. You made a disgruntled noise, but he dumped it next to him, showing you the phone and keys were still in the center pocket. You frowned at him, but Yoongi shrugged, unhooking your black bra. You held onto it, covering yourself. Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

“Let him see the tits.”

You clicked your tongue. Then you turned back to face Jungkook, challenging him.

“Jungkook can come and see for himself.”

Jungkook swallowed, taking a step towards you. Chewing on his lip, eyes fixated on your hands holding up your bra. You felt Yoongi’s fingers hook around the sides of your panties. Jungkook stopped right in front of you. Reached forward and gripped one of the bra cups. You held tight, not letting go. Jungkook’s jaw tensed and he yanked at it, pulling it out of your grasp.

You lowered your hands.

“Fuck…” Jungkook breathed. “They’re prettier than I thought.” His hand raised, but then he stopped, looking at you hesitantly. “Can I… touch them?”

You arched a brow. “Never touched tits before?”

“I want to ask you,” Jungkook replied softly. “I want to know you want it too.”

Chocolate eyes framed in gold, enchanting you.

You reached up and took his wrist, guiding his hand to your chest. You were breathing hard, making them bounce a little. Pressed his palm into your hard nipple, shivering at the different hand, the different feeling. You felt Yoongi slide your panties down, down. You slid Jungkook’s hand down, wrapping his fingers around your nipple. He gasped, rolling the nub between his fingers, watching your face as you moaned, Yoongi’s fingers crawling between your legs once again.

You pointed to your other nipple.

“Mouth, here.” Stared into Jungkook’s ravenous eyes. “Please.”

Jungkook bent down and licked your nipple, coating it with saliva. Your hand slid up the back of his head, tangling in the soft blond locks, pulling him closer.

“More, Jungkook…”

He whimpered your name, pinching your nipple as you said his. You gasped softly as his lips closed around your nipple, sucking lightly, tongue pressed against the tip and moving it around, rubbing the other at the same time. You sank your teeth into your lower lip as you felt Yoongi slide two fingers into you, so easy because he had made you cum beforehand, fucking you as Jungkook made out with your tits. You stared down Jungkook’s muscular back, admiring the way his muscles rippled as he moved. Your hips bucked in Yoongi’s hand, leaning forward so he could finger you deeper, shoving your nipple into Jungkook’s mouth. He sucked hard, nipping lightly, and you threw your head back, pleasure flowing all over. Jungkook switched sides and hands, rubbing your wet nipple with his thumb as he teased the other, flicking the hardened nub with his tongue. Rougher, matching Yoongi’s pace in your pussy, shoving his fingers so far into your pussy that you felt his knuckles.

Yoongi against your back, purring your name.

“Cum for me,” he murmured, low and raspy. “Cum all over my hand as Jungkook abuses your nipples.”

Fuck, his satoori, his words.

Yoongi had you wrapped around his fingers in all senses.

“Mm, fuck, fuck…”

You moaned loudly as you came, legs shuddering, rutting your breasts into Jungkook’s face as your hand pressed him into your tits, grinding your hips into Yoongi’s hand as your pussy clenched around his fingers, drenching them with your orgasm once again. Jungkook moaned into your chest, burying his nose into your tits, tongue pressed against your skin.

“Ah, fuck, you taste so good, noona…”

Yoongi chuckled, slowly pulling his fingers out of you.

“You haven’t tasted anything, Jungkook.”

And then Yoongi fell back against the bed, taking you with him. You had to release Jungkook’s head, whining at the loss of his warmth. Yoongi dipped his knees down and shoved them between your thighs, spreading them wide. He slid you down his body, forcing you to expose your wet pussy to Jungkook’s wide, voracious eyes.

“Have a taste.”

Jungkook’s eyes flickered to you. At this point, it was doomed. You wanted Jungkook’s tongue and your needed it now. Your voice was grating, tainted with lust.

“Get on your knees and taste me, Jungkook,” you growled.

Jungkook obeyed immediately, kneeling before you and crawling up to your thighs, extending his pink tongue, nearly drooling. Chocolate eyes watching your face.

Yoongi shoved his wet fingers into your lips.

You grunted in protest, but then Jungkook’s tongue touched your wet slit, lapping greedily as he watched Yoongi’s fingers slide in and out of your mouth. You moaned around them, licking off your taste as Jungkook moaned into your pussy, coating his tongue with your sweet, thick juices.

“O-oh, fuck, hyung, noona…” he panted hotly into your core. “Tastes so fucking good.”

“Told you,” Yoongi chuckled triumphantly, slowly fucking your mouth.

“Wanna be in here so bad, hyung…”

You make a gargled noise around his fingers and he pulled them out, humming in his chest so your head vibrated with the sound.

“I’m not taking him raw,” you gasped out as Jungkook’s tongue swiped over your clit. Your breathing hitched as he lapped at it experimentally and he continued after witnessing your reaction. Your hand slid down and gripped Yoongi’s wrist, moan torn out of you as Jungkook’s licking intensified. Almost too much, forcing you to tighten your core, juices leaking out of your slit and onto his chin.

“Don’t worry. I came prepared.”

Your jaw tightened as you neared orgasm. Of course, Yoongi came prepared.

“You planned this.”

“Did I?”

Far too amused and teasing to be innocent. Your back arched as Jungkook increased the suction, your head tipped back against Yoongi’s chest, barely being able to see him upside down, mouth open as you panted. Yoongi smirked at you.

“Or did I simply assist little Jungkookie in convincing noona to take his virginity?”

His words and your orgasm hit you like a truck, hands flying up to grip Yoongi’s shoulders as you nearly screamed Jungkook’s name, thighs threatening to clamp his head if it wasn’t for Yoongi’s strong legs spreading them out. Your body fell limp onto Yoongi’s chest, flooding Jungkook’s mouth with your orgasm. Jungkook groaned, drinking it up, hands coming up to hold your hips down as he sucked it out of you.

“Not all of it, Jungkook,” Yoongi warned. “Keep her wet for you.”

Jungkook whined, drawing back, lips shiny and glossy with your cum. His pink tongue snaked out, swiped over his lips, scooping it all into his mouth, the action obscene and arousing all at once.

“Fuck, noona’s pussy tastes so good…”

Yoongi lifted your limp body and dragged you up the bed, placing his head on the pillows and positioning you on top of him. You scoffed, back and ass pressed against Yoongi’s still fully clothed body.

“You want him to fuck me on top of you?”

“Of course,” Yoongi answered smugly. “I can help him get into position and he can get back at me for fucking you on top of him.”

“You didn–”

Yoongi pinched your nipples, cutting you off as he flicked the sensitive nubs, turning you into a moaning mess in seconds. Your legs tried to close, but once again Yoongi hooked his around yours and spread them out for Jungkook, who was stripping off his pants. Your eyes widened seeing Jungkook’s cock straining against his boxer briefs. Yoongi had a great dick. The best dick. But Jungkook had never been in a woman before and he was impossibly hard because of it, gasping as he pushed his underwear down, leaking pre-cum everywhere. Either that or he really was very, very turned on by you.

For the first time throughout this entire night, it really hit you that Jungkook actually liked you. That he was not a fuckboy and he genuinely wanted you to take his virginity, so much so that, somehow, he convinced Yoongi, your partner-in-crime, your other half in this long-winded sexual escapade of pushing each other closer and closer to the edge, until one of you fell.

Yoongi clasped his hands around your upper arms, sucking in an excited breath.

Your breathing caught in your throat.

Or maybe.

Maybe both of you had already fallen.

And both of you were twisted enough to be ridiculously turned on by Jungkook crawling onto the bed, eyes glazed with desire, desperate to fuck you. Yoongi tapped your arm and pressed a condom into your palm.

“Put it on him.”

You motioned Jungkook forward and he scooted up, sucking in his lower lip. The tiny mole underneath quivered as you ripped open the condom, reaching awkwardly to roll it down his thick cock. You inhaled sharply, feeling his warmth against your fingers. Your eyes flickered up to him and he swallowed, chest rattling nervously.

“H… How do I…?”

“Hands on the bed,” Yoongi said behind you. Jungkook placed his hands on the bed, on either side of Yoongi’s arms, next to your head. He stared into your eyes. You placed your hands on his hips and scooted him down so he was positioned above you.

“Give me one of my legs, Yoongi,” you said softly, still keeping eye contact. Yoongi let go of your right leg and you raised it, Jungkook moving his hand so you could place your calf on his shoulder.

“Do I just…?”

“Down.”

He missed.

“Try again,” Yoongi whispered gently. “Hyung will help you.”

Jungkook chewed on his lip and lowered his hips again, gasping as Yoongi’s fingers wrapped around his cock and led him to your pussy. You lifted your hips so Yoongi could see better. The head pressed against your entrance.

“A-ah…” you breathed. “There.”

“Push,” Yoongi instructed.

Jungkook slowly slid in. He winced. “She’s too tight.”

“Relax,” Yoongi chided you. “He’s not me. He can’t handle all that yet.”

“I am,” you shot back. “He’s not pushing hard enough.”

Yoongi huffed. “Fine. Shove it all in there, Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “Won’t that hurt you?”

Instead of waiting for Yoongi to answer, your hands came up and grabbed Jungkook’s hips, forcing his cock deep into you. He yelped at the sudden rush of pleasure, eyes rolling back into his head. You held him down, not letting him move, trying very hard not to tighten around his dick because, holy fuck, Jeon Jungkook had a nice cock, filling you up and stretching you out with his hardness, unforgiving and wonderful, reminding you of Yoongi’s.

Except, well, Yoongi usually didn’t look like he was going to pass out.

You had to bite your tongue so you wouldn’t laugh. Yoongi pinched your arm, already knowing your reaction. You hissed, pulsing around Jungkook’s cock. The younger man moaned, lowering his head, blond hair falling like a curtain. His eyes found yours. Jungkook’s gaze so intense it made your shiver, nails digging into his hips.

Outside the locked bedroom door, someone was yelling at someone else about cheating or something frivolous like that.

“You can move whenever you’re ready, Jungkook,” Yoongi finally said.

“Excuse me, I’m right here,” you interjected.

“Shh, don’t complain.” Yoongi’s hand stroked your red hair, flaring it out on his chest. “Let Jungkookie use you.”

Your chest tightened.

You felt yourself get wetter around Jungkook’s cock.

“What did you say to me?” you breathed. One of your hands lowered from Jungkook’s hip and gripped Yoongi’s wrist tightly. The tone of your voice changed, not quite so harsh anymore, turning needy and thin, breathless. Jungkook was watching you curiously. You felt your ears heat.

Yoongi’s free hand slid around your waist. You couldn’t see his face, but you saw Jungkook’s eyes slide upwards, observing his hyung. A mischievous spark suddenly appeared in those dark brown eyes. Yoongi cupped your breast, stroking your nipple lightly. Shallow, tight breaths, waiting for Yoongi’s response.

“I said,” Yoongi drawled. “Let Jungkookie use you.”

Oh no.

Oh shit.

Why were you suddenly so horny? It suddenly got so hot, suddenly so aware you were sandwiched between Jeon Jungkook’s hard dick and Min Yoongi’s fully clothed body, and Jungkook was going to fuck you into this random bed and into Yoongi himself. So very wrong. So very bad.

And you wanted it.

Jungkook raised his hips and pushed back into you, clenching his jaw. You were so wet that it was easy, not enough for your sudden hunger.

“Not too far,” Yoongi instructed. “You’re going to fall out if you pull out too far.” Yoongi nudged your hip. “Up.” You raised your hips and pressed your thigh against your chest. “Jungkook, angle yourself higher.”

Jungkook shifted and got more on his knees. “Like this?”

“Mhm. Go harder.”

Jungkook slapped his hips into you and you gasped, pressing your head into Yoongi’s chest. He stopped, looking worried.

“She’s fine.”

“Are you su–?”

“Jungkook,” you snarled. “Listen to him and just fuck my damn hole so I can get off.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened at your dirty words. Yoongi chuckled.

“She’ll be fine, Jungkook. Focus on yourself for now. Don’t go faster or you’ll cum too fast,” Yoongi cautioned. “At least for the first time. Go harder so you can feel it all.”

Jungkook bit his lip and began to slowly, but roughly, fuck you. Smacking your hips together with force, gasping at every descent, your pussy squeezing the full length when it was inside you. His gasps turned into moans, your breathy name, eyes closing as he thrust into you.

“Oh, fuck,” Jungkook groaned. “Fuck, she’s so wet, so tight…”

“Like your dreams?” Yoongi teased.

Jungkook seemed not to notice. “Better. Fuck, so much better, hyung, oh my God…”

“Harder,” Yoongi commanded. “I know you can go harder, Jungkookie.”

You moaned deeply as Jungkook rammed his hips into you, the wet squelch loud and lewd, so obvious if someone was listening outside, even through the music. But none of you cared, none of you noticed the bed squeaking as Yoongi spurred Jungkook on gently, having him increase the pace, making your body shudder with pleasure, mouth opening and tongue hanging out as you gasped for breath.

“You wanna cum, Jungkook?” Yoongi asked breathlessly, becoming hard under you as you cried out in pleasure, the base of Jungkook’s cock splattered with your juices.

“Not yet,” Jungkook whined.

“Alright, stop for a second.”

Yoongi placed a hand on Jungkook’s waist and pushed him all the way into you. You whimpered, so close to orgasm but cut off by Jungkook stopping, clenching around his cock as the head hit you deep inside.

Yoongi dropped his voice, speaking to you.

“Give him a hug.”

You gripped Jungkook’s cock and pulsated around it. Jungkook groaned, throwing his head back as his cock throbbed against your walls, roughly massaged by your pussy.

“Oh, fuck me…”

Jungkook began to move again, harder and faster now, lost in his lust, chasing his pleasure.

“Doesn’t it feel nice?” Yoongi purred to you. Your heartbeat skipped as Jungkook pounded you into Yoongi, biting your lip hard and whimpering as he fucked you mercilessly, lack of practice making it an erratic rhythm, watching his thick cock pump in and out of you, so good, so rough, using you.

Your name drifted from Yoongi���s lips, smokey and devious, driving you insane. Your head tipped back, staring at the ceiling, gasping as Yoongi’s words worked into you.

“You love it, don’t you?” Yoongi drawled. “You love Jungkook using you, fucking you like his own personal gloryhole, hm?”

Oh, fuck.

You whined pathetically, liquid gushing down Jungkook’s cock as you came, core tightening, Jungkook fucking you harder, grunting as he clenched his jaw, feeling you massage his length harshly. Yoongi pinched your nipples, lengthening your orgasm, and you squeezed your eyes shut, pleasure overwhelming your senses, consuming you, feeling nothing but Jungkook’s cock, Yoongi’s hands, and Yoongi’s words corrupting you.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy letting Jungkook use you like this,” Yoongi growled. “So generous, letting Jungkook fuck your tight little hole with his big cock, hm?” He rolled your nipples in his fingers and rubbed them hard.

“A-ah, Yoongi!”

“No, no,” Yoongi scolded, pinching them firmly and making your squeal. “Tell Jungkook how good he’s doing. Tell him how good he feels inside you, naughty girl.”

You opened your eyes to see Jungkook’s sweaty face, brows furrowed, jaw tight as he smacked your hips together over and over, veins popping in his neck and forehead. His cock was jerking inside you, close. So close.

“F-fuck, Jungkook,” you gritted out, feeling Yoongi release your nipples and bounce your tits in time with Jungkook’s thrusts. “Fuck, you’ve doing so good, can’t believe this is your first time, you’re so fucking strong and so fucking big, fuck…”

Jungkook’s dark eyes fixated on you, your bouncing tits, your open mouth, your glazed eyes, hips fucking him back as he fucked you.

“It’s because you have the perfect pussy, noona,” he growled, leaning down, pressing you into Yoongi, getting a deeper angle, nearly hitting your cervix. His breath was hot and erotic against your face, eyes flickering up to Yoongi before boring into yours, capturing you, dragging into his pace and his cock slamming into your hips.

