#god i love those goofs best pairing so far

[becca-alexa]

how are these boys falling head over heels for wednesday she's been giving them absolutely nothing

[junisfics]

All This Time — Armin Arlert (1)

series masterlist

Pairing: Armin Arlert x Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Series Summary: Reader messages her best friend Armin late one night while she's drunk and needy, but will she remember the things she said to him in the morning, and if she does... will she regret it?

Part Summary: After Armin receives a disturbingly vague message from his best friend, he shows up to her house only to find her drunk and needy

Content: Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Eventual Smut

Content Warnings: Sexual Content, Mentions of Masturbation, Sexual Fantasies

You met Armin in your freshman year of high school. You had gone to separate middle schools, but those two schools fed into your then high school and you became classmates. You shared a band class together, Armin played clarinet and you played the piano. The entire band was split between two periods, you and Armin’s seventh period consisted of woodwinds while the other period held brass… percussion was split evenly between the two periods. 

That was the first game of chance.

The second one was after-school practice sessions with Mr. Steunberg. Apparently, Armin was struggling with sight-reading just as much as you were, so you were paired together for practice lessons on Mondays. And every Monday for the second semester of freshman year, you and Armin played your instruments in that little sound booth while your music teacher corrected you from outside.

Eventually, the twenty minutes between the end of school and the beginning of lessons was being shared between the two of you rather than each of you hiding off down some hallway. You had decided to come down the band hall early, conveniently at the same time Armin had as well. 

It started with one of you asking if the other had a certain teacher, followed by asking if they had completed the night’s assignment for that class. Over time, the floor distance between you two closed and you’d sit cross-legged on the carpeted floor just outside the booth, knee to knee, sharing snacks before Mr. Steunberg made his way from his History class and down to the band hall. You’d work on homework together and laugh over the squeaking mistakes from the neighboring booths.

Just around the time when you and Armin began to grow comfortable with each other, your organized lessons had stopped and your blooming friendship had been put on pause. Neither of you missed it too much, you barely knew each other, but you still smiled at each other in the halls and occasionally talked before your shared class if there was time, but there really wasn’t.

It was like that for a while; little waves, sentence-long conversations, awkward silences followed by equally as awkward good-byes. It was months before you ever talked the same way you had in that little hallway.

It wasn’t like you craved his presence. Christ, you would completely forget about him if you didn’t see him every day in class. But when he came up to you at the end of the day one day while you were sitting on the piano bench, waiting for the final bell to ring, you couldn’t help but smile.

You still remember the shirt he was wearing, how he pushed those thin-rimmed glasses he still wore up his nose as he talked with you, “Can you help me with sight-reading? I don’t wanna tell my mom I need lessons again and I’m embarrassed to ask anyone else.”

Of course, you had said yes to him, you wouldn’t be pulling your phone out in the middle of the night in the peak of summer to text him while you’re shit-faced to text him if you hadn’t.

Your practicing together turned into practicing and doing homework together, which turned into getting off track and watching YouTube videos together. Then came the hanging out outside of homework and lessons; goofing off at either of your neighborhood parks, walking down the road to get fast-food, running around in a grocery store because there was nothing else to do in the suburbs.

There wasn’t an exact moment where you agreed that you were best friends, it just happened. You were always there for him whenever he got pushed around by the baseball boys, when his parents got divorced and his grandfather moved in, when he got his acceptance letter to the college of his choice; and he was there for you for your first boyfriend and your first heartbreak, he was there when your dog was lost for five days… he being the one that found her, and when you got your acceptance letter, he was the one sitting next to you with open arms.

There were moments when you found yourselves distancing; when you got into little arguments. But at the end of the day, the love that each of you had for each other was stronger than anything. You always came back to him, and he to you. 

No matter how many times you broke his heart by flirting with him just to hook up with some random guy at a party the same day, told him that he was your ‘best friend’, talking about how he was ‘like a brother’ to you, he couldn't leave you and he couldn’t stop loving you.

Armin would do anything for you and you would do anything for Armin. This is why when he got your messages in the dead of the night, he was over to your apartment before he could even text back.

‘armin’ ‘come over’ ‘help’ ‘need help’

Every second between the moment he got your messages until he reached your door, he was mortified. His heart was pounding out of his chest, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering while swerving around corners recklessly, eyes flitting over your parking lot to try and find anything out of the ordinary.

He almost tripped on the curb of the sidewalk while running up to your building. He was whipping open doors and frantically pressing elevator buttons as his keys still jangled in his hands, he didn’t even think to shove them into his pockets. His eyes bore into the red, electric lettering at the frame of the elevator, watching the numbers increase with his hand pressing against the metal doors like it’ll somehow make it go faster.

Once he reaches your door, he knocks frantically, jolts of pain shooting through his knuckles as he does so.

And you’re right at the door waiting for him. You tug it open the second you hear him outside of it, a giant smile of relief on your face.

“Oh my god! Thank god you’re here! I was going to pass out from waiting so long,” You giggle, grabbing ahold of his forearm that was still outstretched from knocking and pulling him inside.

It took him a moment to realize that you’re alright, that you’re standing right there in front of him, unharmed and unscathed, with his sweatshirt pulled over you, the one he gave you before leaving for university. You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet as you grab at his arms to bring him forward, stumbling back over your own feet in the process which just sends you into another fit of giggles.

You had a slight sheen of sweat over your face and neck, not a lot, just enough so when your head turned to look behind you the kitchen lights bounced against the gloss on your skin. You didn’t have pants on as well, just these light grey boy-short panties that completely exposed the length of your legs.

It wasn’t like Armin hasn’t seen you in a swimsuit before. Many times your parents had taken you on trips to a lake where you would go tubing and swimming for hours on end until you were both drained of all your energy. But seeing you in, presumably, nothing but his sweatshirt and panties that bared your thighs and bottom curves of your ass had him far more flabbergasted than a swimsuit ever could.

“You’re — you’re okay?” He asks, voice still wavering with concern as you continue to drag him towards the kitchen.

“Absolutely not!” You sound serious, “I need help… with making my dessert.” Your faux serious tone falls apart and you’re choking back another wave of laughter.

Armin watches you incredulously but intently as you slide your hands down his forearms until both of your hands meet his own, giving them a squeeze before spinning around and gripping the kitchen island’s counter.

You have an array of stainless steel bowls crowded beside each other while a mixture of dry baking goods sits unstirred in one of the bowls. You shuffle through the measuring cups and spoons before picking up a large wooden spoon and holding it up to Armin, presenting it to him, like you’ve found a block of gold.

When you turn away from him, he looks over the state of the kitchen. Sugar and flour remnants cover the countertops, series of baking instruments litter them as well, and on the kitchen table is a bottle of vodka.

And then it hits him; you’re playful nature, unpredictability, clumsiness, and intimacy.

“Are you drunk?” He asks you. He isn’t disappointed, or angry, just slightly taken aback.

You bring your head up from the bowl and tilt your head side to side like you were thinking over his question, “A little.”

It was much more than ‘a little’. Before you had even started drinking you were in a playful mood. You had just gotten the offer for a summer job for lifeguarding at the apartment complex’s pool and you thought to celebrate by binging your favorite television show and having a few shots. Then, a few shots turned to many and you were dancing around your living room while having the time of your life before you had settled on making yourself some food. ‘Another celebration’ you had convinced yourself.

But the measuring and the mixing were too hard and who else was there to call other than your best friend?

“Oh my god.” Armin smiles, shaking his head at you and making his way towards you as you continue to mix at god-knows-what you’ve put into that bowl, “You need actual food, not whatever you’re making here.”

You let go of the spoon, letting out a little huff of frustration at his words, scrunching your nose real cutely as you turn towards him. You take the front of his tee-shirt in your hands, gently fiddling with the fabric as you pout.

“I want dessert, Armin.” You whine, bringing your head forward to rest your cheek on his chest. Your chest was pressing against his torso, bare legs knocking against his own.

“’Tomorrow-You’ is going to thank me for not letting you have dessert.” He awkwardly brings one of his hands to your back, patting it a few times before letting his hand rest between your shoulder blades.

“Please?” You whisper, tilting your head up until he can feel your tiny breaths against his chin. Armin hopes you can’t feel the way his heartbeat begins to pick up in his chest at your close proximity.

“No… No, I’ll — I’ll make you toast or something, how does that sound?” He suggests, snaking his hands between the two of you to gently nudge you off him.

But the space between the two of you is quickly closed when your slide your hands up his chest and around his neck, “Don’t want toast.” You murmur, standing up on the tips of your toes to get in his eye-line. Your nose was only a breath away from his.

Armin carefully takes your wrists in his hands, taking your arms off him as he stammers out, “Well, you’re going to have toast.”

You let out another noise of frustration as you pull yourself away from him, your hands balling into fists at your sides while he pulls open your fridge for the loaf of bread on the top shelf. You watch him with your head tilted in fascination like you’ve never seen bread before, admiring the way his hair falls into his eyes as his pretty hands unwrap the plastic sleeve of the loaf then tug the toaster away from the counter backsplash.

He truly was so beautiful. You always contained your attraction towards him so well, but now your restraint was slipping.

You prance over to him, slipping your arms around his waist and resting your head against his back as he slides two slices of bread from the loaf. His skin is so warm beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. You can feel the muscles in his shoulders and back flex as he moves his arms, his abdominal muscles twitching as well in reaction to your fingertips skimming over them.

God, he’s so fucking nervous. 

Why is he so nervous? 

Because you’re all over him in just panties and his shirt when he’s had a crush on you for as long as he can remember. You’re being so touchy, so intimate with him, he’s afraid he might explode.

“Go sit down. Can’t — can’t help you if you’re in my way.” He says. Oh but he could help you, he could help you even if you were hanging on him like a spider monkey, he’s just afraid you’ll realize your effect on him if you do so.

“I just wanna be close to you. You’re so cute.” You nuzzle your head under his left arm until you and slip your whole body under it and stand ever so slightly in front of him, wedged between his torso and the countertop.

Your hands play with the hem of his shirt as you look up to him, your eyes glossy, and your pupils were blown. Armin tries his best to keep himself subtly distanced from you, but it’s no use. Every time he inches away, you’re just back on him. 

You’re sliding your hands up his chest, fingers tracing over his jaw and cheekbones as you cling to his side. He can feel your hips knocking against his, your thighs rubbing against his as you shift around to try and get closer. Your fingers follow along the curves of his neck, tracing down his throat then skimming over his collarbones.

“Sit here then. Sit on the counter.” Armin grabs ahold of your torso and pushes you against the counter, the edge of it rutting into the small of your back. You grab ahold of his biceps and let out a flirty little giggle at what his actions could be insinuating.

Your fingers press into the plush muscle of his arms as he strains to lift you, your heels grappling at the cabinets below you to try and aid him. His waist ends up slipped between your knees when you’re finally seated, and you can feel your body flush hot with arousal.

You were already sweating from the exertion you had put forward before he had arrived, but the added closeness with Armin was just driving you crazy.

“Now sit, and stay.” Armin places his hands in front of you to enforce his directions.

You giggle a few times, smiling at the fact that he’s treating you like a dog, “Woof.” 

Armin slips his waist out from your knees to come to your left slide, plucking the now toasted bread from the toaster and setting it on a napkin. He pulls open the drawer to his right for a butter knife, then snatches the butter from the island and brings it to your toast. 

His hands shake as he pulls the glass top of the butter dish, they shake as he dips the knife into the butter, and continues to shake as he spreads the butter over the first piece of toast. He can feel your thigh brushing against his hip as you swing your legs.

You begin to breathe heavier, the heat of exhaustion and heat of arousal begin to grow overwhelming. You fan your face a few times, pushing your hair off your neck, before grabbing the hem of his sweatshirt and pulling it up and over your head.

“What — what are you doing?” Armin stammers, taking a tiny step away from you.

You absentmindedly fold the sweatshirt before setting it aside to fan your face again, “It’s so hot… I think it’s you, Armin.”

You can see his face flush red this time, his ears as well, turning his cheeks and nose a pretty pink shade that doesn’t help your problem.

Armin tries to ignore you, he really does, but it’s so difficult because now you’re in this skimpy little tank top with spaghetti straps. And the straps are slipping off your shoulders and Jesus fucking christ you’re not wearing a bra. He can’t stop his eyes from flitting over your scantily clad figure, drinking in the way your thighs squish against the counter, the curve of your ass as it’s pressed to the granite, the way your nipples tease the thin fabric of your skin.

“Have I ever told you that? That you’re so fine?” You giggle, running a finger down his bicep as he finishes buttering your toast. You’re so grateful that he’s got that stupid white tee shirt on, the one that keeps your gaze lingering over the lean muscle in his chest and back.

“Um, n — no. Toast is done, hop down.” He refuses to make eye contact because if he does, he’s scared he won’t be able to stop himself from kissing you.

“Help.” You pout, reaching out your hands and grabbing for his shoulders.

Armin listens to your plea, setting the toast back down and grabbing ahold of your waist to slide you off the counter. But instead of bringing your feet to the floor, you wrap your legs around his waist and hook your arms around his neck. You have to tilt your head down to look into his eyes, only to see his pupils blown and lashes fluttering as he blinks.  He doesn’t push you off him. Instead, he uses his left hand to snatch the food off the counter while his right hand comes to brace your lower back. 

He’s afraid he’s going to have a heart attack now; feeling your thighs wrapped around him, your cunt hovering just right over his growing cock, your back arching your chest so close to his face that he swears if he looked down he would get a perfect view of your tits, your parted lips all glossy, breath fanning over the bridge of his nose as you run your fingers over the curves of his pretty pink lips.

Fuck. He was definitely getting off to this later.

You’re giggling all the while, and to an extent, you know exactly the effect you have on him. It’s cute, the way he stumbles around your house and trying to keep his footing as he brings you to your bedroom. 

“C’mon, Armin. At least take me on a date first,” You tease as he kneels down to bring your backside to the foot of the bed. Once your legs release his waist, he stands again.

“I’m — I’m not trying — we’re not —” He stutters, bringing his hands forward again like he’s scared you’ll pounce on him.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to. Armin wants nothing more in the entire world than to have you beneath him, to have his cock sheathed inside you, to have you moan out his name as you cum around his cock…

But he couldn’t let it happen like this.

You were drunk, so so drunk. And you probably didn’t even know what you were saying.

“We can if you want to.” You speak softly, your knees knocking together as you settle into your seat, fiddling with your hands in your lap as if you got all shy all of a sudden.

And when you look up to him through your lashes, brows furrowed slightly in a pout, Armin almost caves. But he catches himself just as fast, shoving your toast in front of you like it’s a shield.

Your eyes shift down to the food that’s presented before you, and your pout turns into a cute little smile as you daintily take it from his hands. You let the napkin rest in your left palm as you hold the food in your right, immediately taking a little bite out of it.

“You want some water?” Armin asks, still standing in front of you.

You give him a nod without looking up, taking another bite out of the toast while he fills up the cup that he knew rested beside your bathroom sink. As he stands in front of the mirror he takes a moment to breathe in and out deeply as the water fills the cup.

You were going to be the death of him.

“You know, I mean it when I say you’re attractive,” He hears you say, still sitting all obediently on your bed and waiting for him to return, “Everyone’s like, ‘oh Armin got so hot!’, but I always thought you were cute… you just got so — nnghh — in the past year.”

He returns with your glass of water, holding it out to you as you finish chewing. You take it from him gently, holding it in both your hands, careful not to drop it, as you take little sips.

He knew you were being irrational, but he truly hopes you mean what you say.

When you finish drinking, you pat your hand against the mattress as you set your cup to the floor. You want him close again, want the warmth he radiates both physically and spiritually. Armin listens to your ask and sits beside you carefully, running his hands over his thighs as you pull your legs up on the mattress and cross them under you.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” You ask, voice getting tiny again.

That was real… that question… he’s so sure of it. You were always insecure about your looks when you had no reason to be, but he had no idea that you cared what he thought about you.

“I — um… I — I don’t think my — my opinion matt —” He tries to get it to come out sounding right, but the moment he opens his mouth he already knows he’s failed terribly.

“Do… do you not think I’m pretty?” He can hear the feeling of betrayal in your voice, you turn your head away from him.

“No! No, y/n, I think you’re really pretty —”

You grab ahold of his shirt collar and tug him towards you as you let your back fall to the mattress. His torso comes over you and his hand shoots out beside your head to keep him from falling atop you. He can’t even bring himself to pull off of you, because your noses are touching and he can feel your knees knocking against the left side of his waist.

“I — you’re — God, y/n you’re so pretty. Don’t ever think I don’t think that.” He breathes, trying so hard to your lips from touching, for his own sake.

Your mouth splits into a smile and a little laugh escapes your lips. Your free hand grabs ahold of his shirt as well, assuring both you and him that he isn’t going anywhere. You look down to his lips, slightly parted as he pants heavily to keep his composure.

“No, but you don’t understand,” You keep your eyes on his lips, fighting the desire to kiss him, “You’re so fucking hot.”

Armin’s breath gets caught in his throat because you had spoken that in a borderline whimper. Your bottom lip had been taken between your teeth after you finished speaking, and he swears he could see your back arch slightly.

It was completely visible now, how much you needed him. You were holding onto him for dear life, your thighs were squeezing together and your arched back had your stomach brushing against his. You looked at him through half-lidded eyes, irises filled with lust and hunger.

Armin’s so grateful that your legs are to his side and now wrapped around his waist again because he would not have been able to stop himself from grinding down against you… it would have been completely involuntary.

“And — and don’t tell anyone this but sometimes… sometimes I get off to you,” You bring your voice to a whisper as you reveal your secret, lifting your head to move closer to him. He can feel your lips brush against his as you speak, “Actually... like all the time.”

Armin lets out an audible exhale, his jaw slacking at your revelation, he has to shut his eyes again.

“Do you get off to me too?” You ask. And you speak like you didn’t just reveal that to him, bringing your head back down to the mattress and smiling.

Of course he does. Of course he does. 

Junior year of high school you offered to be his first kiss, just for fun, ‘cause you were friends, right? And you wanted to help him get it over with. 

But every night since then, Armin has gotten off to you; laid back in his bed with his cock in his fist, and whispering your name as he cums.

“I — we’re best friends — y/n, I —”

“Best friends don’t wanna fuck each other, Armin.” You say, your voice losing all its playfulness and growing serious like you had suddenly become sober.

You stare into his pretty blue eyes for a moment, letting your own flit between the two of his. You were watching for any change in his expression, any look of disgust or repulsion, but you don’t find any. He just keeps that same incredulous, lust-filled look on his face.

He looks over you as well. Your eyes were still so droopy and hazy, your lips parted like you’re manually breathing. You were so drunk that it almost hurt him. You weren’t going to remember a single thing in the morning, and the two of you would be back to square one because Armin would never be able to repeat to you what you said to him or admit his searing desire for you.

Armin can feel your grip on his shirt tighten once more, and instead of lifting your head to him, you pull him down to you.

“I need you,” You whisper, voice shaking with arousal, “Fuck me... please.”

Armin swallows hard, his arms beginning to shake under his weight. He was going to fucking explode. He needed a break, just a moment, anything so he can catch his breath and regain some of his composure.

Christ, he was so fucking hard. If you were sober, he wouldn’t hesitate for a single second to rip off both of your clothes and push his cock inside you.

“I can’t — you’re drunk,” He murmurs, and you can hear the hurt in his voice. You can hear the fact that he truly wanted to do what you begged him for.

“No, Armin, I want it. I need it. I mean it, I swear.” You plead, your hands pawing at his shirt like he was attempting to get away from you and you wanted him to stay. But Armin was set put, he wasn’t moving, he couldn’t move even if he wanted.

“I need your cock.”

“Not — not now. You need to sleep this off. You’re… you’re not yourself right now,” He takes his eyes off yours, closing them once more and squeezing them shut.

“I’ve — I’ve always wanted you though. Always, I promise.” You continue, hoping that somehow you’ll convince him.

It was true. You wish he could understand how true it was. All the guys you had gotten with after-parties, after football games… they were all just replacements, they were fill-ins for him. You would pretend that it was him that was filling you up, gripping your hips and whispering dirty things against your ear. And for seconds at a time, it would work and you would convince yourself that Armin was right there with you.

And every time you would see him helping another girl with school work, see them flirting with him and getting touchy with him, playing with his glasses or drawing shapes on his hands with a pen… this disgusting feeling would churn around in your stomach and bubble up into your throat. And although Armin was oblivious to their flirting, it still hurt so fucking bad.

“I’ve always wanted you too… just — just not like this. Just sleep it off, okay? And — and then we’ll talk.” His left hand wraps around your waist while his right switches to brace beside your head. He grabs ahold of your torso and shimmies you up the bed until your head meets the pillow.

He sits back on his calves, his left arm sliding out from under you while his right hand brushes your messy hair out of your face before petting your head.

“And, and you’ll fuck me in the morning?” You ask, completely genuine.

Armin swallows hard again, pulling himself away from you and helping you slide your body under your sheets, “If — if you still want me to.”

You look up to him with your eyes full of admiration as he smoothes the sheets over your body, “I’ll always want you to.”

It comes out sounding much more intimate than it actually is to say that ‘you’ll always want Armin to fuck you’. And Armin lets his eyes meet yours again, matching the love that’s filled them.

He smiles to hide the doubt he has inside his chest. In the morning, you’ll either regret every word and ghost him or you’ll forget everything you’ve admitted. Both options made Armin’s heart hurt, but he decides that you leaving him would be the worst of the two. He wouldn’t know what to do if you’d never talk to him again. So for now, he truly hopes you forget.

Armin pulls his hands away from you, shuffling his knees on the bed to get off of it. But before he can bring his feet to the ground, you grab ahold of his wrist.

“Stay, please.” You ask, your eyes struggling to stay open. He wonders if you even know that you’re talking.

He listens to you anyway, bringing his hand down to the mattress as he slips himself under the sheets and next to you. And if he wasn’t sure about staying before, he sure was now because you were so warm and so soft as you shimmied back against him. You take his arm and sling it over your waist, letting his palm splay out over your stomach. You can feel every rise of his chest against your back.

You were going to doze off so easily, he was so warm, he was so comforting. You could feel sleep beginning to creep up on you quickly. But before you let it take over, you slide your hand back and between your bodies to grab the source of the hard thing poking into your ass.

“You’re so hard,” You giggle.

Armin chokes on his breath again and grabs your wrist to pull your hand off his dick, “Stop. Go — go to bed.”

You listen this time, retracting your hand to slip it over his that rests on your stomach, interlacing your fingers as you succumb to your exhaustion.

[looooooooomis]

F I N A L  G I R L  |  F O U R

You were his final girl.  And there was no chance in hell that anyone or anything was going to mess that up.

p a r t   f o u r  |  k e y s

masterlist here

pairing: Billy Loomis x f!reader word count: 4.4k warnings: angst, s m u t, some more s m u t, teasing, finger-licking good billy boy, implied/referenced cheating, def not a healthy, functioning relationship (but like eh we persevere), some more s m u t. 

Despite your best efforts, the last few days had been miserable without Billy.

You hadn’t realized just how much of a routine he’d become over the last seven months, how much you’d both come to rely on each other and, fuck, did you miss him. You missed his smell, you missed that small little cheeky grin of his, you missed curling up beside him and feeling him over every inch of your skin. Your body craved for him in an almost primal way but, while you could live with denying your body its needs, it was your heart that hurt the most.

What was supposed to be a quick release for the two of you had never been that easy. You’d been in love with the idiot since freshman year, seen him through his various ups and downs and he’d seen yours, too. Which was precisely what made this entire situation that much harder. Not only were you dealing with your own heartache, but you were witnessing his, too.

Billy’s grief was more or less a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it sort of thing. Ever the stoic silent type, you hadn’t expected to see much of what he was feeling splayed out on that handsome face of his, but shocking even you, his regret was palpable. And each and every time those brown eyes met yours, that grief that was as clear as day struck you blind.

You’d tried telling yourself that it was for the best because, in all honesty, it was but that didn’t make the pain go away. Nor did it make you miss him any less. You were trapped in a vicious cycle of missing Billy, sticking to your guns, and worrying about him all at once.

God, you’d really fucked up with this one.

“You sure you’re okay?” Tatum asked, narrowing her eyes at you as you shoved a handful of books into your locker. “You’ve been scatterbrained all week.”

“I’m fine,” you shrugged, “why wouldn’t I be?”

“You tell me,” she leaned her hip against the locker. “Is this about Steve?”

You blinked as the question played on loop in your head. “Steve?” You asked, giving the strawberry blonde your full attention. “First of all, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart: ew. Secondly, huh?”

Tatum smirked. “Don’t play dumb, you’ve been acting all weird since Billy went psycho on his ass last week.”

“No, I haven’t,” you hoped your laugh didn’t sound as fake as it felt. “Also, Steve’s an asshole. If the day ever comes when I am interested in that big oaf, feel free to euthanize me.”

“Promise,” she made a motion of crossing her heart, “but in the meantime, you swear nothing is up?”

“Cross my heart,” you mimicked the gesture and shut your locker. “What are you up to after practice tonight? Want to go see that new Brad Pitt movie?”

Her shoulders fell. “Can’t, Stu’s coming over,” she unwrapped a lollipop and shoved it in her mouth. “I’d say ask Sid, but she got into it with Billy last night so she’s in a mood.”

You tried not to care, you really did, but her words hit you like a freight train. “They did?” You asked, hoping beyond hope that your voice didn’t sound quite as high pitched as it sounded in your head. “What happened?”

“Who knows,” Tatum shrugged, “Billy’s always been a little intense and Sid’s been a little cagey since…well, you know – so, it’s bound to happen.”

You swallowed hard and continued to nod along to Tatum’s words. Were you nodding too frequently? Did you appear too interested all of the sudden? Catching yourself, you focused on the leftover gum on the locker just behind your friend’s head and cleared your throat. “That’s shitty.”

“Relationships,” Tatum waved off, “they’re all pretty shitty sometimes.”

Before you could finish putting your foot in your mouth any further, the third bell rang out signaling your next class. Your most dreaded class: Biology. With a groan you tossed your bag over your shoulder and frowned across at Tatum. “See you at practice?”

With a nod, Tatum took off towards her class as you slowly sauntered towards your own. You were halfway down the hall when you heard a set of heavy footfalls running towards you from behind. Glancing over your shoulder, you barely had time to register Stu’s smiling face before he threw an arm around your shoulders. “How ya doing, pal?”

“Peachy,” you scraped your eyes along his profile and blinked. “If you’re about to play the rule of dutiful henchman for you know who, I’ve got a class to flunk.”

“Harsh,” Stu beamed, “I see why our boy’s so smitten.”

With a roll of your eyes, you glanced around at the people around you and glowered up at him. “Stu,” you warned, “I’m not in the mood for this.”

“For what?” He feigned innocence. “I haven’t said a word.”

“But you want to,” you mused. “And I don’t want to hear it.”

Stu chuckled. “All I was going to say is, like, I get it.”

You shouldn’t have taken his bait. What you should have done was push him off of you and continue on your merry way to class. That would have been the smart thing to do, the responsible thing to do.

Too bad you were neither of those two things.

Roped in, you sighed in defeat. “Get what?”

“I’ll be the first to admit,” he began, “when Bill told me that you and him were…you know, I laughed. I mean, two broads, man? I can barely handle the one how’s he going to deal with two of you?”

“I’m hoping there’s a point coming,” you groused.

“Right,” he laughed again, “my point is that I get it. I get why you two work. Why he’s knee deep in this big fucking mess because of it. You two work.”

“Stu,” you threw your head back and glared at the ceiling. “Stop.”

“What?” He asked. “Am I wrong?”

You gently pushed him away from you and dropped your voice into a whisper. “That’s not the point. He’s with Sid.”

“So?” Stu made a face. “Her mom just died, what do you want him to do? Dump her and break her heart? Her mom just died, that’d callous, man.”

“We’re breaking her heart either way, whether she knows it or not.”

Stu stopped walking and there was a compassion in his stare that left you reeling. For as long as you’d known him, Stu Macher had always been the goof. The reckless, chaotic idiot that seemed to fit just perfectly into your little mish mash of a group. But the sincerity in his blue eyes as the two of you stood in the emptying hallway was a look you’d never seen before.

“And by doing this, you’re breaking yours.” He limply shrugged. “Billy’s, too.”

Your shoulders fell as the weight of Stu’s words sank in. You couldn’t exactly say much in terms of a rebuttal, naturally, because he was right. There were no happy endings for either of you at this point in the charade. Sid had still been lied to and cheated on, Billy was still trapped in a relationship he no longer wished to be in in fear of hurting the girl he once loved and you were stuck in the middle, watching two people you cared for fall to bits while having to remain stoic in fear of showing your hand.

What a fucking mess.

After another minute of silence, Stu wriggled his eyebrows and squeezed your shoulder reassuringly. “Just something to think about.”

Taking off down the hall, Stu left you to your own devices as you stood in the middle of an empty hallway with far too much on your mind. In an almost zombie-like trance, you took off in the direction of your biology class, not quite caring that you were about to be marked as tardy for the third time that week. But, before you got to that god-forsaken class, you heard the click of a door not far off before a pair of arms encircled around your middle, yanking you into the nearest classroom. A surprise yelp tore out of your mouth, but the full-fledged scream died in your throat as soon as you realized just who it was who had grabbed you.

“Jesus, Billy, you scared the hell out of me.” You grasped your chest and took in the dark, empty classroom around you. He was still holding you against the nearest wall, you could feel the heat of those large hands through your thin shirt. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Sorry,” despite the desperation in those brown eyes, his voice never wavered. It was still as calm and collected as ever. “I’d go to your house, but it’s been like Fort Knox for the last week or so.”

You chewed on your lip for a moment before averting your eyes to the ground, not quite being able to stomach the weight of his stare just yet. “Billy, unless anything’s changed, I—”

“In case anything’s changed?” He reiterated with raised brows. “Everything’s changed. I miss you, Y/N, more than you can even comprehend. I know I’ve fucked up, I know that, but I need you. The last nine days without being able to really see you or feel you or kiss you or—”

“I get it,” you held your hands up and gently pushed him away. “And it’s been hard on me, too, Billy. But it doesn’t change anything.”

For a few, long, agonizing moments, Billy remained still as a thousand different emotions splayed out across his face. There was anger and grief, sadness and desperation. But the look you got as he dropped to his knees in front of you was pure, unadulterated fear. “I promise you, Y/N, the second I can, when the time is right, Sid and I will be no more. But me and you are it, sweetheart,” his hands gently circled around your hips before embracing you around your middle. “I’m so fucking sorry that this is how it has to be right now. And I’m sorry that I’m too fucking selfish to let this go, but I can’t. I need you. I need us. You’re everything good in my life and I know I need to start proving that to you.”

Still, you remained quiet. Your fingers itched to reach out and run your fingers through that slightly greasy, unruly mop of hair, but instead you kept them pinned down at your side as you considered his words. There was no doubt in your mind that he meant them, the desperation on his face said as much, but you had your reservations. Taking your silence in stride, however, Billy simply reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box.

Your heart nearly stopped.

“Oh, jesus,” you grumbled, burying your head in your hands. “You better not be doing what I think you’re fucking doing.”

“Open the box, Y/N.”

“No,” you held your hands up. “Not if it’s…that.”

Billy sighed. The muscle in his cheek twitched. “It’s not a fucking engagement ring.”

Somewhat relieved, you continued to stare down at the box in slight disdain. “So, what is it?”

Billy sighed. “Fucking open it and you’ll see.”

“Buying the ‘other woman’ jewelry, Billy?” You shook your head. “You’re like a walking cliché at this point.”

“Shut-up and open the goddamn box.” Standing up to his full height, he continued to hold the box out towards you and breathed out a quiet laugh when you remained unwavering. “It’s not a fucking bomb, Y/N, open it.”

With a sigh, you snatched the box out of his hand and, rather unceremoniously, opened it up to reveal a key. Not a fancy skeleton key or a charm in the shape of a key but a regular, run of the mill house key. You blinked, mildly surprised. “Okay, I’ll give you a point for creativity with the box,” you pulled the key out and observed it. “But what is it?”

“It’s a key,” Billy said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“I see that,” a small smile pulled at your lips as you looked across at him. “What’s it for?”

“It’s a key to my parents’ cabin.”

If you were meant to understand the significance, the story was lost on you. Looking back down at the key, you surveyed its tiny ridges briefly before nodding. “And what’s that have to do with me?”

He took a step towards you and grabbed the hand still clutching onto the key. “My dad doesn’t go up there much ever since my mother left and I figure we could both use a place where we can just…be.” His raked his thumbnail along your knuckles. “No Sid, no anyone. Just you and me.”

You were trying to remain unfazed by the sentiment, to remain icy and cool to the man you were supposed to be pulling away from, but between the softness in those warm brown eyes and the weight of the key still clutched in your hand, you could feel your defenses waning. “You expect Sid to just not care that you’re disappearing up north every once in a while?”

“I’ll make it work,” he shrugged it off. “And, to be honest, I don’t care what she thinks.”

Your answer came in the form of a long, drawn out sigh. “Billy,” you began, but before you could dive into the rest of your speech, his large hands slid up your arms and neck to cradle your face.

Slowly, he backed you into a nearby desk and traced the apple of your cheek with his thumb. “We can sneak up there whenever we want. Spend a whole weekend up there, just the two of us. I can worship this fucking body of yours in every square inch of that cabin. I can go into town and hold your fucking hand in public. We can do whatever the hell it is we want to do up there, whenever we want, without worrying about any of our idiot friends seeing us.”

Your pulse quickened at the thought of being able to parade around like a normal couple in a town where not a single soul knew who you were. You swallowed, trying to steady your excitement with a dose of realism. “It’s still not fair to Sidney.”

“Fuck Sidney!” Billy’s voice echoed out around the vast, empty classroom, alarming you with just how angry he sounded. His chest heaved with a white-hot rage that you couldn’t fully comprehend, and his jaw was wound shut as his nostrils flared with each and every heavy, uneven breath he took. You swallowed hard and watched the man steady his nerves, unsure of your next move. You’d seen Billy angry before, but that level of emotion was definitely new.

You weren’t sure whether to be terrified or turned on by the sudden outburst.

But, just as quickly as it happened, Billy’s eyes slowly opened to reveal those molasses coloured eyes again. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he appeased. “But I can’t have her stand in the way of this. I won’t.”

You remained silent as you shimmied on top of the desk that had been poking into your ass for the last few seconds and tried not to focus on the way your body seemed to melt into Billy’s as he stepped in between your legs, still looking at you with all the intensity of the world.

“If we do this,” you found yourself muttering, “there’s going to be some ground rules.”

A sense of hope blossomed in Billy’s chest as he vigorously nodded his head. “Anything you want,” sliding his hands up the sides your stomach, he gently held your waist and gave it a small squeeze. “You name it.”

“When we go up to the aforementioned cabin, we go out.” You told him. “While I’m more than happy to blow you in the living room without worrying about your dad walking in, it would be nice to go on an actual fucking date.”

Billy nodded and, with his hands still on your waist, he tried not to focus on the thin cotton of your shirt bunching between his fingers as his thumb danced along your ribcage. There was so little between you in the empty classroom, barely any space as the two of you were practically nose to nose. And between that short little skirt you had on and your pert nipples beneath your thin tank top, it was enough to make his cock twitch inside of his pants. “Anything else?” He asked, his voice husky as he nudged his nose against yours.

“Yeah,” you ran your tongue along your now parched lips as you sat with Billy standing between your thighs, holding you in place as his thumb traced agonizingly close to your tit. Were you even breathing? It didn’t feel like it. You were wet, too, which made his inhumanly close proximity almost too much to bear. “Lock the fucking door this time.”

