#he could have just dropped Darkness on them and bolted again lol

[acecasinova]

Also Laz opening a door in the dungeon and seeing a direwolf and gaggle of barbarians who did not seem thrilled to be disturbed only to pause for a beat before asking ".....Y'guys seen a big glowing lady?"

Was both PEAK d&d and ALSO actually character growth for him, if you can believe it

[owlseeyoulaterpal]

Like Real People Do, Chapter Fourteen

Gale Dekarios x Named! Tav

Chapter Synopsis: It's time to take the fight to Ketheric Thorm. The battle at Moonrise leaves Seraphina with as much joy as it does despair.

18+ | MDNI

Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Four and a Half. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Chapter Nine. Chapter Nine and a Half. Chapter Ten. Chapter Eleven. Chapter Twelve. Chapter Thirteen.

Read on ao3.

Word Count: 5.7k

Notes: Oops, I took a hiatus. Shout out to anyone who endures this long ass chapter! I also can now safely say this fic will definitely not end on Chapter 16. But it also can't end on an odd number because that would irk me lol.

Learn more about my Tav, Seraphina.

Chapter Fourteen: Condemn the World

“Someone please blast the one casting this spell!”

Seraphina could barely make out Shadowheart’s shout over the yells and screams that filled the room. She coughed and winced as she rapidly blinked her eyes, struggling to see through the cloud of darkness that was cloaking her in cold and forcing acid into her lungs. She yelped as she bumped into someone who quickly grabbed her arm.

“Love, is that you?”

“Gale, follow me.”

With Gale clinging to her, Seraphina forced her way out of the blackness, her vision clearing. The assault on Moonrise had become a chaotic bloodbath. The bodies of Absolutists and Harpers littered the floor. Arrows rained down from the rafters. The stench of blood was overwhelming, and the air was full of steam from ice magic and raging fires. 

The glory of battle made Seraphina’s blood run hot.

“Tormentum!” She yelled, launching magical projectiles at the absolutist concentrating on the Hunger of Hadar cloud. A ray of frost from Gale quickly killed the warlock.

A roar came from behind her, and in a blur, a blonde elf sprinted past her, bringing down his warhammer on a cultist. Seraphina liked seeing Vadan in action again. He was a formidable warrior, if not slightly reckless – just like he was being right that moment.

Seraphina let out a choking sound as she leapt forward and used her shield to bash a cultist that was sprinting towards Vadan. The barbarian spun around and crushed the person’s skull.

“You still don’t pay attention to your right flank,” she huffed.

“Everybody keeps a cleric around for a reason,” Vadan smirked. His playful expression suddenly dropped. “Duck!”

Seraphina dropped to her knees and Vadan swung his hammer at the enemy behind her. At that same moment, she sent a witch bolt towards a paladin emerging from the central room of the Tower.

“It’s nice to see you don’t hate me,” he said, yanking her to her feet. “Still saving my hide after all this time.”

“Don’t get it twisted. I resent most things about you,” Seraphina replied. She shut her mouth immediately. Either the heat of battle, with the risk of annihilation, had made her bluntly honest or Astarion’s sharp tongue had rubbed off on her.

She zapped the paladin again and her eyes scanned the room. She relaxed as she saw that Gale was fine and skillfully freezing a few Absolutists to death.

“Just be smart,” Seraphina said quickly. Without hearing his reply, she sprinted away towards Wyll, touching his shoulder with a murmur to heal some of his wounds as he blasted at two archers on the rafters. As one was sent flying to the ground, the other dodged an eldritch blast, shooting an arrow down. Seraphina grunted as the arrow grazed her, slicing through her armor.

As she looked up, prepared to summon a spiritual weapon to maim the man, the shadows behind him shifted. Astarion leapt from the darkness, lodging his dagger in the archer’s throat. His body tumbled down, a sickening crunch ringing out as he met the stone floor.

“Harpers! We have them on the back foot. Push forward!” Jaheira shouted. The Harpers responded with a thunderous yell and, like a wave, began to close in, forcing the cultists to retreat into the main room of the Towers.

Leading the charge was Vadan. As she watched him rush forward, her skin quivered. Her chest tightened. Time seemed to slow down. An Absolutist had suddenly turned, now facing Vadan, and he was raising his sword. Slowly, ever so slowly, Seraphina could see the divine magic beginning to imbue his weapon. She forced air into her lungs as she lifted her hand and pointed at the paladin. 

Bend his luck she commanded, calling out to the Weave and Tymora.

She felt the Weave twist under her control. There was a slight flash on the sword. But then it lit up fully with a blinding white light. And the paladin swung. Bile rose up in her throat as she watched the smite come down onto Vadan. As his chest caved in, a cry escaped Seraphina. But he still stood.

She blinked and time was normal again as Vadan stumbled back, raising his hammer, but the paladin swung again. With the second smite, Vadan’s body crumbled to the ground. As soon as he fell, Karlach swung her axe up, slicing through the paladin’s jaw and face, killing him.

“Vadan!” Seraphina yelped. As she fell to her knees next to him, she croaked another pained sound. His eyes were wide, but unseeing. His breastplate was destroyed, and she could see into his inner chest cavity.

“No. No. No no no,” she chanted as she pulled out a healing potion. She could feel and vaguely hear the soldiers and her own party rushing past her. The fight seemed to vanish for a moment as she focused in on Vadan’s body in front of her. Her breathing quickened as sobs shook her body. 

“Come, cub,” Jaheira’s voice drifted in and out of Seraphina’s ears. “There is a battle to be fought yet.”

“We can’t leave him here. We have to help him.”

“He is gone. He will not rise again.”

“Then I must pray for his soul,” Seraphina choked out.

“You will die if you stay here,” the druid insisted. “Battle is not the time for mourning the fallen, lest we join them. Come. We must finish this.”

The sorcerer looked up, taking in the carnage around her, and looked back down at Vadan’s body in front of her. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her hands to his chest.

“Lady Luck, I commend this brave soul to your care. Vadan bravely embraced risk and faced the unknown,” she murmured quickly. “Though the dice have fallen and his journey here has ended, I trust your favor and the winds of fortune to carry Vadan to your side, where he may bask in your eternal light.”

She cursed herself for forgetting the full prayer, but…there was no time. Jaheira yanked on her arm again and Seraphina looked back once more before her feet carried her up the stairs, after her companions, and towards the roof of Moonrise. 

Numbness was all she felt as they battled Ketheric Thorm. Even as they whittled him down with the great help of Dame Aylin, it didn’t feel like they were winning. It felt like Beshaba herself had intervened when the General disappeared with the aasimar. 

Seraphina gazed down into the amalgamation of flesh and tendons that extended down, down, down into the tower, a menacing pinkish glow emanating out of the abyss. If any of them had any hope of survival, there was only one path forward. There was no choice.

She had jumped headfirst into the Hells to challenge an archdevil. This would be no different. A Hellwhisper didn’t run from danger. She didn’t run from it. Not from the danger that threatened her life, the life of her friends, and all the Sword Coast. Not from the evil that had taken Vadan’s life.

She turned back to her party and dropped to her knees, shaking several potion bottles of out her pack.

“Drink one of these. All of you. We’re going in after him now.”

x x x

“Oh hells,” Seraphina muttered. She clutched her lucky coin and recited a prayer to Tymora. If she was even still listening.

“I’m starting to realize it is a horrible idea to keep following you around,” Astarion chimed in.

“If you all had helped me locate a crèche, perhaps we wouldn’t be here,” Lae’zel whispered.

“Can you all shut your traps? That’s Gortash up there!” Karlach hissed.

Even as their party bickered and tried to determine the best strategy, there was one voice Seraphina didn’t hear. She turned, searching for her love, and her body went cold as she found him standing off to the side, his face painted with distress as he clutched his chest.

“Look at that crown,” Gale murmured. “It radiates with power unlike anything I’ve ever seen. To have it…to hold…if only I could…”

“Gale?” Seraphina approached him, placing a hand on his arm.

He shook his head, not looking at her.

“This is it. I must do as Mystra commands.”

Seraphina’s eyes widened as fear coursed through her. No. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

“Gale, no. You can’t do this. You’ll kill all of us!”

“What choice do I have? This isn’t just about Mystra or myself; whole worlds hang in the balance.”

Seraphina grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down closer to her. She wasn’t going to let him die. They weren’t going to die today. They couldn’t.

“Forget all of that. Listen to me: You can choose me. You can choose us, and we’ll find a way to end this together,” she pleaded.

“And if we don’t?”

“Then we’ll fail and die together, but at least we did it on our own terms. At least it was a choice we made, not one that was demanded of us by the gods. But we’ll try. We will.”

Gale squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead against Seraphina’s, his jaw clenched. Tears welled in her eyes.

“Please. Please, Gale. I love you. I love you enough to keep living and keep trying.”

“I love you too,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “More than myself. More than Mystra.”

He leaned back, lifting a hand to cup her face, his thumb caressing her cheekbone.

“You’ve shown me so much already,” Gale said. “I’ll trust you. Even if I condemn the world, I choose you,” Gale said. She grabbed his hand that held her face and squeezed it.

“Then let’s do the impossible,” she whispered.

x x x

Though they had done exactly that, it didn’t feel right.

Even as all her companions stood around her, alive and well, if not battered and bruised, something felt off. They had returned to camp, drinking and laughing and their victory, while bodies sapped of their warmth and souls, including Vadan’s, laid under freshly dug mounds of dirt.

She sat away from the celebrations, gazing off into the darkness near the river. She filled her goblet again, the bottle that she’d snuck away for herself nearing its end. She thought of Vadan’s doting parents, his goofy and adorable little sister, and his twin. Oh, gods, his twin. She wondered if Almar felt it when Vadan’s soul left this plane.

She’d buried comrades before, but never someone that she had thought she would be with until her last day. Someone that a part of her still loved, even after everything. He’d died and her luck hadn’t been enough to save him. Did she even have any luck at all? Beshaba’s offer crept at the edges of her mind.

And then Gale’s chuckle reached her ears. He wasn’t dead. He hadn’t blown himself and their entire party up at the command of a cruel goddess. He chose to believe in Seraphina and the hope that they could find another way. That counted for something. 

Seraphina let out a shaky breath and wiped the tears from her face.

“Drinking by yourself is hardly a proper way to enjoy a victory.”

The tiefling jumped as the High Harper sat down next to her.

“I needed time alone,” Seraphina replied.

“Your wizard is waiting for you. Even if you’re not there, he makes up for it with how much he goes on and onabout you,” the druid laughed.

Sweet, sweet Gale. She should be wrapped up in him right now, but he deserved better than to suffer her moping.

“I have a confession to make, if you can endure someone’s company at the moment,” Jaheira said. Seraphina glanced at her.

“I...I was happy for Vadan when he told me that he had found love. Admittedly, I already had my suspicions when he kept asking for the same Tymoran cleric to be given clearance to accompany him on his missions,” the half-elf chuckled. “I traveled with the one I loved. There is hardly a better feeling than fighting side-by-side and then getting to rest together when the sun sets.”

Seraphina nodded, turning to look over her shoulder at her companions. Her eyes drifted towards Gale, flushed from the wine and laughing with Karlach and Halsin. He seemed lighter, almost bouncing on his feet. They would get to rest together tonight…at some point.

“But then the reports began to pile up. The reports that the cleric was getting my Harpers, including Vadan, injured with their wild magic surges. You see, Vadan had failed to mention that little detail.”

Seraphina stared into her goblet, watching the ripples in the wine. She would never forget those adventures. She thought her and Vadan were invincible. She was so naïve. 

“But he swore that you were worth the risk. Not just for him, but for the Harpers as a whole. He said that you were resilient, powerful, and determined to vanquish evil wherever you found it. He told me that his wild love could serve us well.”

Seraphina’s stomach churned. She could hear Vadan’s voice now.