“The perfectly tight little gloryhole for me to use.”

You cried out, something inside you snapping, cumming again all over Jungkook’s cock, your juices sliding down your thighs and his thighs, smearing into Yoongi’s jeans, dripping everywhere, so much, oh, God, so fucking intense that your pussy clamped around Jungkook’s cock. He moaned your name right into your face, thrusting one last time, pumping the condom full, stretching it out against your walls, so much you could feel it and his cock throbbing against your walls, trying to get it all out.

Yoongi didn’t even bother to ask. He simply reached down and pushed Jungkook back a little, feeling for the bottom of the condom and pushing him out of you. Jungkook whined, but Yoongi pulled you away from him.

“It’s too much,” Yoongi mumbled. “How long have you been holding out? Fuck…”

He pulled the condom off him and it was still dribbling out. Yoongi grabbed your hand and wrapped it around Jungkook’s cock, holding you in place with his. You were too tired to focus, too exhausted to realize what was going on.

Yoongi began to pump Jungkook with your hand, slowly. He was still so hard, veins imprinting into your palm, cum dripping all over your and Yoongi’s fingers. Jungkook whined, wincing at the sensitivity, but Yoongi was careful, sliding your palm up to the head and squeezing it firmly but not too tightly. Slowly, slowly, bringing Jungkook back down.

“Party’s dying,” Yoongi breathed. “We gotta get out of here.”

You were naked. Jungkook was naked. Your lower back was killing you. Yoongi’s blood alcohol level was far too high to drive even if he sounded sober. You sucked in a breath and shoved your face into the unknown sheets, groaning.

“Give me a minute, fuck.”

Shit, you just wanted to sleep.

-

third act. was it a dream a–dick–ted au

--

masterpost

[letthebodyfall]

'Preparing one more bolt and hoping to whatever god out there that one of the heroes on shift would find his unconscious body sometime this day, and maybe drop him off at Aleksandra's or to the hospital.'

Masterlist

The married life wasn't the life that Maxwell expected, especially not with borderline supervillain Nightshade. But maybe they could make it work?

The wedding was a small event.

It was a simple courthouse signing with just the two of them in their civilian clothes: with his simple clean cut slacks and cardigan vest over a plain black long sleeve and with her rather flowy floral top and a similar straight cut slacks but in a deep purple rather than black.

There was no kiss, no ceremony; but there were a few of her extended family that whizzed past from who knows where while offering their congratulations.

They walked home with paper bags of takeout and drinks, apparently waiting for a quiet night ahead.

She'd given him his own room, which baffled him.

"I don't want to force you to touch me if you don't want to," he remembered her say, a smile on her face but something in her eyes tugged at his chest.

He let it go.

He was offered an office space but declined, saying he didn't need it. She just shrugged but kept the room vacant anyway.

Nothing really changed in his daily schedule. Fight gangsters in the morning, wannabees at noon, villains in the afternoon and then part time villains before evening, probably after their day jobs.

He'd come home battered and bruised but nothing ever serious.

But still he'd catch a flash in her eyes whenever parts of injured flesh gets exposed.

She never said anything about it except to offer to bandage them up, which he so obliged.

Her touch was tender yet firm, never actually hurting him but enough to keep him in place whenever he fidgeted too much.

"You're used to this?"

Her lips curved upward as she focused on the wrapping. "I have siblings with superpowers."

He flashed a grin before flexing his arm when she let him go. "Good as new."

"Please." He heard the intentional derision as she rolled her eyes. "It'd be less than a scratch tomorrow."

She leaned back, tucked her legs underneath her as she held the mug she's neglected.

He appreciated the quiet. It was different from the sort of quiet that he was used to.

He didn't know what to make of it.

---

It was weird.

Several weeks after his court wedding, some of his regular villains have been.. avoiding him? Whenever he's within thirty feet of them, they either visibly fluster and leave, make a shitty excuse about forgetting to walk the dog/cat/raccoon/fish, just straight up throw themselves down from the top of a building or moving vehicle, or god forbid all of the above.

It hurt his feelings, not gonna lie.

It didn't help that from the corners of his eyes he would see one of them.

Sometimes it was a glint from a loose object, soft tinkling of bells, the swishing of a sleek black cloth, or a flash of violent neon that gave him a short burst of a headache.

He's heard of crazy in-laws but god damn.

---

Voltage was surrounded yet again but a group of rather brave or stupid villains from the neighboring city.

"Been a while since I've beaten up a pretty hero." The man had the head shaped like an egg and a face so scarred it was difficult to discern if he had a face or had a print of a game of pick-up sticks plastered on as a mask.

The encounter took too long. Normally fights like this would be over in minutes but it's been nearly an hour and he's only managed to deal with four of them.

Persistent fuckers.

Eyes level at each one of them, the bloom of pain in his left arm was starting to fade and the tingling to start. He knew it was going to be useless in a couple of rounds.

"You're not my type, unfortunately." He hissed as his left arm cackled with a bright burst of lightning before fizzling out. Great.

Egghead snorted, eyes glinting as he and his similarly unpleasant companions moved a step, then another, hands tightly gripping makeshift weapons such as the revolutionary villain weapon: a mangled bat with rusty nails embedded on it.

Flexing his good arm, Volt knew he had one shot at this.

With a sudden burst of energy, he ducked, weaved, and flipped a goon with such agility that none of them anticipated the massive wave of electricity that surrounded the alley.

Heaving a breath, he felt the acid of his bile creeping up as he coughed, his energy quickly fading.

Voltage knew that if he wanted to keep his dignity as a hero, then he wouldn't allow himself to get killed by a fucking bat with nails on it.

He'd rather drink Savillon's coffee, goddammit.

"Fuck."

He turned, growling when he saw a one, and then three of them standing, their faces furious as they gauged the carnage between them.

"You're dead, Pretty Boy."

Gathering up the remains of the weapons and pieces of broken glass, Volt knew that if he didn't deal with this sooner, he's probably end up in medical leave again.

He didn't want that, obviously.

Preparing one more bolt and hoping to whatever god out there that one of the heroes on shift would find his unconscious body sometime this day, and maybe drop him off at Aleksandra's or to the hospital.

He could feel his hairs stand on end, the way they always do whenever he lashed out a particularly powerful blast, when WHAM-

Silver flashed in his eyes as two lightning-fast creatures tumbled and flipped over the brutes with such grace and finesse that no one had the time to react to the fact that in one fell swoop, they've managed to corral and incapacitate each and every one of the neighboring assholes before knocking them out with knockout gas.

Fists still up, Volt gaped like a fish as two adolescent figures laughed and congratulated themselves with a job well done.

"How-"

The taller of the two looked up, a boy with silvery waves of hair swishing as he regarded him before grinning, the bells attached to his hair and black-and-white jester-like clothing jingling with every slight movement.

"Hi!"

"Bye!" The girl, hair longer with similar bells attached grabbed the boy by the shoulders and disappearing.

Voltage sighed. He really shouldn't meet his in-laws like this.

---

I'm honestly having way too much fun with this lol

This Volt is way different from the Volt I had in my head when I first started thinking of this au for my ocs. It's different but I like it lol.

I'd love to get some suggestions for a series and hero/villain names or maybe some future plot points! Thanks so much for reading this! I appreciate everyone that takes time out of their day to read and comment. I write this for fun and it makes me so happy that it also brings people a little bit of joy <3

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Masterlist

Part 5

[cupidsintern]

the death of hyacinthus - pt. i

this is my old renaissance au with artist!billy and model!steve so enjoy lol

The light spills out onto the floor before the window, making the worn wood of the floor look bright again, like new. The light doesn't reach Steve though. Billy set up the scene like that on purpose, closer to the center of his studio. No direct light. He wants this to be lit like it's the beginning of twilight. In his head, Hyacinth dies at sunset.

The room is silent, has been for a while, other than birds outside the window, a breeze that made the window tap against itself lightly, and fabric shifting if Steve stirs from where he is at all, draped across this haphazard construction of pillows, blankets, and a bench.

That's the word Billy used; “drape”. When Steve got to the studio Billy was kicking pillows around on his little model platform, trying to get everything set up right, hardly even greeting Steve at all before launching into his explanation of how he wanted Steve to look.

“-and he’s dying, but he’s not dead yet,” Billy walked half a circle around the platform, hands out. “So Apollo would- damn-” A pillow fell over, he pushed it back up. “Would be here. So if you can just sort of drape yourself across right here-”

Steve was stripping off the last of his garments when Billy turned back around.

“Here?” Steve finished kicking his stockings off, crossed to step up onto the platform.

Billy swallowed, looking Steve in the eyes because at least it meant he wouldn't look down, slack jawed. “Yeah, that's- that’s perfect.” Steve was already settling in to sitting down, letting his head fall back against the seat of the bench, throat exposed.

The way he was sitting shifted his weight in his hips more; Billy tried to look critically. Not appreciatively. He shouldn’t be appreciating the son of the nobleman that had decided to be his patron. Not that Steve was even supposed to be modeling for him beyond the two portraits he’d already had done.

“Tip your knee down more,” Billy stepps back, takes in the composition.

Steve drops his knee.

“Turn your head towards me.”

Steve obliges. The line of his nose looks perfect at three quarters.

Billy stepps up to the platform again, pulls some of the fabric forward, lets it fall over Steve's legs more, over his groin- good. Less distracting. More poetic or something- and the line of his thighs beneath the fabric has just the heaviness Billy is looking for. He steps back again.

“What’s the myth again?” Steve’s jaw gains definition when he speaks with his head at this angle.

“The Death of Hyacinthus.”

“I know that part.” Steve rolls his hand a little. “The part before that. How does he die?”

“He- hang on.” Billy steps close again to push things around, make the lines right. “The wind- Zephyr- gets jealous of his beauty. Apollo throws a discus, and Zephyr pushes it off course, so it knocks Hyacinth in the head. Apollo holds him while he dies.” Billy says it all matter-of-factly. He's trying not to get distracted. He picks up Steve's arm to tilt back towards him a little. His skin is warm like the sunlight staining the floor.

“That's sad.” Steve says. His arm feels relaxed in Billy’s grip. “Weren't they close? Apollo and Hyacinth.”

Billy feels a familiar warmth at his neck of this topic. This thing that always comes up when he and Steve are alone. “They were lovers.”

Steve doesn't say anything back to that.

Billy gets the composition mostly how he wants it- and he’ll probably try Steve in a couple different poses, this is only for sketching. He takes ages deciding where to set up to actually draw it- Steve makes fun of him. Billy says he’s not the one naked on a pile of old curtains. That makes Steve laugh. His stomach flexes a little when he laughs.

Billy's glad Steve can be part of his process now.

He gets some general gestures down on paper. He really nails the angle of Steve’s throat- which he's proud of. He needs the arch of the thing to be perfect. And he gets the general idea of Steve's features down quick- he’s drawn Steve's face maybe a thousand times by now. The way his arm falls is tricky- he’ll come back to that in a bit.

“Billy.”

Billy looks up at Steve’s voice. He’s sat up a little, something short of coy in his eyes. “I’m cold.” “You’re cold.” Billy says back to him. Because he never does what Steve implies. Only what Steve says.

“Yeah, like you said- I’m bare ass naked on a pile of curtains.”

“Your calling.”

Steve laughs again. “Do you think we could close the door?”

“We?”

“You. Can you close the door.”

“Who’s the revered artist here?”

“Who’s the patron?”

Billy rolls his eyes, but he drops his chalk into the lip of his easel anyway, walks to pull the door to his studio shut, separating them from the rest of the house. Steve left it open in the first place.

“You’re not my patron.” Billy says when he gets back, picks up to start drawing again.

“I’m close.” Steve only sounds a little superior.

He’s right. He is close to being Billy's patron. He recommended Billy to his family, he talked up Billy’s version of the pieta, he introduced Billy to the Influentials of Florence, got him this nice new studio, set up in one of the family houses. He was only a little superior about it.

Mostly he was nice.

Nice to Billy. Excited about the things he drew, always asking him what he was working on.

Asked to sit for him once, twice, how many more times, he was part of the process now.

This might be what having a muse was, if Billy believed in things like having muses.

Steve scratches the back of his calf with a foot, then sets his legs back down.

“I’m surprised you don’t get bored doing this.” Billy cracks two of the knuckles on his drawing hand, shakes out his wrist. He’s only prying a little.

“I like watching you work,” comes Steve's easy reply.

“Still.” Billy smudges at a stray line with his thumb. “You’re always fidgety at dinners and shit. Not here.”

“Dinners are boring.” Steve sighs.

He had expressed that sentiment before. That he found Billy much more interesting than anything his family ever did. That he’d trade his infinite wealth for the virve Billy so possessed. Only he didn't say it like that. He said “I’d trade all of this shit for whatever makes your art so beautiful.”

And Billy said “You wouldn't want to. Trust me.”

Billy, having seared the image of Steve into his brain by now, was adding more definition in places, really letting his focus slide out of his head.

And it’s quiet for a bit. Billy doesn't notice when the silence breaks- the sound of shifting fabric, bare feet on wood floor-

“Shit, that’s really good.” Steve's voice startles Billy a little, but he doesn’t let it show. Just turns a little abruptly to find Steve leaning over his shoulder.

“Looks just like me.” Steve continued, hovering his fingertips over Billy's rendition of his nose.

“You don’t have to sound so impressed every time.” Billy rolled his eyes, pushing Steve’s hand away.

“Oh, excuse me for showing some enthusiasm.” Steve hummed another laugh, still looking at the paper. He traced a finger absentmindedly down his own flesh-and-blood nose, marveling at the likeness.

Billy couldn't focus enough to continue with Steve so close. Not like he’d never seen Steve in next to nothing before. But this was really and truly nothing. And even naked as the day he was born Steve exuded wealth in just the way he stood. Like clothes were nothing but decoration on something already… beautiful.

“Can you go back to your spot, please?” Billy got out, looking away like he was annoyed.

Steve just smiled at him before padding back to his platform, throwing the fabric back over his legs.

But now the composition was wrong-

“So,” Steve’s voice carried across the sun-soaked chambers. “Why Hyacinth?”

“What do you mean.” Billy was trying desperately to collect his thoughts.

“I mean, he’s dating a god, right? Why him? What's so special about him.”

“He’s beautiful.”

“And?”

“Well, I mean, he’s a Spartan prince, he’s legendary. Apollo doesn't even really pick him. Hyacinth has, like, a bunch of people to choose from. He picks Apollo.”

Billy can’t draw like this, especially since Steve fucked up the composition- probably on purpose.

Billy gets up with an unintentional little huff and gets close to Steve again, has to adjust his legs again, avoid staring at the pinks that dust Steve’s everywhere-

“You draw me a lot.” Steve interrupts Billy’s train of thought.

Billy looks up, holding Steve’s wrist like it was his own. “You sit for me a lot-”

“What's your favorite part to draw?”

Billy’s breathing feels thicker, like his throat is coated in honey, sweet but hard to breathe. “Of you?” “Yeah.”

“Your nose.” Billy says easily, because it's safe to say.

Steve smiles. “You've said that before.”

“It's true.” Billy prepares to turn away again, to tell Steve they should get more done while there's still daylight.

Steve’s fingers hook against the palm of Billy's hand. This is playing with fire.

Steve lifts Billy's hand up, touches it to the bridge of his nose.

He can feel the sharp bone under his forefinger.

“Where else?”

Billy inhales. It's a feat. “Your jaw.”

Steve pulls Billy's hand down his cheek to touch his jawline. They’ve been avoiding this forever,

“And?” Cliche game of cat and mouse. Right now, Billy’s the mouse.

“Your shoulders.” Billy watches Steve drag his hand down his perfect neck to the slope of his perfect shoulders. “Steve.”

“Billy.” Steve mocks Billy’s warning tone just a little. “Come on, what else?”