A roguish grin enveloped his features as he stepped out from between your legs. Crossing the threshold of the classroom in two seconds flat, Billy locked the door and made his way back to you with that same mischievous glimmer in his eye. His eyes were hungry and, as his hands shifted down to your ass, he tugged you even closer to the edge of the desk. Closer to him. With your legs still open and on either side of his hips, you just about died when your clit managed to rub against the zipper of his jeans.

A quiet, low moan tore out of your throat from the sensation.

“Anything else?” He asked, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Yeah,” your breathing was ragged as Billy’s slow, methodical fingers, trailed up the side of your stomach. He was being extraordinarily temperate and slow to further tease you but, despite knowing how risky this was, you were putty in his hands. “Touch me.”

His nose brushed against yours again as he shifted his hips just enough for the zipper of his jeans to rub against your clit again. The bastard knew what he was doing.

“This feel good?” He asked as his hips toiled into you again.  

You were practically dry fucking against the desk, you could have been caught any second. But, fuck, when he pulled you in a little more and slowly gyrated his jean-clad pelvis against your clit again, you couldn’t care less. “Mhmm,” you hummed.

Slowly, Billy’s dept fingers slid up from your waist towards your breasts. Raking his thumb against the swollen bud, he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on the side of your neck.

He knew his jeans were rubbing against your clit and, as he looked down and saw the visible wet patch on your blue thong, he wanted nothing more than to rip them off of you and bury his face in between your legs. “God, I’ve fucking missed you.”

When his hand squeezed your breast, you arched into his grasp. “I bet you did.”

Billy smirked and rolled your nipples between his fingers through the fabric of your shirt. With every roll of your hips, the strap of your shirt slipped down just enough to expose your breast. Without missing a beat, Billy leaned into your chest and allowed his mouth to consume your nipple, swirling his tongue around it expertly before biting down. You hissed as a combination of both pain and pleasure ripped through your body.

Your fingers curled around the hair along the nape of his neck and gave it a firm tug as is hands held you firmly in place. “Fuck, Billy” you moaned, breathless.

He released your nipple slowly, nipping at it one final time before leaning his forehead against yours again. You wanted like hell to close the distance between you. You wanted to feel his lips on yours. Feel the tickle of his stubble along your upper lip and have that expert tongue brush against yours.

But you also wanted to make him sweat a little.  

You weren’t sure what had come over you as you slid your hand down your torso. Maybe it was adrenaline of being caught or the relief of having Billy in your arms again but as you allowed your fingers to dip beneath the hem of your exposed thong, the look on Billy’s face made it all worth it.

“What are you doing?” His Adams apple bobbed up and down as he watched you touch yourself. You were in an awkward angle, but as your finger circled your clit and you watched the bulge in his pants grow, you were coasting high.

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” You hummed, feigning innocence. “When I say touch me, I mean it, Billy. I’m taking matters into my own hands.” You pinched your clit and arched your naked chest into him. “Fuck.”

You heard him swear under his breath as his lips ghosted over yours. “You’re doing my head in, woman,” he growled, sliding his fingers beneath your panties. You gasped when his thumb began to circle your clit. And when he slid two fingers inside of you, you nearly saw stars.

His mouth found yours, mid-moan. Reaching the hand that had just been down the waistband of your shorts, you ran your fingers through his hair as his tongue coaxed yours. Everything about this man was electric. His fingers quickened their pace and before you knew it, you were thrusting into his hand. Placing sloppy kisses down from your mouth and along your jaw, Billy nipped at your ear. “How’s this for touching you, sweetheart?” He hissed, licking and biting his way across your neck.

Your breathing was rampant as you felt yourself edging closer and closer. “It’s alright,” you teased with a cloudy grin.

“So stubborn,” he laughed into your neck and curled his fingers so that he hit an area inside you that felt almost primal. The moan he got in return made him bite down on your collarbone. He curled his fingers again and you nearly choked. “You sure?”

Pulling his hair, you steered his face back to yours and crashed your lips against his. “Fuck me.” You mumbled into his mouth.

He applied the smallest bit of pressure to your clit and flicked his fingers one final time, sending you over the cliff. With a long, shaky moan, you bucked your hips uncontrollably as you came into his hand. Every inch of you felt as though it was on fire as Billy made you ride out your orgasm, not for a second easing up on your clit as you writhed beneath him.

“Play with your tits,” he barked out through hooded eyes.

“You play with them,” you argued, but the resolve in your voice was gone. You weren’t entirely sure if you knew your name at that point. All you could focus on was the feeling of his finger pinching your highly sensitive clit and that was it. Everything else was a blur.

“God, you’re so fucking stubborn.”

You were so wet and so turned on you could barely think straight. “Billy,” you pleaded, your entire body heating up almost unbearably so. When he ignored you and instead continued his attack on your clit, you whimpered. “I need you to fuck me.”

With a bruising kiss, Billy released your clit and, in seconds flat, tugged his jeans far enough down his hips before slipping inside of you. The moan that escaped your lips was undeniable as he pumped into you. Reaching up, he grabbed your tit and squeezed as he bit down on your exposed neck. It was a sensory overload coming from all angles.

“Fuck,” Billy’s hoarse voice was in your ear as he pumped into you. “You feel so fucking good, Y/N.” He reached for your face and tilted your chin up towards him, meeting you halfway with a sloppy kiss. Moaning into his mouth, you managed lose yourself in that instance.

Gone was the room around you.

Hell, gone was everything up until this point.

All you could focus on was the feeling of Billy inside of you. Biting down on his lip, you tugged it back as he rolled his hips in a way that made you quiver. He was thrusting, hard, in an almost animalistic that made your entire body shake with the velocity of every desperate push. He moved between kissing your lips, to biting them to suckling your neck as he continued to rail into you with all of passion in the world. He was a man, unhinged, and you weren’t sure if you’d ever seen him so sexy.

Not surprising in the least, it didn’t take him long to come. You’d riled him up to the point of no return and, as you felt him come inside of you, you all but laughed when his forehead dramatically fell against your own.

For a few minutes, neither of you moved, simply just remained still and firmly pressed against one another. But, as the weight of your current whereabouts slowly dawned on either of you, you both slowly pulled away from each other, both wearing a small smile as you re-dressed yourselves.

Once his pants were done up, Billy stepped into you once again and placed a kiss on your forehead. “Cabin this weekend, okay?”

You nodded and hopped down from the desk. “Yeah, maybe,” you teased, fixing your skirt.

Billy’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, maybe, eh?”

“Yeah,” you winked, “I’ll think about it.”

“Smart ass,” Billy smirked. “That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one of these days.”

“I’m counting on it.” Once you were both fixed up, you nodded towards his hand which was still slicked with your juices. You laughed. “Oops.”

But Billy didn’t seem fazed. Instead, your breath hitched in your throat when he raised his hand to his lips and licked your slick clear off, relishing in the taste of it with a knowing smirk on his face. “This weekend.” He reiterated, driving the point home.

“This weekend,” you agreed, walking towards the door. Ensuring nobody saw the two of you leave an empty classroom together, you unlocked the door and gave Billy a small, knowing smile. “See you at lunch, lover boy.”

[annoyingloverbear]

ASANO GAKUSHUU X READER HEADCANNONS

Before you ask......don't ask. Yes I like assassination classroom too.

This is a HC about Y/n and Gakushuu attending the same high school.

Ohh boy do I tell you this boi fell hard for you.

And by 'fell' I mean literally fell.

It was one of those rare occasions his father being the disciplined father he is made Gakushuu walk home from school just because he didn't eat his roasted asparagus in dinner last night.

He didn't really mind tho. His home wasn't that far and he liked to see what's going on in the outside peasant world sometimes.

As he was passing a convenient store, he heard some commotion in the alley behind it.

He ignored it and started to walk his way, but he saw a glimpse of a grey uniform skirt and snapped his head towards you.

He saw you, clad in Kunigioka's grey uniform and surrounded by three tattooed bulk men.

"Come on little girl, just keep us company for some karaoke. You see my friends and I we all are really bad singers and would love some help."______"What makes you think I'm good at singing?"________" Oh I can tell you are naturally good at it little bird! Your angelic voice is like as sweet as honey to my ears."________"Back off."_________"What?"________"I said back off you pathetic excuse of a human being before I break your willy and shove it down your throats."________"YOU STUPID BITCH!!!"

He raised his hand, but before he could even swing you neck sliced him in the throat and kicked him down there. He clutched himself as you once again kicked him in his ribs and hope that the blow was enough to keep him down for a bit. You grabbed your heavy aluminium water bottle (those things hurt guys😭 not that I've been hit by one but I accidentally hit myself. it's a great, heavy yet non-obvious self defense tool so carry one around👍) and swung it towards one of his friends. A sickening clang could be audibly heard as you hit him in the head and Congratulations!! You eliminated one more player.

You turned around and swung it towards yet another person who skillfully twisted and yanked your aluminium bottle away from you. This person was similar to your build and was standing in a defensive position, so you kicked the only thing available to you, his shin.

You were surprised as you heard a rather boyish yelp as your victim fell to the ground and grabbed his aching leg. Only then you realized......

Shit it's the previous headmaster's son.

"Oh no!! I didn't mean to kick you are you okay?"_________"I'm fine thank you."

You moved your hand towards the part of his leg which was sprained and saw that he flinched. Clearly he was in pain and seeing that he took care of one of the guys who was hitting on you felt bad so you took him to your house to treat his injury no matter how much he refused.

That was it. That's how he fell for you.

He expected himself to fall for someone who was at the same level of genius as him, but apparently he was wrong.

Why you ask he fell for you? Because you were the only one who can kick his ass purple and speak sweet words to him at the same time.

Seeing that you were an average student, not too good not too bad, he didn't really have a problem with sharing his feelings for you with someone.

The first one to notice it was not Ren, but Karma. Or you could say that Karma found his theory to be correct as he eavesdropped on Gakushuu telling Ren about how he felt for you.

Ren, knowing his manipulating skills encouraged Gakushuu to manipulate one of the teachers to transfer you from class C to class A.

And so you did.

Gakushuu, Ren along with Karma and you. This was a particularly chaotic classroom.

You weren't really complaining, as your grades got better the day you stepped in the class. But you can't shake the feeling that ten pairs of eyes were watching your every movement.

(And lol that was so true😂)

Gakushuu only respectfully watched you and your subtle movements. The way you'd chew on your pencil or nails when you were stuck, the way your eyes turned big round and innocent every time you didn't understand a concept, the way you'd pick on your peach fuzz on your face when you were anxious. Every single habit, every little thing he loved about you, he would have it memorized. Heck when he was feeling stressed out about his future company finances (yes he's planning big) he would pick on his own peach fuzz and smile like an idiot as his heart relaxes and flutters at the same time.

Ren however, watched for your responses to guys. Every time the handsome professor walked in, (admit it, we all have one at some point in our life😏) you would sit up straight, your spine rid of any slouchiness from studying. The way you would cross your legs so your skirt rides up just a bit, and the way your gaze turned sly and your smirk naughty, yes this boy is serious about helping his best friend. Heck he would even come up to you and talk to you to get some type of reaction towards him, but figures out you didn't really like him (ouch!😢)

But Karma stared. And by stared I literally mean stared. Bore holes in the back of your head by staring at you too much. He didn't understand that a guy as corrupt as Gakushuu would fall for a disheveled angel like you. It's not that you weren't beautiful, but the combination of scary principal's son and a smol fluffy bean didn't seem very safe. At times you would even find Karma behaving as an older brother to you. And you weren't one to complain but rather happy that someone in here truly cares for you than judge you for your grades.

Add 7 other girls who were suspicious of you and that's all the people who keep staring at you during the time you're in class.

Every morning you hand in your homework, it was always Gakushuu. You would hand in your homework, he would scan it once and turn around to check others'.

But you knew better than that.

After school was over, you would make your way to the hallway but a strong grip held you back.

"We need to work on your Social Studies. You suck at it."______"But shuu!!!"_______"No buts. Get in the library and wait for me there."

He would drag you to the library and make you study your worst subject (which isn't fun at all🤢) but he would make it a LOT easier for you to understand.

Of course Ren gave him some tips to flirting. Hold her pinky, look in her eyes, compliment her and yada yada yada yada yada......

He did try one of them, but he almost had a heart attack from his heart beating so fast that he decided not to listen to his minio- I mean friend anymore and do it his way.

And honestly he loves his way!!

He loved the cute nicknames you made for him while you whined for him to release you. He loved it the way your face lightens up when he explains there was an easier way to solve an equation.

All the nervousness is his system had vanished.

He also got to the point where when you got an obviously easy question wrong, he would pinch your cheeks while grinning wide.

This made study time a lot easier for you.

You weren't aware that he was like that for and with you only. Only you made him feel that way.

But you found out soon when he got TOO comfortable one day and let it slip out.

"Y/n I think I have a crush on you."

As soon as he said it, blood rushed to your cheeks and drained from his.

Both of you were staring at each other for a hot minute before you broke the silence.

"You're kidding aren't you? I'm not even that smart or that much of a genius in anything. I- but-"

"Y/n I know that. But it's just something about you that I love. I- I can't express in words how much I adore you."

You were starstruck.

Asano Gakushuu. THE Asano Gakushuu likes you!!!!

But you still refused to believe yourself AND his words. Wondering if he was turning into a playboy like Ren.

All you could say was "Then show me."

The library was quiet and you two specifically picked up a spot away from other students, the librarian and surveillance cameras so both of you can goof off. Who knew that this was also the perfect place to kiss?

He gently took your hand as he first stared at your eyes and shifted his gaze to your lips. You acted confident as if you knew how to kiss but god knows you kicked the ass of your first boyfriend before he could even hold your hand.

His gaze stayed on your lips as he licked his and visibly gulped. You wanted to throw a snarky remark but seeing the boy was as edged as a cat you wouldn't dare.

Bringing one of his hands up to your cheek he slightly tilted his head as he came near you before stopping right where your lips weren't touching his but you could feel his minty breath. Obviously waiting for you if you were okay with this, you decided to close that painful space between the two of you.

As soon as your lips touched his, he was in charge. This wasn't a particularly deep or fast kiss. You weren't digging your tongues in each other's mouth but rather just moving your lips to each other, as if giving silent yet intimate messages to each other. His lips slightly glided over yours, and you definitely knew that the way he was kissing you, he was an expert hidden within an amateur. The kiss wasn't heated or passionate in any way, but it was sinfully sweet.

It lasted for about a minute, but felt like an eternity.

Pulling away he stared at you again softly before saying "Thank You" and intertwining your fingers with his.

You were too shocked to react to anything. You were an average student. You got into fights. Your mom always yells at you to behave. Your dad keeps telling you to improve your temper. Why the hell does this boy like you?

He noticed you were staring at him the same way you stared at the blackboard during class when the professor was teaching the quantum theory for the first time.

Now that this boy had finally kissed you, he was bold enough to reach out his thumb and running it over your lower lip before popping it in his mouth.

"Pineapple flavoured lip balm, huh? I thought strawberry was the preferred choice when it came to anything for girls. Including......" his eyes lowered to your legs which felt like they were bare naked in the tiny skirt.

"Shuu!!!! Don't stare at me!!" You shoved him away as he laughed and you covered your face with your sweater paws.

"I'm sorry dear. You are just so adorable I couldn't help myself." He said while stroking your hair.

Little did they know a certain playboy on the other side of the library was paying attention to them the whole time and a redhead was poking his head from above one of the bookshelves.

[hiccanna-tidbits]

this is a genuine, curious question! what's appealing 2 u about jackunzel :^] ??

Sure, I can talk about why I ship Jackunzel!!!

@gryffindorkxdraws has some posts about why she likes Jackunzel here, here, and here, so those are a pretty good rundown of reasons to supplement mine. But I’ll make a list of my own!

Why Jackunzel Owns My Entire Soul: An Essay in Disorganized Bullet Points ~I dig the sun/moon symbolism! Like Jack was chosen by the moon and Rapunzel has the powers of the sun. It’s such a nice contrast, and it also lends itself really well to star-crossed lover-type fantasy/fairy tale AUs (which I am ALWAYS a sucker for!) ~From what little we know about Jack’s preference in girls (i.e. the slight crush he seemed to have on Tooth), Rapunzel seems like EXACTLY his type--bubbly, energetic, optimistic girls with a bit of a maternal streak. I think even the RotG director confirmed Punz is the kind of girl Jack would like! ~Jack also absolutely seems like Punzel’s type--if Flynn/Eugene is anything to go by, she’s kind of into sarcastic troublemakers with a hidden soft side XD And she also seems to like guys who are good with kids, if Eugene reading “The Adventures of Flynnigan Rider” to the younger kids at the orphanage is anything to go by! ~They both seem to be naturally pretty social people who suffered a lot from being isolated for a really long time--Jack had it worse, obviously (300 years--OUCH), but it was rough on Punz as well, growing up for 18 years with no one for company but Mother Gothel and Pascal. Jack, spending all that time with no one able to see him and only the guardians (who weren’t even really his friends from much of that time) for company, would understand that pain a lot. I feel like they’d be able to connect on a really deep and intimate level about the pain they felt at being isolated for so long, and this would give them a really strong bond that I can easily see turning into something romantic. ~They’re both just such genuinely lively and fun-loving people, and I can imagine them having a ton of fun together and just genuinely really enjoying spending time together. Like imagine the snowball fights!!! The ice-skating!!! The sledding!!! Chasing each other through the forest!!! Jack grabbing onto Punz and her wrapping her hair around a tree and swinging them around Tarzan-style!!! Like literally the entire scene where Punzel leaves her tower for the first time and is goofing off and doing Silly Shit for like an hour straight??? Like man...if Jack was there, they’d have the TIME OF THEIR LIVES together. Idk I just really love couples who I think would have a lot of fun together, it’s so pure <3 ~They’re both so loving!!! Like Rapunzel goes out of her way to be supportive to an entire tavernful of terrifying “ruffians and thugs” because they have dreams, and she’s so sweet to Flynn/Eugene no matter how many times he snarks at her and tries to alienate her!!! And Jack loves loves LOVES entertaining kids, and it genuinely makes him so happy to give them snow days :3 I just feel like they’d shower each other with love, and it’s honestly no less than they both deserve!!! ~Rapunzel especially is such an affectionate person, and I can see her doing just absolutely everything in her power to make Jack feel as seen and as loved as possible after 300 years of being alone. And god, does he NEED it, too. Like no way is this boy NOT touch-starved, and with some MAJOR self-esteem issues (although he’s good at hiding them). Rapunzel would do absolutely everything in her power to build him up and make him feel wanted and validated--and since it’s in her nature to do so, it would never feel like a burden or an effort for her. And she’d love him so much that hyping him up just comes naturally! She’s just got the kind of nurturing personality that someone as affection-starved as Jack really needs, and I think she could help him feel safe, comfortable, and loved in a way a lot of people couldn’t. ~For all the fun they’d have together, I also feel like Jack needs someone to ground him a bit and provide the Brain Cell to perhaps reign in that Unchecked Chaotic Energy of his sometimes XD Rapunzel certainly has a smart and rational side--I mean, she charted STARS as a teenager!!! She figured out how to get this stranger she captured to take her into the kingdom to see the lanterns!!! Girl can be spontaneous and goofy, sure, but she’s got smarts and kind of a mature streak that I think mesh with Jack really well. He’d never feel like she was a wet blanket stifling his fun, but she’d also have a sense of when to transition away from goofing off and focus on responsibilities (princess and guardian responsibilities in this case, I suppose?) ~On the flipside, I don’t see Rapunzel as being someone annoyed or irritated by Jack’s antics. She might like...gently scold him if he takes a prank too far, but she never finds his shenanigans to be grating and tiresome the way other people might. Rather, I think she’d be endlessly entertained by him. Like in his memory reel when he’s dicking around pretending to be a deer, she’d get a kick out of that! Jack would always be trying to make her laugh and make her smile, and Punz would love that so much about him! ~They’re both searching for a deeper meaning and a deeper sense of purpose in their lives. Rapunzel entertains herself with hobbies, but doesn’t feel like her life has really “begun” and is desperate to find out if her hunch is right and the floating lights really ARE meant for her. Jack has no idea why he was chosen by the moon or what he’s meant to do, and he’s determined to find out so he can finally have a sense of purpose. Rapunzel clearly wants a sense of purpose too, since she wants to do more with her life than pass the time with hobbies. I can definitely see them bonding over this! ~They’re both just so adventurous, and love to explore! Rapunzel is curious, and loves to read and learn, and she wants more than anything else to see the world and all it has to offer. Jack loves adventuring and flying around the globe spreading winter and fun, and he could show Punz everything she ever wanted to see. A perfect match, honestly! ~Aesthetically I LOVE the similarities!!! Like they both like to go barefoot, kinda showing their free-spirited natures. And I love how they’re both naturally brunette, but had their hair turned a different color by magic. It’s a little thing, but I think it’s a really neat parallel and it helps cement me thinking they really ARE perfect for each other in every little way! Haha XD AND they both have small green companions, and as of Ralph Breaks The Internet, they’re hoodie buddies as well!!! Not that surface-level parallels like that are actually that significant BUT I just think they’re neat XD ~While I am fond of Flynnzel/Eugenzel (still my favorite canon Disney couple!), finding out their age gap is around 8 years admittedly made me a bit uncomfy and just pushed me further into loving Jackunzel as an alternative option. I still really love Eugene as a character and adore his and Punzel’s dynamic, but these days I prefer their relationship as more of a big bro/little sis type thing. Jack I think is the best match for Rapunzel romantically, and Eugene I prefer with Elsa--or poooossibly Tooth, Astrid, or Zarina, if I read a fic that sells the pairing well enough! ~On a related note, I was into Jack x Tooth the first time I watched RotG, but after discovering Jackunzel, there was no going back--I was hooked! Rewatching the movie, Tooth strikes me more as a mom figure/”fun aunt” for Jack, and I actually prefer her with Bunnymund (I am WEAK for “the grumpy one is soft for the sunshine one” lmao)

Well, I think that just about covers it!!! I’ll add more reasons if I think of them! Thank you for the ask, and I’m always happy to answer more ship asks about CGI crossover pairings :3

Also @ the anon who asked for Jackunzel headcanons--fear not, I shall provide them!!! I just wanna make a complete list and accumulate all the ones from my various fics so it’s gonna take a while XD

[httpsfelicity]

“In a black dress, she’s such an actress” - Harry Styles × Model Reader AU (Part 2/?)

Summary - Harry meets a model downtown and falls for her quickly, leading the public to think that it’s a pr stunt. Unsure of what to think, the reader plays along, not knowing that Harry is unaware of the rumours.

For @cruizmanadu, @stephaniemalvie!, @kissessfordraco Xx

A/N - Part two! Thank you sooo much for the feedback on part one, I never expected it! Glad you guys like it so far. If you haven’t read part one, click here x Once again, if you’d like a part 3 / have suggestions / ect, just send a DM or ask! Here you go babessss :) 

Harry Styles: Hi

Y/n <3: Hi

Harry Styles: Why are you awake, it’s 3am?

Y/n <3: I could ask you the same thing, you messaged me first!

Harry Styles: You’re right. What’s up?

Y/n <3: Watching TV, you?

Harry Styles: Not much. Listening to The Beatles, y’know, normal night things.

Y/n <3: Never really got around to listening to them personally

Harry Styles: Omg reported and BLOCKED.

Y/n <3: Omg noooooo come back 

Harry Styles: Kiddinggggggg, but I have to make you listen to one of their albums sometime

Harry Styles: Are you free tomorrow?

Y/n <3: I have a shoot all day. I’m free the next day tho

Harry Styles: We could maybe do something then? The park?

Harry Styles: Unless you have a better idea, of course

Y/n <3: No that sounds great! What time?

Harry Styles: 7?

Y/n <3: Sure! :)

Harry Styles: Now, GO TO SLEEP!

Y/n <3: Only if you do!

Harry Styles: Okayyyy, goodnight!

Y/n <3: Goodnight!

Seen: 3:14am

As you crawled into bed, a feeling of satisfaction spread through you. He wanted to spend more time with you - that ought to be a good sign, right? “Maybe this could work out, after all,” was the last thing you thought before you fell asleep.

The next day was the usual whirlwind of events that occurred every shoot day - wake up early, take a cab over to the location (That particular day’s mystery place happened to be an old art studio), take another cab with some assigned lady to get you ready, another cab back to the location, then a whole day of photos. It was all a blur to you, so when the head of the whole operation thanked you at the end of the day, you were glad it was all over. Of course you adored your job, but considering the amount of sleep you’d gotten last night (Which, by the way, you did not regret one bit) you were thankful that in 45 minutes you’d be fast asleep.

What you did not expect, however, was for that little power nap to turn into a full 14 hours. By the time you woke up the next day, it was the crack of 11am. You sat up frantically, taking in your surroundings. You were still wearing your street clothes - jeans and a blouse - and a quick glance in the mirror revealed you hadn’t taken off your extravagant makeup, either. Trust me, it was not a pretty sight. You scrambled for your phone, and aside from all of the usual twitter notifications, DM requests, and messages from Ella and Harry (Which you were over the moon about), you noticed that you had 4 missed calls. From, none other than Harry.

You quickly clicked on his contact and dialed up his number. After a few rings, he picked up.

“Hi!” He said cheerfully.

“Hey,” you laughed. “Why did you call me? Four times, to be exact?”

“Just wanted to make sure we were still on for tonight. But then I got worried when you didn’t answer, so I called again to make sure everything was alright.”

“And again, and again.”

“Correct,” he laughed.

“Rough photoshoot. I was exhausted, and it wasn’t all that exciting. By the time I got home, I was asleep. Literally. I slept for 14 hours straight.”

Harry laughed so hard on the other end that you had to move your phone away from your ear for a couple of seconds so he could calm down. “Oh, wow, I... well, I guess it’s not that funny. That’s awful. You should’ve gotten more sleep the night before!”

“I would’ve, but somebody just had to message me at 3am!”

Cue another round of laughter. “Oh my god... look, I’m sorry, I really am! I didn’t know you had to wake up so early. I won’t message you so late into the night anymore, I promise.”

“Don’t promise that! I quite liked it. Besides, all of those shoots are the same. Nothing worth remembering, if you ask me.”

“Alright, alright, fine. But are we still on for later? If you’re still tired, we can reschedule...”

“No! After twice the amount of sleep I usually get, I feel like I could run a marathon. Seven?”

“Yup.”

“Okay. Gives me enough time to adjust myself to reality.”

This sent both of them into bouts of laughter.

“Alright, well, I’ve gotta go, but I’ll see you then?”

“You’ve got it! Bye!”

“Bye! And for the love of god try not to fall asleep this time, yeah?” He cracked himself up.

“I’ll try!” You replied as you hung up. You sighed, smiled, and then leaned against your headboard, though not for long. You had things to do - number one, get a shower.

Flash forward a few hours, and you were all set. You were wearing a pair of jeans and a blouse, similar to yesterday’s outfits, just with less smeared makeup and bedhead. You had even managed to listen to a few albums while you were doing your hair. You quickly ate a salad for supper, confirmed the meeting spot with Harry, then headed out the door.

You arrived 10 minutes early, and to your surprise, Harry was already there again. 

“How did you get here before me?” You laughed as you walked up to him. “I left even earlier than last time, specifically to race you!”

“Oh, I have my ways,” he grinned. “So, would you like to know what I have planned?” 

“Enlighten me,” you prompted as you began walking past the bushes and flowerbeds with him, admiring his bold, light purple flared pants and white top.

“Well, first we walk through the park. Then, I have a reservation booked for La Sedbe Hyudge. If that sounds okay to you, that is.”

La Sedbe Hyudge was one of the most exclusive clubs in New York. Reservations were crazy expensive, and that’s not including the price of the food and drinks.

“Oh, Harry, you really didn’t ha-”

“No, no, don’t worry about it. The reservation’s already made; there’s no turning back now,” he laughed.

You laughed along with him. “Well, we can just split the final bill.”

“No,”

“But-”

“Don’t worry about it!” 

You sighed. “Okay,” you finally agreed. “Well, anyways, tonight sounds like it will be great fun. Thank you.”

Harry nodded, looking around. You had to admit it, the scenery of the park was very nice. The gardener(s) here must be paid awfully well.

“So, I listened to Fine Line.”

Harry perked up. “Oh?”

“It was - and I’m not just saying this because I li- we’re friends - but it was incredible. I’ve never heard anything like it.”

Harry was trying to hide his smile, but he was failing miserably. “Well, that’s good,” he concluded nonchalantly. 

“No, really! I have Golden stuck in my head. It’s beautiful. And don’t even get me started on Lights Up.”

“You didn’t see the music video, did you?”

“..Yeah?”

“Oh, wow.”

“It was ARTSY!” You laughed, Harry clearly getting embarrassed. “No, in all honestly, it was great.”

“Well, I’m glad you think that,” he smiled. “I wish I could say the same to you, but you don’t sing, obviously.”

“Not my forte, honestly. I was in choir in elementary, but that’s pretty much it. Never really had any interest in the preforming arts. No offense.”

“None taken. I’ve always liked singing, but I didn’t think I’d pursue it as a career. I was very happy at my old job, thank you very much.”

“What was your old job?”

“...”

“...”

“I used to work in a bakery.”

“No way!” “That’s adorable,” you thought as the two of you rounded a corner of the path.

“Yes way! Not to brag, but I was very good at making cinnamon rolls.”

“Now, isn’t that something.”

“That’s not all - macaroons.”

“Oh my god, marry me.”

You continued goofing off for the rest of the walk. You talked about Netflix shows and whether Summer or Winter was the superior season in the taxi, and the best way to make Kraft dinner on the sidewalk. By the time you walked into the restaurant and sat down, you were discussing the importance of a good facemask.

“I don’t know. I just can’t believe you do them.”

“I can’t believe you don’t.”

“Why should I?”

“Do you want me to go over the health benefits again?”

You sighed. “No. I just do not have the patience.”

“For me to explain it again or facemasks in general?”

You smiled. “Both.”

Harry laughed rather loudly, gaining a few odd looks from some stuck-up diners. “You’re lucky you’re cute, y/n.”

Before you could respond, a waiter walked over to your table. “And what could I get for the couple this evening?” He asked.

You and Harry looked at eachother and tried to supress laughter.

“Well, I don’t know about my husband here,” you start, looking over at Harry with a grin. He’s staring back at you and you are positive that he’s gonna blow it at any second, but you decide to keep going, “But I’ll have a glass of red wine.”

“Whatever you want, dear, so I guess I’m driving,” Harry shrugged. “I will have water, please.”

The waiter nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

 As soon as he was out of earshot, the two of you burst out laughing.

“That.. was.... amazing!” Said Harry between laughs.

“I know right!” You agreed. “We have to keep it going all night.”

“YES,” he nodded as a group of teenage girls walked past the table, also laughing uncontrollably.

Then, the waiter returned. “For the lady,” he said as he placed down a glass of  wine. You immediately picked it up and took a sip. 

“For the main course, I’ll have the steak, please,” said Harry in his very-best fancy voice.

“I too,” you said, giggling and taking another sip.

The waiter nodded and headed back to the kitchen. The two of you laughed again. 

Just then, you felt your phone buzz in your purse. “It’s probably nothing,” you thought, choosing to ignore it. But then it went off again. And again. And again.

“You should probably get that,” said Harry, looking at your bag.

“Nah, it’s probably nothing.”

“Alright. I gotta run to he bathroom, and then I’m gonna order a drink for myself, okay?”

“Okay,” you said as you watched him get up. “Bring me back a glass too!”

You watched him walk over to the mens room. Your phone buzzed. He pushed open the door. Your phone buzzed. The door shut behind him. You reached down and pulled out your phone.

Ella: Oh my god

Ella: Y/n

Ella: Where are you right now

Ella: Are you with anybody?

Ella: ?????

Ella: Y/N

Ella: CHECK UR PHONE

You quickly typed up a response, although you were confused as to why she was so worried all of a sudden.

Y/n: I’m at the Sedbe Hyudge with Harry, why?

Ella: *Sent a set of photos*

Ella: Check twitter for more.

You clicked on the photos. The first was a screenshot of an update account, saying that you and Harry were in the park. Then, another tweet from the same account, saying you were at this restaurant. Then, photos of you in the park. And then, photos of you at the restaurant. Under that were screenshots of twitter users.

@Cocopopstyles: I just want Harry to take me on a date like he does with y/n, is that TOO MUCH TO ASK. They’re TOO CUTE.

@Y/nxxxxstyles: ANOTHER WIN FOR THE SHIPPERS THEY’RE AT THE SEDBE HYUDGE DHHHVDHBDCHUDB YES

@HSDaily: Ew lmfao she’s so ugly PLS 

@Stylessssmaple: “I ain’t saying she’s a golddigger, but she ain’t messing with no broke....”

@LaylaHoran: I heard that they were talking to the waiter like they’re an actual couple. A few girls overheard it, idk their @’s tho.

@LarryStylinsonobvs replying to @LaylaHoran: Really?? Omg that’s pretty quick tbh. Weren’t they first seen together days ago?

@LaylaHoran replying to @LarryStylisonobvs: Yeah apparently. Idk what’s going on. Is she a PR stunt or not???

@LarryStylinsonobvs replying to @LaylaHoran: Not to be a bluegreener but she could be a beard... we’ve gotten so much content from them in the past 72 hours like.... are u gonna tell me there’s no contract in there at all?????

@Y/nsflowers: Y/n looks so good in the new pap photos pLEASE MARRY ME MA’AM.

@Y/L/Nsummertime: Y/n is over lmfao can she please cut the bullshit. Wbk she’s in it for the money. The job, the PR stunts, the boyfriend...

@TheDailyPoolsideNews: Model y/n and ex-boyband star spotted out in the town! Will this be the next Hollywood snoozefest?

There was more, but Harry was already back at the table, carrying two glasses and setting them down, smiling. All of a sudden, you had this really sick feeling. You couldn’t look him in the eyes. You took your drink as he sat down. Not wanting to say anything in case it ruined the night, you took a sip and put your phone back in your purse.

“Everything alright?”

You looked up. “Yeah.”

Harry stared at you. You stared back jokingly, trying to break the tension. Harry’s phone started ringing. “Oops,” he frowned, “thought I turned this off...”

“You can take it, it’s okay. I checked my phone before. Plus, I need to use the washroom.”

“Okay,” he smiled as you stood up, smiling back. As you were walking away, you heard him talking to whoever was on the other end of the line. “Hey, Nial- what? No, I am, why-”

You pushed into the womens room and locked yourself in a stall. “What the hell is going on?”

You sit there for a few minutes, trying to collect your thoughts and give Harry some time to finish his conversation. Someone had seen the two of you at the park and in the restaurant, so what? Some people liked you, and some people didn’t. Okay, that’s understandable. Some people hated you. That’s fine, you don’t care. But people still think you and Harry are a PR stunt. This is only your second date! And it’s not eve a date! It’s just a... you put your head in your hands, then sit up, not wanting to smudge your mascara. You reach for your phone, only to remember you left it in your purse, which was currently on the floor next to your chair next to Harry. God.

And, to make matters worse, he had gotten a phonecall and from what you had heard when you were walking away, he sounded worried. Perfect! That was probably his management. Or, better yet, one of his friends doing the same thing Ella had done to you. Suddenly, you jumped up and walked back out to the table. He was fiddling around with his napkin. When he saw you, his face lit up. You didn’t buy it.

“Hi, sorry, it was just one of my friends. He wanted to t-”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you said, politely cutting him off.

Harry was taken back by this, but not for long. He wasn’t fazed easily. “Oh, okay. That’s good. Sorry for taking so long. Oh, and I don’t want this anymore, so if you want it, you can fill yours up. Otherwise, I’m just gonna give it to the waiter when he comes back.”