“My wild love,” he chuckled as he cut away the vines that had entangled him after she had a wild magic surge. 

“My wild love,” he murmured as he kissed her awake, sunlight streaming in through a gap in the tent.

“I believed him until the…incident in the Dessarin Valley,” Jaheira continued, bringing Seraphina back for a minute.

Seraphina immediately drained her glass, forcing her body to focus on the function of swallowing, on the warmth that that the wine was spreading through her. Focus on blinking. Focus on breathing. Anything to keep from remembering the blood on her hands.

“Are you listening, cub? Do you remember?” Jaheira asked.

The tiefling gulped.

“I wouldn’t be able to forget it,” Seraphina replied bitterly. The memories began to swim behind her lids. 

Flashes of the brutal battle in the Valley, fighting off cultists attempting to summon powerful entities from the Elemental Planes. She was there again, horror and fear piercing her heart as a wild magic surge sent out a wave of necrotic magic from her body. Harpers collapsed around her, some dead. She watched Vadan fall again in her mind’s eye, the veins in his body turning a sickly black and green as the magic nearly consumed him. The image shifted and suddenly it was his cold, dead body on the floor of Moonrise.

“Why have you come to talk to me, Jaheira?” the sorcerer said much more sharply than she intended.

“Because after you nearly wiped out an entire squadron of my Harpers, I told Vadan that you were no longer allowed to travel with us. I told him that he should leave you before you got him killed,” Jaheira took a sip of her wine. “He took his leave for the wedding and then suddenly, he came right back. Told me that I was right about you. But now, after today…”

Seraphina refilled her glass and looked over, expecting to see disgust and hatred on the druid’s face, only to see…admiration.

“After today, I see that I was wrong. I misjudged you and I could not have been more wrong. You have slain Ketheric Thorm and, without hesitation, you are marching on to slay the rest of the Chosen of the Dead Three. I…I apologize for leading Vadan away from you,” Jaheira murmured. “I feel as if I robbed you two of happiness. Maybe you wouldn’t even have a tadpole in your head if you had married. Maybe he wouldn’t have fallen today.”

Seraphina looked over to Gale again. This time, his eyes flicked up and he met her gaze. His smile grew, lopsided and silly, and he winked at her. She sighed, feeling overwhelmed by the thread that was pulling her towards him, as if she needed to by his side.

No. She did need to be by his side. They never would’ve met if Vadan hadn’t left her. If she hadn’t been in Yartar that fateful day, the mind flayer ship wouldn’t have taken her to the beach where she met the man that made her soul feel more peace and confidence than she ever thought possible. The man who needed her as much as she needed him. Everything had led to this moment.

“I appreciate the apology, Jaheira, but there really is no need. Vadan and I…our relationship served a purpose for both of us. We changed each other. We made good, bad, and ugly memories together,” Seraphina replied. “But I’m glad that he didn’t come to our wedding that day. I was angry for a long time. Hells, if you had said that to me a few months ago, I probably would’ve snapped.”

Her and Jaheira chuckled.

“But I ended up right where I needed to be,” Seraphina continued. “And I suppose Vadan did too. He was…he was a fierce warrior. A man who would give a stranger the clothes off his back. He died trying to destroy the Absolute today and we will march on in his memory.”

Jaheira lifted her goblet.

“To Vadan,” she smiled sadly.

“To Vadan,” Seraphina repeated. They both took a sip from their glasses.

“Now, let’s get you away from this gloomy shore,” Jaheira said. She stood and held down a hand to the cleric, pulling her to her unsteady feet.

“As much as you mourn tonight, you should celebrate those you have by your side,” Jaheira continued. She smiled as she shooed the younger woman away.

Seraphina blinked rapidly to try and clear her vision and made her way over to the fire. Gale smiled at her as she approached, and he set down his goblet before wordlessly and firmly grasping her waist and pulling her close to him. He hummed happily as she melted into his touch. His forwardness was a welcome surprise. She didn’t want to take the lead. She wanted him to take her hand and guide her out of the despair she was in and towards pleasure or sleep in his arms.

“I thought I was going to go mad if you stayed away any longer,” Gale whispered, his breath tickling Seraphina’s ear. His hands glided across her body, his arms now fully wrapped around her and encasing her against him. She could feel the thud of his heart against her cheek, echoing all around her.

Suddenly, Gale leaned back, shaking his head.

“Gods, I forget myself. I’m sorry. How are you doing?” he asked, his eyes no longer half-lidded and hazy, but wide with concern. He lifted one hand and brushed her bangs away from her face.

“I…I’m alright,” Seraphina murmured.

“Truly? Are you sure? If you want to talk about what happened or about Vadan, I understand. My ears are here if you have need of them.”

Seraphina nodded. Of course he was attempting to check on her, as if he wasn’t on the verge of self-destruction mere hours ago. She didn’t deserve him. She pushed herself onto her toes and pressed her forehead to his, closing her eyes.

“Thank you, Gale,” she sighed. “Maybe another night, but tonight I just want to be with you and think of nothing else.”

Gale pulled away and looked at her skeptically. As much as she adored how he cared for her, his concern wasn’t what she wanted right now. Seraphina softly grabbed his face and kissed him. His lips immediately began to move against hers, gently, like she was a glass that he was afraid of shattering.

“Hey! Get a room you two!”

Something bounced off Seraphina’s head and she separated from Gale to see a stale bread roll on the ground. Karlach had her arm raised, prepared to launch another. 

“Let them have their moment, Karlach,” Wyll laughed. “Things could’ve ended quite horribly for all of us today.”

Karlach sighed.

“Fine. Fine. At least someone is having some serious fun tonight,” she said.

“Oh, you don’t have to go to bed alone, Karlach,” Astarion commented.

“Are you offering, Fangs?”

“Ha! No, but I was going to remind you about that ‘old eye’ you said Withers was giving you.”

A tug on her waist.

Seraphina turned to Gale, who nodded towards his tent.

“Join me?” Gale asked. Though his smile was gentle and sweet, the way that his eyes darted to her lips and his grip on her waist betrayed his true desires. Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt a flutter between her thighs.

“Of course,” Seraphina whispered.

Without another word to the others, the two slipped away and into Gale’s tent. He immediately dispelled the darkness with a quick casting of dancing lights, the tiny orbs bouncing near the roof, casting everything in a blue glow.

Seraphina wrapped her arms around Gale’s neck and pulled him close. Gale rested his hands on her hips, his head going to the crook of her neck. She heard him inhale deeply, his nose and lips ghosting across her skin.

“How nice it is to simply be here with you,” he whispered. 

“Mmm,” Seraphina hummed. “I couldn’t agree more. You’re alive and that means the world to me.”

They stood there for a moment, their hands wandering over each other’s bodies, aimless beyond the simple goal of touching the other. Her hands carded through his walnut and silver hair, gently massaging his scalp. One of his hands rubbed up and down her torso while the other repeated the same motion down her spine. Then, the hand on her spine crept to the base of her tail and began to softly stroke the appendage.

A small squeak left Seraphina’s lips as Gale applied more pressure on the underside of her tail. She felt him smile against her skin as he fully wrapped his hand around it, his thumb now making circles over the topside.

“Someone’s been studying tiefling anatomy,” she said breathlessly, her chuckle turning into a gasp as he suddenly squeezed her tail and began to leave hot openmouthed kisses along her neck and collarbone, making her knees weak.

“I may have read up on the topic while I was teaching myself a bit of Infernal,” Gale murmured, raising his head and kissing her cheek. “One should always take the time to know and understand their lover’s body. Though now is the time for putting my knowledge to the test, hmm?”

“Yes, a bit of hands-on experimentation is in order.”

He pulled away and lifted her chin, his thumb brushing her lower lip.

“Tydd py smiz haf silz,” Gale whispered, his tongue clumsily wrapping around the harsh, guttural sounds, but Seraphina understood what he meant. It was incredibly endearing, and a shudder ran through her.

Tell me what you want.

“Yaf,” she replied. 

Gale smirked as his hand moved from her chin to her jaw and he pulled her into a kiss that was all too brief. 

“Yaf mijy py las vorv oaryjyrpary, ph wsyyz Syriemuli. Wmiz va haf silz ul zmuw papylz?”

You have me now and forevermore, my sweet Seraphina. What do you want in this moment?

Seraphina bit her lip.

“I want to feel your skin on mine, ph wsyyz aly. I want you to kiss me until you’re the only thing I can think about,” she moaned as his hands squeezed her ass, pulling her against him. He grunted as she rolled her hips against the bulge growing in his trousers.

“Then allow me to provide,” Gale pressed a kiss to Seraphina’s temple before slowly and carefully helping her down onto her back on his bedroll. She noticed his hand tremble as it glided down her thigh and she took it into her own hand, kissing each of his fingers.

“You don’t have to be nervous. We can just go to sleep if you wish,” Seraphina murmured.

“No. I want this. I want you,” Gale said quickly. His gaze darted behind her, and he cleared his throat. “It’s simply been some…some time since I’ve been with someone on this plane.” 

She smiled against his hand.

“We can go as slowly as you wish. We’ll only do what you desire,” Seraphina whispered.

Gale’s eyes found hers again and she squeezed her thighs together at his smoldering expression, his chest quickly rising and falling as he nearly panted.

“I died today and instead here I am,” Gale smiled. “With you, the most incredible person I have ever been so lucky to meet. I want to feel everything with you tonight. If you truly indulge my desires, we’ll be in this tent for a tenday.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. How was it even possible for him to believe that? Seraphina struggled to push her thoughts away as Gale’s nimble hands pulled off her clothes. Her racing thoughts halted for a minute when she removed Gale’s soft, satin purple shirt.

Her hands moved of their own volition, pressing on his chest with her claws grazing through the soft layer of hair that trailed down into his trousers, over his well-defined stomach. Gale groaned at her touch.

“Gods, look at you,” she whispered, her hands moving back up and passing over his nipples, making Gale hiss. “You’re so handsome, Gale.”

“I never expected such a compliment to be directed my way, but who am I to argue with your impeccable taste?"

Gale softly caressed her neck, his own hands traveling over her chest and torso.

“I can hardly compare to you,” he said. She squirmed under his reverent stare and touch.

“Your beauty is beyond description. I don’t believe a statue or painting could capture it all,” he continued breathlessly. She moaned as Gale’s hands continued their path, his fingers delicately gliding over the ridges that curved around the underside of her breasts.

“How could you say that about me?” she murmured. Gale’s eyes snapped up from her torso to her face, but she refused to look at him. 

“How couldn’t I?”

“The horns…my eyes…all of it. I’m the type of thing that parents talk about in stories to scare their children,” she grumbled. “I’m an omen. A monster. A devil.” He grabbed Seraphina’s chin and pulled up, forcing her to look at him.

“You could never frighten me,” he whispered. “One look from you is enough to make me shiver, but that tremble doesn’t come from fear.”

With one hand, he grabbed one of hers and guided it to the bulge in his pants. They both gasped and he rolled his hips into her palm.

“See and feel what you do to me. You are the most beautiful person I have ever met. The most gorgeous being in all the planes. No one could compare – divine, devil, or mortal,” Gale murmured. He moved her hand from his crotch and pinned it to next to her head.

“You are not an omen. Don’t you dare describe your light and goodness in such a way,” he continued, kissing her. “Your soul is capable of so much love, more than I ever thought possible or considered myself worthy of. The fact that we lay here together now and aren’t reduced to ashes is proof of that. The city of Elturel is on Toril again because of you and all that you are capable of.”

Gale kissed Seraphina’s forehead, one hand carefully stroking the area where her horns began to protrude from her head.

“I am so lucky that it was you by my side in that colony. Had it been me alone or with anyone else…” he started and then shook his head. “I should fall to my knees and thank the Smiling Lady that our paths crossed. But she has nothing to do with how amazing you are, so I will worship you instead.”