Billy swallows again. He doesn't respond he just lets his hand wander lower, lower, down his chest, to his stomach-

Billy stops his hand, pushes back against Steve’s. “I’ve never drawn you nude, if that's what you’re implying.”

“Maybe you should.” Steve’s finger’s slide up Billy's forearm to hook under the edge of his rolled up sleeve.

“I’d need a couple different references...” Billy trails off. He knows Steve is about to kiss him.

It’s still delicious when he does. No number of days, weeks, waiting for one of them to make a move, of thinking what that move would be, what it would feel like, would have prepared Billy for the spit-sweet taste of a first kiss in the late afternoon.

-

i might do a part ii or just leave it like this lol

[hoshiwhxre]

Omg manifesting Jihoon smut, IN THE PRACTICE ROOM omg mirror kink- 😳 a yg trainee, dancing with Jihoon and then they hit it off from there 😏 you can even include the songs they were dancing to if you want.

Jihoon ; Mirror Sex

typ : smut / requested

pairing : jihoon x fem!reader

rated : NSFW

warnings : light chok!ng , cum!shot , edg!ng / orgasm!control , just smut lol

{ Mirror kinks uGH with his abs and arms flexing🥵🥵🥵🥵 }

This is the song playing ! Please, it's so good and so s e x c

"You're not listening to me."

Your body came to a startled halt, meeting his sharp gaze through the practice room mirror. Swallowing, your head bowed, fingers anxiously folding beneath your sleeves.

"I'm sorry," you spoke quietly, "I'm tired, I can't concentrate-"

"You're tired?" Jihoon scoffed, "you want to be an idol, but you're complaining about practicing when you're tired? Do it again."

For the 32nd time that night, music flooded the room, encouraging your body to react with every beat. His disrespect had urked you, drawing much more aggressive movements from your aching limbs. An impatient sigh sounded through the room, as the music cut out almost as soon as it began.

"No, no," Jihoon strode forward, "look, do what I do."

Postioning himself beside you, he tapped his thighs to signal where he was about to shift them, slowly going through the motions while keeping a steady eye on you through the mirror.

"Your direction is wrong when you do this," Jihoon swayed his body to the side, "you're energy is completely off, and you're lacking so much sharpness when you do it. Come here, let me just..."

Your body clammed up, as he slipped behind you, tracing his palms slowly down your arms that were now erupting in unavoidable goosebumps. He tilted his hips against you, chest tight against your back as he pushed your feet with his.

"Follow my body."

You obliged reluctantly, becoming clay for him to mould and position. You could feel how good of a dancer he was, your gaze fixed on his reflection, it sent shivers of awe through your warm spine.

"Let's do the routine properly, with both of us," his deep voice splintered your thoughts, forcing you to twist from his grip.

"If you want," you said quietly.

One eyebrow cocking, Jihoon chose to ignore your seemingly complete uninterest, and turned to once more send music bouncing off the walls. You'd spent days agonising over this, frustrated that you couldn't get the stupid choreography right. It wasn't the song - no, the song was one that could so easily make your body sing to it's rhythm. And it wasn't your partner - you had to admit that you'd lucked out with Jihoon; he was talented and he worked hard. But in all honesty, when you were alone you almost had it perfect; it was as soon as he stepped into the room that you were for some reason rendered completely useless. You wanted to prove to him that you were good, that you deserved to be here, you knew he didn't believe either.

"Ready?" Jihoon murmured, eyes misty with concentration.

With a steadying breath you nodded, preparing yourself before both of you begun the intimate dance. His palms were soon gliding expertly over your skin, a tight grip tilting your hips back, a dark gaze boring seductively into your own. It wasn't the slow paced choreography that was leaving you breathless, and with every tight heart beat your attraction for Jihoon only multiplied. You could curse yourself for how unprofessional this is, your lips suppressing soft moans every time his touch hovered over increasingly sensitive areas. As your eyes caught his through the mirror, you watched his mouth curl into a smirk, and suddenly your feet were crashing into his, stumbling clumsily to the wooden floor. Wincing in pain, your inwardly cursed yourself.

"I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened-"

A large hand hovered beside your head, and, although embarrassed, you forced yourself to accept his offer, allowing Jihoon to tug you up and close against his hardened, muscular chest.

"I know what happened," he purred, his ridiculously teasing eyes dropping to your lips, "you like me."

"J-Jihoon, I don't know what-" your cheeks were branded red.

"Oh? So you don't like it when I do this?" his fingers grazed your waist, sending a kaleidoscope of excited butterflies rushing through your chest. Your throat tightened, replying with a soft wheeze of agreement. Jihoon continued with a light chuckle, "or how about this?"

His warm palm slipped beneath your t-shirt, his touch dancing over your lower stomach, bringing a tense flutter to your heated core. You swallowed, feeling his lips tilt towards yours, their sweet pink hue begging for your kiss. Jihoon's voice suddenly deepened.

"And what if I do this?" his strong arms spun you easily around, forcing your body up against the cool glass, his figure pinning yours easily between his toned muscles. You gasped, breath catching, as his hips rubbed against you, slowly guiding your hands to press them tight to the mirror.

"How long have you known?" you managed a choked whisper, as he began brushing his touch steadily up your forearms, following the curves of your body down to your hips.

"A week or so," Jihoon tilted his head, watching your lids flutter shut in response to his fingers curling over the band of your shorts, "you're not so subtle with it."

"Would you want me to be?" a moan escaped your lips, his hips beginning to grind against you, tearing you with the hard bump pushing through his joggers.

"It doesn't matter to me," Jihoon leant forward, planting gentle, open mouthed kisses down your shoulder, "I'd have fucked you either way."

The slick spreading between your legs was uncontrollable, his words bringing shivers to your spine, his touch wettening your core with every milisecond that went by.

"So do it," your nails marked the glass, "fuck me."

Your green light words were all he needed to rip down your shirts, a free hands roughly snatching your hair into a tight grip. Jihoon yanked your head back with a grunt, your shorts and panties now kicked across the room, while he reached between your thighs to trail a finger between your dripping folds.

"Mhm, so wet already," Jihoon drawled, "I really turn you on, don't I?"

His cockiness only deepened the slick that was now wrapping two digits, triggering a desperate moan from your yearning slips. Fingers prompted a sweet moment of release, applying pressure to your fastly throbbing clit. You whimpered as he rubbed the sensitive nub, his shadowed eyes watching your features weaken with the easy touch.

"Awh, pretty little princess likes that," he murmured, "don't you?"

Your nod of approval brought his hand from between your legs, forcing an empty disappointment to drown your desperate core. You whined, and he immediately tugged hard on your hair, sneering a demand to "be quiet or daddy won't let angel cum". Your teeth immediately sank into your lip, forcing silence, just as Jihoon slipped his hard cock from beneath his joggers. He grazed the tip slowly between the folds of your pussy, allowing your slick to act as lubricant, before lining himself up to your begging entrance. Lips twitching, he glanced up at your reflection.

"Look at me."

Lids snapping open, your low orbs obediently met his, just as he prised a few thick inches inside of you. Your lips fell open in dizzy shock, the pain stretching you out as he pushed a few more inches a little deeper. You began to croak a moan, before your voice hitched with a loud cry for God, as his hips drove the last few inches hard inside of you. Your guts wrapped around his cock, tightening as though it were lock and key. His satisfied groan filled your ears, a sense of pleasure hitting your heart - one that was heightened with the deep, slow strokes that Jihoon's hips were driving hard into your pussy. His grip released you for a moment, and you watched through drooping lids as he tugged his shirt over his head, revealing buldging muscles stretching golden skin. The sight made you whine desperately, your core tightening with a few fiery knots.

"You like that, doll?" Jihoon grunted, as his palms planted firmly against your hips, the sight of his arms flexing filling your view, "gosh, look at you, all pretty and obedient for me..."

His words were followed by an abrupt change of pace, his cock suddenly pounding faster and rougher into your reddening pussy. One hand snatched up to curl around your throat, while the other landed a few sharp, painful slaps against your ass. You whimpered with a nod, weak eyes watering as he drove your body into the mirror, heavy breaths steaming up the view. You were fast coming undone, your walls clenching around his cock, sending cocky pride through his veins as he greedily studied your weakening, messy expression.

"Are you going go cum, princess?" Jihoon gritted his teeth, just as your core pulsated with the onset of orgasm, your muscles readying to contract fast and heavy, "oh no, not yet, hold on for me, beautiful, I'm not ready to let you cum just yet."

You whined in weak frustration, turning your hazy concentration on preventing your core from releasing what felt like the best orgasm of your entire life. Jihoon's hips timed an unforgivable rhythm with your body, pounding into you brutally. Moans of yes, don't stop, and begs for him to let you cum were causing Jihoon's rhythm to fracture, as his chest expanded with an incoming of buldging nots. His stomach twisted with orgasm, his cock twitching and pulsating between your spasming walls.

"You want to cum? Do you baby?" he cooed.

"P-Please..."

"Okay then, be a good girl and cum for daddy," Jihoon's eyes sparkled, as your sweaty palms dirtied the mirror, your limbs twitching to orgasm. Your body reacted abruptly to his permission, your core pulsating, the knots expanding getting ready to burst, and suddenly your cries were moulding into loud, screaming moans, as Jihoon's hips grew erratic, his breath heavy. Your walls clenched tight around his cock, an unbelievable euphoria crashing through your veins as your muscles contracted and released at a supersonic rate. His pounds slowed, riding out your high as you collapsed breathless against the mirror, before his cock pulled out, allowing his warm cum to unload against your lower back. Chest heaving, he leant down, muffling his deep sounds with soft kisses up your neck.

"Let's clean you up before someone catches us," he mumbled, brushing your hair from your hot, sweaty cheeks, "we don't want them seeing you all prettily fucked out for me, would we?"

[misc-headcanons]

Sfw and NSFW Headcanons of Maki (fore force) with a boyfriend who absolutely loves her, even loves to kiss and worship her muscles at times. He can be a low-key sub in bed lol

SFW Headcanons

She'd be sooo flustered by how her boyfriend compliments and worships her muscles. It's no secret she feels a little insecure about her appearance (constantly assuming people think she's a "gorilla cyclops"), and I think she feels like nobody can see her feminine side because of that sometimes. So her boyfriend praising her body and calling her things like pretty or beautiful makes her heart soar.

She is always happy to show off her strength by carrying her Darling around with ease. She's so strong that it really doesn't matter what his weight is, she can carry him and is more than happy to do so.

Always blushes like crazy whenever he worships her physique around other people, especially if he kisses her muscles. She'd stammer about how her coworkers are watching, and she doesn't want to be written up for any inappropriate PDA by Hinawa...but she can't keep the smile off her face when she says it, so you know she isn't that seriously upset by it.

She gets a boost of confidence whenever her boyfriend is there to cheer her on while she trains and works out. She feels like she can lift a whole building when she hears his voice encouraging her.

If he ever got her any tank tops or shirts with sayings like "Sun's out, guns out" or "I flexed and the sleeves fell off", she would want to wear them ALL the time--even under her Fire Force uniform! Her boyfriend's love makes her more confident and she wants to show off her muscles with clothing instead of wanting to hide them.

NS.FW Headcanons

Her skin is quite sensitive to kisses and caresses, so any time ____ worships her muscles in bed she'll shiver a little and moan from how nice it feels.

If he's eating her out and wants her to squeeze her thighs around his head, she's always a little nervous. She can crush a watermelon with ease, and while that's REALLY hot in her boyfriend's mind, she doesn't want to...you know, kill him.

Always leans into him and curls up like a cat whenever he gives her some post-coital cuddling and body worship. His hands just feel so good~

I think she's a bit of a switch, but she loves being a gentle dom with her boyfriend. Riding him while leaning down to kiss him and caress his chest/arms (maybe even pinning them down when she's wanting to be extra dominant and spicy), holding him up in a sort of reverse kabedon scenario while gripping his hips to set the pace of his thrusts, riding his face while cooing/moaning about how good he's making her feel...sex with her has a bit of variety, but it's always loving and passionate.

[sassycassie-s-writing]

Hold My Phone

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Rhysand

Rating: PG-11/T- (v seductive flirting)

Original Idea: Modern!AU (kinda sorta not really)

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This one is so ridiculous. It’s basically a “Everything is Pretty Much the Same but They Have Phones” AU, not really a modern AU because I figured this would be how Rhys would handle having a phone with the High Lord act, lol

^^^^^

My phone buzzed in my pocket. In a meeting with some Autumn Court emissaries. I’m bored. Entertain me? Rhys’ text said.

Why are you texting me? Just use the mating bond, I texted back.

Yeah but I want these idiots to *know* that I’m bored of them and can’t be bothered to give them my attention.

Playing games with them?

Always.

Exactly how do you propose I entertain you?

It took his answer a few minutes to arrive. I wondered if it was because he was thinking about the wickedest, most flirtatious thing to say or something came up in the meeting that he did actually have to give his attention to.

What are you wearing right now? I shouldn’t have been surprised that was his reply.

My purple outfit. The dark purple one with the stars embroidered into it.

I’m debating asking you to send me a picture of you in it or asking you to take it off and send me a picture of *that*

I am not sending you any pictures while you’re in a meeting. I hadn’t replied to a text that quickly in a while.

His reply came quickly too, Send it down the mating bond then. No records ;)

I rolled my eyes and got to my feet. Up in our room, I stood in front of the full-length mirror, stared at myself while lowering my mental shield, shot the image I was looking at—fully clothed—down the bond, and then slammed my shields back into place.

It took seconds for an answering image of Rhys licking his lips with a feral gleam in his eyes to bump into my shield. I rolled my eyes. My phone buzzed. Delicious. As always, darling.

Happy?

Deliriously.

Go back to your meeting, you flirt. I’ll see you later.

But I’m still bored.

Don’t be a baby. I have a meeting in 30 minutes I have to get ready for with the governor of the Palace of Threads and Jewels.

What are you meeting with the governor for?

I don’t think it’s any big deal. Probably just going over some requests from patrons who have gathered together a bunch of things rather than hauling themselves up 10,000 stairs to the House.

Good luck.

You too. I set my phone down on my vanity. I hated getting rid of the loose pants and sleeves but I knew for a meeting like this that I’d need a gown.

I sent Rhys mental images of every gown I tried on before selecting one, and every hairstyle I thought of doing, asking his opinion and ultimately ignoring it when he seductively told me he liked the most revealing dress with my hair unbound. I definitely called him a name I had no plans on apologizing for before replacing my shields.

I ended up going with a modest midnight blue gown glittering with silver threads that would be appropriately formal, but not so formal it felt like an occasion. Instead of a tiara or crown or diadem I kept my hair out of my face with a comb that was made of black metal and studded with diamond dust to look like the night sky. Crescent moon-shaped sapphire taking up most of the space in the middle.

Nuala and Cerridwen approved of my choices and I shooed myself out to go see the governor.

—

I collapsed on the bed after leaving my dress abandoned on the floor. The meeting was exactly what I thought it would be and after all the requests I was tired. I genuinely cared about my people but putting forth the mental strain of trying to figure out how to fix so many problems at once I started having to pretend to be chipper.

I hadn’t realized I dozed off until a weight falling onto the bed beside me woke me up.

Rhys fell in such a way that he could sprawl his wings above me, taking up a good portion of the bed. He was in casual clothing—silver-buttoned black shirt with the top button undone to let his tattoos peek out, black pants, low black boots—but I knew him better than to think he’d gone to the meeting in them. As he fell, he sighed. “That was tedious,” he remarked, setting a hand on the top of my head and scratching my hair. His fingers brushed my comb and he stopped.

“Tell me about it,” I grumbled.

He sat up to lean over me. He gave me a long, slow kiss as he removed the comb from my hair. “You didn’t wear the dress I chose,” he teased.

“I asked your opinion, not to choose for me,” I countered. “Besides, I doubt you’d even want another male to look at me in a dress like that.”

“Fair enough,” he conceded playfully. He kissed the hollow behind my ear. “You can model it for me later.”