You never drank too much. You knew three glasses would be awful for you. But you took his and filled yours up, because “I don’t want to waste anything. This place is so expensive.”

Soon after, the waiter dropped off your meals. Harry was speaking less, more unsure of himself than before, but you didn’t notice. You made polite small talk, but it wasn’t like your antics from before. Yet when you were leaving, you did not split the bill. Harry still paid.

When you walked outside, it was dark. You hadn’t expected it. You laughed. Harry laughed. “Let’s wait over here for a taxi, yeah?”

You nodded and followed him. You sat on a bench. Harry messaged somebody. You swung your feet a little. Harry took a call. You stayed seated, watching people walk by. Harry came back over and helped you walk to the taxi, arm around your back. You tried to tell him you didn’t need his help, but he didn’t listen. 

Harry gave the taxi driver his address. You gave him yours, but he didn’t listen. You spoke up again, but Harry told you not to worry; you could spend the night with him. You nodded.

Harry helped you out of the taxi. You didn’t fight back. You tried to pay for the taxi, but he wouldn’t take your money. You held his hand as you walked through the doors of his apartment building, got in the elevator, got to his apartment. He sat you down on the couch and went off to his room. He came back shortly after.

“I don’t have any pyjamas for you.”

“Why would I need pyjamas?” You laughed a little, and then a lot.

Harry smiled. He went back to his room and came back with a shirt still wrapped in plastic and a bag.

“Here. The bathroom is over there. There’s makeup wipes on the counter.” He helped you up and you walked over. 

“Why do you have makeup wipes? Do you wear makeup?”

“Yep!” Said Harry. “Just turn the lock to the left. It’s tricky sometimes, try it a few times if it doesn’t work, yeah?”

“That’s so cool, can you show me your makeup sometime?”

“Yep! Maybe after you get your pyjamas on.”

“Really?”

“Mmhm!”

You shut the door and turned the lock, though you doubted you’d need it. You took off your fancy clothes and put on a pair of brand new too-big black sweatpants and a too-big pink t-shirt. Why did you need pyjamas again? Harry hadn’t answered. He wasn’t sending you home in pyjamas, was he? Uh oh.

You walked out. Harry was in the kitchen. “Do you need anything?”

“A drink.”

“Water?”

“Wine, dummy.” You cracked up at this.

“You’ve already had more than enough. C’mon, let’s go to the living room.” He grinned. 

“Whyyyyyy?”

Harry smiled patiently. “C’mon, y/n. We can watch a movie or something.”

“Okay. Wait - can I just have orange juice instead?”

“Of course.” He grabbed a can of juice and then walked into the living room. You followed. There were pillows and blankets on the couch, and Disney+ was set up.

“Ooou, fancy,” you laughed.

Harry crawled under the blankets. You did too. He laughed. So did you. Why were you even upset with him in the first place? You couldn’t remember. Harry grabbed the remote and turned on some show you’ve never heard of before. The Mandalorian, whatever that was. You leaned your head on Harry’s shoulder. It wasn’t even boring - why were you falling asleep? 

Harry closed his eyes - he was tired, too, but for different reasons. You listened to his breathing get slower. You held him tightly. You held him back. 

“Friends don’t hold friends that way,” you thought to yourself. “But who cares?”

You fell asleep. So did he.

You forgot about the stunt rumours. So did he.

He forgot about how his friend called him in a panic, not wanting this relationship to get ruined for him like the last one, and the one before that, and the one before that. About how he really, really liked you, but couldn’t act on it. He wanted to give you the world. Yes, he fell too quickly, too easily, but who could blame him?

And you forgot about Ella in the same panic. She didn’t want this to get ruined for you, of course, because this was your first shot, your first love (Although not that she’d know - you had to admit you had been a bit distant with her since you met Harry.) She didn’t want you to fall into the hands of the public eye. She wanted to make sure you were safe. She wasn’t sure if you should trust Harry, so of course she should be worried.

But you trusted him.

And he trusted you.

And everything is okay.

Until 3am.

A/N PT 2 - While you’re waiting for part 3 (which is definitely coming btw!) check out my other fics through this masterlist HERE!

[nat-20s]

MEDIA THAT I RECOMMEND YOU CONSUME INSTEAD OF SUPERNATURAL FOR BOTH HEART AND HEALTH BROKEN DOWN BY TYPE OF MEDIA AND WHY YOU MIGHT LIKE IT IF AT ANY POINT YOU, LIKE MY POOR POOR SEVENTEEN YEAR OLD SELF, WERE INVESTED IN THIS ABSOLUTE GARBAGE FIRE OF A SHOW

with apologies to anyone on mobile who’s readmore function APPARENTLY doesn’t work

(I haven’t watched supernatural for at least five years and, given any sort of luck, I will never do so again, do not @ me)

hello babes. I am talking to you know bc I keep seeing supernatural, unironically, on my dash, and I think we can all do better. I see what’s happening and I think: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hU3i_o5Xd4g

Supernatural is fudge stripes. You are Megan. We can fix this.

So a list of alternate things that I think are overall better written/characterized/just generally more enjoyable that might scratch some of those itches:

TV SHOWS

Good Omens

okay look if u were on tumblr last year u probably already watched this show but like. If u haven’t, it’s only six episodes babe and there’s a large enough fandom that u can go down a fanart hole for days on end

Basic summary: the antichrist has reached that lovely young age where he’s supposed to bring about the apocalypse. An angel and a demon who have decided that actually they like the world as is, thank you very much, try to stop the end times. They’re not very good at it though, which makes for a comedy of errors.

Shared elements with supernatural that you might Vibe with: theologic (mostly christian) exploration/parody/imagery without inherently being a religious show. Fighting off the apocalypse narrative, which I think pretty much always goes hard as hell, but that’s just me. There’s a gay angel who’s socially awkward. There’s a fun very British demon. Touches on the hierarchies of heaven and hell, with framing Heaven as a bureaucracy and blurs the differences between angels and demons.  Pining. Tenderness. A deep nostalgia for 80s music, though in this case it’s specifically queen, and who doesn’t love queen. Main character has a weirdly strong bond with his black vintage car.  Satan is (sort of) fought.

~~

Gravity Falls

sometimes...things that are kids shows...with a set story and a predetermined ending...are better

(also this isn’t relevant to any of what I’m talking about but I really appreciate that Gravity Falls specifically went against the thing that most begged me about ATLA aka that a 15 year old girl would be like yeah I’m into a 12 year old boy because the 12 year old boy has a crush on me and I apparently don’t get to really have a say in this. How does that make sense.)

Basic Summary: Twelve year old twins Dipper and Mabel go to stay with their Grunkle Stan for the summer in a small Oregon town called Gravity Falls. Turns out this town is filled with all sorts of strange phenomena that they often have to confront, work around, learn about, or befriend!

Shared elements with supernatural that you might Vibe with: The core focus of the show is a close sibling duo, but like It’s obvious that the siblings actually like and love each other and while they have their spats it’s still incredibly clear that they deeply care about each other even with their differences LIKE SORRY SUPERNATURAL YOU CAN’T JUST TELL ME THAT SIBLINGS CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER AND THEN THEY SPEND ALL THEIR TIME FIGHTING AND LYING TO EACH OTHER AND GENERALLY ACTING LIKE THEY CAN’T STAND EACH OTHER’S COMPANY BUT THEN OOOHHH YOU CRY ON TOP OF THE HOOD OF A CAR EVERY THREE EPISODE AND SUDDENLY THEY’RE SOULMATES OR WHATEVER

Anyway. Yeah. GF has a solid sibling dynamic. Monster of the week that builds up to greater over-arching plot. A little bit of body horror, you know, for humor. Fair amount of meta humor playing with the tropes of the genre. A Good Ol Big Bad that tries to pit the siblings against each other. Have to fight the apocalypse (you’ll see this point on like a good half of these recs, I really like ‘what are we gonna do about Armageddon’ media). Interesting creature design. Planned, satisfying ending (which supernatural absolutely does not have, but I still think if it had ended with the season 5 finale like it uhh  pretty obviously was supposed to, that would sort of counted. Don’t revive shows that have clearly already told their stories kids.) Tie in media that gives you some fun extra stories when you miss the characters. (yes I read some of the supernatural novels when I was a c h i l d, yes I’m pretty sure there’s one or two of them still buried somewhere on my laptop, no I don’t wanna talk about it.) Older father figure (?) who owns a tbh kind of shitty shop. Both already in place and found family.

It’s a good show, and it’s two seasons. John Mulaney Voice: I dunno it’s 40 episodes

MINI REC ALERT! (mini recs are basically things that I’m not gonna go into detail about for whatever reason [probably either due to i’m not familiar enough with it OR I just don’t like. Have a bunch to say about it in regards to how it will scratch the itches presented to u by spn] but still seem like a Good Watch)

Mini Rec: Over The Garden Wall. Spooky Kids Media! Episodic! Miniseries so you can watch it in like 2 hours! Cool ass Animation! About two brothers encountering said spooky stuff! Big Bad tries to pit brothers against each other! Might haunt you for the rest of your life! Check it out!

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The Haunting of Bly Manor

I think about this show every goddamn day of my life. (Also not relevant but Greg Sestero makes a brief cameo in it and I was like hi greg my friend greg!)

Basic Summary: An girl named Dani, while staying in London, decides to take on an Au Pair job for two young children, an older brother named Miles (age 10) and the younger sister Flora (age 8) at the spoooooky and mysteeerious Bly Manor, and she gets far more than she bargained for.

Shared elements with supernatural that you might Vibe with: Okay so supernatural doesn’t actually do this but I know I KNOW why we let ourselves be queerbaited in 2012. Four words for you: CENTRAL! GAY! TRAGIC! ROMANCE! You want some pining? Some tenderness? Some LOVE? Some dealing with internalized homophobia but no, like, actual violent onscreen homophobia? HAVE I GOT THE SHOW FOR YOU. If ur favorite episodes where the ones that make you sob (for me it was kevin’s death on god), I recommend this show. If you wished that supernatural literally ever had consequences or perma deaths or didn’t retcon major plot events like every five goddamn episodes so that there could be some exploration of like grief and trauma through the lens of/ higher stakes of horror, I recommend this show. If you really do stay up at night picturing a supernatural that wasn’t made by dumbass cishettie white men hack writers but was actually allowed to have Dean and Cas be in love over the course of the show so they could have like actual development and not the most homophobic gay reveal of all time, I recommend this show. Hell, if you just want a banger ghost story in general, I recommend this show.

As for what they actually have in common: horror setting/aesthetic without actually being all that scary most of the time. A strong sibling duo, though they’re not nearly as much of the focus of Bly Manor. Found family. Strong themes of grief. Questions of what turns someone into a monster (and done much better) An actual, much better noble sacrifice done out of love. Escalation of stakes until there’s a big final confrontation. Semi-big bad trying to tear this family apart. Found and pre-installed family. Sad orphans.

Watch this show. Vibe with me. Cry with me. Yell at me about Owen Sharma

MINI REC ALERT!

Haunting of Hill House- spiritual predecessor to Haunting of Bly Manor, though they’re not actually the same universe/story. However, it’s made by the same dude and has a shared aesthetic/sensibilities/some of the cast. This is only a mini rec bc I haven’t actually seen it, but I’ve heard good things and that it, while much more heavily leaning into family dynamics, has similar themes of exploring Grief and Trauma through ghooossstttsss.

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Community

Okay I know that this may seem like a Wild rec considering community is a school sitcom with basically Zero paranormal elements but just like. Hear me out. And no this isn’t just because I think it’s a realy good show and I want more people to watch it, though that is a factor. If I was just recommending comedies that I think are good and more people should watch regardless of them serving as a replacement for supernatural I would demand you all go watch Galavant and Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. I’m gonna demand it anyway. Everyone go watch Galavant and Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. Now back to your original program:

Basic Summary: A group of students at Greendale Community College form a Spanish study group, and things quickly go Off The Fucking Rails in the best way possible.

Shared elements with supernatural that you might Vibe with: All right I’m gonna be real honest this rec is for all of my (correct) bitches who’s favorite episodes of Supernatural were French Mistake, Changing Channels, and/or Mystery Spot. You think if Supernatural would’ve been fucking fantastic if it had been a committed comedy instead of a CW melodrama that occasionally landed some admittedly really fucking funny episodes/concepts, Community (and the movies on this list) will gently take you into its loving arms and give you everything you desire. It’s about the Meta comedy. It’s about the discussion, exploration, and subversion of common tropes within the format. It’s about the grand use of group/ found family dynamics in order to max both the goofs and the heart. It’s about fantastic callbacks. It’s about having one of the few “asshole with a heart of gold” leads I can actually stand because. You know. Growth. It’s about the INCREDIBLE genre and  pop culture parody. Which genre do they parody, you ask. All of them. They parody all the genres. The glee parody episode is a fucking masterpiece of television. If you don’t want to watch a show that features a Halloween party where everyone turns into zombies and the ABBA discography blasts in the background, you can stop reading right now, because I can guarantee you won’t be interested in a damn thing I have to say.

MINI REC ALERT: The X-Files. I’ve also never seen this but a: everything I’ve seen out of context has been fantastically weird and delightful b: it appears that there’s a general consensus that Scully and Mulder are one of the only valid straight couples so it’s probably pretty fun and c: let’s all be honest. Supernatural was already basically an x-files rip off, it had like half of their original writers swiped from the x-files crew, I’m pretty sure if you liked especially the first couple of seasons of supernatural, you’re gonna like the X-files.

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Subcategory: TV SHOWS ( A WHOLE TWO OF ‘EM, OR MORE LIKE ONE AND HALF IF YOU WANNA GET TECHNICAL) I’M SPECIFICALLY RECOMMENDING FOR THAT COCAINE HIT OF PURE UNADULTERATED UNCUT 2012 TUMBLR NOSTALGIA

BBC Merlin

Yes, I know the show ended in 2010. Yes, it still provides that 2012 Tumblr nostalgia. 2012 Tumblr is a feeling, not an actual time period.

I love this stupid show. I plan on rewatching it all over the month of January. I harbor a deep amount of fondness for it. It’s why every time I see literally any depiction of Merlin I get just so fucking excited, and why I’ve consumed as many ridiculous Arthurian adaptations as I have (side note: my two favorite other ridiculous Arthurian legend adaptation are Avalon High, a DEEPLY silly DCOM that is required viewing to level up friendship with me, and The Kid Who Would Be King, which is the only movie that I think truly understands the comedic potential of playing a King Arthur Adaptation mostly straight but everyone in it is 12. I’m not sure it intended to be as fucking funny as it was, but again, they’re all middle schoolers. I have never been more jealous of an actor than I was of the 22 year old that got to play a 16 year old dumbass Merlin who was sometimes also Patrick Stewart and did all of his magic with ridiculous hand gestures That should’ve been me that should’ve been me that should’ve been me. Also Sword in the Stone by TH White is pretty good, because Merlin knows germ theory in the fantasy 400’s and he just uses it to be petty mostly. Also listen to High Noon Over Camelot by The Mechanisms. Also Also I tend to prefer family friendly adaptations because they don’t have the uhhh. You know. Incest and sexual violence of the original legend. Love to Not have that shit!) Whether you watched it initially and are due for a rewatch, or you’re intrigued enough by the concept of the show to watch it for the first time, you should join me on this wild wild ride.

Basic Summary: You know who Guinevere, Arthur, and Merlin are, come on. BBC said let’s make em all YOUNG let’s make em SEXY let’s make em FAMILY FRIENDLY and let’s make magic REALLY SEEM LIKE A THINLY VEILED ALLEGORY FOR BEING GAY BUT TO THIS DAY IM NOT SURE IF THAT WAS INTENTIONAL OR NOT BUT IT SURE SEEMS LIKE IT WAS. @ THE BBC MERLIN CREATORS WHAT IS THE TRUTH BECAUSE THERE WAS SOME INTERVI-

Basic Summary but like a bit more helpful: A BABY version of Merlin (and by baby I mean like 20 year old.) is sent from his small town to the big city the Kingdom of Camelot to find his destiny. Staying with the town physician and friend of his mom’s, Gaius, he ends up as both his assistant and personal manservant to Prince Arthur. But in a kingdom where magic is punished with death and the prince seems hell bent on getting himself into situations that are going to kill him, the young sorcerer has his more than his share of work cut out for him.

Shared elements with supernatural that you might Vibe with: Primo supremo queerbaiting. Like, yeah, okay, it’s queerbaiting, you know it’s queerbaiting, but you watch some of the scenes and ur like okay. I know why I let this bait me. Obviously with a modern show, I would expect more, I would expect better, I would raise my standards, but I gotta admit. Some of these scenes are fuckin compelling as hell, and the subtext is like barely sub. Monster of the week shenanigans. Some awful CGI creatures but like a charming awful. Like the kind of awful that tells you their very limited budget was more focused on cool swords than realistic creatures. Episodic stories build into a more overarching plot, with things getting darker in season 4/5. Shitty father that end up eating shit and while the son of said father is rightfully conflicted and upset over the death it’s cathartic and victorious as all hell for the audience. Multiple hot evil women, and I love hot evil women. There’s also nice hot women, which is a bonus. These women don’t all immediately stupidly die, so that’s a nice change. Also like a LOT of sarcastic humor and shenanigans if u like Sass Merlin is there for u personally name a more iconic line than “Oh I’m sorry, how long have you been training to be a prat, my lord?” AND THAT’S IN THE FIRST FUCKIN EPISODE brilliant amazing fantastic show stopping. Also you know those like dumb hijink episodes where like Dean was possessed by the spirit of a dog or some shit? You bet your bottom fuckin dollar BBC Merlin has those kinds of storylines. Also I know some people go to spn bc it had that HUGE fanbase and like BBC Merlin’s fanbase is still SURPRISINGLY poppin even though it’s been a decade since there was new content so like. Have fun!

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Doctor Who but Specifically the RTD Era

Look I’m not here to say that the first four seasons of reboot doctor who are the only good doctor who or inherently better than all the rest (though the RTD era is my favorite personally) BUT when ur seekin that sweet sweet superwholock frenzy nostalgia, this is the ‘who’ that is being referred to. Also like. Stan 9. We should all collectively stan the ninth doctor. Chris Eccleston, the Objectively Best Famous Chris, deserved better.

Basic Summary: An immortal alien that goes by “The Doctor” travels across time and space with a variety of different companions, often to try and save the day or fix a (sometimes self created) mess. It’s distilled campy sci-fi with a family friendly tone that has made me cry on several occasions.

Shared elements with supernatural that you might Vibe with: Monster of the week that, you guessed it, builds into bigger overarching plot style narrative. Fighting off the apocalypse, but like every couple of weeks because worlds are in danger a LOT. A semi-tragic romance that made people go absolutely buck fuckin wild bc pining n shit. Wamen, but they aren’t fridged. (actually for real though none of the main women die and I just think that’s really fun and flirty even though I could go on a COMPLETELY SEPARATE rant about the injustice of one of the character’s ending YES season 4 is my favorite season and one of my favorite pieces of media ever and I am currently actively recommending it to you  YES im still fucking pissed over how it ended YES we exist) Specifically, a Wonderful and Very Excellent woman named Donna who goes on a spa trip that doesn’t end up going very well. That seems like a highly specific example, and it is, but it did happen in both shows. (Also, to anyone that continued watching SPN after like idk season 9 what happened to Donna? I always liked her and I know she became a recurring character so like DM whatever probably injustice was the end of her story line pls and thank you) I’m also extra specifically recommending for Supernatural Fans and also The World At Large:  Season Four of Reboot Who. I rewatched it last year and it still goes so fucking hard. Donna Noble is the best character in existence. In regards to the appeal for SPN, personally I think the best part of SPN was when people who are soulmates went on adventures and tried to save the day and it was a good mix of banter and sincerity AND GUESS WHAT’S BASICALLY THE ENTIRETY OF SEASON 4 OF DOCTOR WHO. It’s so good y’all I wish Everything was about soulmates going on adventures and trying to save the day.

OKAY TV SHOWS DONE TIME FOR M O V I E S which I don’t have nearly as many recs for but uhh here goes

What We Do In The Shadows/ Shaun of the Dead

I’m lumping these two together bc my reasons for recommending them are largely the same, and I would call them tonally similar enough that if you like one you’ll probably like the other

Basic Summary (Shaun of The Dead): Uh-oh! London’s had a break out of some of that good ol’ zombieism. Shaun and friends decide to hunker down in a local bar, but they have to get there first. Will they survive? Will they fuck up some zom zoms? Who’s to say?

Basic Summary (What We Do In The Shadows): Some vampire roommates dick around. I think there’s technically, like, a plot, but it’s really just about some vampires Doin Their Thing. Vibin.

Shared elements with supernatural that you might Vibe with: This is kind of similar to the Community recommendation, in that supernatural had the opportunity to be one of those things that was both a parody of a genre but also just a really good example of the genre. WWDITS and SotD are both those things for vampire and zombly movies, respectively. Have the aesthetic and some of the themes of a horror but is not actually all that scary. Horror Comedy is a god tier genre and I don’t know why it’s not more widespread. Fun monsters/cast of characters in general, so at least one person in it is probably going to make you go “oh gender” ya know? With SotD you have the fantasy power trip that comes with like any piece of media that involves hunting monsters. With WWDITS I go “yep that’s how bisexuals dress” and I Will Not Clarify which character I’m talking about.

MINI REC ALERT: All of Taika Watiti’s filmography. Thor:Ragnarok is one of like 3 marvel movies that I consider genuinely fucking fantastic completely independent of the MCU and my own tendency to be like “hurr bdurr I love. Superheros”. For the one that is most tonally like Supernatural But Significantly Better and Written By Someone Competent I think I would say try out Hunt For The Wilderpeople. It’s got a reluctant curmudgeonly father figure and I KNOW some of you motherfuckers were so invested in spn when you were like 16 bc you had daddy issues. This is a callout post for my friend [REDACTED], who I should text to watch Hunt for the Wilderpeople, actually.  

MINI REC ALERT X2!!!: Bram Stoker’s Dracula. I’ve never seen it but it has both Winona Ryder AND Keanu Reaves so like. Goth bi rights.

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Happy Death Day (and Happy Death Day 2 U)

happy death day was one of those movies that I saw the trailer, went “eh”, heard other people say it was great, watched, and went holy fuck this slaps. Not nearly as much of a slasher film as the trailers implied if im remembering the trailer correctly

Basic Summary: Our main character Tree keeps waking up on the day she was murdered. The day resets every time that she dies. That’s right, it’s a time loop storey babey!!!!!!!!!!!

Shared elements with supernatural that you might Vibe with: If you were anything like me you were foolishly lulled into supernatural for way longer than you should’ve been on the promise that the characters would idk like grow and change and become better and learn lessons and some of that would be through the power of receiving love and kindness. You know. Like how good writers would do it especially if their main characters are kind of dicks that really should make some changes. Well, Happy Death Day fucking delivers on that promise in SPADES. It’s about growth! It’s about change! It’s about making the active decision to become a better person and putting effort into doing so! There’s heavy themes of like grief and trauma and acknowledging them and facing them head on in order to move on and the negative consequences of refusing to do so and just trying avoid it until it goes away. There’s a romance that makes my dumb little self do the pleading face emoji. Tree is also one of the only good asshole with a heart of gold characters. I also think media is improved by having at least one character that is a Good Good Boy (note: Good Good Boy character does not have to be a man.) and Happy Death Day has Carter. Oh on that note: Tree Voice: I’ve only had character for (the same repeating over and over) a day but if anything happens to him I’ll kill everyone here and then myself. Also the movie is funny so like hell yeah.

that’s all I got for relevant movies right now

BOOK RECS

jk i’m illiterate. Everyone should feel free to go ahead and add their own suggestions for this section The best I can do is uhhhh I think y’all would probably like Mira Grant’s novels, particularly the Newsflesh stories, bc sibling dynamics. Also the book The Haunting of Hill House is really good. Ballad of Black Tom slaps? There’s of course the Good Omens novel that the show was based on. I’m about to recommend some podcasts after this section which will include to Welcome to Nightvale because of course it will and the tie in novels for that slap, especially It Devours!, and I’m pretty sure they work as stories even if you know nothing about the podcast. Also also I think you should read “The Long Way to A Small, Angry Planet” by Becky Chambers It’s not thematically similar to supernatural at all but it’s one of my all time favorite sci fi novels and only like four people have read it which is a goddamn TRAVESTY.

Anyway yeah that’s it that’s all there is. Onto the medium that is like books but I can fold laundry or cook while consuming their narratives.

PODCAST RECS

Okay so this is getting uhhh wicked long so I’m gonna limit myself to only three full blown recs and a

mini rec

Alice Isn’t Dead

Fuck me running this show is so good. Literally hands down my all time favorite (and scariest!) horror podcast. Mamma mia, that’s a good fuckin story. The Book version is also good and has fewer Weird events but some further character development so I recommend them both.

Basic Summary: After her wife Alice disappears mysteriously, Keisha takes up a job as a long haul trucker, traveling all across America in order to find her, but ends up finding so much. Pursued by a deadly creature she calls The Thistle Man, the stakes of her journey are raised.

Shared elements with supernatural that you might Vibe with: okay so I have a lost of bullet points of things that appealed to me specifically about supernatural and how no other shows covers all of them which sucks bc it means I basically Yearn for a show that’s supernatural but good. Alice isn’t Dead, however, hits the most of these bullet points AND is so fucking good. It has monster hunting. It has stopping a cataclysmic event BUT also discussion of the cyclical nature of events such as these and how the fight never truly ends but you can make some fucking progress nonetheless. It has a central gay romance that’s actually a central gay romance. It’s the ONLY show on this list that really hits that the weird and dark underside of americana vibe but specifically the americana of not like suburbs and shit but that eerie haunted feeling you get when you’re hours into a late night drive on open roads with no civilization around and an expansive sky and it just Seems like something should be watching you. Have you ever been out for a walk at midnight and encountered a deer and you looked into each other’s eyes and it felt like it was telling you a message that you couldn’t possibly hope to parse? Have you ever felt an incredible sense of deja vu eating in a restaurant you couldn’t have possibly been in before, because you’ve been to a thousand diners a thousand times just like one, and there’s an incredibly sense of homogeneity even though you’re 2000 miles away from anyone and anything that could possibly know you? Have you ever traveled to an area that seems to be stuck in a bubble of time, the only thing that shows any evidence of having aged past 2006 being yourself, and you wonder how your cell phone even works around here? THAT’S the spooky americana I’m fuckin talking about! Messed up road trips! Too much goddamn space! America is scary because it’s big and Filled With Things but also Not Enough Things! Fuck yeah!!!!! That time bubble fuckin EXISTS in Wyoming the most recent song on the radio I heard was fuckin Hey Soul Sister!

Also has a thing where like are there even good guys and bad guys in a conflict or is it all just one umbrella nightmare that you’re trying to stand against in anyway possible (u kno..like how the overarching structures of both heaven and hell were kinda fucked in spn? No spoilers but similar shit be happenin in Alice Isn’t Dead). Exploration of what makes someone into a monster, like how do you go down that path? Also this is the only show on this whole damn list that southern gothic music really suits it so points for that.

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The Magnus Archives

You know I had to do it to ‘em.

Basic Summary: Jonathan Sims has just become the Head Archivist at the Magnus Institute, a “research” “facility” that looks into paranormal/esoteric/unexplained phenomena.

John Mulaney Voice, Again: Nobody knows what the archivist is going to do next, least of all the archivist. He’s never been in an archives before, he’s just as confused as you are.

Shared elements with supernatural that you might Vibe with: Oh fuck this document is over 5k long I said I wasn’t gonna do this hhhhh so lipton lightning round: Slowburn Gay Romance but Actually Canon, Monster Hunting but Hey What Even Is A Monster Anyway, Acts Somewhat like a Loosely Connected Horror Anthology until it DOESNT, Little Things Build to Bigger Narrative, Characters Be Goin Through It (On God These People Need Therapy), Trying to Prevent/Fix The Apocalypse (X2!!!), Smug Asshole Big Bad,  Horror as a Metaphor For Various Shit, Basically if you thought that the Men of Letter concept slapped and you think it should’ve been the whole damn show including being Deeply British you would probably really fuckin like TMA. Also if ur like the ideal piece of media is a horror tragedy but also like it’s a wacky sitcom but also also fuck cops. U will like tma.

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Welcome to Nightvale

IF ANY 2012 TUMBLR FANDOM DESERVES TO MAKE A MASSIVE COMEBACK AND BE EVERYWHERE AGAIN AND ABSOLUTELY FLOOD MY DASH IT’S WELCOME TO NIGHTVALE WHY DID WE ABANDON THE SHOW THAT TREATED US THE MOST KINDLY DID YOU KNOW THAT EPISODES 108-110 ARE THE BEST FUCKING BUILT UP NARRATIVE REVEAL THAT I HAVE WITNESSED IN MY LIFE DID YOU KNOW THAT IT CONTINUED TO BE REALLY FUCKING GOOD AFTER MOST PEOPLE STOPPED LISTENING DID YOU KNOW CECIL AND CARLOS ARE MARRIED AND THEY HAVE A DOG AND A TODDLER NOW BECAUSE OF ALL THE GAY PODCAST PROTAGONISTS CECIL GERSHWIN PALMER LOVE OF MY LIFE ELDRITCHIAN CHEERLEADER AND CERTIFIED BIMBO KEEPS FUCKIN WINNIN BABY. DID YOU KNOW THAT CECIL THINKS PEANUT BUTTER IS A ROCK.