He pressed more adoring kisses to the freckles that dotted her skin as he crawled backwards, settling on his stomach as he gave her a wicked look from between her legs.

“Name your desire, my love,” Gale said. Even as he sat there, sinfully looking between her dripping cunt and her eyes, she blushed from his sweet words. 

My love.

She began to speak, and a whine escaped instead as he nipped the inside of her thigh. His tongue quickly swept over the small injury, and he proceeded to softly suck on the spot, certain to leave behind a bruise. The thought of how many love bites and bruises she would have come morning sent a shiver down her spine.

“My love, I must hear you tell me what you want,” Gale smiled up at her.

“I want your tongue on me. In me. Please,” she whimpered.

“Hold your legs, dearest,” Gale instructed, and Seraphina quickly complied, gripping the backs of her knees and pulling her legs back. Gale’s brown eyes swam with hot desire as he gazed at her cunt. He took his thumbs and parted her lips, a sigh escaping both Gale and Seraphina at the motion.

“You are perfect in every way,” he breathed, pressing his lips to the backs of her thighs, inching closer and closer to where she wanted him. Seraphina heard him utter something and, suddenly, a familiar bubble of Silence formed around them.

“I think our friends have heard more than enough,” Gale said gruffly. He looked into Seraphina’s eyes as he licked a long stripe up her folds, both letting out low moans as he began to circle around her clit.

She moaned as she fell apart beneath his tongue, allowing pleasure to wash away – or at least cover up – the pain from the day. Tears and stars alike swam in her vision as Gale continued lapping at her, his tongue swirling and sucking at her clit, two curled fingers pumping in and out of her.

“You taste divine,” Gale mumbled as he briefly pulled away from her. “The most intoxicating, sweet nectar that has ever touched my tongue.”

Time became a blur as she laid back and allowed him to devour her. The ringing in Seraphina’s ears from her rushing blood blocked out the rest of Gale’s praise as she came again and again under his touch, crying out his name.

“Gale, please. I need more,” she whimpered while he crawled his way up from between her legs, his lips and beard coated in her slick.

“I will never leave you wanting. I swear that to you.”

He quickly tossed his trousers aside and Seraphina got onto her knees, reaching for his cock, but he stopped her hand.

“I want to be inside you more than anything else in this moment,” Gale explained, kissing her. “I cannot endure another second not being completely wrapped up in you. There will be time for that later.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Seraphina said.

Gale gently pushed her back onto the bedroll and he held onto her thigh as he slid inside her. He let out a deep guttural groan as she gasped.

“Oh hells…you’re so…warm,” he moaned.

“Is this your first time lying with a tiefling?” she asked, biting her lip.

“Yes – ah – I’ve never felt anyone like you,” Gale squeezed her hips and clenched his jaw. His eyes flew open again. 

“I love you,” Gale gasped as he slowly began to move.

“I love you too,” Seraphina breathed, her hands moving from his shoulders to tangle in his hair, pulling him down and capturing his lips in a searing kiss. 

He wrapped both of his arms around her waist, simultaneously squeezing her into a tight embrace and forcing an arch into her back. At that angle, each thrust from Gale brushed against her clit, pushing whines and gasps out of Seraphina. He moaned as her wet, warm walls clenched around him, pulling him in deeper.

She dragged her claws down his back and Gale gasped, his entire body shivering as he suddenly gave a hard, deep thrust, his head dropping to her shoulder.

“Do that again. Please,” he murmured against her skin. Seraphina obliged, slightly digging in her nails and tracing down his spine, and Gale moaned as he continued to thrust into her. 

He pulled away, rubbing his hands up her torso, over her breasts, and across her arms. He intertwined their fingers and pressed her hands into the ground. Seraphina sighed happily and squeezed his hands, wrapping her legs around his waist. She whimpered as he began to thrust harder, but he didn’t quicken his pace, still pushing in and pulling out so, so slowly, as if he was memorizing every unique ridge. Each delicious, slow drag of his cock sent shockwaves from her core.

“You feel so good,” Seraphina moaned. “Please don’t hold back. Give me everything.”

Gale moaned at her words, and he started to thrust faster.

“Everything? Are you sure?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Seraphina grinned as he pulled another moan from her and his hands grabbed onto her hips.

“I don’t wear this ring because it’s pretty,” she said, tapping the ring on her right hand. “Give me everything.”

“You will have to tell me more about that enchantment later, but for now I will simply appreciate its existence,” Gale said. He rushed forward and kissed her deeply. 

They moaned desperately into each other’s mouths as they kissed and moved together, their hands and tongues constantly searching. Seraphina delighted in each sound Gale made as their collective pleasure crested, their simultaneous climax leaving them both gasping and whimpering as he filled her.

As they laid there quietly in the afterglow, Gale finally broke the peaceful silence.

“Sera, are you tired?”

Seraphina blinked up at him dreamily. 

“Not too tired to enjoy you again,” she whispered, trying to sound seductive through her hoarse voice. Gale instantly blushed.

“Oh! Well, I didn’t quite mean that,” he stammered but then he smirked. “Perhaps later. But I was hoping you might lend me your ear.”

“Any time.”

Seraphina listened intently as Gale enthusiastically lectured about the Crown of Karsus. She tried her best to pay attention to what he was saying, but she couldn’t help being distracted by the smile on his face and the brightness in his eyes.

He was alive. He was here and he was not dead on the floor of Moonrise or turned into nothing in the colony. He was talking about the future, even if it was just about getting to Baldur’s Gate and get his hands on an ancient tome. It was enough. He was enough. This moment, their sweaty bodies entangled, and their fingers intertwined, was enough.

[rorywritesjunk]

Down in the dark where the waves won't go, I'm bound to find my way.

Sunny and Buggy disagree over the next steps of their life together leading to them spending time apart.

Rating: PG-13 to be safe for swearing and arguing. Warning: Each chapter will have a specific warning. This chapter focuses on Buggy and Little Sunny spending the day together. Buggy doesn't necessarily have a filter and isn't always nice to her and Little Sunny is sensitive, but then again she is a kid. Word Count: 2,241 A/N: The direct sequel to "No locked upon land...", the fic that started it all. I do not use "You" in this as now that Sunny is an established OC I decided not to go that route. This will be several chapters. Originally (lol) it was just two parts but... but I had to expand but I don't expect it to go much longer than the original fic. It's a few chapters longer than the original fic.

Title comes from "Sailing Song" by S.J. Tucker

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Epilogue Taglist: @hey-august @lostfirefly @ane5e

Chapter 5

Little Sunny was awake before Buggy. He was surprised to find her in the kitchen at the stove, trying to turn it on. He rubbed his face, not wanting to deal with this, but if he said anything she’d just start crying again and he didn’t have the patience for it. He walked over and turned the stove on for her before grabbing a skillet. 

“I thought you weren’t allowed to use the stove.” He told her as he grabbed some eggs. “I can’t really cook, my wife does all of that.”

“You can’t cook?” Sunny’s draw dropped. “My papa can cook, you know.”

“Yea, well, that doesn’t matter! I can’t, okay?” Buggy huffed as he went to start the coffee. Sunny watched him with a frown before she found a bowl to crack the eggs into. He said nothing, hoping maybe he could get rid of this kid today. He just wanted his wife back.

Sunny looked over at him again as she started to whip the eggs up with a fork. Her parents always told her to be nice to people but with Mister Buggy she was finding it hard. He had been pretty mean to her since they met and she was tired of it. She took a deep breath and glared at him, surprising him just a bit.

“If you’re married then where’s your wife, huh?” She demanded. “Did she leave you because you’re a mean old man?!”

Buggy stared at her in shock, speechless by what this kid just said to him. His wife was always so kind, never mean to anyone, yet her ten year old self just called him a mean old man.

“I’m… I’m not old!” Buggy retorted. “And I’m not mean!”

“You’ve been mean to me!” She told him. “Who would marry someone so mean? I don’t want to be friends with someone who’s mean, Mister Buggy!”

“We’re not friends!” Buggy snapped at her. “You know what you are? You’re my wife’s past self being the most obnoxious brat there is! You cry at every little thing, and do it even as an adult, you know! No wonder you don’t have any friends if you cry all the time! I bet it has nothing to do with your mom being a scary pirate!”

He needed to learn to not react to every little thing. Sunny dropped the bowl of eggs but Buggy was quick, his hands hurrying over to catch it before it could hit the floor. That was the last thing he needed to happen. He carefully set it back onto the counter as he kept his eyes on her, waiting to see if she was going to bolt.

“I don’t… I just get sad a lot.” She told him as she cleared her throat, but he could hear it in her voice that she wanted to cry. “I’m not a cry baby!”

“Yea, well, you kind of are, kid.” Buggy grumbled as he got up to pour himself a cup of coffee. She glared at him and crossed her arms over her chest. He rubbed his face and took a sip. “Fine, okay, I’m sorry I have been mean to you but I’m really stressed out because my wife isn’t here and I miss my wife, and you know, maybe you’re right, kid, I am just a mean old man!”

“And stinky.”

“And stinky, yes, I’m a stinky and mean old man!” Buggy exclaimed as he went back to his seat. “It’s a wonder my wife even married me, you know, it’s not like I’m a real prize. There’s plenty of better pirates out there. She should have married that stupid Kuro of the Black Cats or whatever the hell his crew is.” He took another sip of coffee. “Stupid cat boy.”

Sunny looked back at the stove before looking at Buggy. “Can you help me?”

“I told you, I don’t really cook.” He grumbled. “That’s all my wife’s doing, but since she’s not here I’m going to end up starving.”

“I can teach you!”

“You aren’t allowed to use the stove by yourself.” Buggy rubbed his temples as he felt a headache coming on. “Just… go get Cabaji.”

“Mister Buggy…” 

He wanted to tell her to go away and leave him alone while he finished his coffee, but what good would that do? Why was he being so awful? A small part of him wondered if she would remember any of this and if it was going to affect the two of them meeting later on. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing. He was so miserable when his wife ignored him and he was miserable right now, maybe it was best if Sunny never met him. He hated that he had upset her so badly that she ended up leaving him, but maybe she’d meet someone better like Kuro or that stupid handsome swordsman or that guy who wanted to marry her before Buggy came along. All of those would have treated her better than he had been lately.

“I can just make you toast and eggs.” She told him. “I just have trouble lifting the skillet sometimes. You don’t hafta do anything.”

He rubbed his face and got up to go over to the stove. Her face lit up and she poured the eggs into the skillet. He grabbed her a spatula and handed it over to her, watching as she poked at the liquidy egg mess. She was smiling now and he realized how much he missed seeing his wife’s. Little Sunny looked at him with a bright smile on her face as she pointed to a cupboard.

“Salt and pepper, please! These are gonna be the tastiest eggs, okay, Mister Buggy?”

“Sure, kid.” He did as she requested, one hand retrieving the items while he sipped his coffee. “Whatever mess you make I’ll just have Cabaji clean. Go nuts, okay?”

She smiled even bigger and Buggy was a little pleased to see that.

~

She brushed her hair out and had Buggy rebraid her hair for her. He looked at the little hair clasps she had worn, frowning at the green gems before he put them back in her hair. While Sunny was distracted with the mirror, he opened up one of the little drawers in the vanity and rummaged around. His wife never wore the pendant she was gifted but the stones looked awfully similar.

When he pulled it out and looked at the pendant, the little girl saw it and she gasped.

“My papa made that!”

Oh, shit, Buggy didn’t really want her to see it. He had hoped to compare it to the ones on her hair clasps but it was too late. She snatched it out of his hand and looked at it, noting the little maker’s mark on the back.

“Did you steal this from my papa?” She demanded as she looked at Buggy accusingly. “Why would you do that?!”

Technically she wasn’t wrong. He did steal it from her father, just over twenty years ago. Buggy took it back from her and stuffed it back into the drawer. “Someone gave it to my wife, okay, I didn’t steal it.”