“Flirt,” I accused.

“Spoilsport,” he retorted.

His phone started ringing in his pocket. I recognized the personalized tone. He only personalized a few. Azriel’s, Cassian’s, Mor’s, Amren’s, and mine.

Heaving another sigh, he extracted the phone from his pocket. “What do you want, Cassian?” There was no bite at all to the words, just resigned fatigue. He listened to words I couldn’t quite make out as he fidgeted with my comb in his other hand. He rolled his eyes. “That can wait. I’ll squeeze it in tomorrow, okay?”

More babbling from Cassian’s end of the call. I thought I caught snatches of Azriel’s voice too.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll deal with it tomorrow. Bye.” He hung up, but I could still hear them talking as he ended the call. “Can never get one hour of peace with those two,” he muttered, silencing his phone.

He tossed it somewhere behind him and I heard it thunk on the rug.

“For tonight, darling, I have some much more entertaining events scheduled.” He bent over me and pressed another kiss to my lips. I kissed him back enthusiastically, reaching up to brush my fingers into his hair. He relaxed slightly, the weight of his head growing against mine as his neck tension softened.

“Let me silence my phone,” I said.

He waved a hand vaguely over his shoulder. “Done,” he said.

I smiled. “Bath before or after?”

“Hmm… after.”

“Fine with me.”

—

Both of our phones vibrating wildly on the end tables of our bed woke us the next morning. I jolted so hard I bonked my head on Rhys’ wing bone where he’d draped it over me as we slept, as he often did.

I reached out for my phone. There was no caller ID and the combination wasn’t one I recognized. That happened all the time. I answered anyway, assuming it was a matter of state, as usual. “Hello?”

“High Lady?” The voice was small and trembling. Not young, but frightened.

“Yes?”

“There’s something in the harbor.”

Before I could ask for more details, the caller hung up.

Rhys answered his phone much more lazily than I had. “This is Rhys,” he said. He never used his full given name to answer the phone. High Lord Tamlin, his enemy, could be calling and he’d still use Rhys.

He bolted up in bed so abruptly, his wing bone hit me in the back of the head. Thankfully the talon missed me. We both winced at the pain as he mouthed, Sorry, and leapt out of bed to get dressed. I figured I’d probably need to go investigate the harbor so I got up too and found a pair of pants, shirt, and overcoat. Socks and boots followed before I wound my hair into a bun so I wouldn’t have to braid it yet.

Rhys hung up. “Was your call about the harbor too?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I replied. “Though, whoever it was didn’t say much.”

“Same here. Ready?”

I put the same comb I’d been wearing the day before into the top of my bun so I had some sort of ornamentation on. “Ready.”

He grabbed me around the shoulders and winnowed us out of the house.

We reappeared on the docks.

A dark shape was moving around under the surface of the water. I grabbed the railing and peered over it. “Too fluid to be a whale,” I said, noticing a small gathered crowd taking pictures on their phones, some recording videos.

Rhys’ hand settled on top of mine. It’s moving like a serpent, he said down our bond.

My grip on the railing halted. A serpent? Now? Like—like a sea serpent?

He didn’t reply. His dark eyes following where the head’s shape appeared to be.

“Hold onto this for me,” he said, pulling out his phone and holding it out. I took it out of habit, barely noticing his wings extending.

“Wait—Rhys—don’t—!” Too late. He used a powerful launch from his wings to get him over the railing before plunging into the water. As he dropped, I saw his clothes change from the casual dark shirt and pants to his fighting leathers. I wasn’t even sure any of the faeries around us noticed the change. A few of them yelped as his splash sprayed into the air.

I clung to the railing, staring into the depths.

“Rhysand…” I complained. “Stop being so reckless.”

I heard that, he teased.

I meant for you to, I retorted.

Wanna see?

I’m holding your phone. I’m not getting in that water.

You know that’s not what I meant.

I sent the sound of my sigh down the bond and felt his chuckle in return. Fine.

A crack opened in his mental shield. I slid into it, keeping a tether to get me out whenever I wanted if I got freaked out. My eyes glazed over as I started looking through his.

The harbor water was relatively clear, but a bit blurry. I—no, Rhys—flexed his magic to clear up his vision. My—his—hair drifted in front of his eyes a bit.

A large, deep red sea serpent twined around ahead, barely visible through the murk. Large fins were tucked against its sides.

Wings? I asked Rhys.

Yes. For jumping out of the water and snatching sailors from their ships. Among other things, he replied. They usually dwell in the depths. Wonder what it’s doing here.

I didn’t reply as he swam closer. Inside his mind, I could feel him dismiss his wings to reduce drag. Feel the strength in his shoulders as he stroked forward. In his mind, I had no private thoughts, so I knew he felt my anxiety. My fear for his safety. I felt him send a wave of calm through himself. He wasn’t nervous at all—for whatever reason.

The serpent caught sight of him. My breath hitched, but Rhys didn’t even flinch. Gold eyes bored into him, fangs revealed in something of a snarl.

Sorry, love, Rhys thought, I need to speak to it mind to mind, and don’t want you here for it. Too hard to concentrate on two minds at once.

Fine with me, I replied.

He shoved me out of his mind.

I shook my head, blinking, as my consciousness returned to my own body. My hands were so tight on the railing that my knuckles were white.

Something tugged on my tunic. I turned.

A small faerie child with violet skin and long silver hair was standing beside me, looking up at me. “Are you alright, High Lady?” Innocence and genuine concern were in its voice. I knelt to be on the same eye level as the child, my hands resting on the phone in either of my pants pockets.

“Yes. Yes, I’m alright. Just concerned for Rhys.”

The child looked into the harbor. “Mama says the High Lord is very powerful. He’ll be okay.”

I smiled at the child. “Yes. Yes he will.” I reached into the pocket of my tunic, pulling out one of the small candies I kept in there for when children stopped to talk to me—and Rhys usually. I offered it to the child. Everyone in Velaris knew their High Lord and Lady kept candy for children on them, so the child accepted without hesitation. They took off the wax paper wrapper and stuck the candy in their mouth before running back to their parents.

Rhys appeared on the dock behind me, dripping wet. “What’d I miss?” he asked.

I jumped to my feet and whirled around. “You okay?”

“Fine. I convinced it to leave.” He nodded toward the dark shape slithering out of the harbor now. “It was actually lost, I think. I managed to give it directions.”

I chuckled. “Never a boring day in Velaris.”

He joined my chuckle. “Not at all. Cassian’s gonna get a kick—” He swore. “I forgot. Cassian needed my help. You still have my phone?”

As I pulled it out of my pocket, he waved a hand to dry off.

He plunked in Cassian’s combination. “Hey, it’s me. I’m on my way.” He reached out a hand for me. I took it. Dark wind whipped around us as we winnowed away.

[melismaticmadness]

INTERVIEW

Request: “Something in the lines of reader playing reggies gf on the shows s2 and she becomes bffs with charlie but people keep shipping them. Something in like interview style or so....”

Description: FLUFF

1811 Words

Warnings: one curse word!

Charlie x Reader, Featuring Jeremy

Hope you like it!!

Press was always an exciting time as an actor, but even more so with this cast because of what happened before press events for season one. Their virtual press was great, but you can tell how excited they all were to experience it together this time around. Julie and the Phantoms was the best job I had gotten since moving out to LA. Honestly, it could be my big break. I was playing opposite Jeremy as his love interest, but our off-screen relationship was strictly platonic. Obviously, he and Carolynn are married and she is the sweetest. Jeremy is more of a mentor to me.

I sat in between Charlie and Jeremy for our first interview of the day when a production assistant came in and prepped us for the topics for this interview. Each interview has a slightly different focus, so it’s helpful that we know before we get started. The soft-spoken man raddled off some talking points: Charlie’s sleeves, Jeremy’s new character arc, my relationships/experience joining the cast, and then all of us would have time to add in stories of our choice if there was time. Easy. This cast makes it really easy to connect and bond. They are a family and I am so lucky to be a member of it now.

What I didn’t expect was to get so close to Charlie during rehearsals and filming in Vancouver. The two of us were instantly inseparable. He came to watch my film on set, I came to watch him. We rehearsed our lines together almost every night after long days, and Owen even considered me his other roommate because of all the nights I was asleep on their couch. Hanging out with Charlie felt like we had known each other our entire lives, but it had only been about a year.

Interviewer: “So, y/n, you seem really well connected to this cast, even though you’re sort of the new kid in the group. Would you mind telling me how you felt about joining this project?”

Y/N: “Oh I definitely felt welcomed right into the group. I remember my first night in Vancouver, Charlie came to check out my apartment, Owen came too, and I remember Charlie and I trying to prank Owen when he fell asleep on the couch but it was an epic fail. We had water and shaving cream all over the floor and ourselves, oh my god it was a mess, but that’s kinda the proof of how fast I became part of the group. Night one and they were already including me in their fun. The same goes with the girls, Jadah, Madi, Sav, Tori- we immediately were meeting for breakfast before filming together and having movie nights. It was the best welcome I could have imagined, knowing how close they all were from last season.”

Interviewer: “Jeremy, what was it like having this new energy come in, especially to shake things up for your character Reggie, who really was much of the comedic relief last season, but now has this mutually flirty relationship with y/n’s character?”

Jeremy: “Well, it was great having y/n come in and it allowed us all to explore Reggie outside of his quirky one-liners. It’s not that hard acting opposite, y/n, the talent they bring in was insane and we got along really well so it made it a lot of fun exploring Reggie as somewhat of a ‘ladies man’.”

Interviewer: “Yes it was fun getting to see more of who Reggie is, or was? Spoiler alert if you haven’t seen season one, Reggie is dead. All the boys are dead. Anyway, speaking of seeing more of something- Charlie, I noticed the sleeves on all your shirts this season were barely there. Is this a Charlie characteristic that just carried over to show off or was this specifically written for Luke?”

Charlie: “Oh gosh, haha. I think it’s a little bit of both. I definitely bring a lot of myself to Luke, but even in season one, Soyon, our amazing costume and wardrobe supervisor, was cutting the sleeves off Luke’s shirts. I think it played into his 1995 bad boy persona, and now it’s just him.”

Y/N: “and you just like showing off...hahaha!”

Charlie: “If you got it, flaunt it!” With that, all three of us and the interviewer were cracking up laughing and Charlie was flexing which kept us going a minute longer.

Interviewer: “AH,” they sighed, “Y/N, the internet is freaking out about you, truly, because of some photos of you with Mr. Gillespie over here. Let me read some things for you - ‘my heart is broken because I can’t have Charlie, but at least y/n can. I ship it,’ under an Instagram photo of you two the caption reads ‘ship it so hard it’s like the Titanic,’ which is my favorite. It’s too funny. So my question is, what is going on here? Is there a secret showmance that you’re hiding behind Reggie?”

Charlie and I are now laughing hysterically again. I don’t think the interviewer realizes how nervous our laughing sounds compared to before, but hopefully, it’s not noticeable to fans or the rest of the cast. I wasn’t expecting to get questions about Charlie and my relationship when I was supposed to be talking about my character, the whole experience, and all my scenes with Jeremy.

Y/N: “Oh no, no, no. We are friends! Nothing is going on,” I looked over at Charlie who had his eyes locked on me most admiringly. He was going to let me handle this however I wanted. “Charlie and I just happened to click right away during rehearsals and now I feel like he’s the older brother I never had!”

Charlie looked a little hurt at that ‘brother’ comment, but he jumped in to echo what I had said.

Charlie: “Ya know, the fans are so great. They love to keep up with our lives and find little hidden clues in the show about the backstory, and I think that’s just what happened with our friendship. We’re best friends, we have so many inside jokes, we hang out a LOT. But, Nah, nothing is going on here. It’s cute though that they ship us! Look out, Jere! I’m stealing your girl!.”

Interviewer: “You heard it here first everyone, Mr. Gillespie isn’t off the market! Thank you all for your time today. Everyone make sure to check out season two of Julie and the Phantoms, now on Netflix!”

*****************************

After a long first day of press, I was finally walking back into my hotel room in New York when my phone went off.

I tossed my stuff on the couch and plopped down to see what I had missed all day. Charlie had just texted me asking to meet him on the roof.

“The roof?!” I grunted, “How did he even get on the roof?” Back out the door, I followed signs to the roof. Swinging the door open once I got up there, my breath was taken away. New York City right at dusk, with the cool breeze hitting me, was so beautiful.

“Gillespie, are we allowed to be up here?”

“Kenny said we’re less likely to be followed or have our picture taken together if we were up here and came up separately. So, if we get in trouble, it’s on Kenny...”

“The view is amazing. Not surprised Kenny knew about it.” I said as I went to look out over the glass barrier at the edge of the building. We looked out in silence for a minute or so when I heard Charlie exhale.

“Y/n, what was that today?” he said running his hands through his hair.

“What was what today?”

“That whole ‘Charlie is my brother’ thing,” he made his voice go up in pitch to mimic my voice when he said it and I could tell it was bugging him, but I didn’t know why.

“I was caught off guard...I mean we’re friends.. but I figured no one would believe that if I didn’t squash the rumors right there. Sorry if it was like, emasculating, or made it seem like you don’t have any game, lol.” I playfully hip bumped him to get him to laugh a little and it worked but there was still something on his mind.

“Char, is your manager upset with what I said? I can fix it tomorrow, I’ll figure something out-” I said tilting my head in front of his so he was looking at me instead of the view.

“No, y/n, no, it’s okay..” he hesitated, “but is that really what’s going on?”

It felt like the wind was knocked out of me at that moment and all I could do was slide my back down the glass and sit on the roof. My head was in my hands and I didn’t want to say the wrong thing next.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry if I caught you off guard,” Charlie said squatting down to my level. “I just thought..maybe you felt something, anything, telling you this was more than a friend to friend relationship..” Now he was rubbing my back. Damn, this boy is my best friend.

“Charlie, I- I don’t want to lose my job. I love working with you and with everyone,” I took a deep breath, “but I can’t say I never thought about it. I have definitely thought about it.”

“Okay, so what are you thinking in that head of yours?”

“I’m thinking that I care about you and that I have for a while but didn’t want to admit it to myself until now,” looking up at Charlie I could tell he was fighting to hold back a smile.

“Kenny, won’t fire you. I talked to him in LA before we went up to Vancouver because I didn’t want him to be disappointed in me because of how I felt.”

“You told him in LA?! He’s probably been watching us and laughing at us for MONTHS. Oh my god.”

“No, it’s cool. He just warned me to make sure I wanted to be more than friends because he didn’t want to lose you.”

“Wow. Okay.” The weight I didn’t even know I was holding, had been lifted off my shoulders. “The fans really do know us better than we know ourselves.”

We both laughed and Charlie finally settled down right next to me.

“Look, I’m not saying we rush into anything. I knew I had to say something before the opportunity was gone. Now that the show’s out, you’re going to have guys banging down your door for a date.”

“I guess it’s a good thing the only guy I am looking for is you then, hmm?”

“Thank god for that interview…” Charlie said under his breath.

[ambivalent-anarchy]

No-one

Masterlist

Gender: Female

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Warning: None

Based on a true story. Just wanted to write something relatable for myself lol and anybody else that's gone through what the reader's going through also wtf it's already thanksgiving break? that's wild

Summary: Peter finds out something about his crush that might totally change the game for him

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

"Dare," Ned said, a smile creeping onto his face as the rest of the bus stared at him.

"Okay," you said, looking around for inspiration. "I dare you to..." You tilted your head to the front with a smirk."-go sniff Mr. Harrington's armpit then come back and tell us how he smells," you said, earning some laughs and a disturbed face from MJ.

Ned shuddered slightly, looking to his friend Peter for support. Peter simply shrugged, barely able to hold in his laughter from the frivolous dare.

The entire back of the bus turned to watch as Ned slowly stood up and made his way to the front seat where Mr. Harrington sat, cursing himself out under his breath the whole way there. "Uh, hi Mr. Harrington!"