Basic Summary: Welcome to the sleepy desert town of Ņ̶̏ight V̶͚̰̮͗̔̊̊ale! Community radio how host Cé̵̟͚͕̗̞̙͂͑̽̄́c̵̤̼̞͈̪͓̍̽̋̚̕͜il Pǎ̵̧̨̢͚̻̈̂̄̇͐̇̊̀̆ͅl̶͚͎͕͉͖̬͓͑́̐̒̍̿̈́͢͜͝ͅm̸̧͙̟̖̠̳̬͋́͋́͌̚̚ͅȩ̙̖͎̖͂́̒͐͜͞r̢̢̛̰̻̮̺̩͙̼̈́͋̀͘ is here to k̠̠̰̦͙̯̥̎̄̆͌̎̀̿̔̌̚ê̷̢̬̥̞̩̯̘͒̽̈̓͐̂̔̍e̶̡̝̗̺̫̪̜͆̓̿̈͌͌̆͒͞ͅp̵̹̗̬̼̠̬͙̏͐͐̉̅͊͊́͟͞ͅͅ ỷ̛͙̞̦̦͖̑̉̌̎͞͡͡͝ͅo̧̧̥͎̻̥̲͇͋́́̔̈͌͞ǔ̸̬̯̫͇̦̮͕̤̲̯̽̔̀̔͆͋̈́͘̚ up to date all the local happenings, including w̸̢̢̢̧̡̡͍͖̻̳̹̼̼̰̬̭̱͔̲͙͍̰̠̥̺̝͖̺̖̼̮̼̞̳̞̜͉̤̯͇̖̳͖̠̙̺̲̤͇͈͚͓̮̭̱̭̩͚̟̥̬̟̻̝̼̖͚̘͐̆̅̂̃̈́͆͊̉̏͒́̈́̋͗͑̄̉́̐̌́̿̌͛̾̎̊̾̃̈́̉̔̍̐͛̕͘̚͜͜͠͠é̵̢̡̧̨̨̡̧̨̡̛̹̥̥̞̮̯͙͈̻̝͓͖͙̦̰͍̖̜̲̰̞͎͈̭̯̳͕̗͓͈̭̫̼̯̪̞̯̰̲̘̭͎̪̱̗̝̝̞̤̱͉͙̯͎̬͎̙̜̗͉̩̦͕̪̳͇͙̺̙̰̠͚͎̜̠͔̬͎̺̣͕̜̊̓̃̐̂́͂̎̐̾̔̽̀̉́̍̊̂̿̎͂͐̎̐̄̍̔̋̐̃͗̈́͂̀̒̊̎͘͘̕̚̕͜͝͝͝͠ͅͅa̸̡̧̡̡̨̡̨̛̛͙̣̘̳͎͖̥̝̟̱̩̥͙͉̝̲̙̮̩̩̹̱͔͎̥̹̻̜͚̭̬̳͚̤̙̖̯͎̱̫̞̪̻͖̱̞͔̭̻̺͚͚̯̬͓͓̳͇̳̦͓̞͈̮̤̭̣͉̲̞͚̘͗̆̃͌̅̍͊̓̈̇̌̒͊͑̊̏̊͌̈̓̿͗̒̏̒͊͒̏̃̎̒̀̅̾̍̀͘͘͜͝͠ͅt̵̢̡̨̧̧̛̛̛̯̤͓̘̻̤͓̪̰͔̪̝̫͎̻͔͈͎͔͙͕͈̰͓͍̀̏͒̆͋̈́̈́͂̔͋͆͂̅͗̍̆̍̆̔̑͊̏̈͒́̽͊́̿͂́̓͛̽͐͌̌̐̈̇̃̓̆̍̅̃̔̚̕͜͝͝͝ͅͅh̸̨̨̡̢̢̡̢̧̡̧̢̡̨̡̭̜̬̬̙͕̗̙̻̯̠̘͙̻̥͉͚̼̗͚͇͉̰͍̥͉̗͎̬̫͖͉͔̼̮̯̞̫̬̟̻͉̖̙̥̫͖̬͚̟̜̭͇͎̭̘̝̲̤͕͎̰̭̗̯̮̤̙̙̯͍̞̭͚͔͎̞̹̲̟͉̩̭̖̱̠͍̺͈̟̩̋̆̈́͆̍̆̄̏͜ͅͅȇ̸̢̢̨̨̧̛̜͍̺͎̬̪͙̻̝̣͓͈̺̩̳̟̲̠̣͈͎͎͈͉̙̪͖̳̺͇̹̊̍͊͑̿͊̌͛̿̓͊̾̀͂͛̉͆̾̽͆̈̏͛̊͛̍̈́̇͋̔͂̑͐̂̿͊̽͑͘̚͘͝͝͠͝ͅͅŕ̵̨̡̨̨̢̧̡̧̨̘̟͙̦̲̲̪̦̙̼̠̳͚̞̦̞͖͚͇̳͖̲̭͕̜̫̳̖̙͖͉͎̘̘̤̠͈̬͕̝̻͚̥͍͕̠̥͙̙̪̖̯͍̘̘̲̣̹̜̪̲̭̟̮̫̖̤̰͔̩̩͉̲͚̟̝̦̬̪̘̬̮̱͔̻̦̼̃̐̂͋̐̅̋͒̉͛́̅̈́̒̒͆̑̆͊̒͒̀̍̈́̍͌̍̏̔͋͌̒̍̌͛̓̈̂̐̕͘͘͜͜͝͝͝ͅͅͅ ̶̢̡̨̛̠͇̹̯͕͍̻̟̼̼̗̩̱̗̙̱̥̜̬̫̜͎͉̺̣͓̟̯̱͖̣̞̠̝̥͍̲̳̙̠͔̹̘̲̲̻̖̈́̊͋͜͜ą̵̡̧̟͕̬̳̜͈͈̳̝̜̣̬͔͈͈͎͉͍̯̟̞̺͎̝͇̰̥͖̬̯͙̤̬̼̲̦̯̭͓̠̺̳̱̰̮̎͋͆̈́͌͆̎̉̓̇̐͋͋́̃̉̈̄̏̓̉̿̅̒̉̒̉͂͛̄̀̇̒͊͛́͊̎́͆̌̆́̌͂̈́̽̋͛͗̑̊̀́̍͊̌͆͊͐͆̅̒̊̉̾̄͛̑̕͘͘͘͘͝͝͝͝͠͠͝n̸̡̛̛̛̛̛̙͎̬̦̠̼͓͈̝̾̍͑͛̅̒̾́̌̍͛̇̋̇̓̏͛̔͛̈́͆̿̌͐̿͊̿́͒̍̃̀̈͐̐̆͐̉̒̂̉̀̅̇̾͋̍͒̋̈̌̿͒͐̍́͗̀̌̌̚̕̕̕͘̚͘͘̚͜͠͝͝͝d̴̡̢̢̛̛̛̺̠̳̬͎̞̲̣̲̱̳̪̹͉̝̠̱̗̙̫̠̹̼̙̝͉̲̟̮̙̙̮̻̹͈̦̙̞͚̜̙̖̞͓̙̭͉̃̽̌̅̔̾̈́̒̽͑́̒͋̓̈́͆͋̽̒̃̽̋̐͌͂̍͑́̽̋̍͗̋͗͂̅̽̈̈̾͐̄̃̕̕͜͠͠͝͠͝ͅͅ ̵̡̡̢̛̛̗͚͍̺͇̲̳̯͓̰͍̙̮̙̜̟̞̣̼͕̝͔͙̺̫͈͈̠̻̘̱͍̦̭͔͈̤̺̗̮͕̦̞̘͍̯̻̝͓̤̳̫͔̩͉̬̈́͋̈́̐͒́̔́́̿̓̆͐̎͆̇͒̄̈̿̓̑̾̏̔̿͊̌͆͒̒͊̓̅̓́̔̅̀̀̀̃̿̂̑͂͆̅̎̾̏̓̂̈́͛͌̇̾͌͐̈̂̆͐̅̓̍̓̃̆͗̃͛̏̒̌̀̅͊́̽̐̆̿́̌͘͘̚̕͘̕̕͜͜͜͠͝͠͝͠t̷̢̥͓̄͗̾̄̅̚͜r̵̨̡̨̧̧̢̛̛̛̛̛͍͙͚̥̱̞̜̦̜̼̺͉̠̬͎̰̻̜̼̫̤͓͖͖̤͇̞̥̖̈́͊̆̓͊̑̑̋̒̈́̔̆͆́̐͛͑͊͋̇̈́̓̑̍̏͐͛̽̋̎͑̃̈́͒̇̂̇̌͂̀̍̊̇̓̋̈́̌̏̕͘̚̕̚͝͝͠ǎ̴̡͓͓̯̘̥̱̱͖̦̺͓̘͉͖̞̟̦͈̜̥̰̘̞͈̦̠̼̯̙̭̼͚̟̖̲̠̝̜̐̅͆̏̈́̍́͂̃̾͑̓͋̽̄̾́̾̆̾͒͋̎͂̈́͘̕̕̚͜ͅͅf̷̢̡̡̧̢̨̡̧̢̢̧̡̧̫͖̖͇̲̫̮͕͉͓̩̪̳̹̩͎̖̟̤̤̲̟̪̫̻̻̖̟̦͉̼͎͖̭͍͖͎̖̳̳͙̜͉̝̘̺̖͚̙͉͕͙̯͖̞͚̮̲̻͉͙̺̭͓͎̤͙̦̦̺̯͕̜̰͍̳̙̦͉̪̥́͋̓̅̀͋͐̀̄̊̆̉̒̐͒̀̏̈̇̊̉̆̐̏̾̀̀̓͛͆̍̾͗͌̀̄̔͒̀̍̈́͆̔̒̑̏̍̏͆́̾̐̂͋̂̔̂́̓̓̌͌̉͛́̒̐̽̏́̑͊́̌̆̂̑͋̇̈́͌̑̿̅͗̚̕͘̕̚͜͠͝͝͠͠f̴̨̨̛̹͌̂̓͌͛̀͑̾̓̍͗̽͆̉̊͗̇́̍͌̊͐̔̈́̊̇͆̄̃̑̕̕͘͘͘͠͝͝͝͠i̴̧̡̢̢̧̢̨̨̧̧̧̛̛͎̗̳̦̘̙͓̦̙͔̜̼̘͇͇̺̭͉̠̩̟̤̥̘͙̤̩͔̪̱̻͈̪̼̼̞̠͎̟̹͕̻̭̤̪̲͕̟̺̻̻͖͕͚̣͇̖̰̝̩͈̤͕͇͕̝͙̙̪͔̗̫͇͎̙̲̲͖̗̘͉̲̣̤͎̔̐̆͒̄̈́̀̎̃̃̅͆̌̈́̽̈́̅̈́̑̄̇͒͐̀̐̀̒̍̀̓͌͗̓̽́͗̓̎͂͛̅̑̔̀͛̈́̽̾̃̊͊͆̄̍͑̍̆̌̾͗̄̊̽̉̅̆̀̎̀͑̿̎̋̄̆̃͐̾̏͛͒̍̋̅͘̕̚̕̕͜͜͝͝͝͝͠ͅͅc̷̛̛͚̝̻̣̞̓́̃́̀̃̓͗͌̂͛́̒̊͑̓͆̇̈́͑̏̆̀͌̑͂͂̄͌̉̔̋́̎͒̿͗͒͛̇͛̿̎̍̕̕̕͝͝͝͝͝ ̴̢̧̢̡̨̢̡̨̡̢̢̛̺̘̹̯̤̩̘̯͔̞̟̬̠̣̟̻̥̜̤͔̥͕̠̥̞͎̗̩̱̮͉͔͎̲̯̱̙̜̥̳̮͔̦̣͖͔̜͉̗̪̳̹̦̤͇̣̙͕̯̫̖̝̼̹͍̠͎͓̗͎̦͓̲̯̱̠̰͇̮̹͔̝͉͙̹̜̹͈̹̥͖̣̳̲͖̓́͌̈́̈́̀͌̄͂̌̾́̍̔̊̓̿͋͂͋̈́̋́́̒̓̀̒̃͂̀͑̐͛̆̆͒̈́̅̿͊͌̍͗̌̌͆̂͌́̉̏̒̓͊̾̒̓̋̽͐̏̾͘̕͜͝͠͝ͅͅr̸̨̢̛̪̞̬͓͔̥̤̣͔̭̥̙͉̦̗̠̳̩͙̂̈́͑͑̿̋̓̀͋͆̋̕͝͝ë̴̢̡̨̬͈͉̖̞͔͎͓͖̼̘̬͕̰͈̥͈̝̩͎͉͉̫̜͚͕̤͔̟̯͓͎̟͙̜̭̩̗̮͎̗̤͇̝̩͎̜̺̯͕͇̝͎̯͙̖͙̮̗̮̘́̑͑͛̂̅̄̌̽̓̒̾̿͆̏̏͐͛̾̂̃͑͆̅̄̿͋̅͂̈́̽͋͒̎͐̒̓͆̌̉͑͊́̀̈̾͛̋͑̋̎̈̀̽̀͊̏͘͝͝͝͝͠͝ͅp̴̧̧̡̢̢̢̛̛̛͚̟͓̖̭̪̻̪̲̬̥̙̥̰̼̹͎͕̪̞̮̺̰̬̘̫̤͉̦͙̮̖̙̹̻͔̖̮̲̞̣̻̜̠͇̬͚̱̦̼̲̮̀̂͌̍̈̒̍̋̌̏͐̓͛̉̂̈̀͑̈́͊͗͋͗́̂̎̎̃͆͒̅̑̇́̈͐̾̀̔̒̉͑͒̅̓̈́̋͋̀̍̄̿̌̀̉͆̇̔̈́͗̋̄̓̇͗̎̉̆͊̒͗̚̕͘͘̕̕̚͜͜͝͝͠͠͠͠͠ͅͅͅơ̶̢̡̧̨̡̛̛͔̦̼̰̠̯̰̟̲̣̜͙̲͙̪̱̱͕̺̪͈͉̺̻̙̥̲̩̲̩͔̠͚̩͓̞̠̯̟̫̣̗̦̰͉͚͙̺͎̼͖̥̙͈̯̲̝̞͎̻͕̮͔̰̖͔̭͙̩̼͔̫̹̘͓͔̜̘͍̍̅̄͋͑̋̍̊̉̄̈̽̈͐̀͌͐̆͊͂̐̋̃̎͆͛̐̀̂̿̈́͂́̈̌͐̇̀̒͋͑͐́͌̐̇̊͆̀͂͋̏́͋͆̏͗͂͑̂̓̽͘͘̚̕̕̕̕̚͘͜͜͠͝͝ͅͅͅr̴̨̨̨̧̨̛̘͕͈͔͙̠̬̯̩̗̰̗̬̦͈̗̝̣͓͓̟͕͙͈̠̘̻͓̭̝̘̦̦͓̭̘͙̻̙̼̩̰̝͈̱̝̱̬͉͙̣̖̮̲͈̙̱̩̣͕̦̰̮͔͈͓̙̮͍̳̟̠̞͎̱̣̰͕̩̝̲̝͐́́̍̈͐͋̐̑̌͋̓̈́̈͗̿̈̈́͗̑̚͜͜͜͜͜͝ͅͅţ̴̢̨̧͇͉͎̣̬̣̝̗̬̹͇̮̞̈́̐̌̇̈́̌͊̐̅̂̌̂͒͌́̈͌̂̊͗̍̿͑͋̎̓͂̀̎̎͒̾̏̒͌̃̄͋̌̾̍̈́̐̏͑̊̍͑͆̉̓́̆̌̾̓͊̊̈̑͘̚̕͘͘̕͝͝͝͝͝s̴̢̢̡̛̬̹͚̻͉̦̦̣̦̠̜͕̤̳͓͙̟̬͕̘̦̿͗̉̏̒͆̓̄͊͌͛͂͑̒̃͛͘͜͝͝!

Shared elements with supernatural that you might Vibe with: Honestly, probably bc Nightvale and Alice are by the Same Dudes, a lot of these points are the same as Alice Isn’t Dead, but it’s less scawy and more funney. Also hits the “horror, but make it kind of a sitcom” vibes. Doesn’t have the same road trip vibes, but DOES capture the exact weirdness of South Western USA, so I’m still giving it “fucked up americana” credit. If you’ve never been to New Mexico ur like this is an exaggeration clearly no desert town is subject to like ACTUAL cosmic horror and unexplainable sights but I’m telling you New Mexico is just Like That. (I highly recommend visiting the land of enchantment if you ever get the oppurtunity it is a deeply odd and wonderfully unsettling experience.) Look man it’s gay it’s a horror comedy cecil has a wonderfully soothing voice and it hates capitalism so fucking much like oh my god so much what more could you want.

MINI REC ALERT: Wolf 359! I have nothing deep to say about this I just like it and my gut tells me that y’all would enjoy it too I know there isnt much for physical descriptions in the show but I know in my heart that the main character is so so pretty and so so stupid. I KNOW yall like some himbos that experience character growth.

Okay since It’s my party and I’ll speak if I want to rapid fire list of podcasts I just like and want more people to listen to even though I’m behind on like all of them shhhhh: The Penumbra Podcast, BomBARDed, Dungeons and Daddies, Stellar Firma, Wonderful!

SONG RECS

okay these aren’t like replacement recs or anything they’re just really good and I almost certainly would have put them on some sort of supernatural playlist in 2013 but I don’t, like, have a good playlist for them now so I’m subjecting y’all to them also they all have the youtube link for ease of access

Woah There Kimmy-  Felix Hagan & the Family

Devil’s Backbone- The Civil Wars

Blood On My Name- The Brothers Bright

Awake O Sleeper- The Brothers Bright

The Bottom of the River- Delta Rae

Old Number 7- The Devil Makes Three

The Bullet- The Devil Makes Three

In Hell I’ll Be In Good Company- The Dead South

Bartholomew- The Silent Comedy

Pomegranate Seeds- Julian Moon

Curses- The Crane Wives

Tongues & Teeth -The Crane Wives

OKAY THAT’S IT! THAT’S ALL FOLKS! FUCK!

[drivingsideways]

Based on this excellent post and tags  by @frankdelfino, and thanks to @rain-hat yelling in the chat window for twenty minutes, here’s a not-fic outline in the universe where Jo Yeong and Jo Eun-seop are actually brothers. 

So here's how this goes. This is RoK verse, monarchies are passé, thank you for coming to my TEDtalk.

- Jo Yeong and Eun-seop grow up middle class, and look like peas in a pod, have completely opposing personalities and can generally be trusted to get up to the WORST POSSIBLE SHENANIGANS ever known to a pair of long-suffering parents who've had the temerity to have not one, but two sets of twins. Anyways, Eun-seop is absolutely the one GETTING them into the shenanigans, and Yeong is the one getting them OUT of it, despite the fact that Eun-seop is older by 4 minutes

-Eun-seop loses a year at school when he gets into an accident at 14; a drunk driver, a bicycle, and Yeong just a little too far away to do anything but call the ambulance and hold his brother's hand right until they force him to let go as they rush Eun-seop into surgery. He holds it again, once he's wheeled out, and right upto when he wakes up so he doesn't wake up alone (he hasn't gone home in 48hrs, I'm fine, thanks eomma, you should go home to the babies, they'll be scared without you.). Anyways, Eun-seop wakes up, demands to know whether he'll have a cool scar from the surgery (before he demands to know whether he will be able to walk again) and Yeong's like you're never going to be as cool as me, now shut up and sip this water slowly.  Eun-seop recovers, and Yeong's there through every single physio session and taking extra notes in class, and recording videos surreptitiously, so Eun-seop can see how all their classmates are faring and also failing at everything, now that they're in first year of high school. (Yeong would have stayed back a year at school, but Eun-seop forbids it, and uses his Oppa-pass, which he only uses when he's really serious about something, so Yeong has to listen)

- Eun-seop notices that some of his videos begin to feature a rather weird looking dude, who can be seen hanging out with this one girl. Eun-seop knows Tae-eul noona, her dad runs that taekwondo academy two blocks away, right? And there was that one time when Eun-seop was being bullied and Yeong wasn't there that day, and noona had stepped in and scared those assholes away. Anyways, so yeah, he also remembers that there was this other guy with her, who'd also clearly been ready to throw down, if those goobers had put up a fight, but later, he just grabbed noona's hands, checked for injuries, and given Eun-seop some candy that he got out from his bag.

Anyways, so Eun-seop is like why do you have pictures of Tae-eul noona and her weird boyfriend, and Yeong snatches the phone away and mutters, THEY'RE JUST GOOD FRIENDS, in all caps as though he knows anything about life or girls.

Oh my god, Yeongie, he says, you know she's way out of your league right? She's a senior? And like would absolutely beat you to shit, wouldn't need her weirdo bf to do it either-

HE'S NOT HER BOYFRIEND, Yeong says, loudly this time, as loud as the time when Eun-seop had replaced his hair cream with toothpaste and Eun-seop quickly recalibrates and gets it right this time, and he says, hushed,  Yeongie, my Yeongie, did you manage to fall for the one dude who'd give you a run for your money in "the person most likely to end up a serial killer" stakes?

He starts cackling so hard that his ribs start to hurt, and then his back, and Yeong (who's run away – RUN AWAY) doesn't come back to help him up. It's alright, Eun-seop will live, and also, he's gonna help his Yeongie get his guy, even if Eun-seop cannot see the attraction, and he thinks this isn’t going to work for many reasons, only one of which is that CLEARLY this dude- Kang Sin Jae, he remembers now- is in love with Tae-eul noona, which, props, anyone might see she absolutely kicks ass.

But the point is, the Jos are fighters, and he's damned if he's going to let Yeong slink away from this one.  

The next time he sees Yeongie- two hours later- they all have a bedtime in the Jo house, ok- he's like, fine, I'm sorry, and I KNOW YOU DON'T HAVE A SINGLE USEFUL THOUGHT IN YOUR HEAD, so I got this for you, ok?  What do you know about him?

Turns out, Yeongie has a whole folder on him.

Eun-seop's proud of his little stalker baby brother.

Anyways, that's how Yeong learns enough about sound systems so he can turn up for the post when the school band that Kang Sin Jae plays bass guitar for advertises for a sound engineer.

He turns up for the "interview" in his neat trousers, and button-down shirt and Sin Jae says, uh, are you Jo Eun-seop's non-identical twin? Aren't you just a freshman, do you really- and Yeong says, quietly, confidently, I can solve that problem you're having when you play your arrangement of The Wizard and Sin Jae stares at him and mutters, but can you do anything about how only three people turn up to listen, and Yeong tilts his head, and says maybe? Also, Eun-seop and I are identical, just fyi.

Anyways, yeah he fixes the faulty wiring in the speakers at the auditorium, and also gets more than three people to turn up (so what if it's all a bunch of scared looking freshmen? They've all been paid more than enough to bang their heads in time to the music and cheer later.)

But he never does ask Sin Jae out, that entire year, even though these days, Sin Jae smiles when he sees him, and puts an arm around his shoulder sometimes, after a practice, what are you waiting for, Yeongie, did I raise you to be this much of a coward? Eun-seop wails, but Yeong is like, Sin-Jae-ssi would feel awkward at having to refuse me if I did, and he needs a sound engineer more than a boyfriend, and that's fine.

(He needs at least three shirts more, a hair-cut and perhaps better taste in music, Eun-seop thinks, but doesn't say, because he knows Yeongie's fragile like that. Yeongie can take anything anybody says about him, personally, and will brush it off or dole out appropriate punishment, but if someone comes after someone he loves, he'll break the knees of the person and leave them for dead in a ditch. And obviously, he can't do that with Eun-seop, so Eun-seop doesn't say anything, he's a good elder brother.)

- Sin-jae and Tae-eul noona graduate and both of them go off to KNPU, and Eun-seop says, listen, nobody does that if they're not dating, at least. IF NOT ACTUALLY ILLEGALLY MARRIED. Yeongie, please, for the love of god, find a boy who's available. See, here's a list.

But Yeong just shrugs, and says, let me see your homework (because Eun-seop's back in school now) and then proceeds to put red slashes through everything and says, "apply your brains Eun-seop, don't act dumb when you're not". THE AUDACITY.

Yeong never dates anyone through high school, Eun-seop dates a different person every month.

- So Eun-seop is never going to have to serve in active military duty, because of his accident, but Yeong will have to. He's fine with that, and he'd rather do it in these two years, just after school, because that way, it's only really one year when Eun-seop will be at college before him, and that's fair, it evens out Yeong's having to graduate from school first.

-So off he goes, and there he meets Lee Ji-hun, who's an ass, Eun-seop clocks that straight away, born into some goddamn chaeobol family, but for some reason drawn to actual military service, because he has a hero complex. The only good thing he has going for him, as far as Eun-seop can tell, his that he took one look at Yeongie and decided that he was the best boy in the whole universe, and that shows good taste, Eun-seop will be polite to him, fine.

- Of course, the other thing that happens in those two years is that Yeongie gets brainwashed into joining the Navy- it's not brainwashing, Yeong tries to tell him, I get to protect the people I love, the country I love. And of course, Lee Ji-hun, fucking asshole, is just sitting there, nodding along as though any of this was fucking REASONABLE. You could DIE, Eun-seop yells, DO YOU REALIZE THAT. WE'RE STILL AT FUCKING WAR.

Yes, says his stepford-wife brother, womb-sharer, soulmate, exactly.

- Anyways, off Yeong and Jihun go to join not just the Navy, which would be bad enough, but the ROKSWF, that's insane, they're going to die, and what can Eun-seop do then but go join the NIS and immediately get picked for North Korean Affairs by an astute senior officer who listens to Eun-seop goofing around in the canteen on the orientation day and still get everyone to give him their portion of the only decent thing on the menu- the crème brulee- and says, I'm taking that one.

- It's a lot of paperwork and dull as ditches monitoring work at the start, and that's ok, Eun-seop can live with that, it means he gets time with the other twins, who are at a fun age. And that's how Tae-eul noona and Kang Sin Jae re-enter their lives because Eun-bi and Kka-bi are learning taekwondo from Tae-eul's dad. This is also how Eun-seop meets the love of his life and future wife Myeong Na-Ri, and it's ok if she doesn't know it yet, at least Yeongie is not here to see him turn into a complete doofus everytime Na-Ri so much as breathes in his direction.

- Yeongie and Jihun come back on shore leave (AFTER TWO GODDAMN YEARS) and that's when Ji-hun meets Tae-eul and falls like a ton of bricks for her; she manages to keep her sense of balance and also life in order, thanks, she's not going to fall for some floppy haired dude (his hair grows really fast out of its crew cut) who thinks that parallel universes are a thing, even if he has extremely long legs.

Meanwhile Kang Sin Jae has also cleaned up nice, Eun-seop will admit, and he's-he's a genuinely nice dude, ok, even if a bit brusque, and when Eun-seop finds out about eomeonim's gambling problems and that whole story, he's willing to admit that he may have been a tad harsh on Kang Sin-Jae way back when.

Anyways, that's the past, right, Yeongie, I can't imagine what a bunch of men locked in a submarine can possibly do except have orgies, please tell me that's what you've been doing? Please?

"Shut up" hisses Yeong, and then practically jumps out of his chair when Tae-eul noona and Sin Jae come over to their table at Na-ri's coffee shop. Yeong's in his uniform- he was on his way back from some conference thing he'd had to go to despite his leave- so that was the saving grace, because Eun-seop sees the subtle double-take Kang Sin Jae does,  because let's face it, his baby brother is the most beautiful, it's true, but then Yeongie is also red in the face and says "toffee" instead of "coffee" as in "Won't you get some toffee, Sin Jae-ssi?" and Sin Jae gives him a blank look while he decodes that, (gay panic, Eun-seop wants to tell him, my brother is a panicked gay, go easy on him), and finally says, uh, I don't think they have that flavor here?

- God, Eun-seop says later, I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU, BABY BROTHER. HAVE YOU BEEN IN LOVE WITH THE SAME BOY FROM HIGH SCHOOL? ARE YOU STILL A VIRGIN? (AFFIRMATIVE ON BOTH) and Eun-Seop has FAILED, FAILED, FAILED. Alright, he says, taking a deep breath, how long do you have?

Two weeks, says his stupid fucking brother, and so Eun-seop has to go into EMERGENCY-FUCKING-MODE because he may have to DIE getting it to happen, but his baby brother is GOING TO GET LAID, AND BY THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE, EVERYONE'S FIRST TIME NEEDS TO BE SPECIAL OK, Ji-hun? Ji-hun nods, very seriously, and proceeds to describe his extremely un-special first time, and Eun-seop is like, wow, you probably don't know this, because you've got that puppy face that make people not want to hurt you, but every single woman you've ever slept with has faked an orgasm with you. Well, that discussion gets pretty heated, of course, and also comes to an abrupt end when Tae-eul noona pops in- she's come by to ask if they all wanna hang out and watch a movie this weekend- and look, noona's GREAT, and obviously the first person he needs on his ally list as soon as he makes sure she's not really in love with Sin Jae, because that would be bad.

"Hyungnim?" she says, surprised, when he asks, because Eun-seop knows the best way to get noona to answer anything is to play no games, and she says, "No, why?" and then, suspiciously, "Did that rat Jihun put you up to this?" And he says, absent mindedly, no I was asking 'cause Yeong, and noona yelps, "Jo Yeong can't be in love with me, shit!" and Eun-seop says, what, why, and that's how he finds out that hey, Kang Sin Jae may also have been a little into his idiot brother from way back when. "He was too young" Tae-eul noon confides, "Sin Jae didn't feel right about it, especially when he was graduating that year" and honestly, THIS IS THE SADDEST STORY EUN-SEOP HAS EVER HEARD AND HE'S WATCHED TITANIC FORTY TIMES AND CRIED EACH TIME OK?

- RIGHT. So maybe Eun-Seop and Tae-eul manage to get their idiot friend and brother a little push in the right direction. Well, noona basically goes to Sin Jae and says, for fucks sake, ask the poor boy out, I heard he's still a virgin for you.  And Sin Jae goes red in the face, and then green, because omg the PRESSURE, and then red again, and then ultimately does find Yeong one day at the coffee shop alone, as Eun-seop had assured him he would be - (Diligently reading some book? A recipe book? Italian recipes? Sin Jae may have mentioned one day that his favourite cuisine was Italian?)- and there's some part of him that melts, like the cheese on the cover of that recipe book, and he's like, uh, do you, maybe, and then rushed, I know this great Italian place, if you like, and yes, Jo Yeong would like very much.

- Jo Yeong returns to Jinhae Naval Command very much not a virgin, and Jihun returns still single, but undaunted by the task ahead of him; don't worry, Yeong-ah, he says, confidently, I'll wear her down, even if it takes me years, and Yeong knows Jihun, he knows how much of a barnacle he can be, and also it wouldn't be nice of him to shit on other people's happiness just when he's found his own, so he nods and says, yes, of course, and even listens to Jihun rhapsodize about Tae-eul noona's everything for about two hours straight. He texts Eun-seop at the half-way mark- kill me now, please-and Eun-seop is like, what's North Korea there for, then, I told you to dump his ass in the sea. But of course he won't, Jihun and he are ride or die, and it turns out dying is more likely in this case, because right about that time is when North Korea decides that it needs to remind the world that yes, they exist, and yes, the men that rule them are crazy fucks.

- What happens is this: Koo Seo-Ryeong is a brilliant pianist, who's one of the few DPRK citizens who's let out to see the world has disappeared with her mother and sister, while she was on tour in Australia. And look, she did it in Australia, it has nothing to do with RoK, except that Kim Jong-un has decided that it has, because her (estranged) father happened to be one of the top honchos in  DPRK military brass, and this was all clearly a conspiracy hatched across the border to get at him and the military secrets he knows.

- Eun-seop is there when the news comes in that there's a Sang-o class submarine in the waters at Jeongdongjin, and he's also there when it turns out, that yes, hello, they were trying to get the Koo family out, and he's also the one that gets a single line text from an unknown number that's the code he made Yeongie swear on everything they held dear that he would send if he was going behind enemy lines. Shit. Shit.Shit.

- OK, I confess, I don't know how this next part goes, reader, because I am not John Le Carre or whoever, and this is still NOT-FIC,  BUT SPY THINGS HAPPEN and at the end of the day, Eun-Seop has to choose between saving his brother and letting the Koo family back into the hellhole they'd just managed to extract themselves from, and listen, noona made him listen to Koo Seo-Ryeong's playing ok, and there's- even if she were a shitty musician, even if she were just some rat bastard politician or a fisherwoman- he knows he can't make a choice that is sending her back to her death, and the deaths of everyone she loves. And if he did, and if he did, just to save his womb-brother, his true love, his soulmate, his blood and bone and heart- why, he knows that Yeong would never forgive him, Oppa-pass or no. So he's gotta rescue Yeongie and save the Koo family AND STOP WORLD WAR THREE, good thing he's totally up to the task.

- MORE SPY THINGS HAPPEN AND HE SAVES THE DAY, OK.

- He does, and so this time he gets to be the rescuer, and honestly, this was a big one, and it totally evens out all the 15 million times in their entire lives that Yeong had rescued him, what does Yeongie think? Yeongie thinks he should shut up and let him sleep, and because he's a good oppa, the best oppa, Eun-seop curls around his baby brother in their too narrow bunk bed, just like they did when they were sixteen or ten or five or in the womb, and goes to sleep too.  

[s-c-r-i-p-s-i]

Candy is Dandy but Liquor is Quicker

[Dead by Baelight’s Kinktober // Day 8 and 18 : Outfit/Skin, Cornered]

🖤  🖤   🖤 “Don’t come any closer,” you warned shakily, backing up against the boarded-up door as he stalked forward, every step radiating confidence. “Or you’ll what?” He asked, leaning in. “Arrest me?” Playfully rattling the costume handcuffs on your belt, he set his gun against the door. You stared up at him, eyes wide as saucers, and he just snorted, curling a finger in your hair. “Darlin’…” Tilting his head, his fingers traveled lower, slowly ghosting over your neck, your collarbone…. You inhaled sharply in frightened anticipation, goosebumps rising, only for him to skim over your chest entirely, plucking one of the mini bottles from your bandolier. “I would love…” Long, bony, but strangely elegant fingers unscrewed the cap, flicking it off where it clattered across the floor somewhere. “To see you try.” 🖤  🖤   🖤 Pairing: Deathslinger (Caleb Quinn) x F! Reader

Rating: Explicit

CW: non-con/dub-con, bondage, drinking, smut, canon-typical violence

Word Count: 4,927

Something… odd had been happening lately.

Not the cankerous growths and sickly orange flowers that were always so abundant this time of year - or whatever passed for a year in this everlasting hell. By no means was that unprecedented.

Ask anyone who’d been there long enough to know and they’d tell you; there was a certain… cyclicity to things. Recurring phenomenon - the red envelopes, the flowers, the mysterious gifts wrapped up like Christmas presents. Always sequential, always in order, like some crude imitation of seasons. (And for what? No one ever aged a day.)

No, this was something new.

And new, in the Entity’s realm, was never a good thing. But… You had to admit, this seemed mostly harmless.

Look - It’s not like you were ever really in control of what you wore here, anyway. Most of the time, you were just stuck with whatever clothes you were wearing when you rolled into the fog. Sometimes She (that omnipotent thing in the sky) threw you in something else. Nobody ever really paid it much mind. The Entity worked in mysterious ways. And people, frankly, had more important shit to worry about.

But then when the flowers started blooming this year, things got a little weird.

She -…

She started putting people in costumes.

Cheap polyester numbers, mostly - the kind you’d buy from a big-box store, straight from one of those awful clear vinyl bags.

…It was starting to look a lot like Halloween. Jack-o’-lanterns even began appearing, scattered around the campfire and adorning the generators.

And nobody knew what the fuck was going on. Hell, not everyone even knew what Halloween was. You had quite the diverse cast; some people weren’t even from the same world as you.

The general vibe around the campfire was just… mild amusement if anything. You had a chuckle, then moved on. That was just the way of things. Everyone had these… survivor blinders on. You guess it was hard to get phased by something so minor when you all got murdered on the daily, but…

But you weren’t content with that.

You always had trouble just accepting things at face value. You wanted to know why.

Like - was the Entity stroking out? Things always did get a little strange around this time. Almost as if She were sick.

It was rare, but there were these little… Well, Feng called them glitches, and it was apt a term as any. Just little things, here and there, like She couldn’t quite enforce the rules of her own game.

Almost everything in this world seemed to be harvested from people’s memories. So… Maybe she was starting to pull things at random. Spiraling.

Was this the synaptic failure of a dying god?

Probably not, but there was nothing to do besides let your mind wander, and it was the only theory you had.

And then….

Then She whisked you away to Frontierland in the gaudiest slutty sheriff costume known to man and pit you against the goddamn cowboy.

Yeah, no - that was about a step too far to have been a happy accident.

Maybe you were thinking too hard. Maybe She just had a fucked up sense of humor.

When the fog cleared, you found yourself in the saloon with the others. You half-heartedly laughed it off (“Yeah, yeah. Okay. Very funny.”) and then moved on. Business as usual.

But not before rolling your eyes and discreetly downing one of the liquor minis from the shitty novelty booze bandolier sewn to your costume behind everyone’s backs.

At least She had the decency to stock it.

You were finishing up cleansing a totem when you heard the telltale crack of a gunshot split the air from all the way across the map. Not anywhere close enough to be dangerous, but a dead giveaway as to who you were up against.

…And cold hard proof that your little outfit was far from coincidence. The literal and proverbial smoking gun.

The moment you heard it you deflated, head falling back.

Seriously? What the fuck was She playing at?

Why you?

It wasn’t much of a conscious decision; you found yourself plucking another bottle from your bandolier and knocking it back without a whole lot of thought. You were obviously going to need it. Staring blankly ahead, you incredulously shook your head as you thumbed the moisture from your lip.

Okay. Alright. That was it, for now, you decided.

The Entity gave you a fully loaded bandolier - seriously, you were armed to the teeth with the little mini bottles, to the point it was actually kind of heavy. But you already felt a little weak in the knees after just two shots. It had been a while, so your tolerance was understandably nil. You didn’t want to be useless to your team. More importantly, it now felt critical you get out of there without running into the killer.

The Deathslinger was one of those ones. Not overly talkative, like a couple of the killers were, but he definitely got a kick out of the whole thing. There was a stark difference between the two camps, so to speak - the ones who only seemed like they killed because they had to, and the ones who were completely in their element. And he was obviously one of the latter.

It was that goddamn laugh. Low and sultry. Chuckling whenever he hooked someone or when a survivor did something exceptionally dumb. Even when you weren’t the target of it, you’d come to associate it with pure humiliation.

And you just knew that he’d take one look at you, in your stupid sheriff costume, and… Oh. You were steaming mad only thinking about it.

So you made it your personal mission to avoid him this trial. And to do that, you had to actually get out. Which meant no more drinks for you!

You should have known She had other plans.

You did your best to keep a low profile, tried to make sure you were on the opposite side of the map from him at all times, while still being useful. A difficult balancing act.

But you couldn’t just leave your friends hanging.

When you saw Meg’s aura flare out in distress as she was lowered onto the hook, you began making your way over, quick and quiet and praying to every god you knew that he would be long gone by the time you got there.

And, lucky you, there was no sight of him. So you crept towards the hook, privately taking solace that at least you weren’t alone in the goof factor; Meg was all dressed up like Wendy - the fast-food icon. The Entity really outdid herself, the braids were right on the nose, and you were almost loosey-goosey enough to make some stupid quip. Almost. Maybe when she wasn’t dangling from a meat hook.

You pulled her off the hook with care, but just as her feet touched the ground, another gunshot rang out, this time much louder. A spear whizzed by so close that you could hear it shear through the air just before it embedded itself in the post, inches away from you both. No sooner had you whipped your head around to find the source than the sound of shoes pounding against the ground filled your ringing ears.

You looked back and Meg was gone. Peeled off like a bandaid.

You decided you better get the hell out of Dodge too.

First things first, you needed to get out of the open; that was just asking to get shot. So you made a mad dash for the saloon. You figured you had a good head start since it should have taken him a hot minute to retrieve the harpoon, dislodge it from the hook, shove it back in the gun… Sounded like a whole ass process.

Except, when you looked back behind you he was hot on your tail. Trail. Hot on your trail.

You made a snap judgment, deciding you’d try and lose him by running up to the second story. Was it cheap? Absolutely. He obviously had some kind of bum leg, unless that brace was some kind of bold fashion statement. Not that it had ever slowed him down, any. But you were desperate. And all’s fair in love and war, right?

Swiftly turning the corner, you galloped up the stairs and dove into the first room you saw, hopping through the window.

By the time your eyes adjusted to the indoors and you realized it was a dead-end, it was too late. The only other exit was boarded up, and you could hear his boots unhurriedly thumping up the creaky steps like he was in no rush at all. Step. Step. You rushed to the boarded-up door and gave it a good open-palmed slam to test its strength - you’d seen killers smash through these like they were cardboard, but it just wouldn’t budge. Shit.

He was getting closer. You could hear his spurs. Hissing, you banged your fist against the boards in frustration. What, impending injury wasn’t bad enough? She had to add insult, too?

The footsteps stopped, and so did everything else, it felt like. Holding your breath, you slowly began to turn around. There he was in the window, backlit and silhouette, dusty sunlight filtering through his ghostly white hair. You had to admit, he cut a striking figure, something cinematic. There was just the trouble of the gun. Aimed right at you.

Didn’t have to climb over the window if he just reeled you to him. Smart man.