“Thief!”

“I’m a pirate!” He reminded her as he made sure her braids looked right. “Besides, I was just… looking at the pretty stones in your hair pieces. Did your papa make those too?”

“Don’t steal my hair clasps.” Sunny warned him. “Or else my mama will get mad at you.”

“I’m not going to steal them!”

Sunny narrowed her eyes before grabbing one of her braids and bringing it over her shoulder to look at the clasp, touching one of the stones. “He made them for me for my birthday. He finds these pretty green stones and puts them into jewelry. They’re called moss agate.”

It wasn’t gold or silver so Buggy didn’t really care what they were called but considering these rocks seem to be doing something involving time jumps, he was thinking maybe they needed to chuck the pendant overboard when his wife returned.

‘Okay, whatever.” He grumbled. “Let’s get off this ship and go for a walk, how’s that sound? Maybe we’ll find your parents.” He hoped. He couldn’t deal with this anymore. He wanted her gone.

~

Sunny held his hand as they stepped off the ship. She didn’t want to get separated from him. Buggy tried to recall how his wife was able to get the kid to go back but he couldn’t quite remember. He just wanted her gone and for him to move on with his life. 

Getting back to the lake was no easy feat. Little Sunny kept getting distracted, wanting to pet some dogs, say hi to people, coo over a baby, even chasing after some birds. It was kind of precious but at this point Buggy just wanted things to be normal again. How did his own wife handle him as a kid? This was exhausting and it hasn't even been 24 hours yet.

He lost sight of her for a few minutes before finding her crouched on the sidewalk with other kids. They were drawing colorful images with chalk and had invited her over. Buggy stayed back for a moment, seeing how much she smiled as she chatted with the kids. He gave her a few minutes to draw with them.

He still had trouble believing his wife was lonely as a kid. She had always talked about having cousins to play with, but how could she say she didn't have friends? Why did she never tell him about her baby brother? If his wife showed back up at the ship then maybe he could talk to her and get some answers. He hated that she never told these things to him. 

She knew so much about him from taking care of his kid self for a few days that he realized he didn't know much about her growing up. He knew that her and her parents moved a few times, and that she became an apprentice at 14. She was the nicest person Buggy ever met which is why he had fallen in love with her, but in the end what did he have to offer her?

Little Sunny looked up when she saw Buggy standing there. She quickly dropped the chalk and stood up, thinking he was going to get mad at her, but he just looked away.

“You can keep playing, kid, I don't care.” He told her, not wanting to see how her face lit up or how happy she was. She picked the chalk back up and went back to drawing, chatting with her new friends as he hung around. A few minutes passed and she was tugging on his sleeve to get his attention, leaving a colorful handprint. He saw the mark and managed not to have a meltdown over it. Instead he looked to see where she was pointing.

“I drew that for you!” She told him as she pointed to the scribbled Jolly Roger on the ground. He recognized it as his own and he ignored how he felt himself choke up at seeing it. The nose was bigger than it needed to be, but the marks over the eyes were blue like his own makeup. The bones were different lengths and the skull was almost egg-shaped. Sunny somehow managed to get chalk smudges all over her face but she looked so proud of her artwork that Buggy decided to try his hardest to be nice. The delayed response from him had Sunny thinking maybe she did a bad job or that he was mad at her, so she went over to it and tried to scuff it away with her shoe. “I'm sorry, Mister Buggy! It-It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“Kid, hey, it's… it's fine. It's great art.” He told her as he grabbed her arm, pulling her away from it. The red from the nose was smeared around the drawing. “I just…needed a moment.”

“Really?” She looked up at him. He didn't look angry. He was a little red in the face but maybe his stomach hurt. Sometimes her papa looked that way after eating too much. Maybe Buggy just needed a hug, so she put her arms around him and hugged him gently. He stiffened up when she did that, but he put his hand on her head and sighed.

“C'mon, kid, let's get back to our walk, okay?” He said. “Say bye to these brats and let's get going.”

“Okay!” She was back to smiling brightly which had Buggy wishing he wasn't such an asshole to her at times. He loved seeing his wife smile at him and he needed to make sure the kid stayed smiling. He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, before exhaling and looking down at Sunny. She had taken hold of his hand, looking up at him with red and blue chalk dust smeared on her face.

“Look, kid, let's… go get a snack.” He suggested. “I think there's a place that sells crepes or something. How does that sound?”

Buggy was certain she could have lit up the darkest room with how she smiled at the suggestion. It was infectious and his own lips twitched into a smile before he led her down the street, hoping some kind of vendor was around. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

[mythicalcowboyatheart]

 Nightmare dressed like a daydream 

Rating: sfw?

Warnings: knife and murder mentioned, descriptions of violence, Spencer is an asshole, the word boy is used a few times but other than that gn reader.

An: Yes i got the title from a T Swift song don't judge lol. Part 1 right here! I might do a part 3 idk yet.

You screamed as you ran from the masked figure. You got to the stairs before you felt someone grab your left leg. You screamed louder as you reared back your foot and kicked your attacker in the face. The figure groaned in pain and swore under his breath. With the kick you broke free and bolted up the stairs as you ran to your room but before you could close the bedroom door the door was shoved open and you were thrown on the floor from the force. There the figure stood menacingly looming over you as you tried backing away from him. But he was faster and bent down and grabbed you by your hair before moving to straddle your hips so you can't move, you tried to strike him with your fists but he again was faster and grabbed your hand about to hit him and then your other and pinned them above your head with one swift movement. “Please just let me go!” you sobbed. The masked figure then pulled something from his cloak. “No please no!” You begged as he raised the object you know recognized as some sort of hunting knife. He raised it up to your face and stroked the side of your face with the dull side as you continued to cry. He shushed you almost kindly. You recognized that tone of voice. “Spence?” You asked, trying to speak clearly, threw your sobs. The masked figure sets the knife down just out of your reach, and removes the mask to reveal your boyfriend of almost one year Spencer Charnas. ”Why?” you croaked “Oh darling…” he kindly spoke leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Don't act like you don't know.” his eyes grew dark. This was no longer the man you loved and cared for. “No I don't, Spence.” You say trying to get out of his grip. He dropped the mask in his hand and used it to grab each of your hands and used them to pin one hand on each side of your head. You hit your head on the floor because of the force he used to pin your arms. “Stop fighting me Y\N!” Spencer yelled this time, his calm demeanor now gone. “Why are you doing this Spencer?” You said somehow sobbing even more than you were. “Why?” He screamed, making you flinch. “Because you're my final boy Y/N!” He shouted with a cheshire cat ear to ear grin. “Your what?” you  sounded confused. “MY FINAL BOY! Come on Y/N/N! How many slashes have we watched together and you don't know what a final boy is?!” Spencer continued to shout. You still were visibly confused. “The person who makes it to the end of the movie! The survivor! They get crowned the final boy or girl!” “Survivor? I'm not a survivor?” “Oh yes you are my love! You remember your ex Jake?” you shook your head yes. “Well he's strung up on his parents lawn! He looks like a goddamn pinata with the way his guts are hanging out!” Spencer darkly chuckled. Your eyes widened. “And I'm assuming you know your mommy and daddy?” “NO!” you screamed attempting to move again. “Well they are in the garage with their throats slit open!” “WHY?!” You sobbed out. “I killed Jake because he cheated on you and broke your heart, so I ripped his out! And your parents tried to keep you away from me and we couldn't have that now can we?” you took too long to answer for his liking “CAN WE!” he got louder and slammed your hands down again. “No.” you whimpered out. Spencer leaned down again and kissed your forehead. “Exactly! This is why you're the final boy.”

[hollybell51]

ok so i had this idea for a while and i was wondering if you'd write it? i love your work so much your jack frost fic is just so 😭😭😭 and your jim hawkins one just 👌👌👌

anyways basically thomas x girl reader where the reader was taken by wckd and then was in the train but she got seperated from minho and felt really guilty about it because she couldn't find him and she was thomas's girlfriend before she got captured but becaus its been like months shes worried that he doesnt love her anymore but he reassures her that he stilll does and comforts her and all that

ovb optional but it'd be so cool if you'd write it again i literally love your stuff so much🥰

Ok first off, thank you so much! I'm so glad you're enjoying my little hobbie! Also wow you really had this in detail huh. I like it, here goes nothing.

I didn't realise how much I'd miss you

Series masterlist, masterpost

Thomas x fem!Reader

The Death Cure (2018 film - Wes Ball) (I see you, "wckd", anon your movie fan is showing lol)

Word count: 1603

Summary: Anon asked and I delivered. You were taken by WCKD and rescued, alas without Minho. Returning to Thomas is great, but the guilt is eating you up. And what if absence doesn't make the heart grow fonder after all?

Content: hurt/comfort (physical and emotional), kissing, fluff, angst, "I love you"s, whump?? kinda.

Notes: ugh I love hurt/comfort so much thanks for this suggestion, I hope I did it justice!

You watched the sparks flying from the door, not really paying attention to anything. The other kids in the train weren’t any different, all of them quiet and subdued. Your wrists were stinging fiercely, a sharp reminder of your own failure to keep your friend from being taken. Minho’s look of dread was burned into your mind, the way he struggled against the WCKD guards as they dragged him away, leaving you behind.

Light streamed into the dim compartment, making you squint against the glare. Several others raised hands to their faces, murmuring exclamations or simply staring. Two figures walked slowly down the corridor, but you could only make out their silhouettes so far. Another figure followed them, stopping to hug someone close to where you knew Aris and Sonya were, then the person next to them.

The first two people were visible now, and it took your brain a second to register what you were actually seeing. It was Thomas, followed closely by Newt. Their hair had grown out and they looked a little older, but it was definitely them.

“Thomas?” you whispered, your voice hoarse from disuse.

His head jerked up, his eyes scanning the darkness. “(Y/N)? Is that you?”

“Yeah,” you said, “yeah, it’s me.”

He hurried down the space between the rows of seats, dropping to his knees beside you. Gently, he raised a hand to your face, his fingers brushing the bruises and cuts you knew were scattered over your skin. “What happened to you?” he breathed, a wrinkle forming between his brows.

You were stopped from answering by Newt, who joined Thomas, frowning at your shackled wrists.

“Bolt cutters,” he said, and someone handed him a pair.

Within minutes you were out of the chains, and Thomas’s arm was around your back, helping you stand. Your legs were shaky, and you stumbled a few times as you exited the dim confines of the transport container, emerging into blinding sunlight.

You raised a hand to your face, shielding your eyes while they adjusted to the sudden glare. All around you, people were moving in a frenzy of activity, kids straggling in thin lines from other containers like the one you were in, forming a huge crowd next to…

You did a double take. You were standing near a beach, and in the shallow water was a massive ship. It was under heavy repair, and looked like it could fall apart any moment, but it was still awe-inspiring. In fact, it was the first and largest ship you’d ever seen. 

It suddenly struck you that this was the first time you’d been by the sea. God, you wished Minho could have seen this. You could hear his laughter, practically see him pointing at the waves crashing against the sand. Your stomach twisted.

You inhaled deeply, flushing your lungs of the cloying stench of terrified teenagers stuffed into a shipping container, replacing it instead with the bitter tang of the ocean. The ocean. 

“We can skip Vince’s welcome speech,” Thomas said quietly, jerking you back to the present. “I wanna get those fixed up.” He eyed your wrists pointedly, then drew you with him into a tent that you hadn’t even noticed until he pushed back the flap. You’d been too busy revelling in the ship and the sea.

You stood in the middle of the space, not sure what to do with yourself. Thomas turned back to face you, and seeing your confusion, motioned for you to sit down on an ancient looking armchair. You did so, giving a satisfied sigh as the decaying foam seemed to pull you into itself, in a way that was decidedly motherly. You watched as Thomas rummaged through a few draws, finally coming over to you with a box labelled “first aid.”