"Hey there Ned!," Mr. Harrington greeted, but quickly ran himself into a fit of worries, standing up to check the back of the bus. "Why're you up here? What's wrong?"

"Nothing!," Ned yelled, trying to get him to sit back down. "I just... kinda really want to hear about your wife!" Ned looked back to see the entire bus giving him frantic thumbs up.

"Oh," Mr. Harrington said, sitting back down with a blank look on his face. "Well, did I tell you how she set every piece of clothing I bought her on fire and sent me a video of it?" He leaned over a bit as he reached down his pockets to pull out his phone. "I'll show you."

Panicked disgust transformed Ned's face. '1...2...3!' He sucked in a deep breath before practically plunging himself into his teacher's arm.

"Jesus Christ!," Mr. Harrington yelled in shock at being practically tackled by a kid. "What are you doing Leeds?!"

Ned backed up immediately after, face deep red. "Um, I JUST REMEMBERED THAT I LEFT SOMETHING BACK THERE! BYE-!"

The bus erupted with laughter and applause as Ned sprinted back to the back of the bus, leaving a confused Mr. Harrington behind him.

"He smells like cheap cologne," he coughed, his head still reeling. "Cheap cologne covering up a week of no showering..."

"MJ, truth or dare?," Flash asked after the commotion had died down.

"Truth," MJ mumbled, her eyes never leaving her phone.

Flash leaned over till he was practically halfway in Michelle's seat. "Who are the top five hottest guys in our class? Rank 'em." He tilted his ear towards her, obviously expecting to hear his name first.

In response, MJ simply smirked and brought her free hand up to count it off.

"Nobody, nobody, nobody, nobody, and nobody," MJ answered with a shrug, earning multiple groans from many boys on the bus.

"That's not acceptable!," Ned exclaimed.

Brad nodded. "Yeah give us a real answer, Michelle."

MJ scoffed, scrolling higher on her phone. "That's the answer I gave you. Therefore, it's acceptable."

You grinned, shaking your head at MJ. "Can't argue with that logic," you said with a shrug.

It was hilarious to see the boys and their little egos, desperate to hear that Michelle Jones, of all people, thought they were hot.

"Well what about you, [Y/N]?," Brad asked, directing his attention to you.

You raised your eyebrows as nearly all of the boys in the bus turned to you with desperate or curious faces. "What about me?," you asked with a smirk.

"C'mon, who's your top five?," Ned questioned.

You placed your hands over your cheeks. "What and help you little lost boys' fragile male egos?," she teased. "Yeah, no thanks."

The boys groaned.

Peter looked over the seat to where you were sitting. He watched as you held your head up, satisfied at the frustration you were causing the guys. Could he? Should he? Ya know what, screw it.

"Well then, truth or dare [Y/N]?," he squeaked, his hands already shaking.

Your eyes flickered over to Peter curiously. "Um, dare, Pete."

He breathed in deep, face immediately turning red from seeing the entire bus looking at him. "I dare you to tell everyone your crush!," he rushed out. "A-and don't lie!"

But then everyone turned towards you with questions and assumptions and guilt quickly fell onto Peter's shoulders. He couldn't make you say that to everyone. How would he feel if someone did that to him? "Wait, nah no no nevermind, I was just fooling around you don't actually have to-!"

Flash spoke over him. "Yeah [Y/N], who's the lucky guy?"

Abe laughed. "C'mon, spill."

Peter hecticly turned and sat back down in his seat, Ned quick to turn with him.

"Dude, I can't believe you just said that!," Ned whisper-shouted with a large grin.

"I can't believe I just said that!," Peter repeated in a gasp, frozen and staring at the back of the seat in front of him in horror.

"Why did you ask her that?!"

"Why did I really just ask her that?"

Ned gasped dramatically. "Oh my gosh do you think she'll say you?!"

"Oh my God what if she says me?!," Peter reeled.

"No-one. I've never had a crush."

Peter's eyes went wide before he turned back around onto his knees in his seat.

"Wait, seriously?!"

"B.S.!"

"Total lie!"

"I smell cap."

The other guys were obviously not putting up with that answer.

Ned frowned. "Like foreal? You've never had a crush? Like ever? In your entire life?"

Peter however, was still trying to process what he'd just heard.

"No-one."

No.

One.

It's not like he expected you to like him back- a part of him sort of wished for it but he knew that was unlikely- but no chance? None at all?

Suddenly you'd become the new focus for every boy on the bus.

"Seriously, who was your last crush?," Brad asked.

You stared for a while. "Do celebrities count?"

"No."

"Oh, then no-one."

Flash stood up. "How does that even work? Are you ace or something?," he asked, right before getting smacked in the head by Abe.

"You can't just ask people that stuff, Flash!"

Flash shrugged. "Yeah I know...but like-" he wiggled his eyebrows. "-are you?"

You groaned and laid back in your seat, already growing tired of this little 'interrogation' the boys were having. "No. I like guys, okay? I've seen enough to know that much at least" You shrugged. "I've just never liked any guy I've met before."

Millions of questions roamed through Peter's head.

Were you lying? Did you just have high standards that no one you'd been around had ever met? What was keeping you from liking people?

He wasn't some big hot-shot lady killer. There was no way he could be your first crush. That's just narcissistic to even think about. Peter had grown to become quite content with not being the guy who just reeled in girls.

He peeked back over the bus seat at all of the boys surrounding you, obnoxiously attempting to show themselves off.

Brad lifted his sleeves and flexed his biceps. "[Y/N], I mean, c'mon. Can't resist the gun show, right? This does nothing for you?"

That one made you laugh. "You guys really aren't as attractive as you think you are!"

Peter groaned for what must've been the tenth time that morning. And the worst part? He couldn't even be mad.

"So, like never? Never in your life?," Flash asked.

Betty chimed in as well. "Not even that 'puppy love' phase we all had in middle school?"

You shook your head. "Why are you all so invested in who I haven't liked anyway?"

"Okay okay," Brad said. "So if you were gonna like someone, who would you like?"

MJ bursts out laughing and you rolled your eyes. "That is literally the dumbest question I've ever been asked in my entire life. I just said I've never-"

MJ nudged you and tilted her head to one of the seats furthest from yours. Peter Parker and Ned Leeds were sitting there, Ned watching the commotion intensely while Peter was seemingly knocking his head into the back of the seat in front of him repeatedly. Poor guy.

You knew he had a crush on you. You could at least do him this one little favor.

You grinned. "Peter."

"Peter?!"

'What?!"

"Parker?! Are you serious?"

"Awww."

Peter looked up frantically. "Um.. okay..why?"

"Yeah, that needs an explanation [Y/N]," Flash sneered, suddenly losing interest when his name wasn't called.

You shrugged and looked at the nerdy boy. "I like his rosy cheeks," you laughed before looking back at your phone. "Plus, he minds his own business, unlike other people."

The school bus filled, half with sounds of disinterest and the other half with sounds of amusement.

"Now can we go back to actually playing the game now? Jesus..."

The game of Truth or Dare continued and you couldn't have been more glad that the guys' interrogation was finally over. But then you got a text on your phone.

MJ: look at parker

Looking over you saw Ned shaking the boy as he simply just stared out of the window with a dumb look of glee in his face. "Dude, snap out of it! We still have a competition to go to, where's your brain gone?"

Ned turned to you with a frown. "[Y/N]...I think you broke him."

Tagging mutuals: @allegra-writes, @allegra-soleil l, @yumings, @hey-its-grey, @spideyyeet, @sunkissedspidey, @tommyunderoos, @chaoticpete, @spidey-reids-2003, @thesherlockianavenger, @bubblebucky, @kelieah

[achliegh]

A Plan

Here is the full thing with some updates as well!

It's spicy sexy time! I was at work just doing my job when this idea came into my little ole noggin. It was amazing trying to think of the different clusters of words used to describe exactly what I want to happen. Not to brag but I’ve got some sexy tricks up my sleeve as a professional, lol. IT’S A LONG ONE PEOPLE!

CW/TW: Explicit smutty smutty sexy time, food, sexy talk, chirping

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

It was a low feeling in his belly he wanted to reach out and touch but for some reason anytime he reached for the beautiful men in front of him he could never quite reach. He started breathing heavy and an embarrassing whimper fell from his lips as he watched the two people he loved kiss with a fire so hot he felt it warm his inside. He was so hard. He wanted to touch himself to get some relief but again, he couldn’t reach. It was frustrating in so many ways.

Logan suddenly woke up. His eyes blinked open and all he felt was that he was alone in bed and extremely hard. Like two tugs and he's a goner. He could hear the shower running and wondered how his boys snuck out when he always woke up at the littlest movement. He took a deep breath and was deciding whether he should go and find his boys to have them take care of him or he could just take care of himself and let his boys fuck him after practice. He then had an amazing and horrendous idea enter his head. What if he let his boys fuck him before practice and then tried to act like he totally wasn’t walking a little funny… it was kinda hot and his dick twitched in agreement.

He decided that was the plan he was gonna go with, he looked at his phone and saw they had late practice today (Probably why he slept until 9 am) so that meant they had plenty of time for naughty shenanigans. He smiles to himself as he felt his whole body flush from the excitement of arousal. He tossed himself out of bed and tiptoed to the bathroom, the door was slightly open and some music was playing but his mind was so gone he couldn’t even tell you what the song was. He walked into the bathroom to find Finn showering, he snorted when he saw him dancing a little in the shower and singing to the music. His toned body flexing with every move and the water covering his body made him glow like an angel. Logan bit his lip and closed the door all the way and leaned against it, sighing happily as he thumped his head back on the door closing his eyes for a second.

When he looked back at where his lovely redheaded lover was he felt a spike of heat run from his groin to his chest when he saw Finn staring at him. His pupils were blown wide like a wild animal and he was now flushed just like Logan. He stopped his roaming eyes on Logan’s hard cock and noticed a delicious twitch from the to hard appendage. Finn opened the shower door and reached his hand out to the shorter boy with a wild smile.

Logan took his hand feeling like he was still dreaming and was pulled under the hot pulsing stream of water. Finn ran his hands from Logan's hands up his forearms, to his shoulders, to the sides of his neck and back down again. He dragged his nails down Logan's sides making the younger boy feel like he was being swallowed by fire. Logan leaned into Finn pressing open panting kisses to his shoulders and chest. Logan reaches his hands to grip The taller boy's hips in a way of silently begging him to take him, use him, and do as he pleases.

“You know we have practice today right?” Finn spoke into Logan's ear and smirked when he felt Logan shiver, his hands finding his way to the brunette's booty kneading it so it makes it hard for Logan to answer him. He moved his head to look Lo in the eyes, He knows he’s long gone into a sex induced haze. So, Finn gives him what he wants he reached between them and gives Logan's cock a sharp tug and watches the boy almost go crossed as all the breath leaves his lungs. He's gripping Finn's hips like a lifeline. “Tell me what you want, honey. I know you can use your words.” He tips Logan chin up with his hand as he keeps pleasuring him with tight short tugs not giving him fully what he wants.

“I want you- I want you inside mE” His voice pitches up as Finn runs a calloused thumb over the tip of Logan's now leaking cock. Logan feels his heart rate increase as he sees Finn reaching for the lube they just casually keep in the shower because this happens more often than not. It saves water. He feels himself being turned to face the wall and places his hands on either side of his chest. He wants to turn his head and look but he also loves not being able to know what is going to happen. It sends electricity through his body. He hears the cap of the lube open and he steps his legs more apart and arches his back so his chest is flush to the shower wall and he presses his forehead into the cool tile.

“This what you want? Hm?” Finn is rubbing his hands up and down the inside of Logan's thigh just watching him fall apart. He hears a whimper and sees a nod and chuckles a little. He squeezes some lube into his fingers and rubs them together to warm the lube and relax it. He runs his thumb over Logan's entrance and catches him off guard by following his thumb with his tongue and feels Lo’s legs start to shake. He can’t see it but he knows a silent moan fell from his lovers mouth as his jaw hangs open and his eyes squeezed shut. He pulls away to slowly slide his middle finger into the smaller boy and finally hears the sounds of pleasure. Logan moans quietly obviously trying to stay quiet so Leo didn’t come in. He was planning something and Finn was gonna help him. He started sliding his slick finger in and out of the tight ring of muscle and smiles when love starts to push back on his finger. He adds another and but the thought of Logan's tight heat around him makes him want to move his fingers faster but loves watching Logan fall apart before they even get to the main event. He also knew that out of the two Finn was much more soft than Leo when it came to just fucking Logan senseless and Logan was in a mood to be ravaged both ways. Finn loved that.

“Oh Fuck!” He is trying to hold himself together as his fingers flex against the tiles, Finn's fingers feel like they are taking him apart little by little. Like a piece of bread you break off small pieces to eat. But the bread was Logan and he was getting fucked instead of ate… even though he would take both if he was being honest. He felt the fingers slide out of him completely knowing he was stretched enough for Finn and Finn would stretch him enough for Leo. He heard the lube bottle let out a fart sound and couldn’t help but laugh like he was twelve. Finn joined him laughing as he lubed himself up and lined up with Logan's slick entrance. He places his hands on his waist and gives a loving squeeze. Logan turned back to give Finn a little smooch before turning back to the wall and wiggling his tush at him. “I’m waiting” He feels a little smug until Finn pushes himself inside nice and steady, feeling the burn of the stretch take his breath away every time his boys enter him. He moans louder than before and his breathing had picked up as a new wave of arousal washed over him. He lost himself in the fireworks exploding all over his body as Finn was pushed in and pulled out whispering endearing filth into his ear while ramming into his walls trying to find a specific spot that would drive Logan over the edge.

Finn left like he was a little deliourus from just how fucking good Logan was he moaned in a way that drove Finn crazy, he wanted anything he could give him. He was tough enough to handle the harsh angry fucking and sweet enough to handle the adoringly slow love making. He was perfect and the feeling of being inside him was indescribable. Finn knew exactly where Logan's prostate was and knew Logan hated that word because it sounded too medical. He was just trying to bring himself closer to the edge before shoving Logan off it. It was an addictive edge that they frequented now that they were allowed too. The view was amazing.

They blamed Leo for being a teenager when really it was mostly them instigating it.

He wrapped one arm around Logan's chest and pulled himself deeper into him. They were flush together as Finn pressed into Logan's prostate and grinding. He was sucking bruises onto Logan's hot neck, he felt hands reaching up over their heads and gripping Finn's hair pulling his head into Logan's neck. He started working on a hickey that would be a bright magenta by the time he was done.

Logan was on another plane of existence, he felt like he was floating but was incredibly grounding by his hands in Finn's hair as he was grinding into his spot. It was so good tears were forming in his eyes as he forgot to breathe for a moment, his entire body seized up as he fell over the edge. He would have let out a positively indecent sound if his voice wasn’t stolen from him from the immense feelings of love, affection, and pure bliss. When he finally came down from his high the water was cold. Finn reached to turn the water off and pulled out Logan holding him up, as he went limp.

“You still alive there?” He poked Logan's cheek a couple times and felt him laugh as Finn turned Logan around to face him and left a leg go around his waist. “I should have guessed, its never one and done with you” He smiles and leans down to kiss the brunette as he gave his thighs a squeeze. Logan jumped a little so Finn could hold him up with his arms firmly holding his ass. He knew what Logan wanted, he slowly slid himself back into the smaller boy and felt his nails dig into his shoulders. Finn groaned at the feeling of being back inside his lover and the nails causing his skin to buzz. He started fucking up into Logan and heard him whine with over stimulation and dragged his nails from his shoulders to his biceps and gripped them tightly. A second thin stream of come started leaking from Logan's cock. Finn could feel how tense he was and it only took two more thrusts before he felt himself releasing into the beautiful tanned boy. He rested his head on Logan's chest as he fucked through his orgasm, he looked up and kissed him with a burning fever. They made out all teeth and tongue for a few minutes. When they pulled away and rested their foreheads together they were smiling. Both were covered in a red flush. Finn pulled out of Logan and slowly set him down to make sure he didn’t slip. Once they were steady he walked into the bedroom and flopped onto the bed.