Before you could think to dive for cover or something smart like that, he began lowering the gun. It was hard to tell what expression he was wearing, backlit as he was, but you could feel those spectral eyes looking you up and down. From your cheap western style boot covers, all the way up your legs to your fluffy petticoat and layered skirts, the ill-fitted booze bandolier slung around your shoulder… and finally, the gold, plastic 5 point sheriff star nestled between your tits.

Oh God. Here it comes…

He didn’t even have to say a word, hot embarrassment already surging to the surface before he even opened his mouth.

“Well. Pardon me.” You could make out the glint of dirty teeth in the dark as his grin spread. “Didn’t know you were an elected official.”

Why the hell was he exempt from this bullshit, anyway? You’d seen Ghostface in a devil costume, and Myers in a cat ear headband, so you knew they weren’t immune. Maybe the Entity thought he looked stupid and campy enough as is. But… she couldn’t have dressed him up as Woody from Toy Story or something? He probably wouldn’t have gotten it, but you would have found it funny. Maybe then you wouldn’t have felt so small and humiliated.

You hated this. You didn’t even know what to say until he started climbing over the window. Then you had a pretty clear idea.

“Don’t come any closer,” you warned shakily, backing up against the boarded-up door as he stalked forward, every step radiating confidence.

“Or you’ll what?” He asked, leaning in. “Arrest me?” Playfully rattling the costume handcuffs on your belt, he set his gun against the door. You stared up at him, eyes wide as saucers, and he just snorted, curling a finger in your hair.

“Darlin’…” Tilting his head, his fingers traveled lower, slowly ghosting over your neck, your collarbone…. You inhaled sharply in frightened anticipation, goosebumps rising, only for him to skim over your chest entirely, plucking one of the mini bottles from your bandolier. “I would love…” Long, bony, but strangely elegant fingers unscrewed the cap, flicking it off where it clattered across the floor somewhere. “To see you try.”

And on that note, he finally tipped it back - you watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed it down. Shaking the empty bottle at you, he slipped it back into its holster on your belt. “Bit frivolous, you know.” He commented, curling his finger in and snapping it back. “A flask does just fine. No need to reinvent the wheel.”

“Right, well,” you huffed, and moved to squeeze past him - he was clearly in good humor, at least, so maybe he’d let you off easy. Wasn’t a little whiskey and a laugh good enough?

Apparently not.

You were immediately met with an arm shooting out, hand landing right beside your head, caging you in.

“Woah there, where d’ya think you’re going, sweetheart?” He smirked down at you, a crooked thing that flashed his teeth, scarred lip snagged over a canine. You’d never noticed before, but one of his incisors had a gold crown. Now that you’d noticed, you couldn’t stop looking at it, the alcohol still floating around in your bloodstream turning you into some sort of easily distracted magpie. He was missing one of his bottom teeth, too. It was… kind of a mess in there, huh? Smelled like whiskey and tobacco.

“You got me all the way up here, I’m not too keen on leaving already.” Sliding his hand from the door, he guided you away by the small of your waist, and you… you just kind of let him, stiltedly trying to follow his direction.

“So how about you…” You reached the bed and he grabbed you by your shoulders, turning you round to face him. “Just sit your pretty ass down.” Just a slight push and you were bouncing on the bedsprings, palms catching your fall.

In the back of your mind you were already fearing the worst, but much to your surprise he just sat down next to you on the edge of the mattress, looking almost comically large and out of place on the twin-size bed. All you could do was blink at him dumbly, unsure what was happening.

He took a long breath through his nose. It felt like forever before he finally released it and said, “Have a drink with me.”

“I…” You drew out the word dubiously, clearly meaning to decline. You were already too tipsy for comfort considering present company was a killer.

“Didn’t ask,” He said gruffly, pulling two bottles from your bandolier and offering you one. “Indulge an old man. Or we’ll do it the hard way.”

Hard to argue with that! You didn’t know what the hard way was, but you didn’t want to find out. So you took the bottle, lips pulling together in a tight, awkward half-smile when he clinked his against yours.

This was weird. Awkward, and in a whole different way than you’d been preparing yourself for.

You actually found yourself glad for the burn that flooded your body as you downed the shot, heat loosening your tense limbs and taking the edge off this… incredibly odd situation, if only slightly.

Besides the obvious threat, it felt like maybe, despite everything… he was really just a lonely old man. In want of someone to drink with. A slice of normality. Isn’t that what you all wanted? You guessed it couldn’t hurt. It was keeping him away from the generators, anyway. Buying you all some extra time.

And… maybe this was what the Entity wanted. The reason she brought you here like this.

“Now, miss,” He spoke, and you turned your gaze up to him, blinking owlishly, your head swimming. There was a lot to take in at this distance. All these different textures. Scars and stubble and pockmarks. You found it all fascinating. “I’ve got to be frank with you.”

You know, you hadn’t really heard him speak at length before, but you were starting to realize that his whole aesthetic, he didn’t really sound straight out of a spaghetti western like you might expect. There was a trace of that, especially in his vocabulary, but his accent was much more reminiscent of… Canada, somehow. With a slightly Irish lilt.

It was ludicrously unexpected, and something about it just made a dopey smile float onto your face. You didn’t even realize you were doing it, until his eyes drifted down, and he huffed with almost fond incredulity.

“Think that’s funny, huh?”

You’re almost positive you missed something he said. You heard it, you just didn’t… process it right. This time when he spoke, you tried to pay attention.

“I don’t usually go taking what ain’t mine, but damn if you don’t look like a present addressed just to me.”

It was your turn to huff, bobbing with amusement. “Okay, cowboy, I know what it looks like, but…” It wasn’t like you chose this outfit.

“Honey,” he interrupted, “I think you’ve mistaken me for the wrong kinda wrangler. It’s not cows I’m after.” He paused, tipping his head as if reconsidering, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. ��But if a heifer’s in need of a good driving…”

It took you a solid minute for your brain to catch up. He was content to watch the cogs turn until it did.

He just called you a cow!

A cow in need of a good dicking!

Your mouth hung open in shock and he - he just laughed.

“Little slow on the uptake, aren’t cha? Had a few already? How bout one more?” His hand began trailing up your leg, dirty fingers slowly dipping beneath your pure white petticoat.

Suddenly, one thing was very clear.

You had to get out of here.

Shaking your head, you tried to stand, but you were swiftly reeled back as soon as your feet hit the ground, pulled into a hard lap, all bones and brace and knobby knees and God knows what else.

“We’re gonna have one more,” his voice materialized right beside your ear, tone final as he pulled another mini from your belt. You shook your head, whimpering some protest between tightly closed lips as he pressed the bottle to your mouth. Behind you, you heard him sigh through his nose like a beleaguered bull. Then his other hand came round your face, pinching your nose shut.

You didn’t wait around for your lungs to give out. There wasn’t any point in that. You knew he wasn’t going to give in. But you did. Almost immediately. Your lips parted for air and got tequila instead, swallowing sloppily as you tried not to choke, rivulets of amber dripping down your chin while he murmured, “There you go… Nice and easy…”

His hand lowered to your throat to tip your head back, your world spinning as a wet sensation dragged across your chin, the man licking up the tequila in one broad and obscene lick. That rotten chuckle inundated your senses. “Awful cute when ya can’t even keep your eyes straight.” He tapped his fingers along the column of your throat, adding in afterthought. “Awful cute anyway, but I’m not really in the mood to fight just for a little company tonight. You gonna be good for me now, darling?”

“…Uh-huh.” You nearly sobbed out the sound, voice meek and pathetic. But you’d be lying if you weren’t starting to feel… sweaty under your skirts, inner thighs getting embarrassingly slick. That always happened when you were drunk, but never this bad.

And despite all the awfulness churning in your stomach, you still felt heat pool in your gut as he cooed, “Good girl. Not at dumb as you look, are you?”

You didn’t even realize he was actually expecting an answer until he probed again, “Are you?”

You quickly shook your head.

Humming, he seemed to accept that, because he was soon re-adjusting you on his lap and catching your lips with his in a messy kiss. He tasted strong and dry, your tongue prickling like your taste buds were trying to retract at the mere slide of his against yours; like salt on a slug. When his hand crept up your skirt this time, you didn’t try to stop him, even as his middle finger began tracing your sopping panties, dipping into the wet seam. You could scarcely think, devolved into a gooey pile of nerves and feelings that he was amusedly plucking at.

Peeling your panties aside, his fingers parted your folds, a pleased rumble emanating in his throat and vibrating in your mouth when his thumb brushed against your clit and your hips twitched in response.

You were gasping for breath by the time he finally pulled his mouth away, but he gave you no time to recover, already pressing two fingers past your resistance. In some attempt to ground yourself, you grasped at his arm as they began curling and pumping inside you, but your weak, drunk grip made it about as easy as catching clouds.

At some point, your barely-there vision drifted towards the window and you dimly realized you were facing it, completely exposed. That if anyone came up the stairs, they’d be able to see everything.

You’d just have to hope his heartbeat would be enough to keep them far away from the saloon. Eyes fluttering to the ceiling, you pushed the thought from your mind. It wasn’t hard. Not when the feeling in your stomach was reaching a fever pitch, nearing the point of no return.

In some ways, he was a lot gentler than you were expecting. Which was good, because you felt hopelessly vulnerable right now, helpless and disorientated in his lap, his looming over you making your mixed up brain feel protected even though some part of you knew that wasn’t right.

Everything felt numb except where he touched you; the heat of his breath on your neck, the kisses he pressed to your skin, the scrape of his beard, the brush of his long hair against your shoulder. All your wires were crossed, every little sensation going straight to your core.

Gasping out as your climax crashed over you, your hips lurched, thighs trying to snap closed around his hand. Unbothered, he just kept stroking you through it until your hips finally began to sink back down and your cunt stopped desperately trying to milk his fingers. Withdrawing slowly, he pressed them into your open mouth, the tang of your own juices spreading across your tongue. You didn’t know what it said about you that your blind instinct was to obediently suck, but that’s what you did, and he breathed out in a low, steady hiss.

“Careful, now. Fool me too good and I might have to keep you.”

Pulling away, he encouraged you to lay on the bed, settling between your legs. You watched the ceiling drift then snap back to place every time you blinked while he fiddled with something - you weren’t sure what until he was fixing your arms above your head and the apparently not-so-novelty handcuffs from your costume were being snapped around your wrists.

Then his hands were skating over you appreciatively, over your ribcage, the curvature of your waist almost reverently. “Guess the good Lord finally answered my prayers.” He murmured, flicking the plastic sheriff star between your bosom. “Not really how I woulda done it, but beggars can’t be choosers, eh? After all…” The man sighed, fingers curling into the top of your blouse and slowly dragging the gingham fabric down over your breasts until they were revealed to his eerie, quietly covetous eyes. “We don’t exactly have all the time in the world, do we?”

What was that even supposed to mean? It seemed to you as if you had nothing but time. Maybe not in this particular trial - and as if to punctuate that thought, you felt a generator kick to life, the familiar thrum of hope in your bones.

Did he know something you didn’t? Or were you just too foxed to follow?

Exhaling, he rolled his hands over your breasts, admiring the feel of them for just a moment. It seemed like he wanted to take his time with you, but the reminder that you were on a timer was the spur in his side that eventually pushed him to move on.

You heard him audibly fiddling with his belts and wondered if you were getting out of this alive. It was cold comfort, but at least you’d probably managed to save everyone else. Not very heroic when it wasn’t even really your decision. But it was something. Maybe. Something to cling to as you felt the heat of him slide across the mess he’d made of you.

Whimpering, you curled inwards from your core as he entered you, bound hands lifting up and both grasping at his chest at the feeling of being run through. By no means was it violent. It didn’t hurt, exactly. But it had been a long time, and he was unforgivingly long and solid and foreign. An intrusion on your body.

“That’s it. There you go, gorgeous. Hang onto me.”

You did, your hands abandoning his chest to loop over his neck, accidentally knocking the hat off his head in your bound fumbling. He didn’t seem to care, swooping down to take your lips again while you struggled to get used to the feeling of him moving inside you.

With how wet you already were, it didn’t take all that long before pleasure started to win out, every little bump and grind against your sweet spot pulling you closer to the edge again, his mouth muffling the pathetic stream of sounds trying to escape yours.

This time, the fall from the top was a slow one, liquid heat spilling out across your core - though you weren’t quite aware how literally until you felt it physically starting to pool beneath you, a wave of embarrassment flaring when you’d realized what just happened. Okay - you didn’t - that had never happened before, drunk or not.

Your hopes that he didn’t notice were dashed as he pulled away to chuckle heatedly in your ear. He wasn’t far behind though, laughter broken by a groan as his hips snapped against yours, burying himself deep as he could go. You felt the alien jerk of his cock inside you, radiating warmth.

Panting, he nuzzled at your neck as he came down, whiskers scratching at your skin. You felt… suspended in place, not sure what came next. But you guessed it wasn’t up to you. Hesitantly, you let your fingers slip into his sweaty white tresses, the texture thick and rough like the mane of a horse, dusty and… probably unwashed for God knows how long.

There was that awkward feeling again. Like you were two pieces of a puzzle that didn’t fit no matter how you turned them, but you weren’t allowed to leave.

Eventually, he took a deep, centering breath and withdrew from you, guiding your hands back to the bed and clicking open the safety release of the handcuffs, setting you free and letting them fall wherever on the floor.

Rubbing your wrists, you groaned in discomfort as he dragged his fingers through the mess, pushing his cum back inside you. No. You just wanted to be done.

But then he pulled your panties back into place. Pulled your shirt back up. Smoothed your skirts down.

His gaze lingered on you for a long moment before he heaved a big sigh and finally dismounted.

Pulling you up by your arm so that you were sitting up, he grabbed his hat from the bed, and you felt him plop it onto your head and adjust it.

“Suits ya.” He said softly, and it was the first thing he’d said in a while. Part of you was waiting for the other shoe to drop, not sure if he wanted a thank you, or…

He eyed you for another long moment, like there was something more he wanted to say, but… Instead, his gaze flicked down to the bandolier round your chest.

You swallowed hard as he plucked the last two bottles from your belt, the thought of taking another shot making your stomach churn and your gag reflex curl.

Patting your thigh, he bonelessly plopped himself in the nearby chair, rolling his eyes as you just stared at him. “Go on, get.” He snorted, uncapping one of the little bottles. “Don’t fall down the stairs on your way out.”

He was letting you go? Just like that?

You hesitated, something about this seemed… unfinished. You weren’t sure if you wanted to go.

But you didn’t want to wait around until he changed his mind, either.

So you uncertainly began heading towards the window, pausing when you remembered - “Your hat…” You reached for it, intending to give it back, but…

“Keep it, I don’t care.” That sounded unexpectedly crabby, and when you looked back, he wasn’t looking at you. He was staring at the wall, avoiding your gaze as he tipped back a shot. “Wear it if you want to see me again. Don’t if ya don’t. I can take a hint.”

You blinked, unable to believe he was sulking. Now. After everything.

Your fingers hovered over the brim of the hat. You needed to quash this now, while you still had the chance. Your conscience was screaming at you, leave it, don’t encourage him, don’t even give him hope.

Don’t bring it to the campfire. Don’t anything. Just… leave it on the windowsill, you told yourself. It shouldn’t have even required thought. Nothing about this was okay.

You didn’t even know his goddamn name.

And yet… You found your hand slowly lowering, falling back down to your side. You gave him one last, long look before grabbing the windowsill.

You could always decide later.

🖤  🖤 🖤

Thank you for reading!!!

🖤  🖤 🖤  

Notes:

Thank you Pugge for beta'ing most of this!

I do not know WHY this took me so long to write but I’m fairly happy with it. Sorta wasn’t the direction I originally had planned for this, but what can I say, I’m cursed. I got the Midas touch, except instead of gold, everything I touch turns to non-con.

This piece was written for Day 8 and 18 of the 🔞 Dead by Baelight 🔞 Discord server’s Kinktober. Anyone over 18 is welcome to join here.

[lumiereandcogsworth]

would maurice ever put on prologue adam-esque makeup just as a goof with juliette when papa isn't around (bonus if renée and/or belle catches him 👀)

After seeing the painting, Maurice and his sister can’t help but want to do a bit more investigating into their father’s past life — even if Renée told them to leave it alone. Little siblings aren’t meant to listen to the eldest anyhow.

They wait a couple weeks, when they know Papa will be going to Paris for a few days. That’s their in. After waving their goodbyes as the carriage takes Adam off, Juliette and Maurice exchange sneaking glances, hopefully as unbeknownst to their mother and sister as they can.

The pair of siblings sneak up to Papa’s dressing room. It’s extravagant, but you wouldn’t be able to tell because of how tidy it’s kept. Robes and jackets hanging neatly in closed wardrobes, polished full-length mirrors, clean carpets, a neat vanity— perfect.

“Think he still has that makeup?” Maurice asks, eyes wandering all over the surface.

“I doubt it,” his sister hesitates, looking over her shoulder. “He hasn’t worn makeup like that since before he met Mama.”

Maurice looks over to her. “How would you know that?”

“She told me,” Juliette answers simply.

“Rule one of secret heists, Sister, divulge all prior received information.”

“Noted.” Juliette grins. “But I’m not sure we should be rummaging through Papa’s things anyway, Reece, I feel bad.”

“It wears off,” her brother waves his hand, opening another drawer and coming up empty.

Just then, the door rushes open again, startling the siblings.

“Oh! Your Highnesses!” Plumette nearly drops her duster, just as startled to see the royal children. “What are you doing in here?”

“Plumette! Hello!” Maurice shoves the drawer closed. “H- How are you?”

“I am fine, mon prince. What brings the pair of you in here?” She glances at the mantle clock. “It is time for your father’s dressing room to be cleaned.”

“Of course it is,” Juliette grabs her brother’s arm. “We were just leaving.” She pulls him most of the way, but her brother stops them beside Plumette.

“Dearest Aunt, would you happen to know where our father keeps his makeup? From the old days?”

Plumette nearly bursts out laughing. “‘The old days’ hm? Why the sudden interest in your father’s makeup? He has not worn much in years.” She crosses her arms.

“No reason,” Juliette replies quickly. She gives Maurice a don’t tell her about the painting look.

Her brother replies with an understanding nod, looking back to Plumette. “We were looking at old paintings, you know, in the Paintings Hall? Our old relatives and the like. Ancient history, no less. But we noticed some of them wear more makeup than others. It got us thinking perhaps our father did the same?”

Plumette eyes them both as they look up at her displaying their best innocence. She knows they are full of it, but she has a weak spot for those three royal kiddos, so she goes along with it.

“Right,” she says, dropping her arms and walking over to an older vanity that had been collecting dust in the corner. The royal siblings hadn’t even seen it.

Plumette goes to it, and then turns to look at the two nosy siblings behind her. “I trust this remains another of our little secrets.”

“Of course,” they say simultaneously. Secrets with Aunt Plumette are sacred.

She grins at them, turning back and opening a drawer. There are carefully preserved jars and glass boxes of colorful dust; brushes that haven’t been used in ages. The royal siblings crowd on either side of her, amazed at the sight.

“This was all his?” Maurice asks.

“Oh yes,” Plumette replies, pulling out a few sample boxes and brushes. “Goodness, I would spend so very long, getting it just right for your father before the royal balls.”

“We had no idea!” Juliette says. Maurice glances a confused look at her behind Plumette, but soon turns back remembering that the seemingly left behind painting of their father was something of a secret relic.

“None whatsoever!”

Plumette looks over at Maurice, eyes more calculated than before, like she’s sizing him up. “You look more like your father every day, mon prince. Do you know?”

Maurice’s face flushes and he nods. Everyone always tells him that, and that was certainly not the first he’d heard it from Aunt Plumette.

“Sit here, won’t you?” She takes his shoulders and moves him to an empty seat beside the vanity. She reaches for some of the golden eyeshadow and a brush. “Would you mind?”

Maurice crinkles his eyebrows, looking over to his sister then back to Plumette. “I suppose not?” He shrugs. What’s the harm, really. They’re in this far.

Plumette grins, pulling open a curtain to give them more light. “And don’t worry, mon princesse, you’re next!” She says, brushing at Juliette’s nervous shoulder.

She begins working out something of a masterpiece on the prince’s face. It’s simple yet extravagant all at the same time. The look is similar to ones she’d given Adam. All the memories came flooding back. She would not, for the world, wish to be taken back to those terribly dark days, but she certainly missed having such a lovely muse to work with. And his son worked just as well.

“Et, voila!” Plumette takes Maurice’s hand and pulls him out of the chair, bringing him to a more polished mirror than the dusty, broken one belonging to the vanity.

Maurice stands in the mirror, barely recognizing himself. If he looked like the young prince in that painting before, he is a right replica of him now.

He moves a hand to touch his face and Plumette bats it away. “No touching! We’ll clean it off in a moment. But what do you think? Quite elegant, non?” She chuckles.

Juliette comes behind her brother’s shoulder and looks at his reflection with him. “Incredible,” she mutters, her mind clearly racing with the same thoughts as Maurice. “Truly, Aunt! A work of art.” Juliette adds, snapping out of her amazement.

“Honestly,” Maurice agrees, still staring at himself.

“Thank you, mes chéris,” Plumette sighs. “I do miss having such a muse. No one gets made up for balls like they used to! Well, nothing like how the Master used to,” she smiles, gesturing to Maurice’s face.

“No offense, Plumette, but I can see why,” Maurice turns to her. “I can barely move my face.”

Plumette laughs, taking his shoulder and leading him back to the chair. “Ah, I may have overdone it on the foundation. I am rusty!”

They spend the next few minutes getting it all cleaned off. Plumette sneaks them both to the servants’ quarters so Maurice can wash his face in the wash basin.

“Oh! Juliette, we didn’t get the chance to do your lovely face!” She gently tips her chin up. 

The princess rubs her arm. “Oh, that’s quite alright, Aunt. I don’t think makeup at such a caliber is quite for me.”

Plumette smiles, clapping a hand to her shoulder. “Of course, mon princesse.”

They exchange excited thank-you’s and see-you-soon’s and the royal siblings depart from the servants’ quarters.

“That was a trip,” Maurice says, a grin still on his face. “I didn’t know I could look more like Papa.”

“I didn’t either,” Juliette laughs.

“Renée really missed out this time.”

“What’s that Renée’s missing out on?” Belle’s voice rings in her children’s ears, but she’s nowhere to be found. “Up here,” she calls.

Maurice and Juliette look up and turn, finding her on an upper-level balcony.

“What are you two up to?”

Her children look at each other and come to the same conclusion. An Aunt Plumette secret is sacred. They look back up at her.

“Nothing, Mama!”

Belle comes down the stairs and walks up to them. She doesn’t really seem to believe them, and she’s certainly curious about the smear of blue on Maurice’s white sleeve.

“Nothing?” She takes her son’s wrist and looks over the stain.

“Grandfather’s workshop,” Maurice says in haste, pulling his wrist behind his back.

“Painting. It’s paint!” Juliette adds.

“Right,” Belle nods suspiciously. “Renée‘s always telling me how much she’s ‘missing out’ on painting with your grandfather,” she says with her usual sarcasm.

“Well you see... This particular painting, it—” Maurice fumbles with his words.

“Your Majesty!” Plumette calls, coming up behind Belle. “Your Highnesses,” she nods to the royal siblings who are currently royally screwing up their cover story.

“Plumette! How are you?” Belle asks, pleased to see her friend.

“Very well. And you? All of you?” She eyes Maurice and Juliette, a telepathic I will distract her, you make a break for it that comes through crystal clear.

“We’re good,” Maurice mutters. The connection between his brain and mouth has stopped working. His sister merely smiles.

Belle stares at them and wonders why they’re acting like they’ve never had a conversation before, but then turns back to Plumette.

“My dear, did you see your gown for next weekend arrived?” Plumette put her arm around Belle, walking her away from Maurice and Juliette. “You must see it, my goodness.”

“Oh! No I hadn’t. I suppose I’ll see you later, my dears!” Belle looks back to her children, still as statues and waiting for the right time to book it. They smile back at her and watch as Plumette whisks their mother to another floor of the castle.

Juliette let’s out a sigh like she’d been holding her breath the entire time. “She really is a God-send, isn’t she?”

“I truly believe the castle would crumble without her,” Maurice agrees.

“At least, all our fun would be cut in half.”

“Decimated.”

They stand there for a moment, but quickly remember they had been given an escape route for a reason, and scurry off to tell Renée all that she had missed.

[ohholyfanfics]

Second Chances| Tom Holland

Pairing: Tom x Orginal Charater 

A year, two weeks, one day since the last time he physically saw Penny. Tom Holland had made the biggest mistake of his life the day he decided that she deserved better than himself. The day he all but told her, he was leaving her because he couldn’t amount to the man that he believed she should marry. It was that unfaithful day that he watched her leave with nothing but anger towards him that he relized he let the best thing to ever happen to him walk through the doors never to return again.

He took in his surroundings how the once familiar pub had changed, the once vivid paintings on the walls were replaced by scenery pictures, how the once wooden chairs around the bar where now metal and the lights were no longer that deep shade of red, but now a more modern style. It was still the same cozy little bar they piled into every Friday evening, yet it was different. One look at her from across the room, it all felt perfect, almost as if everything hadn’t changed in the slightest.

Taken a seat besides Alex, he welcomed the pint that was passed in his direction as he tried his utter best to not drift his attention towards her.It seemed as if things were going perfectly smooth before that same intoxicating scent took over him, the same scent he found himself craving. The scent that drove him wild for three years filling his ever sense and causing himself to be hyper aware of his surroundsings, of her.

“Oh my god Tom!” Penny breathed out with a soft smile and twinkling eyes. The same smile she always wore when she spoke his name, the same smile he swore she saved just for him. he couldn’t help the feelings that were budding to the surface, the ones he’s promised himself to keep at bay.

“Hey.” He chuckled softly not knowing what to do, was a handshake to formal, but a hug to much? Tom didn’t know where you both stood seeing as this was the first time in over a year since seen each other. He always swore, it was almost like she was running from him.

“Oh come here you baby!” She giggled softly as she pulled him into a lose hug. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t hate him. In fact, Penny wasn’t sure if she was ever truly angry with him the way she let on. Sure, she wished Tom would’ve let her make the decision for herself but she learned to move on and to forgive him.

“Are you gonna have a pint with us?” Harrison asked ready to test out the waters. He knew Tom still carried feelings and he was more than positive she did as well. Penny shook her head slightly, as she held her drink up. 

“Maybe later yeah?” Penny winked before taken a sip of what Tom assumed was a cranberry vodka. Waving her hand she dancing her away across the room taken his heart with her.

Later wasn’t something Tom was expecting and he most certainly wasn’t expecting later to be when the lads that dirfted off to the dance floor. His hands loosly gripping the cold cup in his hand, as his other ran through his growing curls. 

“You know sitting here isn’t gonna make this better.” 

He jumped lightly as he was met with those hazel eyes he had spent years perfecting each one of their swirls of greens and browns. The same pair that he had learned to love no matter what emotion was behind them. 

“They are just as much your mates as they are mine.” she pointed out with a soft smile taken the seat beside him. Penny had never imagined that their first time seeing each other would be at a simple group outting, she had atteded a handful since the breakup and yet always left disappointed when he didn’t show. 

“I know.” 

It was silghtly awkward between them as she watched their group goof off with a soft smile on her lips, She hated to admit it, but pub nights weren’t the same without him. There was countless moments where she would find herself wondering if she should call him. 

“Tom don’t make this awkward.” she breathed out biting on her bottom lip. 

“It’s hard not too Penny..” he chuckled softly finally meeting her eyes, which held a wave of uncertainty as he leanded back in his seat. Maybe it was the alcohol talking or it was his need to let her know that he still cared. “God you have no idea how much I missed you.” 

“To-” 

“No Penny, you don’t know how much I’ve miss you. Fuck, Pen’s you’re all I ever think about. I know what I did wasn’t right, but you can’t blame me.” 

“Then why’d you never reach out?” 

He laughed softly shaking his head looking down at his cup. His mind spinning as he tried to chose his words carfully. “How could I? Doubt you’d even listen to me love.” 

She nodded her head knowing he was right, it took her so long to get back on her feet. It hurt so terribly when the one person she had allowed herself to love so carefully and whole heartedly to leave like he had done. Yet, she couldn’t find herself hating him. 

“I don’t hate you, ya know.” 

He looked back at her with wide eyes as she chuckled softy. 

“I guess, I just wanted to find a reason at doing so?” she questioned as she looked down at her drink. “I wanted so badly to hate you Tom, but I couldn’t. I can’t.” 

“I still love you.” he breathed out softly as he chugged the rest of his beer watching as she sat there speechless. Sighing softly he placed his coat on as he dropped a few pounds on the bar and walked out. The last thing he wanted to do was sit there and watch her say how she didn’t want him. 

“TOM!” 

It took Penny a dew moments to collect herself before she was hoping out of her seat and rushing in his direction. Her eyes were wide and filled with tears as she watched him turn from down the street. His face to far to be read. 

“You can’t just say that and leave.” she screamed out as she ran to him, as he chuckled bitterly and shook his head. “You can’t leave without letting me say something!” 

“Pennt you don’t have to say anything.” 

“But I-” 

“It’s fine, I deserve it.” 

“Can we talk?” she breathed out as he studied her with tired and hurt eyes. “

When we’re sober Penny” 

“Okay.” 

The next morning Tom woke to a text that nearly had him crying as the words kept repating it’s in his mind. Cause maybe just maybe if he proved himself, she’d be willing to give a chance to make it right. 

‘I still love you Tom, I wished you allowed me to tell you that before you left. I just don’t think I can do this again.’

[jimlingss]

Chess of Ice 3 [Finale]

Read the Original 

Read the Sequel

➜ Words: 14.9k

➜ Genres: 70% Fluff, 30% Angst, Sports!AU

➜ Summary: Jeon Jungkook is a star, aka. a valued member of one of the best mixed curling teams in the world. He has everything he could’ve ever asked for and more — a family in the sport that he’s grown to love, his beloved girlfriend whom he adores, and the fact that made it. He’s finally here at the Olympics. All his dreams have been fulfilled. But when he comes face to face with the people of the past, he comes to question if this what he imagined his dreams to be like.