Wordlessly, he rolled up your sleeves, then got up and went over to a jerry-can. He filled a bowl with water, brought it back over and knelt on the ground before you, frowning in concentration as he dabbed at the blood on your skin. His movements were methodical as he rubbed a strong-smelling cream into the cuts made by the shackles, then grabbed a cotton bandage and wrapped it gently around one wrist, following it with another one on your other hand.

“How did this happen?” he asked eventually, dabbing at a deeper cut above your eyes.

“Fought back,” you said simply, wincing as he moved on to the next one.

“Sorry,” he muttered, moving on to the last bruise – a hefty purple stain on your jaw. “Is that all?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, then bit your lip. “They took Minho, before you guys arrived.”

“Is that…?” he touched your bandaged wrists, and you nodded again.

“I tried to get to him, to stop them, but they were too strong and I was tied up.” Your voice cracked, and you turned your face away, embarrassed by the tears you could feel forming in your eyes. You couldn’t tell him what had happened leading up the transfer, couldn’t tell him about the months of “simulated variables” and daily drawing – no, draining – of your blood, the isolation that came with not even being able to see others at meal times. WCKD had learnt not to let you be together. There was strength in numbers, even more so when you were desperate. 

“Hey,” Thomas said softly now, gently cupping your cheek with a large hand, “it wasn’t your fault. Don’t beat yourself up about it.” His skin was warm and rougher than you remembered. There were new callouses and the familiar ones were harder than before.

“I should have…”

“No, (Y/N), look at me.” His eyes scanned your face, serious and sincere. “It’s gonna be ok, we’ll get him back.”

“Ok,” you said. “Ok.”

Thomas rose, packing away the first aid kit and placing it back in the draw. You watched, unsure. There hadn’t been a day that had gone by when you hadn’t thought about him. His absence, while it meant that he was sparred the torture you endured, was like a physical wound in your chest. The ache of not hearing his voice, not seeing him, not feeling him with you was like nothing you’d ever experienced. 

But, you wondered, did he feel the same? He hadn’t been alone, he’d had everyone else with him the whole time. Newt, Brenda, all the Right Arm’s people who hadn’t been captured. He’d been just as gentle with you, just as tender as he had every other time he’d touched you. He’d spoken to you as he always did, but somehow you didn’t think that things were just going to go back to how they were before your capture. 

You stood stiffly, crossing the room to stand a few paces behind him. Your fingers worked at the hem of your shirt, butterflies swirling in your stomach. Thomas turned, looked at you, then closed the gap. He didn’t hesitate to fold you into his arms, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “About all of it.” 

“Wasn’t you,” you replied past the lump in your throat. “I…” You choked, and finally, you let out all the fear and pain and stress of the last eight months, breaking down into sobs in Thomas’s arms. He rocked you gently, whispering “it’s gonna be ok” and “it’s alright” and “you’re ok” and “I’m here” into your hair.

“I missed you,” you sniffed when you’d calmed down enough to talk.

“Yeah?” he asked, rubbing circles on your back. You nodded, then lifted your face to study every detail of his expression. It may have been your imagination, but the line between his eyebrows that appeared whenever he frowned – which was often – seemed to have gotten deeper since you’d last seen him. His eyes looked darker too, like he didn’t spend enough time sleeping and too much time dwelling on sadness. But still he smiled at you, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Yeah,” you said. 

He smiled again, the same smile whose memory had been the only light in the smothering darkness of WCKD. “I missed you too,” he replied. “I didn’t realise how much I’d miss you if you weren’t here.” 

“I don’t want to ever go anywhere without you again.” 

He laughed. “Maybe we should get someone to tie us together, just in case.” 

You rested your head against his chest, sighing. He’d missed you, he didn’t want to be away from you. But still, you had to ask… 

“Do you still love me?” 

“What?” His eyebrows shot halfway up his face, and he stared at you like he couldn’t quite believe what he’d heard. 

“I’m serious!” you protested. “It’s been months, and there are lots of other people here so I wouldn’t—“ 

“(Y/N), it is gonna take a lot more than you being kidnapped for eight months for me to stop loving you.” Then he frowned. “Do you still love me?”

You punched him lightly, then winced as pain shot through your wrist. “Yes, idiot.” 

He shrugged. “You asked first.” 

“Whatever.” 

“It doesn’t matter.” He ran his fingers over your cheek, along your jaw, tilting your face towards his. “You’re back, you’re safe, I still love you, and I am never letting you go.” He closed the gap between you, his lips soft against your own. His arms circled your waist, and true to his word, he didn't let go the entire time you kissed. It was by far the best – the safest – you’d felt in a long time, and you never wanted to be anywhere else. 

[nonclassyparty]

[TEASER] Starring Role- ACT II (C.S; S.MG)

title; just another dressed up heartbreak

summary: 

We’ve all read about the infamous player who falls in love with the good girl that manages to make him change his ways…but what happens to the other girl? The pretty, popular one that has warmed his bed before the good girl came along and took him away.

Well, no one cares about her. After all, she’s just a side character.

It almost feels like a joke to play a part, when you are not the starring role in someone else’s heart.

pairing: choi san x reader, song mingi x reader (for now lol)

wc: t/b/a

warnings: t/b/a

ACT I

Dropping down the makeup brush you used to carefully apply the highlighter to your cheekbones, you gaze meet your reflection in the mirror and you heaved a deep sigh.

Your foundation was applied to cover all your imperfections, small beauty marks on your cheek and freckles that scattered across the bridge of our nose. Face contoured to make your cheekbones stand out. Eyebrows plucked and filled in, glittery eyeshadow carefully applied to your lids along with a meticulously drawn cat eye. Lips a pretty shade of dark pink with gloss over them.

You looked perfect.

So perfect that sometimes you could see your face as a door hanging on hinges that would come loose every so often and reveal the broken mechanism that lies beneath it. All the screws and gear that usually make up the inside of your head would be shown and they're rusty with moss growing over certain parts, little sparks of electricity coming from empty eye sockets and pieces barely being held together by bolts ready to snap in half at any given moment.

All serving as a testament to the malfunctions that lie beneath a perfect facade.

"Y/N, are you done with your makeup?" Your mother's voice yells out from across the hall. "We still need to do your hair!"

You blink and just like that the hinges fit back into their original place and the door slams shut, locking itself in like a vault and you're back to staring at pretty glittery eyes and glossy lips curled downwards.

"Yes!" You reply loudly, eyes fleeting down to the surface of your vanity as you hear soft clicks of heels approaching your door.

Your mother is beautiful, both you and Seonghwa inherited your looks mostly from her. Her black hair was pulled in a sleek up-do and her slim body was wrapped in an elegant Yves Saint Laurent dress in the color of champagne.

"Ah!" She muses, taking out the clippers that kept your curls intact and letting them flutter past your shoulder one by one. You observe her through the mirror. You were beautiful just like her on the outside. But you feared that you will also be rotten just like her, on the inside.

"Aren't you glad we didn't cut your hair last summer? You were so insistent on it but if you cut it in that tacky hairstyle, you wouldn't be able to do anything with it."

You only nod in agreement although it's the last thing you actually agree on. She ever allowed you to cut your hair past the middle of your back, it was always straight, long and in your natural hair color. When you were younger it was to make you look untouched and innocent but now that you're older, it's to make you look sophisticated.

You want to vomit.

You watch her pin each curl in a low bun, adjusting it the way she likes. It's always what she wants.

Once upon a time, when you were younger and had Seonghwa to back you up, you would rebel and it would never make any difference but you were happy to have at least fought back. Now, Seonghwa isn't your friend anymore and you're too tired to go against her. She is draining when she gets her way but she is an absolute terror to be around when she doesn't.

"The Jungs will be there tonight. With their son." Your eyes connect through the mirror at that and you clench your jaw, annoyance bubbling underneath your skin.

"Mom, don't start this again..." You groan, eyes falling shut as she pins another curl.

"Y/N, he is a very nice boy. Your father and I have spoken-"

"Wooyoung and I hate each other!"

"That's because you never bother to get to know him!" She snaps back, eyes narrowing in slits as she stares at you in the mirror. "You need to quit being so damn childish! Both us and the Jungs would benefit a lot from the two of you being together!"

"I will not be dating Jung Wooyoung." You firmly object, hands curling around the end of your robe.

"You are so ungrateful." She hisses, tugging on your hair a little harsher than necessary which makes you wince through a glare. "A perfectly nice and handsome boy but even that isn't enough for you."

And here comes the guilt tripping.

"You need to grow up and start thinking of this family, as well. If your brother can work day and night to learn and be able to inherit your father's company while you're wasting time and money studying something as useless as art then the least you can do is marry well. You're an adult now so start acting like one." She checks your hair after she pinned the last curl and you bit your lip, willing the tears away. "Don't you dare cry. Get dressed and be downstairs by eight."

And she's out the door. One look into the mirror is enough to know that the hinges of your face are so close to slipping but you can't afford it right now, so with a sharp breath you suck the tears in and stand up, walking over to your closet and pulling out the hanger with the dress you were supposed to wear.

It's a deep red dress with a straight neckline that clings to your body perfectly showing off your waist, reaching the floor with a slit that comes up mid thigh and it looks perfect on you. Everything is perfect.

You check your makeup one last time, before taking your clutch and heading downstairs.

Seonghwa and your mother are already waiting in the foyer by the time you arrive and she greets you with a scoff while Seonghwa only sends you a blank stare before looking away. Hwa, when did we become like this?

Your father waltzes out of the living room area, adjusting his blazer and doesn't even spare you a look. This is the first time you see him this week.

The car ride to the venue where the gala is held is silent as well until the car door opens and Seonghwa opens the door and holds a hand out towards you to help you out with a smile that looks so real, if you didn't know him that well you could never be able to see through the bullshit.

Suddenly, your father is making sure your mother's dress doesn't get dirty by helping her with the trail of it, both of them smiling at each like teenagers in love despite the fact they've slept in different bedrooms since you were fourteen years old.

It's time to play the perfect little family.

The venue is nicely decorated and filled with people you mostly know. It's almost always the same elite that attends these gatherings. You greet people you went to high school with as they stand with their parents or chatting amongst themselves, not really caring for them in the slightest but your smile is still dazzling and wide.

You stick to your brother and parents in the center of the hall as people come and go greeting you, it's how it usually is. Your parents always want to be the main attraction and admittedly, sometimes you do too.

It's when the Jungs step up towards you that things turn even more sour than they were before.

Jung Wooyoung stands just behind his parents who greet your own, in all his handsome, infuriating glory alongside his older brother sporting the most annoying smirk he can offer to the world. And fuck, he looks gorgeous.

Honey skin, hair swept to the side, pretty lips and a suit that looks like it was molded just for him. But it's his pretty eyes that make your blood pressure rise because you can see past his fake smile as he watches you and you know he will go out of his way to piss you off tonight.

"Y/N," He gently holds your hand, bringing to his lips and letting them brush against your knuckles for a second which annoyingly enough, makes your mother squeal. "You look beautiful tonight."

The annoying smirk is replaced by an innocent smile and you know what he's doing. He knows you hate that the two of you were paired up with each other since you were little (he hates it too) and he's playing right into it in hopes your fuse will run short and you will snap, making you out to be the wicked witch while he's the sweet, polite little angel that was only trying to be nice to you.

But not tonight.

"You don't look too bad yourself, Woo." You counter back with a smile of your own and it's not a lie but you'd never say it to his face if the situation was any different.

"The more you both grow older, the better you look beside each other. Don't you agree, Soyeon?" Wooyoung's mother gleefully sighs turning to your mom who, of course, nods in agreement. You squeeze Wooyoung's hand harsher than needed and he throws you a glare that goes unnoticed by anyone but you.

Of course, they make you sit beside each other at the long table during dinner. Both of your parents sit across from you and a little bit to the side so at least, you're not directly staring at them. Seonghwa left you to fend for yourself and opted to sit with his 'friends' as far away from you as he possibly could.