Usually, Logan got sleepy right after sex, so he was expecting him to come and flop onto of Finn and be demand to be held. Logan instead went and grabbed a pair of loose boxers and put them on with a shy smile on his face.

“Do you want to come out and have sex with Nutty?” Finn blinked at him for a moment.

“Insatiable” he could hear what sounded like a pan sizzling in the kitchen and guessed Leo was back from his run this morning. Boy was he in for a treat. “I think I’ll sit this one out, but be as loud as you want.” He smiles as Logan gives him a little peck before going out to find their sunshine.

Leo had his airpods in and was listening to music, he came back from his run five minutes ago and was still sweating. He didn’t take off his earphones when he came home because he didn’t want to wake up his boys with his music in the kitchen as he made food. He was watching a couple of ham patties in the pan sizzle when he felt wet hair against his back and a warm body press up against him. He smiled as strong arms wrapped around his waist and leaned back into the warm chest behind him. He turned off the stove and took out one of his earphones.

“Good morning!” He smiles and turns around to see Logan looking adorable with a flushed face from what he guessed was the shower but he had a certain glow about him that he memorized a while ago. “Did you get yourself off in the shower?” When Logan shook his head and his blush got darker Leo understood. “Fish got you off in the shower?” Logan bit his lip and nodded resting his chin on Leos chest looking up at him with a slightly dazed look. “Were you polite and returned the favor?” Logan nods and moves his hands to interlock on the back of Leo’s neck. Leo leaned down to kiss him and made a bit of a surprised sound when the kiss was a lot less chaste then he thought it would be. He relaxed into it and backed Logan up to the counter and lifted him up to sit on the counter as he rolled his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Will you fuck me Peanut?” Logan smiles shyly at him and it is adorable. It gives Leo butterflies because he rarely ever sees Logan this shy and this polite.

“Lube is in the bedroom, we need to move there.” He goes to pull Logan off the counter but is instead pulled back into the smaller boys tight clutch. He has his legs around Leos waist and his arms around his chest koala hugging him.

“Trust me we don’t need it” He is still bright red and buries his face into the younger boy's sweaty chest. He could tell Leo was blushing because he felt his chest heat up. He looked up to see Leo had his mouth hanging open a little and his pupils had grown three sizes. He pushed his hands under Leo's shirt and that seemed to have taken him out of his daze.

“Are-Are you sure you don’t want me to grab it just in case? Also, is the counter really the best spot for this? Isn’t it going to make you even more soar? Wait, we have PRACTICE later!” Of course, a million thoughts are going through his head as Logan takes his shirt off and starts leaving a couple of light love bites on his chest. The older boy starts untying the tie on his shorts and pushes them down so he's just in his running leggings. His mind goes blank as he feels a warm hand cup his quickly filling dick through his leggings. His breath leaves his lungs and all's he can think about is fucking Logan into the counter. He looks at Logan through his eyelashes.

“Right here” he whispers to the younger boy and he suddenly has a hand on his chest pushing him to lie flat on the counter. He smiles from anticipation and moves a little to get comfortable. He feels calloused fingers toying with the waistband of his boxers.

“Why did you put underwear back on?” He runs his fingers under the thigh of

Logan's boxers and smirks when he doesn’t answer. Logan is looking away from him and biting his lip with the cutest blush crawling down his neck. “Was someone feeling shy?” He pulls Logan's underwear off and reaches down to feel just how stretched he is. He will admit that he was expecting a little of Finn still in his lover but he wasn’t expecting him to be dripping with him. There was a tug in his belly from the thought of Logan planning to fuck him while being fucked by Finn. He wonders if he should call Finn in here.

“I asked him earlier, he was a loser and said I wore him out.” Logan hums a little, he's always had a knack for knowing what Leo is thinking. He felt Leo slid three fingers into him easily, he pulled his finger out and he felt Leo lean down to lick his nipple. “Leoooooo, stop stalling!” He huffs a little annoyed and yelps in surprise when he feels a pinch on his side.

“Let me enjoy myself!” He laughs a little and tugs his leggings and underwear down his thighs. He grabs himself and slowly pushes the head of his cock into Logan and watches his face open up. He can’t help but lean down and kiss him. Sliding his tongue into Logan's mouth so he is completely stimulated with only Logan. He snaps his hips forward, ripping a groan from both of them. Then, he set a punishing pace. Fucking Logan deep and hard.

The opposite of Finn, the best of both worlds in Logan's opinion.

He grabbed both Logan's wrists and pulled his arms towards him while keeping Lo laying down. Making him take him further and pounding into his prostate. Logan is loud at both his lovers requests. He isn’t screaming but he is pretty sure if someone walked past their apartment door they could hear him. He could feel himself getting closer to the edge again. Leo had a crazy stamina but since Logan had already come twice today he didn’t know if he could handle more than once… but he really wanted Leo to come in him so he’d hold on as long as he could. Leo placed his hands on either of Logan's waist when he let go of his wrists. Logan reaches up and grips Leos shoulders from under his arms. Holding the younger boy closer to him his breath hitches as he feels Leo slow for a moment and grind into him before picking his pace back up.

“I’m cumming!” He feels the words fall out of his mouth before he even realizes what's happening. He arches his back and bites into Leos shoulder as he drags his nails down his back. He really needs to trim his nails. He comes in between them painting both their chests. Feeling Leo fuck him through his orgasm and not stop makes him smile. He's over stimulated and starting to get a little tired but he still feels so electric with the energy Leo is pushing into him. He can tell the younger boy is getting close by the way his brow furrows and his hips stutter every few thrusts. “Cum for me Leo”

After about twelve more thrusts Logan feels the warmth of Leo releasing inside him and he himself feels like he's coming again but dry this time. He has so many endorphins thrumming through his body he doesn’t feel Leo pull out or pick him up.

“We have about two hours until practice, get some sleep. I’ll wake y’all up when i get done with some food and maybe take a shower.” He smiles as Logan nods, still having a silly smile on his face as he cuddles into Finn's side and buries his face into the sleeping boy's chest.

How did he get so lucky?

[fabulous-fan-fables]

Scorpfuma is so cute! So here is some! Quote is by @she-radiator

I realized China doesn’t exist in the actual show so it’s a human au! Scorpia has prosthetic arms I’ve decided

I added some words so, in case you couldn’t read my handwriting, it says “Hey, what’s with the hat and flannel?” “Oh! It’s because I’m a huge country fan!” “. . .” “China is really big.” “that’s not what I meant” and Scorpias shirt says “I flexed & my sleeves fell off”

Also don’t expect me to post stuff every day I’ve just been oddly motivated lol

[not-close-to-straight]

Lost and Found (Ten)

Monaco! Or at least, my version of Monaco lol. Generic verse typical TW for Tony having a panic attack and of course, Monaco-esque explosions/violence. Also we love some pining boys and a little WS-eque Bucky. 

Halfway through the story!

MASTERLIST HERE

*****************

The noise was deafening--over sized engines on undersized cars, screaming crowds and shouting reporters, cheering fans and a fever pitch of anticipation that vibrated in the air and clanged mercilessly against their ears even from behind the safety glass on the town car. 

Deafening and exhilarating and Tony’s eyes were wide, his entire being visibly thrumming with excitement, his smile stretched so thrilled that James ignored the apprehension at being stuck in such a big crowd and simply angled his body so he could stare at Tony staring at everything else.

Damn he was beautiful. 

“I love this.” Tony’s nails dug into the expensive leather upholstery of the Rolls and James’s eyes automatically dropped to the dimples in the fabric, the clench and unclench of Tony’s fingers, and then inevitably to the foot of space between Tony’s hand and his own. It was the same foot of space that had been present for the ride to the airport, for the journey overseas to Monaco, for the length of time it had taken to get from the airport to here up close and personal for the race, and it was a foot of space that was driving James insane. 

Leaving Tony in the lab the night before had been difficult enough but trying to keep some distance in front of Pepper for the better part of the day had been full on torture. The startling intimacy of Tony on his lap, Tony around him and on him had grounded James in a way therapy never had, having another soul sparking bright with pleasure alongside his own had been nearly spiritual, the first time he’d felt human and real and himself in months-- years?-- forever.

There had been none of the shame James thought he remembered from another blank time with an unknown face, none of the guilt he thought used to drive him to confession, none of the hurried and the hide and the only in the shadows that clamored in his head along with so many other dark things. 

Tony had been light and beauty and a glimpse at sanity and then the lab lights had come back on, the windows cleared and the moment was apparently over as Tony mumbled something about a shower and seeing James later and it had been almost awkward between them--

--until James had taken a chance and stepped close again to brush over kiss bruised lips and Tony had melted into him for just a minute more. 

Leaving Tony in the lab the night before had been difficult, and now there was distance between them and James couldn’t stop staring at Tony’s hands and fighting a smile as Tony hummed the chorus line to Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy under his breath for at least the sixth time in the past hour. 

“I love all of this.” Tony paused humming and jammed his sunglasses on as the car pulled to a stop at the steep stairs into the hotel. “James, you’re going to love this too, I promise.The crowd down here is really bad, but we’ll get through it quick and up on the balcony to watch the race from there. Won’t stress you out a bit, I guarantee it.” 

“You’ll have to excuse Tony.” Pepper cut into the chatter with a fond smile. “He gets around fast cars and he’s instantly six years old again. Couple years ago he bought one of these cars to race and it's his favorite event of the year now.  Vroom vroom, right Tony?” 

“Vroom vroom.” Tony laughed at her, and James’s heart stuttered when Tony started to reach for his hand. “Come on, I’ll show you the--” 

--his hand fell away and Tony’s lips twisted in an apologetic grimace and James didn’t have any choice but to nod that he understood, he got it, it wasn’t them in the lab anymore it was Tony in the spotlight and not the place for anything real. 

It was fine. 

James knew what it meant to hide so he nodded reassuringly and Tony went back to humming their song and it was just fine.

“How’s the arm?” Tony asked as they hurried up the steps to get away from the crush of people, the questions and pleas for interviews from the reporters and the rumble of engines. “Bothering you at all?” 

“Nah, feels about right.” James bent his left arm experimentally and flexed his fingers beneath the thick leather gloves. He couldn’t actually feel the limb beyond the weight at his shoulder and chest, but nothing hurt and more importantly than that, Tony smiled when he heard the news so James didn’t bother finishing the rest of his thought. 

Yes, the limb felt about right but this morning there’d been a split second where James had managed to enter the lab before Tony and he’d seen the numbers from the stress-ball test all over the holographic screens. Numbers, calculations and whatever a variable was, and they didn’t really mean anything in particular to James but they were bright red and blinking and set against lines of green and then black that looked like a chart of normal measurements. Normal measurements but his numbers were high and blinking and red and James-- James didn’t really know what it all meant but nothing about blinking red numbers was ever good. 

Before he could even put together the right question to ask JARVIS about the numbers, Tony had come through the doors though and the screens reset in an instant, replaced by the regular Roadster screensaver as the AI calmly greeted them. 

If James didn’t know better, he’d think JARVIS was purposefully not showing Tony the numbers, but that didn’t make any sense. Wasn’t it important to know if the rates were too high, if the calculations were off, or if they needed to redo a test or a calibration? What if something was wrong with him? 

….what if something else was wrong with him? 

“Hey.” Tony’s hand was there and gone at James’s back, pulling him back to the present moment. “With me?” 

“With you.” James said automatically, and searched back through his thoughts to find the tail end of the conversation. “Oh, everything on the arm feels good so far. Yeah, everything’s fine.” 

“I still think I’m going to redo it with the smaller plates.” Tony ducked around a rather persistent reporter and hurried through the huge double doors into the foyer. “But this one will do for now. Do you remember where the disconnects are if it clutches up like it did yesterday?” 

“Here.” James touched the hidden latch inside of his left elbow briefly, then the top of his shoulder. “Two buttons, right? Press and release?” 

“Right, just in case something seizes up and I’m not around at the minute to help.” Tony waved to someone in the crowd. “I designed it to deactivate and pretty much fall off on command, but if the connectors stick, just yank on it. We’ll get your shirt sleeve pinned up, Happy can keep the arm in the car for safekeeping and we’ll try again back at home.” 

“Sure thing, Tony.” James bumped close enough to brush his fingers at Tony’s side simply because he couldn’t help himself. “Thank you.” 

The tips of Tony’s ears turned pink, but any chance he had at a reply was cut off when another reporter shoved a microphone in his face and blurted something about the Senate meetings, about his legendary recklessness, about the big brunette close to his side— was this a new body guard or just the newest nameless person to fall into bed with him? How did Ms. Potts feel about it? Weren’t they an item? What did Tony think about the rumours of his mental instability and inevitable step down from Stark Industries? Would he care to comment? Anything at all?

...James didn’t have exact memories about snapping someone’s neck but right then his hands practically itched with the need to break the bastard in half. Couldn't Tony just walk into a place with out being accosted? Couldn’t they see the stress in his eyes? The slight tremor in his hand when he touched at the glow of the arc reactor? Didn’t they care that Tony hardly ever smiled and throwing questions in his face was a sure way to erase any lingering happiness? Tony had gone from lightly blushing and bumping against James as they walked to ramrod stiff and almost brittle, from humming their song to dropping his sunglasses down and flattening his mouth into a near grimace.

No, James didn’t remember ever snapping someone’s neck but watching the man he— watching the man he— watching Tony be practically assaulted via microphone and obnoxious questions made James see crystal clear red, made a run of horrifyingly precise information skitter through his mind. 

Pounds of pressure per inch. Time for bone to turn to dust beneath his fingers. The unnatural angle of forced bones and the glaze of unseeing eyes. Ways to dispose of the body.

Information information information click click click terminate. 

“Back. Off.” James growled the words, nearly snarled the words, let his eyes slide murderous and shoulders square dangerous and the reporter squeaked something terrified before scuttling off to bother someone else. 

It took a few seconds for the anger to fade and for James’s heart to stop pounding, and when his vision settled and his brain stopped clicking into place click click click scenarios that felt like memories and nightmares, both Tony and Pepper were staring at him. 

“....what?” Belatedly, James realized both his fists were clenched, his mouth still turned down into a scowl and he counted up a few numbers— adin dva tri chetrye no no that was Russian, one two three four— until he was breathing evenly again. “Tony?”

“Oh nothing.” Tony‘s throat jerked as he swallowed but his smile was three shades past secretly pleased. “How long did you practice that murder glare before people passed out from fright when they saw it? It’s impressive.”

“I shouldn’t have done that.” James’s chest tightened uncomfortable. “Snapped at a reporter like that. Shit. Sorry Tony—“

“No no.” Tony held up a hand, shifted a half step forward like he was going to place it on James’s arm but stopped at the last second. “No that was— that was amazing. No one except for Pepper ever tries to keep the press away and she’s not half as scary as you. Thank you.”

James glanced at Pepper then reached over Tony’s head to hold the door open. “Well I’ll murder glare at whoever you want, Tony. You just let me know.” 

He nodded at Pepper as she passed by him, and she cut a meaningful glance at Tony and mouthed, “Thank you.” 

James didn’t think he could reply my pleasure without either sounding foolish or breaking into another growl, so he just nodded again and followed the pair into the dining area of the hotel.

It was less crowded in here but no less chaotic, and James hung back a step from Tony and Pepper so he could try and catalogue everything, gaze landing on each occupant before skittering away, checking the exits and the windows, the ornate chandelier and the mirrored bar surface along the back wall. 

Four entrances and exits— the foyer they had entered through, an overly tall set of double doors leading out to a balcony, one that led to stairs and down to the street and one marked Staff Only. Minimal wait staff in clearly conspicuous uniforms. Powerful men with pretty companions on their arm, intimidating women in tailored suits and sky high heels, a smattering of individuals at the smaller tables neither rich enough to dress up nor important enough to mingle at the bar. A few members of the press asking quiet questions and fake laughing with whichever self important interviewee was sat in front of them, a thin man in glasses that turned to stare when Tony walked in the door and currently hurrying towards them— Natalie.