➜ Warnings: implied smut

He keeps himself going.   The roars pierce through his muffled hearing, the audience going wild. The coldness of the ice wafts over, making the air frigid. His breath is seen each time he exhales, cheeks becoming rosy in the cold. He can’t feel anything, not his hands or the tip of his nose. The edges of his fingers tingle, mind tickling pleasantly. This is where he’s meant to be, where he worked so hard to get to.   The neon lights are flashing, reminding him of strobe lights at a club and it blinds his vision completely, but Jungkook welcomes it. The cheers are loud in the stadium, echoing in every corner and leaving no space untouched with sound. The music is deafening as well and he feels like a world famous superstar stepping out like this. There’s so much going on that Jungkook can barely focus, but he forces himself to keep walking and not freeze up on television like some idiot.   He can’t believe he’s here.   “Oh my god.” Yoonji is rapidly blinking, rendered speechless and it’s not like her to be like this.   Taehyung’s mouth has dropped to the floor, welcoming flies on the palette of his tongue. “This is amazing.”   “Wave, you guys!” You’re chirpy, grinning and jumping on the spot. The camera pans over, announcing your country over the intercom and everyone gives big waves. Yoonji jumps on top of Taehyung like she’s tackling him and she looks the happiest she’s ever been. Everyone’s laughing and waving their arms over their heads, bubbling with excitement and as eager as Jungkook is, he muses how cute everyone else is being.   The parade continues. The ice-skaters ahead are holding the country’s flag, letting the fabric flutter in the air. Jungkook keeps walking, trying to let it sink in that this was indeed the opening ceremony, that he was in Beijing, that this was the Olympics.   He knocks his head back, staring up at the stars that are almost drowned out by the lights, how there are millions of people surrounding him, how he can’t seem them all individually. Their screams are passionate, full of vigor, and everything is breathtaking. But for a moment, something catches in Jungkook’s peripheral vision, a group of guys that are familiar, that he used to know well, standing a few meters away. He looks away in a millisecond, afraid to confirm his suspicions.   Instead, Jungkook focuses on you.   “I can’t believe we’re here.”   “I know, it’s amazing, isn’t it?”   The boy has the urge to kiss your soft lips, wrap his arms around your waist, lean you back till you’re on a single foot and grabbing onto him not to fall, and he’s smothering your yelp, relishing how tightly you’d latch onto him. But he resists and reaches over to hold your hand instead.   Your palm immediately welcomes his, fingers lacing together as normal and you squeeze, coming to stand with your country.   Namjoon and Adora are standing by as well, equally enthusiastic and bursting with awe. All of you are only able to stand here after two years of top performance, shedding blood, sweat and tears. It was through hard work that you scrapped a victory at the World Mixed Doubles Curling Championships, coming out as the winner.    It wasn’t easy in the least bit and unfortunately, the men’s and women’s curling team got cut a few months beforehand. Another group outside of Namjoon and Adora’s coaching was representing the country instead in those categories. But they still rooted for you, some at home and others here sitting in the stadium. There was a lot of pressure to give it your best shot and while Jungkook was excited, he was scared.   Only by standing next to you are his nerves eased.   “Take a look at that,” Taehyung’s leaning over to shout above the ear-piercing music. No one can hear well, but he points to a lean figure skater from Finland standing ahead of you.   “What?” Yoonji screams above the celebratory music and building snare drum. “I can’t hear you!”   “I said take a look at that!”   “Take a load of what?!”   “Take a load of that! Wait- no, take a look!” Taehyung’s throat is straining in blood-curdling shouts, veins popping out as his face reddens. “She’s hot!”   “You’re feeling hot?! You have a fever?!” Instead of being concerned, Yoonji is pissed off like his potential illness will inhibit the team’s performance. “What the fuck!”   “No!”   Adora leans over. “Can you guys shut up?!”   Namjoon who’s standing right beside her turns his head towards her. “What?”   “I said shut up!”   “What?!”   “Shut up!” The female coach is shrieking and the ski jumpers look over at the ruckus.   “What?” This time, Namjoon accidentally lets his grin slip, making it known that he’s purposely playing dumb. Adora stands back, rolling her eyes and probably mumbling a thousand curses. In the meanwhile, Yoonji and Taehyung are still confused and Jungkook exchanges an expression with you. The pair of you burst into laughter.   Once the parade is over, everybody takes their seats and the performances continue. It’s definitely entertainment, watching skaters glide on the ice, dancing to songs while mascots coming out to greet everyone. When it’s time for the fireworks, Jungkook slings an arm around your shoulders and you cuddle into him, watching the magnificent show.   He’s proud, content. All of you finally made it.   //   It’s an unusually relaxed atmosphere. It’s simple to assume that everyone would be at their most tense, surrounded in their competitors, so close yet too far from their victory. But it’s not like that at all — for most athletes that’ve had intense lifestyles up to this point, hours of practice and restricted diets. The Olympic village is the most freedom they get.    No reporters. No family. No prying eyes.   It’s Disneyland and summer camp combined into one.   Athletes can roam however they choose without many constraints. Everyone made it this far after all, they deserve to relish in every bit of it. And it’s not like much practice can be done once you’re here. Even Adora and Namjoon are at ease, savouring this moment of paradise.    You and Yoonji take the liberty of wandering around and checking out all the facilities that are available in the village. There’s shopping centers, stores, a beauty salon and a million condom dispenser machines— “You gotta cover your stump before you hump,” Yoonji passingly comments and when you make a disgusted expression, she scoffs. “Don’t act like you and Jeon don’t go at it.”   You mumble how it’s not anyone’s business what your private relationship’s like and she gives you a look of disbelief as you enter the grand dining hall. Quickly, your attention is brought back to your surroundings and you’re amazed once more.    Yoonji, on the other hand, has eyes for something else. “Oh lord, would you take a look at that hunk over there.”   She’s not even whispering, openly ogling and she has to suck back in her saliva pooling in her mouth. Yoonji’s staring directly at the male Chinese bobsleigh team like a tigress about to pounce on a group of antelopes. They’re gathered in a group by a cafeteria table, laughing and goofing off like a normal bunch of guys, but testosterone is practically emanating off their muscular biceps, aura amplified by ten when they’re together. Everyone who likes a little dick is staring at them with half-lidded eyes, nearly bumping into pillars and chairs.    “Yoonji,” you roughly mutter her name in embarrassment. “We’re not here to window shop for guys.”   “Damn straight we’re not.” She rolls up the sleeves of her black tracksuit jacket to her elbow as if she’s about to do some laborious work. “I’m about to make a purchase.”   You ignore her. “Yoonji.”   She crosses her arms and turns to you with a scoff. “Don’t act like you’re so innocent, Miss. how-many-times-can-you-have-sex-in-a-day.”   Your entire face heats like a furnace. “I’m never letting you google anything on my phone again.”   “You should learn how to erase your history, it might help.” Yoonji is amused, wearing an endeared and humoured expression much to your dismay. But she doesn’t allow the topic to change and nudges you. “C’mon. You gotta admit there’re hunks everywhere. And you know they’re in great shape and got great bodies underneath all that clothes too.”   It’s not a myth that a lot of sexual intercourse happens at the Olympics — you’ve heard your fair share of stories and it seemed like some people were already getting a head start on it. It’s obvious with the way some are pulling others along and there are a handful who have stopped by the free condom dispenser.   “I guess….that guy seems nice.”   Yoonji follows your line of sight towards a snowboarder who caught your eye earlier at the parade. He’s lean and tall, cute face with big, doe eyes. “You got a type, don’t you, Y/N?” she muses with a smirk and scans him from his head to his toes. “But I can appreciate this. What is he? Six feet two? And what are those colours? Sweden? Damn. I bet he has a big coc—”   “What’s going on?”   The two of you are interrupted by your boyfriend who slings an arm around your shoulders.   “Hey.” Your entire face unintentionally lights up at the sight of him and he grins. Jungkook’s chest feels warm and instead of responding to you in words, he leans in to plant a chaste kiss in your lips as a greeting. It’s soft and fast, saving any real intimacy for later.   Yoonji’s nose wrinkles and she looks like she bit into a lemon. “Ugh, right in front of my salad?”   The pair of you ignore her and Jungkook looks straight ahead to see what you were both intently staring at. “What were you talking about?”   “Y/N was just saying how hot that Swedish snowboarder is.” Her chin motions to the poor, unsuspecting athlete who’s just picking out some chicken breasts at the buffet table to snack on.   “I didn’t say he was cute!” you defend. “I said he was….nice.”   “He’s a whole damn meal, you got that right.” She slyly smirks and nudges you again. “You should go talk to him.”   “What?” You’re shy, directing your vision away from the snowboarder wearing his blue and yellow tracksuit that seems all too tight in all the right places. “I’m not going to talk to him, Yoonji.”   Her brows lift. “Why not?”   Jungkook clears his throat obnoxiously loud and pulls you closer, arm still on your shoulder and now the side of your body pressing into his comfortingly. “Excuse me, I think you’re forgetting I’m standing right here.”   “No one cares about your possessiveness, Jeon. Let your girlfriend play a little. This is the Olympics for god sakes. What happens here stays here. Better yet, if you want to join in the fun so badly, just have a threesome. Don’t you want to be a little more adventurous in your relationship?”   “No, thanks,” you interrupt.   “We have all the adventure we need.” With his free arm, his hand slips into his jacket pocket and out comes two condoms between his fingers as if he’s revealing his secret weapon. Jungkook glances at you and winks, making you sheepish.   Yoonji is not impressed. “Ew, can you guys be gross somewhere else?”   “Fine by me. We’re going back to the apartment then.” Jungkook lets you lead the way, cutting through the ginormous dining hall and while he holds you close and a few seconds pass, Yoonji hears him mumble, “You really thought that dude was cute?”   Your voice is fading off but Yoonji sees your smile. “I think you’re cuter.”   Yoonji scoffs. If there was anyone disgustingly cute, it was the two of you.   Of course the both of you were too oblivious to notice how a handful of girls around are openly disappointed when they find that Jungkook has a girlfriend, and how that snowboarder you commented on was staring at you from the corner of his eye before Jungkook came along.    The female curler pushes away her jealousy and psychs herself up before sauntering to the bobsled team she chose earlier.   //   “What are you doing here?”    She is not entertained whatsoever and her spitting image scoffs. “What do you mean ‘what am I doing here’? What do you think I’m here for?”   “I don’t know. Speed skating.”   “I’m here to support my lovely sister.”   “Bullshit. You’re here to pick up chicks.”   In the midst of their banter, Taehyung’s mind is boggling as he looks back and forth between the two. They’re so similar, almost like they’re the same person or like they’re talking to their own reflection. More importantly, the intimidating aura emanates in the air and sends goosebumps all over his arms. “Hey...I think the match is starting.”   They ignore him.    You approach, clad in your uniform, tracksuit jacket in the color of your country and matching the others. “Hey, Yoongi.” You smile at him and he greets you. “How was the fight?”   “Crowded, but not bad. I’m staying at a nearby hotel.” He points off in the distance as if the walls aren’t blocking the view. “So I’ll be able to catch all your matches. Since my parents couldn’t come, I have to be the Min family representative, right?”   Yoonji scowls. “Nobody asked.”    You smile, glad she has some outside support here for her. Your own parents and Jungkook’s, as well as Taehyung’s family and his entire extended family with his millions of cousins, are probably up at the stands. Namjoon and Adora are on the lower, ready to cheer you all on.   You wonder how Yoongi managed to wander into this restricted area or if he smooth talked his way in. But there’s no time to dwell as you look off at her. “You ready?”   “Course I’m ready.”   “Let’s do this then.” Taehyung bounces on spot. “Figure skating starts in two hours and I wanna make it!”   The three of you and Jungkook step out onto the ice. Seven trials in four days, two games per day, and going against seven other teams representing their country was not going to be easy. The first game was versus Norway and luckily, they were a friendly bunch who chatted about the games last time in Seoul and how the sheet seemed bumpier than usual then.   But as nice as the atmosphere was, the pressure was still on as people cheered on passionately. It wasn’t like any other game. The stakes were much higher. And these were fans that truly cared about the sport, intense. Yoongi was also rooting loudly in the stadium, voice heard all over and making people turn around to stare. His husky voice moves up to shrill screams, sounding as if he’s being murdered, taking full advantage of the situation to embarrass his sister. It’s to the point where the cameraman has to walk over and politely ask him to be quieter.   It starts off with guard shots and they also place their own guard shots, blocking a clear direct path towards the house. “Right up! Right up! Okay. Right off!”   Yoonji and Jungkook stop sweeping. The stone bumps one of the opponents off the house and cheers erupt from the stands, applause and screams, the flag lifted in the air. “That was really good, Taehyung.”   He grins, prouder of getting a compliment from you, the skip, than from spectators. “Thanks.”   He and Jungkook switch places and you exchange a serious expression with your boyfriend, gathering close to strategize. The other team goes, doing a takeout of your stone and getting their own cheers. It’s a close match. But you and Jungkook decide to continue on your defensive strategy, and to organize a draw shot.   He gets down onto one knee, positions himself and with a deep inhale, throws the rock straight towards the target. You’re low, next to him, eyes narrowed in. “Hard! Hard! Harder!”   “C’mon, Taehyung,” Yoonji encourages.   “Got this,” he mutters back, sweeping hard with the broom and putting muscle into it. It reaches the house and you scream for them to stop. The stone halts right on the button.   There’s a whole wave of cheers and you and Jungkook exchange grins.   After eight ends, the match finishes and it’s a victory for all four of you.   Finland shakes your hand, acknowledging that it was a good play.   //   “We were so good,” Yoonji emphasizes.   Taehyung adds on, “We crushed it.”   “Yeah.” Her expanding grin dies at once, lips pursing in a tight line and her eyes drooping to be half-lidded. “So I don’t get why we have to go to the gym.”   “Just cause we won a game doesn’t mean we can let our guard down.” You drop the ten pound dumbbells back onto the rack. It doesn’t help that she’s complaining incessantly when you’re trying to do some reps. Your best friend is the opposite of a motivator. “We gotta keep in shape. And haven’t you noticed? Namjoon and Adora’s been side-eyeing the two of you for piling fried chicken on your plates during dinner.”   Taehyung pouts. “It just tastes so delicious, I can’t help myself.”   “This is supposed to be paradise.” Her little body is sweating already, bob-haircut gathered into a tiny low ponytail. She’s using three pounds, grunting as she curls her arms, on her first set of them. “N-not hell. Not everyone’s like your muscle rabbit boyfriend.”   “What?”   Jungkook’s busy doing pull ups on the nearby equipment and he lands on his feet swiftly, not even breaking a sweat yet on his count of thirty four. Taehyung and Yoonji glare at him for making them look bad.   He’s a gym rat, probably the only curler with actual abs and muscular arms. It’s his hobby to workout and he relishes how exhausted his body feels after — Yoonji just says he’s a masochist who thrives on pain and a freak of nature. But you don’t mind. It’s cute how much he likes to work out and you like it if he likes it.    “Jungkook?”   The four of you are suddenly interrupted by three tall, lean males. They’re in tight tank tops and Yoonji’s brows lift. Jungkook, on the other hand, visibly pales. He turns like a robot, cranky and stiff, swallowing hard only to find his mouth dry. “J-Junmyeon?”   “Oh, dude.” Without thinking twice, he reaches over to give a half-hug and then lets go, fist-bumping Jungkook. “Thought that was you!”   “How’s it going, man? Jeez, it’s been a while.”   “I know. I’m good.” He laughs tensely and goes over to do an elaborate handshake with one of them that makes Taehyung offended and jealous that they don’t have their own special handshake. “How about you?”   “Busy, I guess.” The princely male has a sharp nose and eyebrows, but a rather kind smile.   The puppy-like boy beside the stranger has brown, ruffled hair, but a leery gaze as he scans you up and down, making you uncomfortable. “And this is…?”   “Oh, this is my curling team. Taehyung, Yoonji, and Y/N.” It’s an awkward introduction and he never thought his new world and old world would be colliding in such a way. “And these are some of my old hockey teammates I used to play with. Junmyeon, Sehun, and Baekhyun.”   “Why so formal, Jeon?” Sehun barks with laughter, rather handsome with his distinct features and dark hair, but his loud voice startles you. He throws an arm over Jungkook’s shoulder. “When was the last time we called him Junmyeon? Might as well call him Mr. Kim.”   The one in question is unamused. “Can you please stop calling me Suho? I’m not going to sue any hoes.”   He wears a shit-eating grin. “You’re not, but they’re going to sue you.”   “I thought that joke was dead.” Jungkook laughs and looks off at you three who are completely confused. He explains the joke, “He...uh...went out with a girl named Irene once and she threatened to sue him after he dumped her. Got a court order and everything. It was crazy.”   “She wasn’t just a girl.” Sehun corrects, “She was a psycho hoe.”   It’s easy to talk to them. For a second, Jungkook doesn’t know why he was so afraid of confronting his old teammates. When he speaks to them now, it’s like no time has passed.   Like nothing has changed.   “Okay, okay.” Baekhyun tries to placate the other, but he still wears a mischievous grin. “Don’t get our captain mad.”   Jungkook stands straighter, put on alert as he looks at his old friend. “Oh, you’re captain now?”   “Yeah.” Junmyeon’s smile softens, maybe even sadly. “You should come watch us at the preliminaries. We have one tomorrow at three.”   “I’ll see what I can do. But I think...uh...I have practice that day.”   Yoonji exchanges a knowing look with Taehyung at Jungkook’s remark.   “Okay, enough talk about hoes.” Sehun’s hasn’t moved on, still hung up on the other topic. He leans down slightly to whisper, as if you, Yoonji and Taehyung aren’t awkwardly standing there. “Have you seen the chicks around here, Jeon? They’re thirsty for some good dick after spending their entire lives practicing. They’ll hop on you and bend over whenever, wherever.”   “Can you guys not?” Junmyeon is once again not impressed.   He rolls his eyes. “Don’t act like you didn't break the back of that figure skater, dude. She was so fucking loud last night, I thought you were killing her.”   “Killing her with his dick, if anything,” Baekhyun snickers and then muses, “great choice though. That ass was nice. Aren’t those skaters flexible too?”   “I..ummm….” Jungkook glances at you. He doesn’t want to say anything or announce you’re his girlfriend — for one, it’s nobody's business and he doesn’t want them to call him a pussy or whipped or for them to stare at you and bombard you with a million questions. Then again, Jungkook has nothing to hide and he’s not ashamed to be in a committed relationship with you…...but the pressure gets to him and he decides playing along is just easier. “....yeah.”   You wear an impassive expression, but Yoonji’s left eye twitches.   “I know someone you’d really like,” Sehun mentions with roaring laughter. “Super cute, a little timid and innocent. Your type, right? More importantly, she got those double Ds.”   “I...I’m good.”   “What?” He smirks. “Don’t act like you don’t like that, Jeon. We saw you with Lee Soongyu.”   “She had a great body,” Baekhyun agrees. “Too bad she was clingy, huh?”   “You don’t even know. You wish you had a piece of that ass.” It tumbles out of his mouth on instinct, making the others baffled. Jungkook’s slowly getting into the flow of it again, remembering how he used to respond to these things.   Baekhyun grins, making a jab back, “At least I wouldn’t hit up her younger sister the day after. That’s just cold. Should’ve just convinced them both to go at it at the same time.”   Jungkook begins sweating, not sure how to respond to that one. At the remainder of his past self, he shifts in discomfort, feeling gross. Luckily, Junmyeon saves him. “You’re disgusting, dude. No wonder Nayeon dumped you and slapped you in front of the entire team.”   Junmyeon glances at him with a smile and Jungkook grins.   Baekhyun bites back, “At least I don’t get threatened with court orders by crazies. Listen, you gotta have some fun, Jungkook. Before—”   “C’mon.” The captain interrupts while checking his phone. “We have practice to get to.”   “Alright, alright. See you around, Jeon.”   “Bye.” He waves as they walk away and disappear after turning the corner to the men’s locker room.   There’s silence.   “I didn’t know you were in a frat, Jeon,” Yoonji enunciates his name sharply and then struts past him, making sure to purposely bump into his shoulder.   “I’m not.” He turns, voice following after her. “They’re just my old hockey team.”   You feel distant from him, disconnected, like he’s universes away and you don’t understand who it is that’s standing beside you. But once they’re gone, Jungkook’s back. He’s looking at you, lost, and you smile at him, opening your hand for him to take. “C’mon. I’ll spot you if you need me to.”   Jungkook sheepishly smiles, happily holding your hand. “Okay.”   //   The arena is cold, ice far away, but still making the air frigid.    The frost lightly nips at Jungkook’s nose as he sits on the bench. Rarely does he get to observe or be a mere spectator, but tickets were nabbed by Namjoon and Adora who are also watching and writing down jot notes on strategies. It helps to take an outside point of view and watch other people’s skills to improve his own. The men’s curling game was impressive too, people getting wrapped up in it, cheering, clapping, shouts echoing.   It would be a great game to watch….if Jungkook wasn’t so uncomfortable.   Yoonji's plopped herself beside him and made you sit next to her brother, who only came for fun. But while she blocked him from being with you and had made a visible effort to sit beside him as if she had something important to say, she wasn’t speaking whatsoever. Instead, Yoonji was giving Jungkook the cold shoulder, pouting, frowning.   “Hey, if there’s an issue, can you just tell me?”   He’s annoyed. He didn’t do anything to piss her off and yet he feels like he’s been put in timeout.    “You wanna know what the issue is, Jungkook?” Yoonji uses his full first name for once and turns to look at him, arms crossed, keeping her voice low so no one else can hear in the midst of the roars. “It’s the fact that you’re a completely different person when you’re with those guys.”   He connects the dots. “How?”   “You’re an ass.”    She’s blunt and straightforward, sinking her words that have sharp talons into his skin. Yoonji continues while he’s speechless, “When you’re with them, you’re everything I thought you were. A prick, an asshole, a fuckboy. Thought you proved me wrong, but guess not.”   Jungkook scoffs. “I didn’t even do anything.”    “Exactly,” she spits out with narrowed pupils boring into his own. “You didn’t defend Y/N when you should’ve. You didn’t even mention her. You acted like you weren’t in a long-term serious relationship, that you haven’t been dating her for a goddamn year now. Talking about fucking bitches too.” She rolls her eyes, making him feel small. “Are you kidding me?”   “I didn’t talk about that,” he defends. “They did.”   “And you didn’t stop them.”   “What did you want me to do?” His voice is moving up octaves, increasing in volume but you don’t notice, preoccupied with Yoongi. “To tell them to fuck off?”   “Yes!”   “They’re old friends that I haven’t seen in a long time and…” He’s at a loss, stressing, “It’s not that simple.”   “Obviously. You didn’t want to go to their game.” She softens around the edges and sighs. “Look, Jeon. I don’t know what your issue is with them, with having to pretend like you’re someone you’re clearly not, with having to lie about practice, but don’t be an idiot and hurt Y/N.”   “I won’t,” he mumbles.   “And don’t be an ass. It doesn’t suit you. Makes you uglier.”   There’s a moment of serene quietness. But Taehyung leans over with the bucket of popcorn in his lap almost spilling out. “Is everything okay?”   In the meanwhile, Yoongi is watching the game and chatting with you. “—tickets were cheaper than the other events and I wanted to see another curling game, so I can actually gauge how good you guys are. Yoonji keeps telling me you guys are the best.”   “Well, I don’t know about the best….” Your voice trails off. It’s nice to talk to Yoongi like this. It’s normal and you’re no longer nervous. The two of you are good friends and that fact puts you at ease, enough to turn and say, “Hey, Yoongi. Can I ask you something?”   “Depends on what it is.”   “D-Do guys prefer double Ds?”   The dark-haired man whips his head around, no longer watching the match. “What?”   “N-nevermind.” A long sigh squeezes out of your lungs. Yoongi doesn’t push, but he tells you that you can talk to him about anything if you want, that it’s okay. With that in mind, you nod and brace yourself. “Do you….ever….get….bored in the bedroom?”   Yoongi’s doubtful Jungkook would ever say that to you. So, he doesn’t know where this is coming from, but he still chooses his words carefully, “Sometimes. When I was dating, of course things became pretty regular after a while. I think that happens to everyone at some point and it’s not a bad thing. We kept things exciting by changing them up every once in a while.”   “Changing...things up?” You wait patiently for him to elaborate. The last thing you wanted to discuss with Yoongi was this, but you figured he had the most experience out of all people you knew.    You just want to keep up with Jungkook. It might be petty and dumb, but you have a desire to be better than his past relationships and be the best.   “Yeah.” He nods awkwardly and leaves it a bit vague. “Sometimes we introduced toys, different positions, or someone took charge. Made things more fun.”   There’s a long pause as the both of you watch the curling game, how the Switzerland team does a smooth takeout of the opponent's stone. For a moment, you forget about the conversation, cheering with everyone else. But once it dies down, you look back at him. “How...how does one take charge?”   Yoongi smirks, the corner of his mouth tugging as he realizes he could give you any advice, but he decides to play nice and be real, “You just gotta be bold. Take what you want. Don’t think twice about it.”   “And...that’s not weird?”   “Nope.” Yoongi shakes his head. “Jungkook would probably like it. Or you could always ask him to make sure.”   You’re flustered, but you nod. “Thanks, Yoongi.”   He hums a note to acknowledge your gratitude, acting casual, but he makes a mental note that Jungkook owes him one for the fun he’s about to have.   //   His feet are flat on the pedals, riding the bike forward, but he stops for a moment, letting the built momentum carry himself forward. It’s sunny, the warmth of the rays kissing his cheeks, cool breeze carding through his hair. He hums a song underneath his breath, enjoying the surroundings.   “So slow, Kook.” Taehyung grins, riding past and disrupting the peace when he puts his arms in the air and hollers, waking up the entire block. “Can’t remember the last time I did this!”   “You should be careful,” Jungkook shouts above the wind. “If you get hurt, Coach and Yoonji will kill you.”   He looks over his shoulder, giving a cheesy smile. “You’re beginning to sound like Y/N.”   “Well, she’s always right so…”   They both ride downhill, moving past a group of female cross-country skiers walking together and Taehyung winks at one of them, making her swoon. Jungkook scoffs with a grin.   It was nice to be out with his best friend, renting bikes and cycling through the village. It was like the pleasantville universe was encapsulated in one tiny space, contained by these walls and kept safe from the chaotic world. Jungkook could spend the rest of his life like this. Everything was perfect here.    Until….he makes it down a block and spots two figures walking side by side.    Jungkook slows down and spots you in an instant. “Y/N?” And you’re with someone else that he recognizes.   He stops meters ahead, delayed and he turns around. Taehyung ahead has noticed too and halted. “Jeon!” Junmyeon is grinning, lightly jogging up to him. “I see you’re enjoying yourself.”   “Yeah...ummm…” The boy glances at you and then his old friend.   “I was looking for you and I ran into him,” you explain, “He was just telling me some stories about you.”   It’s strange and he stares at his old friend skeptically. “What...kind of stories?”   “Nothing bad, I promise,” he laughs. “Just how you used to sign hockey pucks and toss them over the glass barrier to kids, even though coach told you not to. Oh, also that time you fell on your ass on the ice and bruised your tailbone and you had to sit on one of those donut pillows for like five months—”   “That hurt, you know,” he exhales in defeat. Taehyung approaches with his bike at his side, grinning from the story.   Junmyeon smiles. “You guys should come watch us at the hockey quarter-finals. It’s happening later today.”   “You guys passed the preliminaries?”   His grin widens. “By a landslide.”   “C-Congratulations.” Jungkook genuinely means it, slightly surprised but mostly proud.   His old friend’s smile softens and he repeats, “You should come to the quarter-finals, Jeon. I could get you tickets no problem. It would be nice to have you there...for old times’ sake.”   “Oh, we have practice.” Jungkook looks at Taehyung who slowly nods, deciding to back up his claim while you don’t say anything at all. “So I don’t know if we can make it…”   “Then you should come to the after party,” he suggests. “It might be a celebration or a pity party, but either way, it’ll be nice to have you there. The team actually misses you a lot and they’ve been hounding me to invite you. So if you guys have time, you should swing by.”   It takes a delayed second for him to nod and when he doesn’t say anything, you step in. “Good luck. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”   “Thanks.”   “We’re rooting for you,” Taehyung cheers and starts singing the national anthem much to the hockey captain’s amusement who ends up joining the sing-along.    There are a few more words exchanged before Jungkook makes an excuse to go. Taehyung rides off while Jungkook convinces you to get onto the back of his bike on the rear seat. With your legs lifted on the side and your arms wrap around his abdomen, Jungkook rides off, leaving Junmyeon in the dust.   He won’t go.   Jungkook doesn’t want to. Yoonji’s words ring inside his mind. And he doesn’t like himself very much when he’s with them either. If his memory hasn’t failed him, he was indeed an ass and he doesn’t need that in his life. It’s all in the past and should be left there. Plus, he much prefers hanging out with Taehyung in the gaming lounge.   The two of them end up winding down with controllers in hand. “Go, go….”   Jungkook is quiet, concentrated, brows furrowed and even more serious than when he curls. Taehyung, on the other hand, is louder, shouting and getting wrapped up in it. He’s making a ruckus that’ll probably warrant someone stomping in and telling them to shut up. But for now, the round ends and with the loading screen, he leans back, giving his vocal cords a slight rest.   “You know, I wouldn’t be mad if you ditched me to go,” Taehyung mumbles.   He sips on his banana milk that he found in the vending machine. “Go where?”   “To the party.”   Jungkook glances over and their eyes meet. “I wouldn’t ditch you go to a dumb party, Tae.”   “But you should.”   He frowns. “Why?”   Taehyung shrugs. “You and I always hang out. When do you ever get a chance to hang out with those guys anymore?”   “I don’t want to hang out with them,” he mutters and spams the buttons on his controller. For some reason, the loading screen is taking excruciatingly long. “Goddammit…” Jungkook ends up sliding off his beanbag chair and he pounds his fist at the top of the console. He considers resetting it, but doesn’t for the sake of not losing all progress made.    “I still think you should go, Kook.” It’s out of the blue and he’s being oddly insistent. “They used to be your friends, right? If it were me and I hadn’t seen you in a long time, I’d want you to come.”   The dark-haired boy remains quiet and Taehyung continues, “Just saying, we always hang out. A chance to go to a party doesn’t come often. Should take advantage of it. You know, so you won't regret it later on. At least check it out.”   “I know what those parties are like. It’s nothing exciting.”   “Then there’s no harm in going,” the brunette points out. “We’ll have many times like this again. Trust me, Kook, I have lots of plans of crashing your apartment and raiding your fridge and couch surfing and playing video games with you till early morning and our eyes are burning.”   The corner of his mouth threatens to tug. “I’m not letting you in.”   “Too bad, I’ll get you a copy of your key. I know you keep the spare in the potted plant.”   Jungkook scoffs and turns around to face his friend instead of trying to run away again. “Why don’t you come with me then?”   “Nah, I don’t know those guys like you do. Plus, I’ve made some friends with a few short track kids. I’ll be fine.”   A small smile plastered on his face. “Are you trying to ditch me so you can go hang out with your new friends?”   “Don’t expose me,” Taehyung quips mischievously.    Jungkook takes a deep breath. He wants to stay, but another part of him tells him to go….so he braces himself and gets up, deciding to just give it a good ten minutes. He can always come back here and play for the rest of the night.   The curler ends up marching across the village to a different apartment area where loud music is already beginning to rumble the ground and the walls. It’s deafening and there are a bunch of people he doesn’t recognize around, girls and guys from every nation giggling and leaning against each other.   It’s déjà vu.   It feels like he’s stepping in a time machine, going back years ago when he didn’t know much, when he didn’t know loss or pain, only passion and hard work and this….   “Holy fuck! Is that Jeon Jungkook?!”   There’s howling and roaring from the team as he steps into the room and immediately, a grin spreads into his face. He’s bombarded and body slammed. “Fuck, Chanyeol. Chill, dude.”   “Thought I’d never see you again!”   Yixing approaches, shoving Chanyeol out of the way to engulf Jungkook an in a drunken hug, slurring something barely coherent, “—disappeared off the face of the fucking earth. I missed you so much, bro.”   “I- uh...missed you too.”   “I’m glad you could come.” Junmyeon pushes himself out of the dancing crowd, holding his red cup in hand, wearing a smile towards him.   “Glad I could make it,” he responds with his own smile.   “Hey! Someone go get Jongin, he’s gonna cry when he sees Jeon!”   “Someone get this man a drink,” Minseok shouts above the crowds.   “On it!” Jongdae holds his red solo cup over his head, cutting through the masses. There are a bunch of eyes pinned on Jungkook, wondering who he is for this many to be catering to him. There are girls interested in him too, coming closer, but he doesn’t notice them, focusing solely on his friends.   There’s barely time to breathe, much less to allow anyone to chat him up. Jungkook drinks, plays a few rounds of beer pong and takes the shots shoved into his hands. And he’s passed around from buddy to buddy, having never been touched so much. Literally. They’re handsy when they drink and sentimental. Jungkook is pulled into half-hugs, full-hugs, fist bumps, rough pats on the back, fancy handshakes he barely remembers and obnoxious team cheers.    It’s a whirlwind. He stays longer than intended. But it’s fun.   Jungkook forgot it was like this and he doesn’t know why he was so afraid of this atmosphere, afraid of confronting his old teammates. In fact, he misses it. Then Jungkook remembers that he never chose to leave this, never voluntary. It was ripped away from him, by the injury he caused himself...   There’s finally some peace when Baekhyun decides to do keg stands and Sehun holds him up while the rest of the idiots cheer them on. Kyungsoo is leaning against the wall, wearing a poker face as he drinks. It’s quiet and nice, allowing Jungkok to regain his energy. “You’ve been doing….curling?”   “Yeah. It’s cool.”   “Heard you were good.”   “Really?” He’s pleasantly surprised. “From who?”   Kyungsoo shrugs. “Just around. You like it?”   “I do.”   He hums, wearing a kind and small smile. “I’m glad you’re doing something, Jungkook.”   “I would never leave the ice for the world,” he says and they exchange knowing smiles.   “Coach was right.” Kyungsoo sips his vodka-mixed drink and their private conversation isn’t tense or wistful, but filled with the shorter male’s admiration. “No matter what you do, you’d be good at it. There’s no one else who can survive like you can.”   “That’s not true.”   “You don’t think so?” His cup motions over to the group. “If Baekhyun or Yixing ever went through what you did, I doubt they’d be able to cope. Probably would be laying in bed somewhere, wasting their lives away...not that they already aren’t wasting their lives away.”   But Jungkook doesn’t feel powerful, resilient, or strong.   Once he’s overcome his fear of confronting his teammates, he’s filled with sadness.   He’s getting glimpses back into the life that should’ve been his.   Jungkook drinks and drinks, doing shots, taking anything Jongin gives him, what Minseok passes into his hands. He takes it in to smother the emotions in the pits of his stomach, to drown them away.    Eventually, when the party dies down, some of the members go off with girls and others pass out on the floor. He, on the other hand, waves his hand and rejects the offer of sleeping on the couch.   Instead, Jungkook stumbles around Olympic village at two in the morning.   He feels like singing, but keeps quiet with his mission in mind. There’s something he wants to do badly, someone he wants to see.    Jungkook’s vision warps and he leans on the wall for leverage, heavy breaths drawing out of his lungs. He barely remembers going into the apartment and up the elevator, but here he is, staggering down the hall.   He finds the door and begins to pound his fist on it, letting the sound boom down the corridor. From the deepest part of his voice, Jungkook shouts your name. “Y/N! Y/N!”    He’s not sure how long he does it for, but soon, the surface his fist is smashing against moves away from him. The hinges creak and he greets the dark room. You’re clad in your pajamas, bed-head and all, sleepiness making it hard to muster the energy to be angry. “Jungkook? What are you doing here? Yoongi’s asleep! Are you drunk?”   The boy doesn’t say anything and you don’t need a verbal answer when he reeks of alcohol.   But you’re unable to say any more when he falls forward, arms wrapping around your shoulders, abruptly hugging your body. His own frame overtakes yours, covering you fully like a shield. Jungkook holds you tightly as if he’s too afraid to let you go and while you’re caught off guard, you ease into his grasps. Your own hands lift up to his back, patting him gently as he squeezes you.   Jungkook’s black mop of hair shags down over his red eyes, downcast head slumped onto your shoulder and he whispers, “I missed you.”   You smile softly, feet bare on the carpet and not ready to greet the cold temperature in the hall, but you’re warm from his embrace. “We saw each other a few hours ago.”   You underestimate Jungkook’s current state, not aware of how emotional he’s feeling. So it’s another surprise when he suddenly begins to cry into your shoulder.    Soft sobs break out of Jungkook’s body, making your pajamas wet, but you hold onto him, letting him quietly cry into you. You pat him gently, soothing him and listening to his soft, drunken sobs as he lets it all out.    “I...I miss hockey.” Broken words tear out of his constricting throat and you realize he’s not just hugging you, but you’re cradling him in your arms, providing him comfort and security that he’s desperately seeking.   “I know,” you murmur back.    The pair of you stand there for a long moment, halfway between the bright hallway and the dark room. It’s quiet with people sleeping in their quarters, peaceful as you hold Jungkook, bodies pressed together, and he drunkenly cries on you. You can hear his heartbeat and the way he eventually quiets and hiccups. But even when he finishes, Jungkook doesn’t want to let go.    You’re not just his teddy bear. You’re his person.   Someone who stays by his side through thick and thin, someone that is not said but promised, the human being that is closest to him of all human beings, unconditional. You go beyond being a best friend for Jungkook, beyond a mere girlfriend or partner. You are everything that really matters and that fact won’t ever change no matter what form your relationship takes.   “C-can I come in?”   “You have to be quiet, alright?”   “Okay.” He nods and you let go while still holding his hands, shutting the door and helping him slip off his shoes. You lead the drunken boy into your room with Yoonji on the other side meters away, curled up in her lump of blankets, snoring and oblivious to what’s happening.    You bring your boyfriend to your bed, not letting him stumble into the furniture and you tuck him in, pulling his blankets up. But he still tugs you into him, cuddling your body, nuzzling into your hair and the pair of you fall asleep with arms and legs tangled together.   //   Morning comes with blinding sunlight, stirring him awake to a massive headache. You’re still asleep, so Jungkook carefully crawls over you, rolling his way to the washroom. He grabs the new toothbrush that the accommodation gave, tearing the plastic to open it and he squeezes out your toothpaste……….all while Yoonji is glaring at him in the mirror, standing next to him at the sink.   He’s not allowed in here and thus, when she woke up and saw him across the room, Yoonji was not amused. But Jungkook doesn’t particularly care that she’s glaring with him. He’s too busy nursing a hangover and that’s not even the worst part — he remembers how he used you and cried on you pathetically without providing much context, also nearly waking up the entire goddamn apartment building.    Yoonji spits out her toothpaste, rinses her mouth and splashes water on her face. She brushes her hair roughly while Jungkook finishes up himself. “You guys didn’t have sex when I was sleeping a foot away, right?”   “No,” he answers honestly.   “Good.” Relief overtakes the female curler. “I don’t want to be involved with you freaks in any shape or form.”   It’s true that he didn’t do anything to that extent, but the bar is set low. He still showed up unannounced banging on your door. If he had woken up Yoonji, he probably wouldn’t be alive anymore. But even if that didn’t happen and the only punishment he has for last night’s bad decisions is a hangover, he still feels like an ass — for irresponsibly going out drinking and making you take care of him afterwards, for treating you the way he did in front of those guys, for not talking much these days or telling you what’s wrong with him. Not to mention, he hasn’t been out on a date with you in the recent weeks leading up to getting here.   So he slips out before you’re awake, going down to the shopping center for overpriced flowers.    Jungkook’s stared at by many, wondering who he was buying them for, overhearing that it’s a sweet gesture no matter who it could be, but he knows it’s not enough to make up for these past few days. Yet somehow, you still grin when he hands them to you and it’s infectious enough to make him smile too.   “What are these for?”   “It’s Valentine’s today.”   “It is?” Your surprise morphs into dread. “I...didn’t get you anything!”   “It’s okay.” Jungkook laughs. “We agreed we weren’t going to do it this year, so it’s okay. You didn’t forget anything.”   “Then what are these for?” You dig your nose into the bouquet, smelling the pink tulips.   “It’s just something I got when I was thinking about you.”   Your smile is sweet, but eyes have a glimmer of mischief. “Not as a thank you because I let you in last night instead of kicking you to the curb?” You don’t mention the crying part as if it’s too intimate to poke fun at and make him embarrassed about.   “No.” He pouts. “But maybe that too.”   “If Adora or Namjoon saw me sneaking you in after hours, he’d give us another earful. Remember last time when we were at WMDCC?”   “It’s not like the others aren’t doing it.” He plops down, sitting on the edge of your bed that still hasn’t been made, sheets ruffled with your nice scent clinging onto them. Jungkook watches as you put the bouquet down on the nightstand, propped up against the lamp. “Taehyung banished me from the room. He’s off with some figure skater he met in the dining hall.”   You hum. “Yoonji’s having fun with some cross-country skier, I think. So...we have the room to ourselves.”   He smiles, nose wrinkling slightly, teeth shown. “What are you insinuating?”   “That we celebrate Valentine’s properly.” You shove Jungkook’s shoulder and he falls back onto the mattress, allowing you to come up and straddle his hips. His smile wipes off, brows lifting, entertained at the new change of pace.   “I don’t have a cond—”   “It’s okay. I have some. Took them from the dispenser machine.” You sit right where his cock is hardening, letting your weight sink onto his bulge and he chokes on air, hands coming up to hold your waist. It’s supposed to be him making it up to you and rather than feeling guilt, he’s beginning to feel more rewarded.   “Is everything okay?” Jungkook has to ask, too curious for his own good. Usually you’re more coy, but he doesn’t mind as long as it’s you.   It’s a question you should be asking him, but it seems like an afternoon where things are happening the other way around.   “Why?” You’re on slight alert, apprehensive and watching his reaction. “Is this weird?”   You’ve taken Yoongi’s advice, trying to be bolder, but deep down you’re still self-conscious. Thankfully, he shakes his head. “No. I like it. I like you. It’s just different.”   “Y-yeah.” Your fingers tremble as they play with the hem of his shirt, lifting it slowly like you’re trying to steal a peek and as if it’s not already meant for only your eyes in the first place. “Just wanted to try something...different.”   “Different isn’t bad,” he comments and you reach down to kiss him. Jungkook grabs the back of your neck, deepening the kiss until it’s wet and warm and good enough to make your toes curl. His kisses aren’t as shy as they used to be — it’s more comfortable and practiced, knowing you well enough to eagerly welcome you on his tongue.   And once you break apart, your lips are swollen and red in the same shade. “I wanna be better than those girls,” you admit thoughtlessly in a whisper, playing with the zipper on his jeans and wanting something underneath it.   “What girls?”   Jungkook blinks, sincerely having no idea what you mean. In the meanwhile, you continue to fumble with pants again, a bit more nervous. “No one. Never mind.”   “I love you,” he confesses quietly. Those words have only been said a handful of times before, so he means it. Jungkook’s past relationships were derived from peer pressure, reckless and immature. It’s so much nicer to be with someone, to touch someone when there’s that emotional intensity. And as he mulls over such thoughts, he pulls you down to kiss you again, gentler this time. “You know that.”   “I do.” You smile once you pull away. “And I love you back.”   Jungkook’s grin could make his cheeks burst. “Good.”   His declaration makes you happier than you’d like to admit. And once you rip off Jungkook’s pants once and for all, he’s also happier than he’d like to admit.   //   “Alright, gather up!” Namjoon’s voice roars in the empty space, sound echoing loudly even when all four of you are standing just meters away. Adora is placed beside her partner in crime, hands on her hips as she wears a stern expression. “We realized recently that we’ve been too lax with you guys here. There’s been too much slacking.”   “Oh, please.” Yoonji rolls her eyes. “You don’t need to lie to motivate us. We know we’re the best team you guys have — that’s why we’re the only ones here, right?”   Adora points her clipboard at the female. “That kind of arrogant talk will make you get bronze.”   She gasps, wholly offended by the idea. “Bronze? I’d rather get nothing.”   “At this rate, you’ll get nothing,” Namjoon interrupts with a sigh. “We might have passed all seven trial games, but we need to focus for the semi-finals. We’re going up against the Beijing team. This is their home turf, so we can’t let our guard down. Got that, Yoonji?”   She mumbles with a pout, “Yes…”   “There’s just a few pointers we need to go through. Remember to take advantage of the free guard zone.” All of you have watched videos of the opponents, taking notes on their techniques and strategies, and they have it down solid. “They’re good. We should make it tough for them. Make them play pressure shots. And if we get the hammer shot, then aim to get multiple points. But sometimes, it’s okay to take the single.”   He continues to elaborate as you listen and then Adora steps in. “You guys already make eighty five percent of your intended shots. Majority of the shots are made and as much as we go over strategies, it’s difficult since decisions have to be made in the moment. So for today, I think we should practice some takeout shots and do a defensive play and make sure we get that fifteen percent that you guys are missing.”   “Aye-aye, captain!” Taehyung grins, saluting the coach much to her dismay.   Yoonji goes first as usual.   She gets down, feet a few inches apart with her slider foot slightly forward and her weight put on the hack foot. Her shoulders and hips are level and she feels the weight of the stone, pulling it back to the toe of her hack foot. She moves her slider foot straight back, weight transferred onto it and her hips raise. The weight moves back and she pushes out, releasing the stone in a smooth motion.   It curls down the sheet, heading closer to the button of the house. Your eyes narrow and you begin to shout encouragements. Jungkook and Taehyung both begin to brush, arms working fast and once they stop, the stone halts right on the button…   ….   The crowd erupts in cheers.   The team members on the opponent side grin, nodding and talking amongst themselves, obviously impressed with the play.   The semi-finals should be nerve-racking.   Your body should be slick with sweat, hands trembling, mind numb as you consider this is one of the most important games of your entire career. But instead, you find yourself having a lot of fun. While the opponents have tricks up their sleeves, surprising you every so often, you have your own.   The crowd also hypes the players up. Their howling, cheering, chanting sets the perfect mood for the game. It’s hard to find people as passionate about curling as you are, but here, everyone cares about the sport wholeheartedly and their applause is music to your ears.    Taehyung swaps with Yoonji and they high-five each other as they pass.   “You got this, Taehyung,” you encourage him, glad that practice went well enough to give him more confidence. It was going exactly as planned.   He smirks, arrogantly even and you muse how Yoonji must be rubbing off of him. “I know.”   The brunette makes you scoff, but his remark is well deserved when he manages a double takeout of the opponent’s stone. It’s still a close game, but Taehyung’s following plays remove their stones from the house and Jungkook sets up the perfect draw shots for you.   In the heat of the moment, you decide to take on a bold tactic, continuing to score despite inadvertently giving them the hammer. It’s risky, but you’re still ahead. And with eight ends finishing and only one more, your breath is bated, watching as their last stone takes only one of your own out.   It’s a steal in your end.   The people around the stadium stand in cheers, sound erupting. Jungkook runs over, nearly tumbling on the ice but he catches balance and engulfs you in a hug, swinging you up and squeezing laughter out of your lungs. Namjoon and Adora are losing their minds, grabbing their hair and mouths dropped in disbelief. Taehyung and Yoonji are in a similar state, screaming with their arms in the air. The China team claps, having tried their best and giving you a minute before they go over and shake your hands.   The four of you are going to the finals, taking silver or gold home.    Either way, you’re guaranteed winners.   //   “You think my dad would like this shirt?”   You hold up the white sleeveless tee with the brown bear mascot printed on it. It’s horribly obnoxious and makes Jungkook grin. “No. But if you bought it for him, he’d still wear it. He’d wear anything you buy him.”   “Yeah, but he’d secretly hate it and I’d feel bad.” You smile, putting it back on the rack properly.   The two of you are walking through the shopping center aisles together, looking at knick-knacks and souvenirs to bring home. Jungkook’s following along — and you muse that you’re not the only one who steals clothes from him. He’s wearing your oversized pink hoodie, three sizes too large for you that fits him perfectly. It’s a bright, cute colour that makes him soft and you have to resist the urge to hug him; lest Yoonji somehow show up and mutter something about how gross you two are.   “Hey, what do you think about this?”   “About what?”   Jungkook gingerly plops a headband on your head and you turn to glance in the mirror, finding yourself with bear ears. When you turn back to Jungkook, he’s wearing the cheesiest smile, endeared by you. “It’s cute.”   You grab another headband on the shelf, reaching up to put it on his own head. “You’re cuter.”   “I doubt it.” Jungkook pulls you in to share a discreet kiss between the shopping aisles. It’s short, but enough to make your toes tingle and he smiles against your mouth before pulling away. A group of girls walking past and peeking down the aisle are disappointed, having been using him as eye candy.   You continue walking with him, wearing the headband and deciding to buy them before you leave. “Hey, Jungkook…”   “Hmm?”   “You know I’ll support you in whatever you want, right? That includes if you want to continue curling or try hockey again.” You turn to him, serious, lips fallen into a straight line.   “I...I can’t—”   “You haven’t tried yet,” you tell him. “We both know there are athletes out there who come back after injuries that are supposed to end their careers. I know there’s not a lot of them out there and chances are slim. But if there’s anyone who can do it, it’s you.”   There’s suddenly heavy pressure placed upon his shoulders.   Jungkook begins to break out into a sweat. He doesn’t know what he wants anymore. And his lips part to say something, but you continue, beating him to the punch.   “If you give up curling, that doesn’t mean you’re losing me. I’m mutually exclusive from it. You know that, right? That it doesn’t matter to me — curling or hockey or anything else. Even if you wanted to retire from sports. You’d still be my best friend.”   He smiles softly. “What about being your boyfriend?”   “That too.” You continue walking with him alongside you. “If you miss the ice, we can learn how to skate together again. If you want. But one thing’s for sure, you can’t be as bad as I am.”   “You’re not that bad.”   “Really?” Your expression is overcome with disbelief and it makes him laugh which in turn causes a smile to pull up into your cheeks. “I want you to be happy.”   He assures you, “I am happy.”   “Happier, then. I want to help you achieve whatever you want.”   Jungkook’s heart feels warm. It goes quiet for a few minutes, you checking out the snow globes while he’s leaning against the shelves, staring. It makes you self-conscious, palms clammy and you’re about to ask him to stop looking at you like that, but this time, he’s the one to speak first.   “Do you want to come with me? I...heard the hockey team has their semis tonight.”   You smile, elated at the invitation. “I’d be happy to.”   The promising words that draw out of your lips might not seem much to you, but for Jungkook, it provides him relief that you’re here to stay — a constant in his life.   //   It’s crowded.   There are more people here than in curling games, understandable considering hockey is a popular sport, but it’s a whole nother category of passion. There are people wearing the player’s jerseys, faces painted in their nation’s colours, carrying signs with them and even holding hockey trading cards.   A few people recognize Jungkook, gasping when they see him, and he smiles meekly, mumbling a few ‘hellos’ as he shuffles past. The roaring music and cheers make goosebumps run up his arms. He has an urge to turn around and book it out of the stadium, but with you by his side, he’s able to muster enough courage to keep going.   Jungkook expects to sit there, watch the game and then leave when it’s over. But what he doesn’t anticipate is to run into a familiar man on his way up the stands. “J-Jungkook?”   “Coach...”   “Oh my god.” The old man’s mouth has fallen open and then he chuckles deep within his chest, grinning and coming over to hug Jungkook, wrinkling his own suit in the process. “They really weren’t lying. I didn’t know I’d see you here. I...I can’t believe it.”   The boy laughs as he’s being let go. “Well, believe it, old man.”    “You made it. You’re at the Olympics.” He pats him on the back, radiating pride. “I knew you could make it, Jeon.”   Jungkook grins. “Thanks for believing in me.”   Coach looks over to you. “This is….?”   “Y/N.” The boy happily announces, “My girlfriend.”   The older male shakes your hand firmly. “Nice to meet you.”    “This is my old coach,” Jungkook introduces to you.   “The one and only.” He smiles before looking at the former hockey player. “You should come say hi to the team.”   “Oh…” Jungkook glances at you who encourages him to go. But, he still hesitates. “Aren’t they going out soon?”   “In a little bit, but I think seeing you will help motivate them.”   He nods and while you go up to the stands to save your seats, Jungkook goes to the back locker rooms. The other members greet him with hugs and fist bumps while he wishes them good luck. They end up dragging him to do the usual chant, huddled up together, heads down, jumping in a circle as they hype each other up. It’s nostalgic. The smiles are infectious too but as they go out one by one, Jungkook’s left behind.   After a moment, their backsides disappear beyond the doorway and he strolls back to join you at the stands. It’s a good spot, overseeing the entire rink. Jungkook’s also comforted that you’re here and he’s not alone. But before the game officially begins, the national anthem plays and the players skate around, exchanging hand shakes with their opponents. Jungkook takes the time to teach you the game.   “So the line in the middle is called the centerline and the blue lines divide the rink into three zones. There’s the neutral zone in the middle and two end zones, and the red lines at the end are the goal lines. The dots are the face off spots—”   “I know,” you laugh, saving him from having to explain the rules. “I’ve been to hockey games a couple times before.”   “You have?”   “Yeah. I watched you play before.”   “You have?” Jungkook’s more surprised than before, not knowing that you actually saw him.   “I...was your fan actually,” you admit sheepishly.   “Well, I knew that.”   It’s your turn to be shocked. “How?”   The boy in the blue toque and red mittens shrugs playfully. “Just a feeling. But I didn’t know you actually came to my game. Why didn’t you ever approach me or talk to me?”   “Why?” You giggle, the answer obvious. “You didn’t know who I was and I doubt you would’ve given me the time of day.”   Part of Jungkook wants to say that you two could’ve started your relationship sooner instead of meeting you for the first time when he joined curling. But then again, he was an ass back then — exactly what Yoonji had initially assumed about him. He played around a lot, but he’s certain that…   “I still would’ve liked you.”   You smile, appreciating his sentiment.    The game begins and the two of you watch intently — three periods that are twenty minutes each and two intermissions where you and Jungkook stretch your limbs, waiting. But during that time, he ends up getting caught up in some fans who knew him, signing someone’s jersey and taking a few pictures. It’s cute...until a stranger asks him for his number and that’s when you make your appearance, scaring her off much to Jungkook’s amusement who considers you too adorable to actually frighten someone.    Jungkook feels like a retired celebrity and he channels his cockiness which makes you roll your eyes. The game eventually continues and he loses his annoying persona.   It goes twenty minutes into overtime until Junmyeon scores straight into the opponent’s net.   Everyone watching in the stadium stands on their feet, cheering, hollering and clapping. Your boyfriend screams out his friend’s name loud enough that the hockey planner actually spots him and waves.    It’s strange. Jungkook doesn’t feel burdened or jealous. He’s proud.   //   The stadium slowly files out, people leaving one by one.   You’re off, meeting with Yoonji and Taehyung down the street for the hockey team’s after party that all you were invited too, but Jungkook stays behind. Just for a moment to himself. And he finds himself walking down closer to the rink until he’s leaning on the railing, staring at the surface that’s no longer smooth, intricate grooves and designs made from the skates.   He looks up, allowing the bright lights to shine into his eyes and burns his vision. Jungkook imagines the stadium filled with people again. In his fantasy, this time it’s him who’s skating on the ice. He can still remember when he was the one to shoot the winning goal, how his friends piled on top of him and his coach stood proud amongst the crowd, his parents clapping at the stands while people screamed his name.   It’s different now — but also very much the same.   There’s still people clapping, shouting his name, parents and coaches cheering for him. He’s still on the ice with the lights shining down and his friends always pile on top of him in hugs of victory….   “Hey, you alright?” Junmyeon exits the locker room, clad in his dark tracksuit, and he drops his duffle bag on the floor, throwing the towel from his shoulder down to join him.   “Congratulations, dude.” They both fist bump and half hug each other, patting one another on the back.   “Thanks.” The shorter male grins. “You looked like you were deep in thought. What’s up?”   “Nah. It was nothing. Maybe just considering that you were great on the ice. It was a good game and fun to watch. I never got many chances to just watch back in the day.” Jungkook musters up the courage to deliver the words he’s been thinking, “You deserve to be captain, Junmyeon.”   He smiles softly and they both lean on the railing, looking out to the rink, cheeks cooling down from the cold temperature. “I don’t know about that, Jeon. I had big shoes to fill. I still do.”   Jungkook smiles. “That’s not true.”   “It is. You’d be surprised.” The hockey player glances at him. “When you left, it was a huge loss. It was hard for us and we couldn’t even imagine how you were feeling. I’m glad you’re doing well, Kook.”   The curler takes the words in somberly. “I’m sorry I avoided you guys. I….didn’t want to see you or talk and I ended up shutting you all out.”   “Hey, man…” It’s an awkward heart to heart, but Junmyeon sympathizes and pats him on the back before retracting his arm. “...that’s understandable….”   “I was scared of coming today, you know that?” Jungkook knocks his head back to stare at the fluorescent lights again. They don’t seem so dazzling right now. “Of watching a game. Of that stupid party. I was scared of all of this….scared that I would miss it. Of missing hockey.”   “Do you?”   “Yeah,” Jungkook answers after a second of consideration and he looks at his friend. “I was mad, you know. I was angry and upset about that injury that I caused myself.”   “You didn’t cause it yourself—”   “I was the one who pushed myself. I should’ve….” There’s so many things he should’ve done differently, he doesn’t know what to start with. Jungkook wonders at what point he started to harbour so many regrets. “Should’ve known better.”   It’s one thing to retire. It’s another for it to be taken away from him.   It’s so goddamn unfair. Jungkook wants to cry again.   “Don’t blame yourself. It was us who should’ve helped you. We’re a team,” Junmyeon says with his brows furrowed, “But we don’t act like it.”   He sighs, running a hand over his face, other arm dropping over the railing as he leans over with his entire body weight. “I don’t feel like a survivor, Jun. Everyone has so many expectations for me, even now. It’s a miracle that I’m here...that I made it in another sport. But I don’t feel like I’ve beat the odds or that I’m some kind of genius golden boy who’s good at everything he does.”   “You are a survivor.” Junmyeon grins, looking at his friend. “I know people’s expectations might seem a lot to handle, but you still made it, dude. Your injury was supposed to stop your hockey career, but here you are. Anyone else who was in your position, they’d be broken.”   “I was broken. I was lost.”    “But you’re standing at the Olympics. You did it through hard work, not just luck or natural skill. Or by some miracle. You worked your ass off to learn a new sport, to keep the name you had for yourself. You deserve the praise. You’re fucking amazing.”   “I’m not.”   “Just take the fucking compliment.” He laughs quietly. “It doesn’t have to be that deep. If you’re feeling pressured about expectations and how people see you, then stop giving a shit.”   He scoffs. “Easy for you to say.”   The hockey player smiles. “You might not be a hockey golden boy anymore, Jungkook. But you’re still an incredible person. You’re still you with or without hockey. Nothing was lost.”   Jungkook scoffs again, but this time his vision is blurred with tears. He rubs his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket and if Junmyeon notices then he doesn’t say anything.   He continues, “You know, I’ve noticed something about you these days, Kook. You seem a lot happier. I don’t know about you, but the days leading up to your injury, everyone was worried. The pressure was real, but you were especially tense and stressed. I know how it can get when you’re captain, trust me, I know now. It feels like everyone’s riding on your shoulders. But back then, I could tell it was getting to you and the entire team...we were all drifting apart and growing distant from each other. But you seem a lot better now. Healthier. Happier. Back to your old self.” Junmyeon smiles. “If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought that you willingly retired from hockey because you it got too easy for you and you told the rest of us to fuck off.”   Jungkook laughs, sound ringing from his chest. “I’d never do that.”   “I’m not so sure.” Junmyeon stands straighter. “You were real intense back in the day and man, could you imagine the media outlets freaking out that one of the best players said the sport sucked? That would’ve been a real power move. Big dick energy right there. Like Albert Einstein saying physics is for idiots. Damn. Would’ve made the rest of us look like fools.”   He grins, finished wiping his eyes. “Do I really seem happier than before?”   “A hundred percent,” he responds without a beat of hesitation. “That’s what Kyungsoo told me too. That injury should’ve ruined your life but here you are, riding bikes and shopping and you learnt a whole fucking sport in two years and made it to the Olympics. You came out on top with a smile. Happier than before. Fuck. If I didn’t know you, I’d be freaked out. You’re a beast.”   “You’re not just saying this shit to make me feel better, right?”   “No. I fucking suck ass at comforting people, you know that. I speak only truths.”   Jungkook smiles again and then he exhales softly. “Well...it’s not like I can change what happened to my injury.” The road to acceptance is long and instead of running away like he’s been doing, he’s slowly coming to terms with it. Even if it’s painful. “I had to make do with what I had.”   “And this is where you are. Better than before, I might argue.” There’s an extended moment of quiet, both looking out to the rink. Junmyeon pipes up, breaking the silence, “If there’s one thing I learnt ever since stepping up as captain — it’s that it’s not about the sport, Jungkook. It’s about the people too.”   “Are you still listening to those podcasts trying to be woke?”   “A little,” he admits with a grin. “But I’m serious. Don’t get me wrong, those guys on the hockey team are hard workers and they’re great, but they’re also a toxic wasteland. It’s easy to be swept up in their idiocy. The pressure gets to you sometimes and you know that best.”   “Yeah….” Jungkook hums a note, feeling oddly introspective. “That was actually something I had to get used to when I joined this new team. They’re not like us, Jun.”   “Not like a frat house on fire?”   Jungkook laughs and nods. “They’re family.”   Men’s, Women’s, Mixed — everyone greeted and welcomed him warmly. Maybe because they’re older folks that are wiser, knowing what’s important in life and not concerned with partying or status. Jungkook always felt like they were dependable people. People who wouldn’t judge him wrongfully. Who saw him as one of their own, a son, a friend, not someone to be competed with.    It’s joining the curling team that Jungkook learnt what teamwork meant and knew what it’s like when everyone truly cares for each other.   “Wow,” Junmyeon exhales. “Are you trying to make me envious right now? I told you I was already intimidated by your hard work, okay? No need to make me jealous too.”   He lightly scoffs. “I’m not.”   The conversation simmers down and the curler takes a deep breath, tiny smile placed on his features as he stares out at the ice, less bitter than he was before. It was nice to talk like this, to have someone know his predicaments and not only lend a listening ear, but comforting words.   Jungkook thought that it would be hard to go to a game, to see his old friends again. But it wasn’t. Not at all. It was easy even. Sure, it brought up bad memories he wanted to run from, made him feel nostalgic and regretful and sad, but Jungkook also realizes that it wasn’t as great and grand as he had previously remembered.   He wasn’t that happy in the face of fame, of intensive struggle with people who encouraged and fueled his bad behaviour. It was only when he got away did it occur to him that he didn’t like the person he was and the person that he was becoming.   And it was only coming to this game did Jungkook realize that things weren’t so different now. He was still drowning in a sport he loved. He was still playing. He was still in a team. He was still under the fluorescent lights with people cheering him on. He was still on the ice.   “She’s a good fit for you, y’know,” the hockey player suddenly pipes up, interrupting his train of thought. “Y/N. She’s a nice girl.”   “I know.” Jungkook’s smile to himself softens.   “The moment I got a chance to talk to her, I thought ‘fucking hell, Jeon has it all, doesn’t he? He finally has his perfect girlfriend too.’”   “Perfect girlfriend?” The curler’s brow lift, tone less threatening and more mischievous.   “Perfect for you,” the hockey player clarifies with a grin, trying not to step on his friend’s toes by coming onto his girlfriend, “not for me.”   “How’d you know she’s my girlfriend?”   Junmyeon shrugs. “I just knew. Seemed like your type and you both looked happy as shit when you saw each other. It was actually pretty obvious. Damn. Now I’m really jealous of you. You’re just oozing with joy and happiness, aren’t you? Fucking rubbing it in all our faces that you’re better off without us.”   Jungkook bursts out laughing and pats him on the back. “I’m sure Irene would take you back.”   “Fuck no! Are you crazy?! I’d rather date car-keyer Jisoo than her again!” He visibly shivers and the Jungkook laughs again.   “You guys should come watch me curl,” he invites. “We’re having the finals in two days. And it’s not as dumb as some people might think. The sport’s pretty intense actually.”   “I heard.” Junmyeon smiles. “I heard you were good too. That true or just another rumour about the Great Jeon?”   “You have to come check out for yourself.”   //   The stadium is roaring.    People are stomping twice and then clapping once, letting the beat echo as they create their own music and drown out the commentators on the intercom. He can barely hear his own thoughts and Adora is wearing earplugs while Namjoon is relishing it, pretending he’s the king of this sport.    There are flags swirling, held up by people. Singing, cheering, hollering, blood-curdling screams, there’s everything. It feels more like an MMA fight than a curling game. And it’s scaring all four of you. Taehyung is shocked, mouth dropped wide open. But more importantly, the colour of red and white fills the crowd.   “Damn Canadians,” Yoonji mutters, knowing full well how crazy Canada is about curling.   “It’s kind of fun, huh,” you muse with a laugh, smiling towards the Canadian team that nod in acknowledgment.    Taehyung comes over, flinging his arm over your shoulder and Yoonji’s. “Well, let’s make the best of it. Either way we’re leaving with gold or silver.”    “If we win gold, what if they riot?” Yoonji asks with raised brows.   “Nah, they wouldn’t. Canadians are too nice for that.”   “You haven’t been to a hockey game in Canada,” Jungkook comments before catching someone up on the stands.    It’s his old coach and the rest of the hockey team, sitting awkwardly at the center of the stands, all too out of place. The visual makes Jungkook grin. “Is it always this crowded?” Minseok leans over to ask Junmyeon as if he knows.   Yoongi, beside them, turns his head. “You have a lot to learn around here.”   “This is a legit sport, huh?” Jongin is amazed, blinking twice as he gawks.    “Course it is. What did you expect?”   “I don’t….know.”   Chanyeol leans over to Sehun, shouting when the music begins again. “I don’t think any of our hockey games had this many people!”   “Oh shit!” Baekhyun is screaming, looking down at the curling sheet as players begin to move. “What’s happening?!”   “It’s a coin toss,” Yoongi says loudly, unimpressed by their stupidity. “Winner goes first.”   “Jeon’s going!” Yixing yells and then all of them stand up, screaming from deep in the pits of their stomach. Their competitive fire ignites inside of them, trying to beat the Canadian spectators in their cheers.   “Let’s go, Jeon!” — “Get that fucking coin toss!” — “Beat them, JK! You fucking got this man!”   The group is so loud that Jungkook notices in the midst of the noise and turns, waving to them with a ginormous grin. Junmyeon laughs his head off as the spectators in the stands continue to cheer, audience going wild.   The coldness of the ice wafts over, making the air frigid. His breath is seen every time he exhales, cheeks becoming rosy in the cold. He can’t feel anything, not his hands or the tip of his nose. The edges of his fingers tingle, mind tickling pleasantly. This is where he’s meant to be, where he worked so hard to get to.   The moment is perfect.   Taehyung and Yoonji are by his side, holding their brooms. More importantly, you’re here too, giving him a firm nod to go ahead. And Jungkook flips the coin, tossing it in the air and letting the surface shine against the bright lights.   The game ensues.