While you try to enjoy the soup the waiter delivered to the table, you and Wooyoung don't speak a word to each other. In fact, you both talk to the people sitting on the other sides of you. It's when you notice Wooyoung's mother mouthing something to him with a slight glare from across the table and as inconspicuously as she could muster, gesture towards you sitting next to him.

You pretend not to notice, eyes falling to the soup and your spoon playing with it. Wooyoung pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, giving you a quick glance before looking at his mother one more time. You know what's coming.

"So, Y/N," You grip the spoon tighter in your hold, looking to him with a fake smile just to see him sporting one of his own. "Heard you were fucking some guy from the slums, now. That's a new low, even for you."

He says it so sweetly, almost whisper-like that if anyone was watching you they would for sure think he was trying to flirt with you. Your smile tightens but his only widens when he sees the fire in your eyes grow.

How the fuck did he know about San? Did Jennie tell him? Did Minjeong tell him?

"It's not even the fact that he's some hillbilly from the countryside fucking you, it's the fact that he's got you wrapped around his finger all while he's also fucking through your friend group. Now that's truly embarrassing." Wooyoung meanly adds, eyes glistening with satisfaction as he watches the smile melt from your face.

You're three seconds away from pouring an entire plate of soup in his lap, your fingers are already curled around the plate ready to do damage but then, for a split moment you catch your mother's eye just down the table- watching you with a warning in her gaze.

She doesn't give a fuck if Wooyoung hurts you, she never did. You were always supposed to put up with everything, for the sake of your pristine image.

Your fingers loosen around the plate, hands dropping to your lap politely before facing Wooyoung again with another composed, brilliant smile.

"You can say whatever you want but it still beats fucking Choi Yeonjun's leftovers because you can't get any bitches of your own." You fire back innocently, pretending to bashfully giggle when you notice the tick in Wooyoung's jaw.

Both of your mother's look positively ecstatic across the table but little do they know that their kids are one insult away from ripping each other's throats out in front of everyone here.

"If I remember correctly, you're his leftover as well Y/N-nie." Your hands clench into fists at the mention of your embarrassing relationship with Choi Yeonjun and your eyes narrow when Wooyoung leans closer to you, lips brushing your ear lightly and sending chills down your spine. "Are you trying to tell me something here, princess? Do you need someone to take care of you after he dumped your ass just before you started college? The hillbilly isn't doing it for you?"

You pull back and giggle as if he just made the funniest joke and his smile stretches because he knows you're only laughing because you're pissed off and are thinking what to say in response.

One of the biggest reasons why you hated Jung Wooyoung was his impressive capability to keep up with you. Ever since you were children, he was able to dish insults back with the same cruelty, sometimes even worse.

If there was anyone who you considered to be a match for you when it came to being a terrible person- it was him.

You send him another soft smile, eyes crinkling at the corners as you wipe a non-existent stain from the corner of his mouth. The romantic gesture makes both of your mothers so giddy, you think you can hear their hushed squealing from here.

You lean closer to whisper in his ear,

"I don't fuck men who are eternally in the shadows of their best friends. That's why I didn't go for you in the first place." And you lean back in your chair, sweet smile still intact.

Wooyoung is smiling as well, he even laughs a little. Smile bright and pretty but his eyes are dark and furious.

"You fucking bitch." He hisses through his teeth and you can't help but let a real grin form on your face.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

bullseye, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Are you the insufferable, cocky, absolutely-no-good-for-anyone female equivalent of a fuckboy? Maybe. Okay, yeah. But guess who decided to come along and interrupt your conquests? Jeon Jungkook. What now? Complain to your best friend Kim Taehyung all day or fucking do something about it?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; alcohol consumption; Taehyung getting shitfaced lol; you're a cocky asshole and so is Jungkook, welp; schemes; smut (fem reader, making out / dry humping in public, cowgirl, m-masturbation, edging / orgasm denial, penetrative sex, so much kissing); non-idol!BTS; (secretly pining) fuckboy!Jungkook x bisexual, fuckgirl!reader; ft artist, best friend!Taehyung; mostly reader's POV with a short JK's POV

yes, it's purple-haired Butter JK

--

now playing – 마.피.아. in the morning by itzy

“Are you kidding me? Fucking Jeon Jungkook, again?”

“You need to calm down,” Kim Taehyung said, patting your shoulder and handing you a mojito.

“What I need is a fucking bow and arrow to shoot down this fucking pest!”

“I know you were the archery champion in high school, but that’s still a weird thing to think,” replied that baritone voice, pushing you into a chair so he could sit down as well, observing you violently chugging down the entire mojito in your rage. He seemed highly amused, looking a bit like a young French socialite in a black beret, loose tan dress shirt, and black slacks with black loafers. Gold accents because Kim Taehyung was that bitch. “Never ceases to impress me that you can do that.”

You pulled the glass from your lips, ice and mint clinking. “This is the third girl I’ve been dating that he’s just–” You flapped a hand in the general direction of the crowd at the bar, completely ignoring Taehyung’s comment about your record-breaking skills of draining cocktails. “–unashamedly making out with when clearly I’m right here.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes, far too crass for how drop-dead handsome he was, but it seemed that he didn’t care. “I doubt he knows you’re here or that you’re dating them. And to make it fair on him, you were casually dating them all at once, so technically, no one is at fault here,” he added.

You narrowed your eyes. “I wasn’t–”

Taehyung gave you this look.

The look of ‘shut-up-you-know-I’m-right’.

Being your best friend, he had a right to do that.

“Shouldn’t you be mad at the girl anyway? Being faithful and all that, which, by the way, you are not.”

“Dating is not the same as being in a relationship,” you argued.

“Mmm, so fucking them is not indicative enough that you should be less of a fuckboy.”

“I’m not a fuckboy,” you muttered. “I’m a woman.”

Taehyung raised an eyebrow. “The general term still stands because you’re a class-A asshole.”

You closed your eyes and sucked in a deep breath, trying not to bolt home and buy a bow and arrow online to shoot, not Jeon Jungkook, but Kim Taehyung, because he was testing your last nerve with the truth.

“Again, why are you not mad at them?” Taehyung reoriented the conversation with a sweep of his arm when you opened your eyes, prompting your gaze to shift and witness Jeon Jungkook with his tongue down a pretty girl’s throat. This cheeky bastard was even wearing a leather jacket and white shirt, just like you. The only difference was that you wore a leather miniskirt and he wore black jeans with rips in the thighs, but both of you were wearing heeled black moto-style boots.

“Because he’s the denominator in this equation,” you snapped, smacking your glass on the table.

“Please do not make math references. My brain is not made for that.”

“Fractions? Tae, seriously, are you defective or–”

“Maybe he’s doing it to piss you off.”

“Well, I am pissed off!”

The bar was very loud with music and noise. Your shout was still clearly heard. Neither you or Taehyung seemed to care that people turned to look at you two and shake their heads.

Taehyung shrugged. “Then he succeeded.”

You clicked your tongue. “Why, though? I didn’t do anything to him. He just started popping up stealing my girls. What if I switch back to chasing dick and he takes them too?”

Taehyung snorted. “I doubt it. You’re just continuing on this train because you’re stubborn.”

As usual, he saw right through you.

He raised an elegant hand and tapped his lips. “Maybe he likes you.”

You gave Taehyung the most disbelieving, fiery, indignant look that you had ever produced in your life.

“Or, he doesn’t,” he hastily corrected. “Let’s face it, sometimes I don’t even like you and I would murder for your dumb ass.”

You tapped the melting glass of icy mint onto the tabletop.

Menacingly.

“If you think about it,” Taehyung began tentatively, scooting his chair slightly away from you with your flaming eyes boring holes in the back of Jeon Jungkook’s head. His hair was dark violet now so you could spot him easily, pinning your (not yours, but you know, that was your prey at one point) girl against the back wall of the bar. “He always goes after your target. He wants you to notice something.”

You watched a YouTube video once about making your own bow and arrow. It didn’t seem that difficult, all things considered. Sharpening a long stick with a knife and–

“Stop thinking about murder.”

You jerked your head back to Taehyung and his honey-brown curls framing his amused expression. You glared in response.

“I’ve never interacted with him a day in my life,” you frowned, abandoning your homicidal tendencies for the moment. “What does he want me to notice?”

Taehyung gave you a pained look. You returned with a black stare. Then he sighed and shook his head.

“He’s a fuckboy. You’re the female equivalent of a fuckboy. What do you think he wants?”

“My body count?”

Taehyung slapped his own face, muttering under his breath. “… be part of your body count.”

“Sorry, what?” You raised your voice over the bass. “Can’t hear you over the music.”

He raised his head. “I don’t know. Fight him. See what happens.”

“I’m not gonna win a fistfight.”

Taehyung looked ready to fistfight you.

You stood up, dragging him by the arm. “Come on, wingman. I need another drink. I’ll buy, since you got me the last one.”

Taehyung laughed, loud and full, yanking his arm out of your grip and clapping a hand around your shoulders, pulling you to him so your body knocked into him. You grimaced, now forced to walk side by side with him, not seeing the looks shared between the patrons witnessing you two together.

“Now we’re talking. I wanna get trashed.”

“Cure for a broken heart, am I right?”

“Mine’s shattered,” Taehyung chuckled, rubbing the left side of his chest playfully, but you couldn’t help but notice the hurt in his eyes. It was his idea to go out tonight and assist you with getting laid but, one, you didn’t need assistance and, two, he had recently broken up. It was pretty obvious he just wanted you to buy him drinks and have an excuse to do something.

Which was fine with you, until Jeon Jungkook showed up holding your previous eye candy.

Hmph.

Whatever, you had a Taehyung to nurse back to health with an obscene amount of alcohol.

-

Two hours later, you were standing in the men’s bathroom, holding Taehyung’s beret with one hand and his hair in the other as he vomited loudly into the toilet.

“Sup.”

The guy looked in the stall and then looked at you.

“You’re not supposed to be here…”

You raised an eyebrow. “You wanna hold his hair?”

The guy slunk away at your dismissive tone.

Taehyung tapped your thigh and you patted him on the head soothingly. He flushed and coughed.

"S... sorry," he croaked wetly.

You chuckled. "Wash your mouth, ya nasty."

He got up and you straightened his clothes in an almost maternal fashion.

"Need water, I think..." he winced, stumbling past you to the counter. You followed him to make sure he didn't hurl in the fucking sink.

"I'll be right back. Don't do anything crazy."

"Heh, that’s you," he slurred as he put his hands under the tap to wash up.

You plopped his beret on your head and sauntered out of the men's bathroom, unbothered by the stares and the people trying to catch your eye. It took you no time at all to waltz to the counter and obtain the water, striding back to the men's bathroom with the tall glass.

Only to run into you-know-who.

The girl sputtered your name in surprise as if she hadn't met you in this very bar a couple of weeks ago.

You completely ignored her existence, narrowing your eyes at the smirking face of Jeon Jungkook.

There was no denying his attractiveness. His purple hair was a little messy now, curling around his high cheekbones and large brown eyes. The dim light of the bar cast strange shadows over his chiseled jaw and shapely lips, curved into a devilish grin. He had a mole and red lipstick residue underneath his lower lip.

You had a strong urge to douse him and his leather jacket with your giant glass of water.

Taehyung was the one who found out Jungkook's name for you. You sent him on the mission after the first time this little shit started meddling in your business.

At this moment, you remembered that.

You pointedly looked away, walking past Jungkook, knocking into his arm forcefully and on purpose, annoyed that he seemed pretty strong under that jacket, muscular and lean. Whatever. You had a large bear cub named Kim Taehyung to take care of. You didn't have time to waste on Jeon Jungkook.

"Hey."

You stiffened at the deep, silvery voice. Of course. He had to have a sexy voice too. Bitch.