“Mr. Stark, Ms. Potts.” Natalie greeted the couple, her bland expression not even flickering as she turned to James. “James. Welcome to Monaco. I have a table reserved over here—“

“I’d like to be in a corner.” Tony interrupted at the same time Pepper chimed in, “Tony prefers to be in a corner.” and Natalie didn't skip a beat steering them towards a back corner table. 

“This can be us right here, then.” The redhead snapped her fingers and a couple waiters rushed forward to reset the table for four, and Tony took the chance to breathe a sigh of relief at the chance to sit down and re-group from the press bombardment before taking James out to watch the races.

He hated the press with a passion, thought the society pages reporters were some of the lowest life forms possible, who made a career out of hounding someone with questions and then spinning stories any which way they liked? The Stark family especially had never known a moments peace from the press and even though Tony had for many years willingly and enthusiastically contributed to the tabloid coverage of his various exploits, now he was just tired. He was just worn out. He wanted to watch the races with Pepper and James and cheer on their driver and spend some time in the sunshine without microphones or cameras or anyone pushing into his space to ask invasive questions like—

“A yoo-hoo! Anthony Stark!”

Tony had only just started to sit when the worlds most annoying voice cut into the conversation between Pep and Ms. Rushman, and he leaned over to tell James, “Unleash the Murder glare anytime now. I’m begging you.” 

“Unleash the—“ James laughed softly and Tony had only a half second to appreciate the sound before Justin Hammer invaded their space, complete with requisite tag along and stereo typically terrible reporter Christine Everhart. 

“Tony Stark!” Justin clapped a too friendly hand onto Tony’s shoulder, smile stretched wide and tone manufactured fake. “My favorite person in the world! You know Christine Everhart right, works at Vanity Fair? She’s doing a big story on me.” 

“Oh?” Tony asked tightly, then under his breath and over his shoulder to James-- “This is my least favorite person in the world.” James gave him one of those amused half smiles, took a step back away from the cloud of cologne hovering at Justin’s shoulders and Tony wished with every shred of his patience that he could do the same.

“Yep yep, you’re not the only rich guy with a fancy car around here!” Justin had a laugh that grated on even Pepper’s unflinching nerves. “BTW, Christine. Big story right here, don’t know if you heard yet. Ms. Potts is now CEO of Stark Industries! Imagine that! Answering phones one day and wearing power suits the next!” 

“I heard.” Christine turned a mega watt smile towards Pepper. “If you have a minute I’d really love to grab a quote for--” 

“Christine’s doing a big spread on me.” Justin interrupted, either ignoring or not caring that he’d cut the blond off mid sentence. “Figured I’d throw her a bone, help her out. Big name like mine is a story just waiting to happen, you know?” 

“Oh absolutely.” Pepper passed champagne from a waiter over to Tony and then back to James, arched a perfectly tweezed brow and commented, “She did quite the… spread… on Tony last year, did you know?” 

“Yep.” Tony took a too large gulp of champagne and smacked his lips. “Wrote a story on me too.” 

Behind them, he heard James choke on a swallow and Natalie smother what might have been a snort. Ms. Everhart turned pink to the roots of her bleached hair while Justin swiveled to look at her in confusion. “You uh-- you did a story on Tony?” 

“Oh I think the word I used was spread.” As calm, collected and effortlessly cut throat as always, Pepper took another sip of the champagne and then turned to Natalie. “I have to go wash up, please see that our table is set?” 

“Yes, Ms. Potts.” Natalie chimed in and despite Tony’s attempts to snag Pepper’s shirt and keep her close, both women disappeared a second later leaving he and James depressingly alone with Justin and Ms. Everhart. 

“Oooh let’s take a picture!” Justin announced, and Tony only had a moment to cram his sunglasses on before he was squished uncomfortably close to the competing tech CEO, Justin grinning something about fromage or brie while Christine asked, “Is this the first time you two have seen each other since the Senate meetings?” 

“You mean since he had his contract with the DOD revoked?” Tony wrenched out of Justin’s hold and retreated a step, stopped only by James’s brief welcome touch at the small of his back. “Yeah, this is the first time. Are we done here?” 

“No no, now here’s the thing, my contract was only temporarily suspended and they said uh-- they said-- .” Justin laughed again and Tony grimaced irritably over the noise. He already wasn’t doing very well this morning, and Justin’s presence was not helping the issue. “They said once we get a few things figured out and all this hoopla with Stark calms down...” 

Justin kept talking but Tony tuned him out. He was already distracted with the Boogie Woogie song on repeat in his head and the soreness between his legs and the way every breath James took seemed over loud because kissing the soldier again was all Tony could think about. He was already mentally weary after crying in the shower even though it hadn’t been bad tears. He was already exhausted because even after a good day, even after dancing and admitting things, Tony hadn’t been able to manage a good nights sleep. 

And then first thing today when he’d met James in the lab to attach his new arm, JARVIS had asked him to check a few numbers, to spend a few minutes looking over some data but when Tony had asked if the numbers were necessary, J had sounded damn near human when he hesitated and answered that they simply weren’t worth stressing about. 

Another time perhaps, sir. The AI had replied and Tony had brushed it off in favor of smiling into James’s eyes and wishing they’d had time for a slow kiss before Pepper had come rushing into the lab to get them on a plane. 

Another time perhaps, but there hadn’t been time for anything Tony had wanted to do this morning and now he was stuck listening to Justin and Christine talk, stuck worrying that he should have checked whatever numbers JARVIS had saved for him, stuck trying not to give into a burble of hysterical laughter because his thighs hurt and he kept thinking about how he’d never ridden anything but a motorcycle and that hadn’t prepared him at all for last nights activities. 

Twenty five years of self loathing and repression and now he was singing 40’s songs and wondering if he would be half as sore if he’d ridden Rhodey’s motorcycle a few more times, and god help him that wasn’t a euphemism at all, and that made him want to giggle a little hysterically too. 

Tony missed the days of being sharp, of being on top of the moment and the changing dynamics, missed the days when he could react to Justin Hammer the same way Pepper did-- with a cool smile and scathing retort instead of with a building migraine and the feeling of being goddamn trapped--

*beep beep*

“Well, this hadn’t been fun at all.” Tony cut in to their chatter and didn’t bother trying for a smile as he tapped at his watch. “And now I have to go so, let’s never do this again.” 

The steady poisoning was compromising his mind, his wit and Tony hated it but on the other hand, the look of shock on both Justin and Christine’s face at his rudeness was intensely satisfying. 

Not worth the palladium eating into his bones, though. 

He was gone, hurrying off to the bathroom to check his blood and waving off James’s quiet confused, “Tony?” because he wanted James in at least half a dozen ways but he didn’t want James to see the black at his chest and the numbers on the monitor. Tony didn’t want anyone to see those things nor did he want anyone to see just how close he was to a panic attack just from the effort of pretending. 

It was hard work being Tony Stark, harder work being the Tony Stark everyone thought he was and Tony was exhausted with it all. 

*beep beep*

“I’m going, I’m going.” Tony locked the door to the bathroom and turned the alarm off on his watch, dug the monitor out from his pocket and jammed it into the tip of his finger. 

He needed a distraction, a breather, a chance to reset after all the questions and a moment to figure out where his head was before he did or said something that would embarrass Pepper or draw too much attention to he and James-- he wasn’t ready for those tabloid covers yet, no thanks-- or inadvertently encourage Hammer’s particular brand of bullshit. 

Yeah, he needed a distraction, maybe he’d slip out the back and walk for a minute, that would be okay. He just needed to get his mind back on track and his heart back to a normal speed and--

44%

Chaos. 

Holy shit. That was almost halfway, that was almost halfway, here he was blushing over a round of sex while he was officially halfway dead, what the fuck--what the fuck was wrong with him-- what the fuck--

Panic. 

Tony bent over the sink and pushed his head against the mirror, grasped at the cold porcelain with both hands and squeezed till his knuckles went white and his finger nails jammed uncomfortable against the tiles, sucking a too harsh, too loud breath as he struggled for control. 

44%. Was this the number J had wanted to warn him about this morning? This was the number not worth stressing over? The one that could wait till later, no no no this couldn’t have waited till later, he was halfway to dead and JARVIS had told him to stress about it later. 

“There won’t be a later, J.” Tony couldn’t breathe, his first real panic attack in weeks, throat closing and vision spotting, legs going weak and head spinning. “F--fuck-- fuck---” 

He was drowning, sinking, falling to the floor with his heart pounding and chest aching behind the reactor and god could he feel the poison, could he feel it moving slugging in his veins, was a panic attack going to make it worse-- shit shit shit this was so much worse---

“Tony!” The door to the bathroom snicked open then nearly slammed shut, and that didn’t seem right because Tony had locked it, he had locked it, hadn’t he?, aw hell was he really losing his mind? 

“Tony.” It was Natalie of all people, skidding across the floor in  her heels and dropping down to kneel by his side, turning Tony’s head this way and that and pressing at the dark marks on his neck that he’d only barely managed to hide with some make up this morning. “Damn it. Tony are you okay?” 

“No, not okay-- freaking out--” It was right there to tell her why he was freaking out, but Tony grit his teeth and pushed at his chest and wheezed instead, tried for air, for oxygen. “Just need-- need a minute-- need--” 

“You’re having an anxiety attack.” Natalie was surprisingly strong, pushing Tony upright against the wall and he only groaned when she held him still with one hand and reached to turn cold water on with the other, wiping cool drops over his forehead. “I’m going to unbutton your shirt so you stop thinking you’re strangling, you’re going to put your hand right here--” she grabbed at his hand and placed it high on her thigh. “--because there isn’t a person alive that can think about panicking when they have the chance to feel me up. Squeeze, please.” 

“I--” That was pretty funny, and the fog in Tony’s head cleared just enough to register the words. “Uh-- yeah, you have--you have very nice thighs.” 

“I really do.” Natalie undid the top few buttons of Tony’s shirt, and he was too worn out to tell her no, focusing all his concentration on how warm her leg was, warm and solid and she was real which was helpfully grounding and he squeezed hard when she murmured encouragement and shifted forward closer. “And don’t worry, I know Ms. Potts thinks I will be a very expensive sexual harassment suit, but I can promise you groping my thigh to come back from this sort of thing doesn’t count.” 

“... thank you.” Tony ground out. “ Don’t know how you got in here but--” 

“Don’t worry about that, focus on breathing and clearing your mind.” she shook her head. “Your hand must not be high enough up if you’re still thinking, huh?” 

“Didn’t expect you to joke about this sort of thing.” The next breath came easier, the presence of someone real doing far more to bring Tony out of a spiral than his own coping methods usually did. “About… groping.” 

“You’d be surprised the things I joke about.” Natalie’s full lips turned up into a quick smile, then pulled down into a frown. “What does 44% mean, Tony?” 

“It’s battery life on the arc reactor.” Apparently even compromised, Tony could tell a quick lie, but he screwed his eyes shut when the next breath came with a reminder that it wasn’t really a lie, it was sort of battery life but not life left, it was life used and it wasn’t the reactor that was running out of time, it was him. 

“What can I do to help you?” Natalie wanted to know, backing up and making room when Tony tried to stand. “What can I do? Would you like me to get Ms. Potts?” 

“God, no.” Tony made it to his feet, wavered and nearly collapsed and Natalie caught him with another show of surprising strength. “No uh-- don’t tell Pepper. Don’t ever tell Pepper. James either.” 

And then with a half curious, half almost delirious look towards her, “You are super strong for someone who fits into a size two dress.” 

“Sizing me up, Mr. Stark?” Another one of those quick smiles and Tony swallowed back a groan of pain as he straightened and answered, “I’d say yes, but you’re remarkably difficult to get a read on.” 

“So I’ve heard.” Natalie waited until he was stable, then stepped away to give him some air. “How can I help?” 

“I uh--” Tony put the monitor back in his pocket and stuck his finger in his mouth to get rid of the drop of blood. “I need to get out of here. Out away from every one. Need to breathe.” 

“Alright then, let’s get out of here.” Natalie nodded just once, short and decisive. “Where do you want to be?” 

Tony’s head still hurt, and he took a moment to drop his face into his hands, to tug his fingers through his hair and almost whimper as spots popped behind his eyes. Damn these panic attacks. 

“Mr. Stark?” Natalie prodded gently. “What are you thinking, right now?” 

“I’m thinking--” Tony swallowed, tasted the bitter edge of fear on his tongue. “I’m thinking it’s time to check something else off my bucket list.” 

“Sure.” she said promptly. “How can I make that happen?” 

And Tony held onto his chest, weary and frightened and seeing 44% flash in front of his eyes, and managed a pained smile when he heard engines roar by outside the hotel walls. 

“...know what I’ve always wanted to do?” 

***************

Back inside the hotel, James was the only person who noticed Natalie re-entering the room. The redhead moved purposefully unobtrusively, drawing every eye with her figure and her clothing choices while simultaneously disappearing into the crowd of equally beautiful women in equally eye catching dresses. It was like she was invisible in a room full of people staring and it tickled uncomfortable at the back of James’s mind that he recognized her for who she was. 

Dangerous. 

The same moment he realized Natalie returning was the same moment James realized Tony hadn’t ever come back from the bathroom. He hadn’t been losing time much lately, not with Tony always around but it had been a while since James had been this uncomfortable in this crowded of a room and a glance at the clock proved Tony had been gone almost half an hour while James had been cataloguing and re-cataloguing the room, measuring and re-measuring potential threats, reading and re-reading every expression, every movement, every nuance of all the strangers. 

Half an hour Tony had been gone and now Natalie was back and staring at him, waiting until James tipped his head in a silent acknowledgment-- I see you, imposter-- before turning and looking pointedly at the closest TV monitor. 

James turned around to look just in time to hear Pepper gasp, “Oh no. No no no, what is happening? What is he doing?!” 

It was Tony on camera down at the race track, cheerfully announcing something about why he owned a car he’d never driven and how boring it seemed to just sit up stairs and watch when he could be living it. Tony suited up in racing gear and grabbing a helmet and climbing into the car and James whirled around to find Natalie again because she had to know something but the mysterious redhead was as unreadable as ever, stoic and unflinching as she met James’s gaze then turned to pick up her phone and make a call. 

“James!” Pepper cried and he snapped to attention. “Go get Happy! Get him now! I need him right away!” 

James was gone in a split second, shouldering through the crowd and ignoring the shocked gasps and outraged huffs when he bodily relocated anyone who got in his way. Happy was downstairs having a few drinks with an old acquaintance and it took James one-and-a-half minutes to get down the steps and through the hall to the smoking parlor, it took him no more than forty five seconds to clear his throat and jerk his head for Happy to follow him, just barley a few seconds to explain a rushed, “Tony went down to the track and wants to race and Pepper said to get you.” 

“Aw hell.” Happy threw back the rest of his drink and hustled after James, pushing through the outside door to get to the track and the growing crowd of spectators who were whistling and cheering Tony on as he revved the engine a few times. Pepper was up at the balcony screeching for Tony to cut it out and get back upstairs and so help me god if my hair goes gray after this---! And Happy ran an exasperated hand over his face and said, “You know, this isn’t even the dumbest thing Tony’s ever done? I gotta go calm Pep down, you comin’?” 

“I--” James planned on going back upstairs because there wasn’t anything he could do here from behind the twelve foot fence and he certainly didn’t want to sit in the bleachers surrounded by drunk, screaming fans. 

“I uh--” James planned on going back upstairs but he stopped, narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “Nah, I’ll stay down here. Just in case.” 

“Sure, sure.” Happy clapped him on the shoulder and James only briefly registered the driver leaving, hollering up to Pepper that he was coming, that she needed to calm down. 