[Epilogue]   The door opens.   You barely have time to take off your shoes, running towards the tiny fenced area in the living room. “Where’s my baby?”   Jungkook enters, flicking on the lights in the foyer to shed the darkness away. In the meanwhile, you’re reaching down, arms holding his tiny body to Jungkook’s slight amusement. You’re cooing at it, apologizing for going out for dinner and leaving it alone for so long.   “We’re not going to keep the bunny, Y/N.”   “Why not?”   “Because we found him in front of our apartment and he could have rabies.”   “That’s why I set up a vet appointment on the weekend. And he’s not a wild rabbit. He’s a domesticated bunny that was in a cardboard box. Can you really let this fella go?”    Suddenly, the rabbit is shoved in his face. It’s ears are perked in the air, rounded eyes completely black, nose vibrating as it sniffs his scent. It’s a furry brown thing. Kind of cute. But he won’t let himself be swayed.   “Yes, I can.”    Jungkook moves away from the rabbit, stepping to the side, preferring to stare at you.   Your love for animals since childhood extended into adulthood and now you had enough money and independence to build your own zoo in the apartment without your mother saying ‘no’. On the bright side, at least capable of taking care of them. Jungkook still doesn’t like the bunny though.   It had to go.   “But it looks just like you. It’s adorable.” You’re squealing, gazing at the rodent with endearment that leaves Jungkook speechless. “I can’t let him go and risk Yoonji finding him and throwing him on a barbecue.”   “That was a joke,” he reminds and muses that Yoonji’s dark sense of humour finally matched with his own.    You’ve been spending so much time with that damn rabbit. More than him. At this point, Jungkook can’t help but look at the animal and think that it knows exactly what it’s doing. He wouldn’t be surprised if one day the damn animal was cause for you to kick him to the curb.    Mr. Steal Your Girl was very real and it came in the form of a disgustingly cute bunny.   “You know I don’t appreciate that joke.”   He sheds his taupe coat off and you put the bunny down in his large fenced area, petting him once before allowing Jungkook to help take off your own coat to hang up on the rack. “Who’s gonna watch it when we’re on our honeymoon?”   “Since when are we having a honeymoon?” You move to the fridge, looking for the celery. “You’re going to need to propose to me first before that happens. And if it ever happens—”   “When it happens,” he corrects.   “—Taehyung can watch him for us.”   “Taehyung can’t wipe his own ass.”   “Hey,” you twist around to defend your friend. “That only happened once because the men’s washroom ran out of toilet paper. What else was he supposed to do?”   “That’s what he says.” Jungkook grins, nose wrinkling. “I think he just forgot to wipe.”   You tottle over with celery in hand, leaning over the fence to feed the rabbit. At the same time, Jungkook’s phone lights up and he looks over the screen. “Namjoon just texted the group chat. He wants us to meet him at the rink.”   “But we just got home.” You pet the rabbit before leaving it alone, standing straight to pout at your boyfriend. Then, your expression lights up and a new idea spills from your lips— “Should we ditch?”   “Little Miss. Goody Two Shoes wants to ditch?” Jungkook grins and throws his phone on the couch, abandoning it to circle his arms around your waist. “Unheard of.”   “Only cause I’d rather go to bed and cuddle with you right now.”   “Sounds like a plan.” But before anyone moves, Jungkook can’t resist the urge to kiss you. He leans down, softly sealing your lips with his, gentle and saving more for later. It subtly takes like that vanilla ice-cream you two had for dessert and your smile against his mouth. Jungkook eventually pulls away and in the quietness of your shared apartment, except for the damn animal a few meters away still nibbling on a celery stalk, he whispers, “I’m so glad….”   “For what?”   “I don’t know. That I got to meet you. That you decided to actually talk to me instead of ignoring me.”   “I already apologized for that,” you sulk. “And it was because you were so insistent on getting to know me.”   He laughs and sighs softly, leaning his forehead on yours. “I’m just...happy to be here.”   There’s a pause. “You’re not proposing to me right now, are you?”   “No…” Jungkook moves away, knowing he’s treading on dangerous territory. He’s uncertain as he reads your expression. “...unless I should be….”   You giggle, poking his chest and he lets go of you. “You probably need a ring first. And please don’t bring Taehyung or Yoonji when you go ring shopping. She’d make you get something outrageous just to see you go broke, and don’t tell Taehyung but he...kind of has bad tastes.”   “What do you mean? I love that vase he got us during our housewarming party.” The pair of you look over to the coffee table where the flesh colour vase is. It’s a swirly shape, slightly curved and reminiscent to an erect dick — that’s what art is apparently. “I mean...the vase he made us.”   You tear your eyes away from the show stealer of the room, going back to the main conversation at hand. “Bring Junmyeon. He’s sensible and reasonable and he’d follow the budget. Or maybe Yoongi. I feel like he’d have a solid opinion.”   “Okay. But who says I don’t already have it?”   You step back in surprise, eyes wide. “Really?”   The phone abruptly rings. The sound is loud, interrupting the intimate moment. One glance at the screen and you two find Adora calling, probably angry that you’re ignoring the messages.   “We should probably go before she gets mad. Unless...you were serious about ditching.”   “No. Yoonji or Taehyung might end up breaking down our door. C’mon.” As tempting as it is to just curl up in bed with Jungkook, you have tomorrow and the next day and the next day after that to be with him. Years and years, in fact. So you muster up energy, walking over and tossing him his jacket. “Let’s go.”   Jungkook walks out the door, fingers laced together, holding your hand tightly. You leave together, perhaps to prepare for another competition, another match, another game. No matter what it is, he feels at ease that you’re here — chest warm, the regrets harboured no longer important.   Jungkook could take on anything.   Before the front door shuts, the lights in the hallway catch the display case by the television.    The two gold medals inside glimmer.

[yamithediaperdork]

The wall and the baby (DC Universe, AU)

Amanda Waller, AKA the wall was known for many things. Her hard nose attuide, her belief that she knew right and damn everyone else, and her big baby husband Bruce Wayne. They had met at a gala, where Bruce had been head over heels with her despite well, less the striking figure but it didn't take long to figure out a few things about the Billionaire playboy. One, he was a chubby chaser who had actually kept drooling as they chatted, blushing and saying sorry when she had pointed it out with a smirk. Two, Due to his parents passing away in a skiing accident when he was 12, he had a VERY strong attraction to ladies who gave off a semi mommy energy. Now normally anyone who worked under the wall would of told you that the last aura she projected was that of a mommy, but since she had been there to suck up for some more founding for task force X, she'd had on a kinder face then normal. She did have to admit that it was cute seeing this handsome young man stumbling over his words and clearly love stuck, and so had come home with him that night. And the next night and the night after that. They had barely dated for a bare four months before they were walking down the aisle, Waller in a dashing white dress and Bruce in a pair of short alls and a puffy butt as by that point he was living as her big baby, 24/7. She assumed control of Wayne enterprises and put the corporation to work for Task force X, though most of the day to day was handled much as before, by Mr.fox. Bruce's days meanwhile were filled with making pretty pictures for mommy, playing with his toys and playing in mommies office, and of course, making mommy presents.

It was 7:30 am as Waller came into Bruce's nursery, wrinkling her nose a little at the smell that filled the room but it was all part of the mommy game and she forced the look off of her face as she made her way over the plush carpet that filled the room. Technically she could of sent Alfred in to wake Bruce up but she still felt bad about making Bruce sleep in his nursery last night instead of in bed with her, she'd been up late monitoring a mission to take out a drug cartel in San Baquero. For the most part Bruce just thought she had a very special job with the government and didn't ask too many questions, and in a way he wasn't wrong. but that still didn't mean she wanted him to see the ugly side of her work. shaking those thoughts out of her head, and hat a pain it was gonna be to replace Knockout on the team, she leaned over the side of Bruce's crib railing and smiled. here was a fit young man who could of been a star athlete, and instead he was sucking on a pacifier wearing a light grey onsie that helped keep him from wiggling out of the custom made extra bulky diapers that made it a chore for even Bruce to waddle, and let him stew in his messes for hours on end just like he wanted. 'Sometimes I wonder what I did to end up so lucky~' Waller gushed mentally, then gently patted the bugling (and not just from natural bulk) seat of Bruce's pamper butt. "Hey there sleepy head, time to get up~" she called softly. She of course had been up since 5 am, but unlike Bruce she thrived on little to none sleep and actually was more grumpy when she got a full 8 hours in. Bruce gurgled behind his paci and opened one eye, then grinned and let the paci slid out of his mouth. "Nggggh five more minutes mommy~" He giggled playfully. the big baby knew Waller let him sleep in as long as she could if he wanted to come in with her to work, and he'd been VERY clear that he got to come into the office today. "Sorry my adorable little stinker, if you wanna be mommies cute widdle secretary you have to get up now. for one thing, SOMEBODY needs a diapie change." "-GASP- Did Alfred poop himself!" Bruce asked and giggled like he'd told the funniest joke ever. "heh, you're such a goof ball~ come on Bruce Sweetie, let's get you changed before you make mommies nose fall off."