"You should apologize."

Your eyes flickered to the glass of water. It was pretty cold in your hand. You raised your chin back up, facing towards the bathrooms.

The choice was easy.

You continued waking and raised your free hand to flip Jeon Jungkook the bird, off to deliver the water to your best friend.

Some guy at the urinal screamed as you entered the men's bathroom but you completely ignored him, only focusing on Taehyung, who was gripping the corner of the sink, turning not to pass out, pallid face dripping and looking green.

"Drink this and I'll take you home."

-

"Ugh, thanks for the other day... sorry I wasn't the best wingman... I ended up making you exorcize my demons instead..."

You laughed, jabbing a toothpick in the steaming fried chicken. You and Kim Taehyung again, hanging out in the afternoon at the local chicken spot.

"It's cool. I know you needed it."

Taehyung frowned. "If you knew, why did you play along?"

You shrugged. "You would've done the same for me."

He smiled and popped a piece of crispy chicken in his mouth. "Yeah, if you ever had a serious relationship for once."

You glared. "This is a non-judgment zone. Shut up."

He chuckled. Then he leaned in and you grimaced, catching a whiff of his chicken breath. He was wearing a pinstriped shirt and neglected to button the first two because he was too hot to bother with some stupid buttons. You weren't going to say you could relate, but you were wearing a loose black sweater dress that was bordering on flashing your panties, so, maybe.

"I heard from a little birdie that you had a run-in with the bane of your existence."

You raised an eyebrow. "The tax man?"

Taehyung rolled his eyes. "No, the other one."

Now it was your turn to roll yours. "Oh, right. The Dark Lord."

Taehyung gave you a weird look. "Is that a movie reference or..."

"Harry Potter, ever heard of it?"

"You're such a nerd."

"That's not... anyway, so what?"

He wiggled his eyebrows. "He spoke to you."

You narrowed your eyes. "Where do you get your information?"

He fidgeted. "Uh... a reliable source that chooses to remain anonymous."

Your eyes became slits. "Who."

Taehyung stick his tongue out at you. "The whole point of anonymous is you not knowing!"

"Who are you, fucking Rita Skeeter–"

"Stop with the weird references!"

"For fuck's sake," you hissed, causing a mother sitting at a table near yours to chastise you, covering their kid’s ears. You frowned, lowering your voice. "Alright so what? He opened his mouth; nothing original came out." You jabbed another piece of chicken.

"Well? Feel any tension? Sweet romance? Unbridled fury?" Taehyung piped, greatly interested in your two-second interaction with Jeon Jungkook.

You chewed, huffing. "I had a big kid to take care of. I didn't give a shit."

"Hey, I'm not a kid!" he shot back.

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, you’re more important to me than poking his pretty eyeballs out of his head, so I didn't even reply."

Taehyung paused, mid-chew. "Really?"

"Yes, I didn't say–"

"No, that I'm important to you."

Taehyung was doing that thing where his big brown eyes went all sparkly and sentimental. It was making you uncomfortable. Bad with feelings and all that. The only reason you tolerated it was because Taehyung had been like this ever since he was that dorky weird kid you defended from bullies in elementary school. A folding chair was involved and you might have watched too many WWE TLC (tables, ladders, chairs) matches as a kid, but hey, those bullies didn’t bother Taehyung ever again, did they?

You got sent to detention for the rest of the year and anger management counseling appointments, but Taehyung remained your friend throughout the whole ordeal and for years to come, tolerating your poor life choices so… worth?

You reached over and shut his open mouth. "Of course, you are, that's why I'm not calling you a disgusting pig for chewing with your mouth open."

"Oi, that's bullying!"

"You bully me all the time," you snorted and the same mom made a noise of distaste that you pretended not to hear. "Like now you keep bringing up the spawn of Satan."

"You're also the spawn of Satan, by the way."

"Yeah, and you're my guardian angel and he ain't got shit, so I’ve already won this war."

Taehyung laughed nervously.

"Er, yes... totally..."

-

Another day, another conquest.

Well, you had to find the prey first, but that wasn’t going to be hard.

“You’re a chronic asshole.”

“Thanks, Tae. You sure you don’t wanna come?”

He rolled his eyes at you as you shrugged on one of his black dress shirts. You checked the tag. Silk. Damn. Kim Taehyung was a fancy bitch. He leaned against the closet doorframe as you fitted your black leather corset-style belt at your waist to cinch it in. You often raided Taehyung’s closet and paired it with your accessories. Did he enjoy your fucking in his clothes? Probably not, but you always returned them cleaned in the proper way, so he couldn’t complain.

He did anyway.

“No, I don’t. Let me sulk.”

“Ah, yes, moody starving artist, I’ll let you be,” you snickered, slinging the waist bag over your shoulder, wearing it across your chest instead of your hips. You lightly punched him in the arm and he pretended to topple over exaggeratedly. “You going to paint today?”

He shrugged. “I think. Dunno what media I want to use.”

“Just use a bunch of different ones. Your mixed media stuff is amazing,” you replied, waltzing out of his bedroom, past his messy studio with a blank canvas balanced on a wooden easel in the center of absolute chaos of paints. You helped him organize them once, but Taehyung often was too in the zone to pay attention to neatness.

“When’s the exhibit? I want to drop by,” you commented, seeing the line of his works safely wrapped up, leaning against the wall.

“Um… next week, Thursday through Sunday,” Taehyung replied sheepishly, cheeks flaring red at the mention of his own art exhibit. He was humble even though he was talented. “I’ll text you the address. Don’t show up looking like a high-paid escort.”

You tucked your feet into your heels and raised an eyebrow.

Silk black men’s shirt worn as a dress, belted at the waist to show off your curves, bare legs out, toned calves standing out due to your sleek black high heels.

“Who, me? Never.”

Taehyung shook his head. “Text me if you need a ride.”

“You got it.”

-

“You have got to be kidding me.”

You tapped your nails on the bar, having already finished your peach mojito.

“Fucking Jeon Jungkook, again?”

You needed to invest in a bow and arrow, like, yesterday.

Shoot right between his pretty eyeballs. Dude even pulled back his long, deep purple hair into a smooth ponytail with wispy strands framing his sculpted face. Was that damn eyeliner and mascara making his eyes look sharper, sexier? Fuck, he even knew how to make himself look even hotter.

Not as hot as you, of course.

“How does he always know where I’m at?” you muttered under your breath, turning away to look at the bartender and order another mojito. Watermelon. It seemed interesting. Fuck it, you were going to focus on drinking rather than the thorn in your side, Jeon Jungkook and his black dress shirt halfway buttoned and his tight-fitting black slacks with sleek oxfords. The bartender slid your glass in front of you, a gradient of pink to transparent with a little sprig of mint on top. It was a pretty drink.

You reached into your waist bag to pay, but the bartender stopped you.

“The gentleman over there paid for you. A gift.”

Oh? Maybe a potential for the night. You shifted your gaze to–

Oh.

“Tell him to fu–”

But the bartender was already off servicing other customers on this busy night.

Shit.

You know what? Fine. He put himself up as the target. He wanted to play this game.

And you never missed a bullseye.

You tilted your head to survey Jeon Jungkook out of the corner of your eye, making his way over to you, bringing your drink close to your lips. He stopped right next to you. The colorful lights of the club made rainbows dance across his lightly tanned skin and his dark lips, curled into a smug smirk.

“Hey.”

You cocked an eyebrow.

Drank.

Mmm, fuck, that was some deliciously smooth rum. The watermelon was a refreshing addition to the mint too. You probably weren’t meant to drink it all at once, but you were glaring at Jungkook who was pointedly watching your throat swallow and it was aggravating you more and more, the entire drink disappearing in record time, leaving nothing but ice and mint.

You smacked the glass down on this table with a hiss.

Jungkook purred your name with that deep, silvery voice of his. His eyes flickered down to your exposed collarbones and then back up to your face.

You clicked your tongue.

Then you turned away from him dismissively, walking past him, knocking into his arm forcefully and on purpose.

But instead of letting it happen, Jungkook shifted his weight and slid to block your path. You stopped, eyes darting up to narrow at that conceited little brat’s face. Now you could smell his cologne, fresh, sensual, a mix of pungent dragon fruit and black coffee.

Hold on.

You inhaled. Yup, no mistaking it.

That was your perfume.

Jungkook grinned as the realization hit you. How did he know what perfume you used?

“The fuck you want?” you growled.

He licked his lips slowly. He ticked his chin, taunting you.

“Finally got you to talk to me,” he purred, chuckling.

Alright, you were past causing actual bodily harm these days – jail being your primary reason – but that didn’t stop you from staring down Jeon Jungkook and his self-satisfied smirk with your signature tapering of your sharp stare.

You just stood there.

Menacingly.

He bit his lower lip, exposing that tiny mole underneath, shivering under your gaze. “Are you mad at me?” he asked, almost innocently, but there was no chance in hell that he was.

You quirked your head, lifting your chin defiantly. “Absolutely fuming,” you replied acidly.

He took a step towards you, closing the distance, so close you could feel his warmth, your breasts brushing against his chest. Now people were whispering around you two, sensing the tension between you and Jungkook. The similar outfits, the same violent energy, the same predatory aura.

As if the fox had confronted the wolf.

“What’s there to be mad about when we play the same game?” Jungkook drawled.

Cocky. The fox was so damn cocky.

“You’re just nibbling on my leftovers,” you countered, stepping forward so you pressed against him, burning body heat to burning body heat. “Which makes you the scavenger.”

Jungkook leaned down, dark brown eyes glittering with amusement.

“Then why so angry?”

His lips ghosted over yours, breathing in your exhale.

“I’m just a pest, right? A mere annoyance in your eventual victory.”

His lashes lowered, arrogant smirk reaching his dark eyes.

“Play your ace. Let’s see if it works,” he purred in the deep, sexy octave of his.

Shut up.

A low snarl rumbled in your chest.

“Shut up, Jeon Jungkook.”

You gripped his belt and yanked him to your body, rolling your crotch into his, your lips colliding with that maddening smirk, alcohol, dragon fruit, black coffee, flint igniting the dry wood, devouring his lips hungrily, his hands sliding up your sides, and his smile.

Triumph.

-

Shit.

-

You couldn’t give two fucks about Jeon Jungkook and he was into it.

Like the impossible enigma, he couldn’t figure you out but he was drawn to you anyway. The whole world was your plaything, and you treated it as such. There was something exciting about you, the thrill too irresistible to avoid when you made your presence known. Always you and that teasing smile, never getting serious, making everyone hesitate to take it farther with you. Who could blame them with your borderline brash attitude and ease of moving from one to the next?

That and your friendship with Kim Taehyung, who was a whole damn tiger next to your wolfish nature.

At first, Jungkook was intrigued.

As time went on, he became frustrated and annoyed.

What gave you the right to ignore him?

You picked up guys far less attractive than he was, not that he was that vain but, seriously, he was right here! Waiting to be caught. He didn’t try to interfere at first. In fact, Jungkook wasn’t even the sleep-around-and-mess-with-feelings kind of guy. But the more he watched you, the more impressed he was, seeing the way you charmed your way into everyone’s hearts, the way you focused on them for that moment, making them feel like they were the most perfect creature on Earth before slinking to the next, leaving them with a pining heart and lost in fantasies of what-ifs.

And, yeah, you were hot.

What was Jungkook going to do?

He could do nothing.

Or he could befriend Kim Taehyung, get under your skin, and make you notice him.

Not a scheme, per se.

Kind of a scheme.

Alright, definitely a scheme.

In Jungkook’s defense, your best friend Taehyung was all for it. Taehyung was the one who came up with all the ideas, informed him of your location, and the names of the girls you were after.

“Give her a taste of her own medicine. She needs a reality check.”

The problem was, Jungkook didn’t really want to let you go now that you were in his arms.

-

“Silly pretty boy.”