James didn’t even notice the people crowding in around him, pressing him closer the fence and pushing up into the bleachers. 

The soldier’s full attention was caught by a figure in orange walking just along the track, a man too sloppily groomed to be the professional staff hired for each of the drivers, the work suit ill fitting and hanging stiffly on his frame as if propped up by something underneath. The man chewed a tooth pick, walked idly along the track with no apparent destination in mind and by all accounts, he shouldn’t have stood out at all. 

But James felt danger pricking at the base of his spine and focusing his vision laser sharp, his left fist clenched and then unclenched, clenched and his fingers ground together as watched ever step the guy took. 

Natalie was dangerous but this stranger was something worse and he was staring right at Tony’s car as it tore away from the starting line with the rest and disappeared around the first corner of the track. 

The spectators tracked the race courtesy of helicopter footage broadcast on massive screens, but James kept his eyes on the man in orange. The crowd cheered and whooped as different cars made the hair pin turns and passed each other in near-dangerous maneuvers, but James edged his way up a few steps and then closer to the fence when the stranger jumped down into the pits and flashed a badge that gave him access to the track. 

The fans jostled each other in excitement as the first of the cars completed lap one, their engines roaring and wheels skidding around the bends and opening up on the straightaway--

--and it all happened in slow motion. 

The man in orange jumped onto the track and walked resolutely through the wildly swerving cars. Fire burned away the ill fitting suit and whips lashed at his hands, lightning rolling up the cords and sparking bright at his chest where a reactor an awful lot like Tony’s sat harnessed and alien against his skin. 

--it all happened in slow motion. 

First a car sliced neatly in half, the front end separating from the back like paper being torn away, the body sent flying and the driver inside helpless to do anything but pray. 

Then the stands rioting, emptying and stampeding as everyone ran for their lives, bumping into James in their haste, screaming as they were trampled, shouting over the noise of alarms over the loud speakers and sirens already on their way to the track to try and save the first driver. 

Tony’s car, skidding around the corner and heading right for the maniac. Too fast too stop, too late to swerve and James’s eyes opened wide, his mouth fell open in a roar of anger and disbelief when those whips cracked fire and tore Tony’s vehicle apart. 

-- Up on the balcony Pepper screamed and screamed and Happy grabbed her, yanked her from the room and towards the waiting Rolls--

Tony was down, Tony was hurt and most likely trapped and there were still racers barreling down the road, skidding and fishtailing as they tried to avoid the stranger in their path, crashing and flipping and bursting into flames. 

Petrol stung James’s nose and petrol meant fire and fire meant explosions and all James could see was the bright fear in Tony’s eyes as those whips snapped and lightning popped--

--and James was up and over the fence before he knew what he was doing, scaling the twelve foot links and vaulting over the top, slamming down into the asphalt hard enough to dent it but not pausing to stop before he was off and running, feet pounding down the concrete faster and faster because the mad man was almost to Tony and there went the whipcord cutting into Tony’s car but Tony had somehow scrambled free and James leapt for him, leapt for Tony and shoved him out of the way a split second before the cord would have caught him and dragged him down. 

“James?!” Tony cried but James just shoved him again, again and again off the track and away from the danger and out of the path of the cars that kept right on coming to add to the carnage and the chaos. 

One step forward and then two, snap snap snap and the lightning sizzled into the road and James kept pushing Tony behind him, one hand out to stop the onslaught, the other on Tony to keep him moving and it was Tony that saw the dripping petrol and shouted “Roll!” so James jerked him away, threw Tony to the ground and covered him with his body when the world went red hot and blistering, deafening yellow for a few horrible seconds. 

Then Happy was there, slamming the car into the stranger and right into a chain link fence, but a chain link fence had give and had flexibility and it wouldn’t stop anything, it wouldn’t stop anything, James’s mind was moving a thousand miles a minute, scenarios and plans and neutralize neutralize neutralize he had to end this now, end it now soldier so he shoved Tony towards the car, yelling for him to get in but Tony was yelling for Pepper to give him a case and Pepper was screaming as Happy tried and failed to run the monster over and finally-- 

“Get in the goddamn car or I will throw you in the goddamn car!” James ordered and Tony looked like maybe he would listen but then the door separated from its hinge, the car split down the middle when a whip charged back to life and parted the metal like it was nothing, like it was butter, like it was water and no protection at all. 

Pepper got Tony whatever the hell the case was and James had only a split second to register the odd tech climbing Tony’s body, only a split second to recognize the red and gold as the original color of his new arm and only a split second to see the near murderous determination in Tony’s eyes before the hiss and crack of another whip sounded in his ear. 

He reacted on pure instinct, whirling around with his left arm up and taking the brunt of lightning wrapped around his wrist and clear to his bicep. The electricity surged bright and painful through his body, through James’s nerve endings, singeing his hair and nearly stopping his heart as it burning the shirt sleeve away, burned the leather away and lashed charred marks up the beautiful silver. 

And James had a breath where he looked the fucker dead in the eye and growled, bared his teeth and snarled--

--then grabbed onto the lightning whip with his right hand and yanked, let his strength surge and ripped the cord up close, closed his hand into a fist and shattered the maniac’s face with one well placed punch. 

He went down like a ton of bricks, out like the proverbial light, the reactor in his chest flickering and spotting before powering down, the whips losing their glow and falling limp. 

James raised his foot to stomp on his face, thought for a moment about just reaching down and ripping the heart right out of his chest, but metallic fingers closed tight around his arm and a voice came from deep within a robot suddenly standing at James’s side. 

“It’s alright.” the robot intoned, and James blinked at it unsteadily. “James, it’s alright.” 

The face plate snapped open and James startled when Tony was looking back at him. “I’d say I’ll take it from here, but honestly you did all the hard stuff. Guess I’ll just talk to the press and monitor the clean up and quietly swoon about being rescued by a knight in at least partly shiny armor.” 

“...Tony!?”

In the background somewhere Pepper was screeching about how her body physically couldn’t handle the stress of being CEO, how Tony had tricked her into this terrible job and was it too much to ask to just have a vacation and Tony cracked a smile, nudged James gently gently with a robotic elbow. “I haven’t had a vacation in two years, and she’s complaining? This was a full blown assassination attempt and she gets to walk away with slightly frizzed out hair. Definitely over reacting.” 

“Tony.” James muttered. “What the fuck is going on?” 

“Yeah.” Tony kicked idly at the still limp form on the road, then looked up and around at the chaos surrounding them. “You and I uh-- we should probably talk about a few things.” 

*****************

“Did you know Stark was dying?” 

“I was aware something was wrong, can you get away and give me a full report?”

“Not for a while, and to be honest I’m not even sure what I saw.” 

“Okay stand by, I might have something that can help. Pretty sure he’s poisoning himself and we’ve got a little something that should slow the process.” 

“Poisoning himself. Intentionally?” 

“Not real sure. It’s not unlike a Stark to have a death wish, but he seems more the type to go out in a blaze of glory instead of quietly suffering.” 

“Hm. “Where are we on the other situation?” 

“Radio silence until we are absolutely sure it is the same person and absolutely sure he won’t be a danger.” 

“Based on what I saw today on the race track, I think it’s safe to say all his instincts and skills are still present and fully functional.” 

“Does he appear aware of why he reacted that way?” 

“I’m still not sure. I almost think he was as surprised as the rest of us.” 

“Well find out quick. He may be a ghost, but if he’s going to be dangerous, I’ve still got ways to bust ‘em.” 

“Yes sir.” 

“And be careful, Romanov. He put a bullet through you once, I doubt he’d hesitate to do it again.” 

“Noted.” 

*****************

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE CHAPTER!

*****************

@ships-galore @ceealaina @izziebladez @cwar1864 @hausoffro @tonystarkisanangel @multishippinglife @girlnic @iam93percentstardust @paranormalmoonlight5 @igotloki @moosette05 @wayward-student-philosopher @kaz-brekkers-gloves @atomicfandombomb @1fuckingshitup69 @agentlokii @livewire28 @tulipsnbigcats @kimstark @alex-stark-rogers @bibbarnes @heeeyitskay @goindownshipping @justaniche 

@quietgayguy @bluedreamdino @akimi-youngblood @blackstar1602 @dixiehellcat @travellover1245 @capnstarkey @the-awkward-teenaged-one @thanossucks @peteryoulittleshit @tony-and-steeeb @striving-artist @roe-sesandthorns @coolsidedpillow @i-am-worth-it-25 @firelightmystic @maligatorthealigator @simsccsol @a-tardis-in-221b @happyendingrequired @everygoodoneistaken11 @pootie-and-the-snoots @megahuffledor @xkissmeimirishx @crystalskrull @hazelbeatsturtle @wecollectnightmares @endrega23 @saganarojanaolt @the-crazy-house @ravynfyre @yomama-umbridge @lovely--tony @gayspacesprinkles @elliotkaingrey @warmachinesocks @glitternotgold73 

[the-rogue-mockingjay]

broken body built anew

Part 2: let the dead stay dead. Definitely gonna be a third part later lol

1392 words

Summary: Marian grapples with the reality of her new resurrected body and the two years she spent dead. Mild anxiety attack this chapter

[Part 1: the dearly departed returning]

To say that Cerberus had made a few “improvements” to Marian’s body was an understatement. She’d suspected that at least two of her limbs – right arm, left leg – were mostly cybernetic, and the dossier Miranda gave her confirmed it. Her eyes had been replaced with new synthetic eyes, restoring her to 20/20 vision. She was now capable of greater precision thanks to the tech in her hands, greater running speed thanks to tech augmenting her legs and lungs, greater strength thanks to tech in all her limbs. Her biotic implant had also been upgraded significantly, providing greater endurance, control, and sheer power to her biotic attacks. With her elite N7 training, and the cutting-edge cybernetics, weapons, and armor provided by Cerberus…

She’d always been called a tank. Now, she was an outright supersoldier. The perfect weapon meticulously crafted to fight the Reapers, the Collectors, whatever else Cerberus labelled a threat to humanity. The Illusive Man made it clear that she wasn’t more than a pawn granted only enough freedom and authority needed to combat the chosen enemy.

Fuck him. That’s not what she was.

Right?

She peeled off her jacket and held her arms out in front of her, twisting and turning them in her cabin’s bright blue light. The cybernetics shone orange through the cracks in her skin, arcing up and down and across her arms.

Inhuman cracks. Unnatural cracks. Human skin doesn’t scar or crack like that.

Irrelevant. She was still human. This was still a human body, just augmented. Human bodies may not come back from the dead…but this one did, thanks to a bunch of scientists with too much money and no damn morals in sight. Why not let the dead stay dead? One of too many questions she’d never get an answer to.

There was, however, a question she could answer herself.

She headed into the bathroom, eyes on the floor, and leaned on the sink. Time to see just how well Cerberus had reconstructed her face. Time to look into her new synthetic eyes for the first time.

She glanced up- and immediately recoiled. The glowing scars were there, too. Too many of them. Raging orange beneath the skin of her face, inhuman, unnatural. Wrong. This body was wrong. More Cerberus than Marian. She took an unsteady breath, gripping the sink’s edge until her knuckles turned white.

Take it slow.

She raised her gaze to her reflection’s jaw. A small crater on the left side, with cracks shooting directly up, down, left, right. A tiny crosshair on her face. On the right side, a simple scratch, more normal looking. A dimmer glow. Could almost be mistaken for a normal scar, but she knew it wasn’t. The scar that cut through the right side of her mouth was gone. Unfortunate.

Cerberus had gotten the shape of her jaw right, at least. And her cheekbones- marred, but otherwise the same. Her nose was no longer broken, but retained the same hooked shape that got her labelled ugly in high school. Good. The old eyebrow scar was gone, replaced with another cybernetic crack running parallel to her brow. And her eyes- the same jade green they were before.

She still looked like herself, mostly, even if beneath the skin she was something other. Even if the skin was new, artificial.

What part of her wasn’t artificial, in some way? Her own heart hadn’t even escaped Cerberus’s upgrading. Still flesh, still the heart that saw her through to Alchera, but returned to functionality by machines, Cerberus’s godawful machines embedded in her heart and brain and threaded in her lungs.

She flexed her hands, watched the tendons ripple beneath the skin. One mostly organic, the other mostly tech. No part of her body free of Cerberus meddling. No part of her life, now, free of Cerberus meddling.

The Illusive Man was right about one thing: no way in hell the Alliance would take her back now, and even if they did, her hands would be tied. She’d confirmed what he and Miranda said: colonies were disappearing, and the Alliance wasn’t doing much. And she would do what Commander Marian Shepard always did: step up and do the job no one else would do. Fight the fight no one else would fight. Ever bound to do the dirty work, her life never her own even when she was alive and not a resurrected monstrosity.

To hell with it all.

She snatched her jacket off the floor and raced to the elevator.

----

“Joker.”

“Need something, Commander?”

The relatively cheerful look on his face fell the minute he saw Marian. She edged a little further behind the wall into the shadows, trying and failing to tug her sleeves over her hands.

“You knew me, before…this.” She gestured vaguely at the brand-new cockpit around them.

Wrong words. He tensed, uncertain, somewhat pained. “Yeah, I did.”

She wiped her sweating hands on her pants. “Do you know what Cerberus did to me?”

“Yep. Read Miranda’s little dossier more than once waiting for you to come back.”

“So you know about the upgrades. The ‘improvements’.”

“Yep.”

His eyes tracked her as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other, edging into and out of darkness. Hesitant. Pathetic. But there was no judgement in his face, only…concern. The commander’s supposed to be concerned for her helmsman, not the other way ‘round, dammit. She stepped fully into the light, into the cockpit, in full view of Joker and those in the CIC.

“Am I still myself?”

A soft laugh. “I used to wonder the same thing, back when I learned they were rebuilding you.” Was that sympathy in his face? “They upgraded your body, Commander, not your mind. You’re still you. They couldn’t change that and even if they could’ve, they didn’t want to.”

“I-… You’re certain?”

“Pretty sure. I can’t say I knew you well, but I did know you. Better than some other people, anyway.” His eyes flicked to her hands. “You’re really worried about this, aren’t you?”

What was wrong with her hands? She held them up to the light, and they shook. She stuffed the traitorous things in her pockets. “I was dead, Joker. The dead don’t return.”

“I know.” He waved a hand at one of the empty chairs in the cockpit, and reluctantly she took it, safely hidden from the view of all but Joker.

An unusual chill settled in her bones, rendering her limbs weak. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. “I shouldn’t be here. The dead should stay dead.”

“I know.”

“Two years is a long time to be gone.”

“Yeah, it is.”

She sifted through her memories of the Normandy crash and found them disjointed and silent. She only remembered the impact of the enemy’s shots, watching people get thrown around. Maybe getting thrown around herself. She’d barked orders, but the sound of her voice was gone. The sound of alarms, of explosions and screaming, the sound of words, she’d forgotten them all.

What she did remember was making damn sure that her crew made it to the escape pods. Joker was the last one left on board. Then-

She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes til they sparked, keeling forward, gasping. Seals broken, the air, the air is-

“Woah, hey, Shepard.” A solid weight settled on her shoulder. Joker’s hand.

The air is still here, stupid.

“Commander. It’s alright.”

She shook her head. “The crew. They made it out?”

“Most did. Pressly didn’t.” A pause. “The Alliance reassigned us after that. With the Normandy destroyed and you gone, there wasn’t much holding us together. We were your crew, Shepard,” he said quietly.

Her eyes burned and blinking didn’t solve it. Tears? God, how pathetic.

She bolted up out of her seat, spine straight as a board. “I should go. Thanks, Joker.” She turned on her heel to leave.

“Wait, Commander.”

She froze mid-step and angled her head towards the windows on Joker’s left. She didn’t dare look back farther than that. He’d seen enough.

“You saved my life. I owe you.”

“No, no.” She turned her eyes to the Normandy hologram, and beyond it, the elevator. “It’s what any commander should do. It was best that you lived, and I didn’t.”

She was gone before he could say a word.