One smelly diaper change later (which had left Waller seeing just how 'happy' he was to see and regretful they didn't have time for a quick roll in the sack) and Bruce was dressed in triple thick diapers and a black diaper shirt with light grey overall's on, Black and grey being his favorite colors. His bottom was puffed out and he was forced to crawl to the dining room where he was helped into his high chair, and while Waller had her normal steak and egg's with black coffe,she would pasue now and then to spoon anther mouthful of apple cinnamon oatmeal into the mouth of her big baby who gurgled and coo'ed, gushing about how much 'artz' he was gonna do for mommy t'day. "I'm gonna draw you a duck, and a bat, and and a fire truck and and and-" he babbled, only shush as mommy got anther mouthful in in mouth, taking care not to get any on his clothes. "Mhhm I bet you are, and they'll join the rest of your pretty pictures on my office wall, though I might bring some home for the fridge. what do you think Alfred?" She asked, amused and turning to look at the butler. The older man gave a smile. "well i for one would be VERY much honored if I could have some of Master Wayne's artwork on the fridge. But I didn't wanna speak up." he said. Waller had been worried the seemingly stuffie old butler would of been a stick in the mud when she and Bruce had first started dating, but in fact the old Englishman had helped give her pointer for dealing with his immature employer. "oh! I sowwy Alfred! I didn't even think bout that!" Bruce said, looking guilty. "Think nothing of it Master Wayne, I was just saying." "Nooo I'ma draw you a super cool picture!" Bruce promised, then grinned impishly. "Butttt not gonna tell ya what it is, it'll be a surprise!" he added with a giggle. "I shall be waiting with baited breath." Alfred chuckled and cleared the dishes away as Waller helped Bruce out of his high chair. "We should be back around 5:30ish Alfred, and I'm thinking me and Bruce would like some-" Waller started, but was cut off by her little guy as he wiggled his massive diaper butt back and forth. "Grilled cheese and fries! grilled cheese and fries!" He chanted. "heh..Grilled cheese and fries apparently." Waller said and ruffled Bruce's hair.

One half hour drive later and Bruce was crawling next to mommy as they made they're way though the hall's of Cadmus, getting amused looks and waves from staff who knew all about him, and baffled looks from those who had just been transferred. (and in one case the new head of genetics looked at her coffee she had been drinking from and dumped it in the nearest waste basket.) Getting into her office, it was almost exactly what you would expect for the head of a secret branch of the government charged with policing meta-humans and nipping problems in the bud. A high tech desk with a built in computer that could connect Waller to any database she might need, a direct line to the president him, a selection of hand guns in protective cases that only Waller could open (the glass had been installed after Bruce had mistakenly believe they were toys, thankfully no one had been hurt). The office would of had a cold and sterile feeling to it, if not for the corner of it that was dedicated JUST to Bruce. there was a patch of extra plush carpet, a small toy chest with just stuffies, a little desk (fisher price but bigger for the big baby) for him to make his drawing at and of course lots of crayons for him, and the walls were plastered with all the pictures he had made so far. Of course justifying having her big baby in the office hadn't been easy, even for Waller, at least till she pointed out just how much Wayne enterprises helped with the budget for the last line of defense against say, a rouge justice league. add in the expense of his little space was coming right from the Wayne/Waller fortune and well, The president had dropped the topic fairly quick. Bruce took his seat at his drawing table, and getting out some paper got right to work making arts, after getting a pair of headphones on that would be playing nursery music. marveling at just how god damn cute her widdle Brucie was, then brought up a chat with Rick flag so they could go over options for replacing the decreased Knock Out.

Bruce was humming away, rocking to his favorite song, 'the wheels on the bus' when he felt a cramp in his tummy. Looking up at the clock he was a little shocked, he mostly had a soiled schedule for his BM's but he knew when a poopie was brewing and it was a full 2 hours early, with it only just going onto 9:30. He looked over and Mommy was still making a call with one of her friends, and while she mostly dotted on him she had asked him to try and refrain from 'playing the butt trumpet' when she was on a call. He tried to focus on the picture he was making for Alfred, he was drawing his own superhero he had come up with, even though he knew for the most part mommy didn't like them. This superhero actually had no powers, and was like a ninja with a whole bat theme going on, and Bruce called him Bat Dude. he knew the name could use a little work but for now, it would work. As he colored in Bat dude's cape, all black of course, the cramps got worse and he leaned forward to try and help with the pressure. all that did however was bring thing to a boil and he could hear himself, even with his music playing loudly in his ear's let out a massive roar of a fart. if mommy hadn't of been on a call, and giving him a glare, Bruce almost would of been proud of it. Instead he gave a meek smile and lisped out a sorry, then made a face and stuck out his touage as the smell reached him. Looking over at mommy, who normally could take on his smelliest diaper with a bare reaction, he watched her nose twitch and she reached into her desk and brought out a scented handkerchief and pressed it to her face. "S-Sowwy.."

Rick flag did his best not to react to the sound that interrupted their call, but he was only human and the corners of his mouth were twitching as Waller was forced to grab a scented handkerchief and pressed it to her face. "Ma'am, If you need to call me back, I understand you may have other pressing concerns." He said. "I'm Muting my end of the call, but stay on for a few colonel, and I'll let you know." Waller said, hitting the button and muting Flag before he could reply. He was a good soldier and she knew he'd follow his order's anyways. Getting up from her desk she walked over to Bruce who was hunched over, holding his tummy. "are you ok sweetie?" She asked, leaning down and rubbing his back. "I..I don't think so.." Bruce said, of course having slid his head phones off as she walked over. "what's wrong Bruce?" she asked, putting a hand to his forehead and noting a slight fever for the first time. "Tummy hurts. gonna go uh-oh any second. I sowwy." Bruce whimpered, tearing up. "Shhh it's ok Bruce. you can go ahead and go uh-oh, and while you do that Mommies gonna arrange for one of her work friends to take over for her. I think somebody needs to go home, he's under the weather." she said warmly. She of course wouldn't of gone home if it was just her who was sick, having famously stayed at her desk and suffering though a Thangarian flu last year, but she wasn't gonna make her little guy suffer here when he could be looked after in the comfort of their home. As she moved back over to her desk to let Flag know he could make the final selection for the new member of task force X himself, as she trusted his judgement, as well as trying to decide between Eiling or Hamilton for taking over for her, a long booming blast came out of her little guys butt. Turning around she was almost transfixed on the site of the rapidly growing seat, and for a second wondered if maybe just maybe, if this wasn't some sorta meta human power manifesting. Sure, super human pooping would be a first but who knew with some of these freaks? She banished that thought almost right away even as the fumes from Bruce's diapers filled the office, so powerful she almost swore for a second she could SEE them. One because she had secretly had Bruce tested for the meta gene, and Two because she could never consider her little guy a 'freak'. "Guess it's a good thing we triple diapered you huh?" She asked, as Bruce was standing now, the back of his overalls straining as he grunted and groaned, but he nodded lots. "Oh god mommy, Hurts!" he whined and then sucked on his thumb, finishing his uber mess off with a last few weak sputtering farts. Alarms went off in the office as air quilty dropped, and Waller made the command decision to just make her calls from the car..as well as change Bruce outside.

After a check up with a trusted family doctor, one Leslie thompkins, Bruce was diagnosed with just a bad tummy bug..and being guilty of having been sleep waking in the middle of the night and raiding the fridge. Alfred had just assumed that Waller had been doing it since between his diapers and the high railing.. In any case there were changes to be made around the house, more baby proofing to be done, and Waller just spent the day field testing a new set of nose filters that would keep one save from toxic gasses and did a decent job with bad smells. Snuggling with he big baby on their bed, and watching tv, Waller again thought about what life might of been like with out the little stinker..and decided it wasn't worth thinking about before planting a kiss on his forehead.

the end

[calamity-bean]

the angry prince of goofs

I’ve been thinking about Ziggy Sobotka, which was probably my first mistake, and especially about one little detail that’s demonstrated repeatedly but not really explored in depth: Ziggy is good with technology. 

Better than most of the characters in his orbit, at any rate; he understands computers, understands the internet, has to explain digital cameras and search engines to Nick, who still seems confused. And while, even for 2003, I wouldn’t claim he’s a technical genius, this detail stands out to me partly because it’s one area in which he’s expressly shown to be more capable than his cousin — typically the far more competent of the pair — and partly because he tends to get written off, both in-universe and out, as, well... an idiot. A stupid guy who does stupid things simply because he’s stupid, with no greater character depth or complexity than that.

And that... kinda irks me! Look, I get why Ziggy’s not exactly a fan favorite. He’s not cool. He’s not a badass. He’s immature and abrasive and makes a lot of frustrating decisions, and I get why so many viewers find that annoying, I really do. But although he can certainly be a dumbass, I’m honestly not convinced that he’s dumb, and I think it does a disservice to the writing of the season and to James Ransone’s performance (easily among his best work, imo, out of the roles I’ve seen him in) to boil Zig down to just a clueless annoyance with no regard for why he acts the way he does or his value to the overall narrative.

So I’ve been thinking about Ziggy Sobotka, and types of intelligence, and finding one’s place in the world, and how Ziggy’s character arc relates to The Wire’s overarching theme of a changing city at the dawn of the new millennium.

Twice, over the course of the season, Ziggy’s mentioned in connection with college.

The first time is in 2.06, as Frank chews him out about literally burning money at the bar — definitely one of those moments that baffles and enrages viewers, cause oh my GOD, Zig, Nick goes to all that trouble for you, and then you burn a hundred dollar bill? What the heck, man. But I love this scene with Frank. It’s Ziggy at his most subdued and collected; it’s one of maybe two substantial conversations between father and son all season; and it reveals that Ziggy is capable of being far more observant than he often seems. Frank, frustrated with the lack of employment available for Ziggy, vents, “Maybe if I’d have listened to your mother, cause she’s the one always talking about you should do the community college, like your brother.” Why would Frank let one son continue his education, but not the other? Well, I have to read between the lines here, but I don’t think it’s outlandish to guess that it’s because Ziggy is — or was supposed to be — Frank’s heir. We know he’s Frank’s firstborn, and we know that for Frank, working on the docks is more than an occupation; it’s a cherished family legacy going back generations and a huge point of pride. Ziggy was probably always earmarked to follow in his father’s footsteps, and he probably always knew it. “You wanna know what I remember?” he says, and describes the education he did receive: a life spent paying careful attention to his father’s world. “Everything. Everything.” College just was not a necessary part of the life planned for him.

But there’s absolutely no future on the docks for Ziggy, and by this point, father and son both know it. It’s a rapidly dying profession with scarce shifts available for L-series juniors, so maybe it’s no surprise Zig puts a lot more effort into being a thief and drug dealer than he does into being a checker. Unfortunately, despite seeming fairly adept in logical-mathematical intelligence (technical knowledge, facts/figures, coming up with plans), Ziggy fumbles in all these pursuits because of one type of intelligence that he definitely does lack: interpersonal/social skills — i.e., the ability to read a room and to play well with others. He constantly annoys people, never realizes he’s being tricked until it’s too late, and lets emotion get the better of him, leading him to be irresponsible and impulsive and seek instant gratification. This is, again, in contrast to Nick, who is much less tech savvy than Zig but far more personable and reliable. People like Nick. They trust Nick. Even Frank seems to have a closer relationship with his nephew than with his own son.

And this feeds into a critical difference between Nick and Ziggy. Nick, with Aimee and Ashley to support, is primarily motivated by a need for money; Ziggy, on the other hand, cares less and less about money as the season progresses and is primarily motivated by a desire for something Nick already has: respect. More broadly, Zig craves the validation of others, whether that validation comes to him as respect or approval or even just attention. This, more than immaturity and definitely more than a simple lack of intelligence, is what drives his behavior, including his most reckless or seemingly inexplicable acts. In some circumstances, it inspires him to act like a tough guy; in others, it manifests in childish clownery like whipping out Pretty Boy or waltzing around with a seeing-eye duck, as though he were a comedian playing to a crowd. It’s why he wastes his money on showy status symbols, like Princess and a $2,000 coat, or on buying rounds for the bar. And of course, it manifests in trying to show up his father, who seems to have plenty of time and money for all the other stevedores and yet, by his own admission, pays scant attention to his own son except when Zig screws up... which, needless to say, Zig has a bit of a chip on his shoulder about.

The irony, of course, is that the harder Ziggy tries to impress people, the less it works. His attempts to act tough get him trounced. The other stevedores are happy to let him buy drinks and play class clown, but they are very much laughing at him rather than with him, and the same guys who egg him on and flatter him always turn right around and scoff at what a fool he is after it blows up in his face. His biggest attempt to prove himself is the car heist... which actually goes off without a hitch! Like I said, Zig’s not bad at logistical planning; he comes up with a clever scheme and carries it out successfully. It should’ve been a triumph for him — proving that he could handle himself, that he didn’t need Nick or Frank looking out for him and deserved to be treated like a valid player in the game. But Glekas, like everyone else, saw Ziggy as easy to take advantage of and too weak to effectively retaliate. If it were earlier in the season, he’d have been right, just like every other time Zig wound up tricked and humiliated. Unfortunately for everyone involved, though, by that point, Ziggy — impulsive, hotblooded Ziggy — was “tired of being the punchline to every joke.”

The Wire: Truth Be Told (which I haven’t gotten to read beyond previews) calls Ziggy the “angry prince of goofs.” I think that, more than anything, Ziggy is someone who keeps trying on different costumes and never finds one that fits. He was supposed to carry on the Sobotka stevedore legacy, but the profession is dying, and even if it weren’t, Nick is far more an heir apparent to Frank than Ziggy is. So he tries to be a tough guy, but isn’t; tries to be the sort of cool, funny guy people like and admire, but can’t; tries to prove himself as a player, but makes mistake after mistake until he screws up so horribly that there’s no coming back from it. When Frank tells him that what he did to Glekas and the store clerk isn’t him, Ziggy replies incredulously, “It ain’t?” — because it is him, he did that! But he’s not suited to being a killer, either; he immediately falls apart with horror and remorse. So what is he? Who is he? Was there anything he could have succeeded at, any way he could’ve made better choices than he did?

In 2.10, shortly after Ziggy’s arrest, we meet Priscilla Katlow — the same girl listed on the fake paternity papers Zig gets pranked with in 2.07. In the earlier episode, Nick implies that Prissy is, to be crass, kind of the neighborhood bicycle, making it sound like she was nothing more to Zig than a one-night stand. I have a lot of feelings about the fact that it turns out she’s actually a childhood friend who’s visibly in tears over Ziggy’s situation when she finds Nick grieving on the playground of their old school. They’re maybe the only two characters we see who seem to not only care about Ziggy but genuinely like him, and they reminisce about a time, years ago, when he was supposed to buy them all some SoCo and Pikesville Rye. Instead, he bought Boone’s Farm — because, he claimed, “that’s what the college kids drank.” Then, while drinking it on that same playground, he shouted, “College kids ain’t shit!” And I know I’m really galaxy-braining here, really reading a lot into just a few lines, but I can’t help but wonder, like… This seems to have taken place toward the end of high school, since Prissy was driving her mom’s car and Ziggy could pull off a fake ID. Ziggy probably already knew that he was bound for the docks right after graduation, if he wasn’t working there already; Frank wasn’t even entertaining Zig’s mother’s wish that they send him to college instead. And I wonder if, to some extent, Zig resented that? Or resented not having a choice? Because this anecdote implies a mixture of wanting to emulate those college kids (drinking what he thinks they drink) while simultaneously deriding them — perhaps because he knew that he couldn’t be one, no matter whether or not he wanted to, and therefore had to act like the entire concept was beneath him.

I don’t know whether Zig would’ve done better in college anyway. I think that, contrary to popular opinion, he did have his own areas of intelligence and competence, but despite being in some ways the more “book smart” of the Sobotka cousins (Ziggy’s technical knowledge vs. Nick’s common sense), maybe he’d have been too immature to put in the work for school, too lazy or too proud to try. But I just wonder if he might’ve had a better chance at life that way, both in terms of staying out of trouble and of possibly finding a field that would’ve better rewarded his skill-set. Insofar as The Wire in general is about the changing face of Baltimore and how the shifting infrastructure of the city impacts the individuals within it (particularly the economically marginalized), and insofar as season 2 specifically is about the death of American industry and of the traditional blue-collar working class, Ziggy is an exploration of someone who fell through the cracks of that shift and, in that respect, was sort of doomed to failure from the beginning. James Ransone has described him as “very castrated” in terms of his power and potential for social mobility, the game being rigged against working-class people like him even with the advantages of being a white male. Ziggy’s brother, armed with a college education, might fare better in the 21st-century workforce... But even if Zig hadn’t ended up in prison, he probably wouldn’t have lasted much longer in the family business anyway. Johnny Fifty, a more senior checker, is homeless by season 5, and unemployment is the implied fate of nearly all longshoremen in the near future.

And honestly? Although I really like Ziggy, I appreciate that he’s a failure. I think one of the reasons I do feel so deeply for him is that the narrative never rewards his errors or glorifies his misdeeds. If it did, he’d risk coming off as one of those edgy, disenfranchised white guy antihero types, and I doubt I’d have found that nearly as sympathetic or interesting. By the standards of The Wire, Zig’s relatively small-time in terms of how much damage he causes and pretty notable for how extremely he regrets what harm he does do, but that still doesn’t excuse his actions, and the narrative doesn’t pretend that it should. Nor does it pretend that he’s not also worthy of our interest and pathos anyway.

Ziggy Sobotka is not cool. He’s not a badass. He’s not any of the things he tried to be during the season, and he’ll probably never get a chance, now, to be anything other than a murderer locked up for life. And I know he wasn’t entitled to any fate other than the one he earned for himself, but I wish he’d been able to find a better path.

[dropsofletters]

the sun and his flowers

title: the sun and his flowers pairing: lee taemin/reader genre: dad!au summary: taemin is the sun to his twin daughters—bright and sweet, caring and loving, but his wife thinks he is just a bit too forgiving, and maybe obsessed with parenting books. type: fluff

Three whole weeks of waking up to the mess Taemin leaves on their bedside table. A place that was once covered by a pretty lamp and their phones, along with their charges, now meets the cover of a parenting book. It surprises her, really, that Lee Taemin decided to leave all fantasy books aside to pick one of those monstrosities that they sell at every given library, with Comic Sans in their titles with tips that were probably given by a wine-mom with three kids of her own. He says they’re interesting and more than once, she has had to try just to get his golden-hour brown eyes away from the letters that read about the magnificent beings that were kids. He normally brings a cup of milk with himself, opens the book after settling himself on the bed and for the most part, she thinks it is excellent that he does that—but there are nights in which she just wants to take the opportunity to make-out with the father of her daughters for a bit, even if it’s momentary or it actually leads up to something. However, she just lets him be for those three weeks, taking one sweet kiss or his attention a few nights but he always returns to his books.

She swears, as a mother that has now learned the skill of reading people, that Taemin got his newest idea from one of those books but god forbid her from ever picking up such atrocity, for she doesn’t want to go crazy like Taemin did. Either way, his mind has been constantly set to take the twins out on a trip along the countryside, simply to have them walking and disconnecting from society and social media (so he says, “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I’ll take care of the twins”). Sure, the idea of pulling their daughters away from the screen of the TV that is placed in their living room sounded perfect, but she isn’t sure she really wants to get clammy, sweaty and tired under the sun just because Taemin wants to experience something with the kids.

Aren’t there other possibilities, like a mall trip or just a road-trip of sorts?

But Taemin is excited and there are two types of excitement that happen once you become a parent: real excitement, like when your child says their first word, or feigned excitement, for when your child talks about Peppa Pig for an hour to no end. It’s early in the morning when she is gone, far too early for the kids to be awake, but early enough for her to wake up thanks to her mental alarm. She doesn’t have to go to work today, but all she can think about is preparing herself a cup of coffee filled with lots of cream, and maybe leave some to Taemin—and thankfully he arrives home before she could start making the coffee, leaving him out for not being there.

His lips press momentarily to hers, one of his hands resting on the small of her back and the other settling a plastic bag down onto the counter. She pulls away to look at him, not ready for the usual day, he is not wearing clothes that fit him perfectly for the dance studio, he is cladded in what seems to be gym-clothes. “Are you going through a mid-life crisis before you reach your mid-life?” She hums, looking up and down at his body before starting the coffee machine.

Taemin shakes his head. “Ha-ha.” He laughs sarcastically before taking the contents out of the plastic bag. “These are just a few snacks for the trip today. Granola bars, water bottles…” When he trails his voice, she raises her eyebrows in question and it is a power, one that comes with years of being in a relationship. “And healthy stuff, of course.”

“Yeah, like what?” She asks, using her fingers to look through the bag only to see a lot of unhealthy snacks.

“Granola bars with chocolate and mint. That’s a plant. It’s healthy.”

It is no wonder that the twins love Taemin the most. Their daughters might look identical, but they are completely different and the only thing they seem to have in common is loving their father more than they love their precious mother. Jihee is the one born a bit earlier than her sister and she takes her ‘older-sister’ figure a bit too to heart for the age she has. A four years old that bosses her dad around, always telling him how to eat, how to stand, how to walk, but not only does she get to do what her mom could never do—she does it with the sweetest smile that has Taemin cooing in delight. Sometimes, they joke about the fact that she is made to be part of the army with how disciplined she is.

Jaehwa is not delicate as a flower, she is a train-wreck at its finest—she adores running, sweating and playing, and she never gets tired of it. Sometimes she thinks it’s Taemin’s dancing stamina that was passed down to her by genetics, but she is even more energetic than her own father. Both twins had thick lips like their father, eyes looking at the world as if it was dreamland and their innocence is enough to warm Taemin’s heart. All it takes to have her boyfriend turning into putty is a pout, a hug and a quick whine of ‘dad, please!’. It always works, the twins know it already.

“You’re insane.” Those words are filled with joking mannerisms, one she learned when she started her relationship with Taemin. They started out bashful but playful and as time passed, they remained the same. She pushes the bag away before sighing. “Taemin, I think this is a great idea and all…but the twins are in their most energetic age and it’s just…messy.”

“I am going to be okay.” Taemin says after taking a long gulp of water and then, he breathes out. “We, uh, we are going to be okay. Me and the girls.” Comfort is the best way to describe how Taemin has made her feel for the entirety of the relationship. The quick blinks, the laughed words, the memories that come and go of times where things weren’t looking up for them—but they made it work. He has that charm that she is still so deeply in love with, to the point she wonders if love is a spell to her, it changed her life completely. “I’m taking them on a road trip. We’re not staying there, but it’s a four-hour drive. I’ll be here before five in the afternoon, and if it gets too late, I’ll call you to tell you and I’ll probably stay there.”

She sighs, thinking that Taemin really wanted her to go, but after a while he had opted to let her stay at home. Taemin’s idea of relaxation is a really expensive visit to the spa and sure, a few hands taking the knots away from her back sounded wonderful, but spending time with her family and helping Taemin with the kids is also a great idea. “You know what?” She asks before sighing. “I’m going to go with you.”

“Uh…nope, you’re not.” Taemin answers before leaning forward and raising an eyebrow. “Because I am fully capable of taking care of a mini-soldier and a mini-train wreck.”

“They are two, Taem.” The mother of the twins says with two fingers raised up in the air. “Two girls with a lot of energy and you only have two hands. You’ll need at least four to stop them.” Taemin rolls his eyes, pretending not to listen to her as he starts the coffee machine. At least, she wouldn’t have to do that this morning. The smell of coffee beans fills the air, Taemin’s shoulders in display under his shirt as she continues to talk. “Pf, I don’t need a relaxing day. I’m totally okay with…hiking…uh…walking…that thing that you’re planning on doing.”

Taemin turns his head before shaking his head. “You’re not. You called me crazy because of reading parenting books.”

“Well, excuse me, I am just angry that there are people that are entitled enough to write books in parenting as if they were that perfect themselves—”

“…So you hate the idea.”

“I hate people when people give advice that they don’t follow, that’s another thing.”

“Good. You’re staying to take a while for yourself. That’s my advice.”

“You don’t follow that advice, either.”

The sound of the soft patter of steps over the floor catches the attention of the two parents. Having children heightened their ability of hearing. The first one to wake up is Jihee, an early riser and a bit obnoxious at that. Her hair was a mess, black strands sticking out everywhere from the ponytail she had on whenever she went to sleep. A big yawn leaves her lips, one that she muffles with her hand simply because it is polite. Her cheeks are bloated because of her sleep and her hands immediately collide with the back of her dad’s legs as she scolds him.

“Dad, don’t get so close to the coffee. It burns.” She says, making her mother proud as a smile spreads across her face. The first thing she does is pick Jihee up from the ground, placing a big kiss to her cheek only to earn a small smile. Even with her stern personality, Jihee loves to get attention from her family. Taemin does as Jihee says (because he always does the same thing) and with a wide grin, he gets close to Jihee and his girlfriend, resting his hand on Jihee’s head.

“Of course.” He ruffles her hair and then, he clears his throat. “Are you ready to have the best day of your life, Jihee?”

Jihee frowns and then, she widens her eyes at the reminder of what her father had talked about for the previous weeks. Sometimes she wonders if the twins get annoyed of their father. “Oh, oh! The Dora the Explorer adventure!”

That makes her gasp. “Dora—?”

“I had a hard time explaining to them what a road-trip was.” Taemin mumbles and she can’t help but laugh joyfully. There was something about Taemin—the way he always tries to goof around, or how he does it without even realizing, the way his twins suddenly became the center of his world for someone whom was once scared of commitment. Maybe, those two little girls were the change he needed. “But yes, Dora! So I need my two little explorers to get ready with the clothes we prepared last night. Can you do that?”

Jihee fumbles a bit around to get off her mother’s embrace, leading to her being released to the ground. “Dunno.” She says with certainty. “Jaehwa went to sleep at…I don’t know when. She did not go to sleep when you told us, Mom.”

She curses under her breath, or more-so silently, thinking that Jaehwa had always been a bit of a troublemaker and that she should really take her dolls away. “Really?” She asks in between gritted teeth before sighing. “Yeah, okay, just get her up and get dressed.”

“Brush your teeth, too. Two minutes, okay?” Taemin adds, complementing what his girlfriend says and Jihee nods her head.

“Yep.” Jihee confirms, her little body with her pudgy stomach moving away towards the stairs once again to get Jaehwa to wake up.

She turns on her heels, looking into Taemin’s eyes to see those brown eyes that had always captured her attention, the lost look in them that mixes with his adoration for his family. “Jaehwa is not following the rules. I think she should not be going to this road-trip.”

“Aw, come on.” Taemin whines, his shoulders shaking the slightest as he moves over to press his hands to her shoulders, caging her against his chest as he turns his head to the side. He knows the effect he has upon her, the way he makes her feel like she is the only woman in the world, the only person he will ever get to love. “Tell me you did not do that when you were a kid, at least once.”

“…That still doesn’t make it right.”

“I’m still taking her.”

“Do you even listen to me?”

“Sometimes. Depends. There are times when I just zone out.” His joking mannerism makes her land one of her hands against his arm, earning a joyful laugh that comes from within his chest and leaves his lips with glee. “You’re going to that spa. I’m going on that road-trip. We’re all having a great time.”

But the taste of bitter coffee accompanies her since early in the morning and that can only mean one thing—worry for the rest of the day. However, the more pictures go past her phone to show her smiling family somewhere in the countryside, the happier she feels.

[ladyanatui]

Knock, Knock *A Daiken Fic*

When Daisuke insists Ken doesn't need to knock before entering his bedroom, Ken is worried he might intrude on some intimate or inappropriate moment. Daisuke thinks his concerns are unfounded, but what does Daisuke know?

Written using the prompt: "How many times do I have to tell you not to knock? Get in here, loser."

Read on AO3

When Ken knocked on his best friend's bedroom door that afternoon, having been let into the Motomiya apartment by Jun, Daisuke's response wasn't the average person's. But Daisuke was anything but average.

No, he didn't open the door or ask who it was or even request the visitor to come in. Instead, Daisuke yelled, "How many times do I have to tell you not to knock? Get in here, baka!"

Ken pursed his lips and shook his head before slowly twisting the doorknob and pushing into the bedroom. "I can't just not knock, Motomiya," he said as he slid the door shut.

"Yeah, yeah…" But Daisuke was shoving through boxes in his closet and not paying much attention.

"What if you were indecent?" Ken suggested.

That made Daisuke pause, pushing his head out of the box he was sorting through to stare at his best friend. "What the hell does that mean?"

A light blush crept across Ken's cheeks. "You know…you could've been changing or something."

Daisuke frowned before returning to his box, and Ken didn't know how to interpret that reaction.

After a moment, Ken moved to the bed and dropped onto the edge, making himself as comfortable in the room as he felt was appropriate. "What are you looking for?"

"I know it's in here somewhere!" Daisuke pushed the objects inside the box around with a grumble before pulling back to answer the question. "I thought we'd walk to the park, okay?"

Ken hesitated as he looked at his clothes. "I'm not really dressed to play soccer."

But Daisuke shakes his head. "No, no. You're dressed fine."

After searching through a few more boxes, he finally pulled back with a triumphant yell and a dragon-shaped kite. "Finally!" And without warning, he grabbed his best friend's arm and dragged him toward the front door.

*

The next time Ken arrived at the Motomiya apartment, Daisuke's mom let him in and told him her son was in his room. The door was shut again, and out of habit, Ken knocked on the door, but then he remembered. Before Daisuke could beckon him inside, he turned the knob and hesitantly peeked his head inside. "Motomiya?"

Daisuke looked up from his place on the floor. "Ken, you're here!" He was still wearing his pajamas, but he was entirely focused on the video game console set up on the floor.

Ken raised an eyebrow even as he dropped to the floor beside his best friend. "It's after noon, Motomiya. You haven't gotten dressed yet."

His friend rolled his eyes. "It's Saturday. I'm not getting dressed before I have to."

"How are we supposed to go see a movie if you're wearing pajamas?"

Daisuke grumbled, but turned off his video game. "Well, how much time do I have before we have to leave?"

Without hesitation or warning, he pushed up onto his feet and marched toward his dresser—and then he tore off his shirt to pull on a clean T-shirt. But the moment his hands went for the elastic waistband of his pajama pants, Ken spun on his heel, facing away, a bright red blush on his cheeks.

Not that Daisuke noticed—he was too busy tossing the dirty pajamas on the floor and pulling on a pair of cargo shorts.

"Uh, it's at—I mean, I think it starts in forty-five minutes, and well, you know we need to, um, walk there," he stuttered out, his eyes focusing on one of the soccer posters on Daisuke's bedroom wall.

Behind him, Daisuke huffed. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay. I'm ready."

Ken still hesitated. "You're decent?" he asked in a small voice.

When he turned, Daisuke's lips were pursed, but he was fully dressed, socks and all. "Depends on what you mean by that," he said, irritation lacing his voice.

Ken swallowed, unsure how to respond, but he followed Daisuke to the front door, and they slipped on their shoes before heading toward the theater.

*

After a while, opening the door without knocking became the norm, especially on days Daisuke was expecting him. And Ken never went to the Motomiya apartment without an express invitation, even if Daisuke occasionally showed up in Tamachi to surprise him.

"Hey, Ken," Jun said, uninterested as she opened the apartment door for him. "He's in his room."

He nodded and thanked her before heading back to the closed door.

This time, when he opened the door, Daisuke was asleep on his bed. And he wasn't wearing a shirt. Which really wasn't a big deal, Ken assured himself.

They didn't have any set plans, so Daisuke could nap if he needed to. He'd told Ken only a couple days ago that he was having trouble sleeping, though he didn't elaborate as to why and Ken hadn't pried.

He closed the door softly behind him, but he had to step closer to the bed to pull the covers over his best friend's bare chest. At least then he wouldn't have to look at it while waiting for him to wake up.

Ken sat at Daisuke's cluttered desk while he waited and read from the book he'd left here during the last sleepover. He didn't know why he'd brought it in the first place—he and Daisuke always wound up talking and goofing off till three or four in the morning during their sleepovers, and he never had time to read. It was simply habit to bring a book with him on overnight trips, even if they were completely useless at the Motomiya residence.

It certainly wasn't useless now, though. He would've been bored without it, and then he might have had to leave the bedroom and run into Jun again—and it was better to avoid Daisuke's sister.

Not that Jun was horrible by any means. But she had a nasty habit of teasing Daisuke and, by extension, Ken.

She particularly liked to tease them about what they got up to during their late nights after everyone else was asleep, and she loved watching Ken's face burn in embarrassment at the implication, even if nothing like that had ever happened.

By the time Daisuke woke up, Ken had read nearly a third of the book, and the room was quite dark, aside from the desk lamp Ken had turned on to keep reading.

"What are you doing?"

When he glanced over his shoulder, Daisuke was standing beside the bed, the soft spikes of his hair a mess, still shirtless, his gym shorts hanging far too low on his hips, emphasizing the tight muscles there, along with the hint of burgundy hair peeking out just below his navel.

Ken turned a bright red and twisted back to his book. "Reading," he said, trying to refrain from squeaking, but he wasn't sure whether he was successful. "Just, you know, waiting."

"Y'alright?"

Ken nodded stiffly, but he refused to look directly at his best friend until Daisuke put on a shirt and made himself look more presentable.

"So what do you wanna do?" Daisuke asked, sidling up beside him at the desk, already fully awake and upbeat. He ran a hand through his hair to fix the places where it had flattened. "Or do you just wanna hang out around here?"

Ken's eyes did a quick once-over of his friend's body, and he was relieved to see those muscles and that smooth-looking skin and the little trail of burgundy hairs were properly covered. "I don't care," he said, much more relaxed. "Whatever you want to do."

Daisuke grinned at him.

*

It wasn't until three months after Daisuke put his foot down about not needing to knock that it became a real problem.

By then, Ken had actually gotten used to not knocking on the door, and most of the time, he simply announced his presence as his pushed the door open. Daisuke's face would always light up when he saw him, even though they'd planned to get together that day anyway.

But that was not what happened this time.

Instead, when Ken opened Daisuke's bedroom door and said, "I'm here, Motomiya," he froze to stare at his best friend, mouth agape.

Daisuke was reclining on a towel on his bed, stark naked, still dripping from the bath, his hand wrapped firmly around his— 

Oh my god.

"Keeeeennn…"

He inhaled sharply.

Because his name on Daisuke's lips…well, right now, that sounded far too much like a moan, and his best friend moaning his name while masturbating was hardly something he needed ingrained in his memory.

But, well, there it was.

And worst of all was the following moment.

Ken was still frozen to the spot and couldn't take his eyes off his very attractive and very naked best friend, and Daisuke's gaze was locked with his. He was incapable of speech, incapable of thought. Which didn't improve when, not even half a minute after moaning Ken's name, he ejaculated on the towel spread beneath his bare ass. Daisuke's eyes clenched shut, and he panted, trying to pull himself together.

But Ken released a low strangled sound, dropped his overnight bag on the floor, and finally forced his feet to move.

Within two seconds, he'd rushed from the room and slammed the door shut behind him, and he stood there, clinging to the doorknob, panting, and desperately trying not to think about what he'd just seen inside.

Still, those images and sounds would haunt his dreams.

A minute later, the doorknob started to turn, and Ken pushed away from the door, spinning to face it as a now fully-dressed Daisuke tentatively pulled it open.

For a moment, they stared at each other, both blushing and stuttering and unable to know what to say.

But after a long minute, Daisuke cleared his throat and said, "So, uh, you still staying the night?"

Ken still couldn't manage anything more than a low whimper.

Daisuke frowned and cast his gaze at their feet. "You can go home if you want. It's okay. I'd understand."

"No!" Ken was relieved to realize he'd found his voice. "No, of course not."

Daisuke looked up, grinning again. "So we're…you know, good then?"

With a solemn nod, Ken said, "Yeah, we are."

He wasn't certain it was the truth, but it would be eventually. Once the images had faded, he was sure it would be much easier.

Not that he was certain the images ever would fade.

"But," he said, his voice firm, "I will be knocking from now on."

Daisuke scratched the back of his neck as his blush came back full force. "Uh, yeah, that…that's probably a good idea."