You had his chin in your palm, pressing your thumb against Jungkook’s lower lip, opening his hungry mouth to tease him with your tongue, tracing his soft lips and thrusting in, his low moan filling your lungs. His hands on your waist tightened, pulling you closer even through you were already in his lap, murmurs and eyes on you, but neither your nor Jungkook cared, used to this by now.

You were, after all, making out in the club.

The chair scraped against the ground as Jungkook firmly placed your thighs on either side of his, thrusting upwards into your core, letting your feel his rapidly growing hardness with every one of your kisses. Your hair feathered his cheeks and shoulders as your free hand toyed with his ponytail, twirling it in your fingers, smirking into his lips with his gasp from you grinding back down on his crotch, rolling your hips into him.

“Thought I was the bane of your existence?” Jungkook taunted under you, squeezing your ass through the silk and meeting your movements, staring into your eyes with his. So dark, so smokey, so fucking sexy, almost like looking into a mirror, because you too wore similar makeup, maybe a little darker and a little more of a flick to your eyeliner. “Just going to kiss me to shut me up?”

You wouldn’t be surprised if the other clubgoers were eagerly watching now, waiting to see what was going to happen between you and him.

“I don’t need to be on your mouth to shut you up,” you mused, tugging his ponytail back and kissing down his neck, tongue tracing the contours of his muscles, feeling him shudder under your lips and teeth, lightly nipping at his skin. Tracing circles, gentle kisses, relishing in his gasps and his tightened grip on you, letting your breath linger for that extra second, that extra what-if, kissing back up his neck and onto his jawline, murmuring his name sweetly, tip of your tongue curling around his earrings and bouncing them, sighing softly in his ear.

“Can’t claim my leftovers when my leftovers are you, now can you, naughty boy?” you chuckled darkly, pressing your breasts on his hot chest and your clothed pussy on the tip of his stiff length, rutting against it, making him hiss your name.

“I have no intention of being leftovers,” he growled into your ear.

Your eyes flew open as his lips transfixed to the space under your ear, sucking hard, forcing you to squeeze your thighs at the attack on your erogenous zone, sparks of arousal flinching through you, soaking your panties. You gasped, hips bucking into his needily, barely processing his words, his tongue flicking against your throbbing skin, lips and teeth, and then his mouth was moving, traveling up your earlobe, nipping at the curve, your eyelids fluttering, clutching his purple ponytail tightly.

How did he know? Did he ask your previous conquests to spill the information? There was no time to think, his hands traveling up your back, clenching fistfuls of your shirt and digging his nails into your back, your body responding and squirming against him, the quiet whine of his name escaping your lips and drifting right into his ear.

“J… Jungkook…”

He groaned, turning your head forcefully, him kissing you this time, just as ravenous, just as powerful, basically simulating sex in the middle of the fucking club with the way your hips were twisting into his and he was thrusting back against you, breathless, whispering in your mouth so only you could hear his words resonate in your chest.

“Fuck, you’re so hot, you turn me on so fucking easily, I just have to have you,” he murmured, his forehead pressed against yours, capturing your lips again and again. “There’s no way you’re any good for me, but I don’t care, fuck.”

You snickered, eye to eye, trapped in those expanding pupils and his heavy pants. “They say the same about you, Jeon Jungkook.”

You felt him smirk. “Nah, not me. No one calls me the spawn of Satan.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You sure? Because I do.”

Jungkook’s tongue licked your lips, making your shiver in delight. “That was special treatment. Just for you.”

Hold on a second.

Through your hazy buzzed brain, you began to piece the puzzle together. With each part falling into place, the amusement in Jungkook’s eyes grew and grew, seeing you fill in the missing blanks. Your eyes widened and you curled a finger around his ponytail, yanking roughly to pull his grinning face away from yours. You jerked back, but his strong hands held you in place.

Wispy strands of violet framing that devious expression.

“Taehyung,” you breathed, venomous.

Jungkook had the audacity to cock an eyebrow.

“Yep.”

You were going to kill Taehyung. That little shit! Taehyung was no idiot, so he must have planned this somehow. He always telling you to get serious and stop messing around. That’s why Jungkook always knew who you were dating, where you were, and what you were wearing! Did Taehyung recruit Jeon Jungkook to trick you? Fuck! He was dead meat, scheming against you like this!

Jungkook brought you out of your homicidal tendencies with a soft drawl of your name.

“For the record, he was helping me out,” he murmured, pulling you to him, pressing your chest to his. You narrowed your eyes, his hard cock still throbbing against your panties. “I want you.”

He lowered his face, breathing hard.

“Not just like this.”

Your eyes widened.

“I said I’m not going to be leftovers.” Looking deep into your eyes, holding you tightly. “I’m not going to let you throw me away like the rest.” Every inhale making your body rise into his touch, his deep, silvery voice saturated with lust and determination. “I’m going to make you fall in love with me as much as I am in love with you.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but…

Jungkook gave you this look.

The look of ‘you-know-you’ve-already-lost’.

You could sit here and pretend, but you were also grinding back onto his dick right out here in the open, clutching his purple hair and his pretty face. His hard body was tucked snugly in your thighs. That smug little smirk. Shit, shit, shit.

Jeon Jungkook got you and he got you good.

He knew it too, his hands sliding down and grabbing your ass again, rolling his hips into yours.

“Come on. Let’s fuck.”

-

“Oh, fuck, yes, yes, yes!”

Jungkook threw his head back onto his pillows, exposing his straining throat, veins popping out, clutching your hips strongly to rut back against you as you smacked your crotch down onto him, riding him hard and fast, your hands next to his head, his long purple hair a mess even if it was still in the ponytail, sweat glistening on his forehead, moaning loudly with your walls closing in on his hardness. You were too busy fucking the daylights out of him to say anything, but Jungkook had plenty to say, hazy eyes opening and gasping as he viewed your body hovering over him, naked with his hickeys on your neck and breasts, strong thighs flexed on either side of him, his rock-hard cock repeatedly disappearing into your tight, wet hole.

“Fuck, I knew it, I knew you would be so fucking good and so fucking sexy,” he whined, nails digging into your hips and adding more force to your thrusts.

Your clothes and his clothes were all over his bedroom floor.

Your phone was on his nightstand.

Tonight, you sent one text to Kim Taehyung.

I’m gonna buy a bow and arrow and shoot you in the ass.

You screen flashed, indicating Taehyung had replied. One quick flick of your eyes and you smirked.

Oh shit.

Jungkook squeezed your ass, making your return your attention to him.

“Focus on me,” he begged, blown-out pupils. “Only me, please.”

“So needy,” you teased, licking your lips slowly. He groaned under you, mouth opening, his pretty pink tongue lolling out, desperate to be sucked. “If you think you can keep me, you’ll have to last longer than this, Jungkook.”

He swallowed hard at the way you said his name, a mixture of warning and desire.

“P-Please… it’s too good, I-I can’t…”

You redoubled your efforts, roughly slapping your hips into his, enjoying the loud sound and the way your core tightened, constricting him inside you, telling him he couldn’t cum until you did and deliberately holding yourself back, shifting your attention when you felt it rise, denying him over and over, until he was like this, whole body shaking, grasping your ass, sweat on his chest. His right arm, covered in tattoos, looking extra delicious in the moonlight, so fucking perfect with his forearms flexed with tension. You purposefully stared into his brown eyes overtaken with lust, his lips trembling from denying himself his own orgasm.

Jungkook whimpered your name.

On the verge of breaking, helpless at your command.

A sharp throb inside you, wildly turned on by his duality.

You smirked.

“Jungkook.”

You inhaled deeply, sighing in satisfaction with the wave of pleasure, intense shivering pulses running up and down his length, sinking down so he could feel it all, the tight and rough massage of your orgasm taking over, low moan of his name emitting from your throat, and Jungkook followed suit, louder and lewder, eyes rolling back as he shot into the condom with jerking hips, burying the twitching head deep inside you, swelling the latex with thick cum, rocking you back and forth on his length, your juices dripping down and coating the inside of your joined thighs.

“Oh, fuuuuuuuck, so good, s-so fucking good…”

You know what, he was right.

It was so fucking good.

You savored it, the ecstasy that seemed endless and overwhelming, squeezing Jungkook between your thighs and moaning, just something about it, so satisfying and gratifying listening to his wheezing gasps and content whimpers, lowering yourself to his face, and he raised his, your hands sliding under his head, giving him what he wanted, light, maddening, carnal kisses, his cheeks, his chin, his quivering lips, whining your name, pleading with you to play with him more, more, tugging on his ponytail and his hands stroking your breasts, rolling your hard nipples between his index and thumb fingers, shaking at your hissing inhale.

“Hey,” you murmured, clenching him between your legs to get his attention.

Jungkook blinked at you, brown eyes unfocused, panting hard. “Y-Yeah?”

“You should apologize.”

The side of his swollen lips quirked upwards despite his fucked-out state. His deep voice was slightly hoarse. “What for? Tell me and I will.”

You raised an eyebrow. “For your scheming and using my own best friend against me.”

Jungkook smirked slyly.

“I’m sorry.”

He lifted you and made sure he had the condom before he pulled out, still semi-hard. You narrowed your eyes. He sure as hell didn’t sound sorry. Didn’t look sorry either, peeling the condom off and crawling over the bed to toss it in the trash before straightening.

“Sounding insincere there,” you remarked coolly, balancing your chin on the back of your knuckles, elbow on the bed, tapping the air impatiently.

“I mean it,” he purred, reaching for the towel beside the bed and knocking the condoms from his nightstand to the sheets. His right hand wrapped around his glistening length, still covered in lube and his cum, toned hips thrusting into his closed fist, grinning with his lower lip between his teeth as you watched him.

“I’m so, so sorry.”

Slowly jacking himself off as his eyes roamed over your curves, moaning lustfully, lingering on your legs, clutching the towel in his left hand so hard his knuckles were pale, forearms flexed, the slick head of his cock turning purple-red, emerging from between his closed fingers, throbbing as it was choked by his harsh grip.

“Let me make it up to you,” Jungkook shuddered, stroking faster, making wet squelching sounds, his muscular thighs bulging with effort.

Fuck, he was so damn attractive.

You kept an indifferent look on your face, raising your leg, your free hand sliding down, tracing the outside of your already wet opening. Those hungry dark brown orbs immediately fixated on it, moaning imploringly as you dipped your fingers in it, soft squishing noises as you spread open your soaked pussy, slipping a finger in your heat, gently thrusting.

He gasped your name, begging you.

It made you wetter, seeing his want. He knew it too, brutally fisting his cock, hips quivering.

“Stop.”

Jungkook whined despairingly, pulling his hand away, his stiff cock bouncing from the swiftness of the movement, cutting off his own orgasm. He sucked in a shivering breath, tipping his hips up to you so his glossy, hard length twitched.

You shifted, laying back against his pillows, opening your legs.

Smirk on your lips.

“Mmm, fuck, yes, fuck me with that.”

Jungkook smirked back.

It took him no time at all to wipe his hand and crotch off, ripping open another condom and moaning as he rolled it down, the mere contact of the thin encasement stimulating his sensitive skin. He slid up to you, gripping your knees and spreading you even wider, pressing the tip against your drenched heat.

He whispered your name, like sweet smoke.

“Hm?”

Jungkook leaned down, kissing you deeply as he sank into you, drinking in your gasp at the fullness.

“I’m going to make you feel so, so good,” he mumbled into your lips, pecking you softly.

He was about to retreat but your hands snapped up, tangling into his messy violet waves, clutching his ponytail. Jungkook blinked at you, questioning.

“Not too far away,” you said with a playful smile. “I wanna see that handsome face of yours.”

He bit his lower lip, tiny mole and wicked grin revealing themselves.

“Okay.”

He lifted his hips and plunged fully into you, the connection of your hips making a loud, wet smack.

“Fuck, Jungkook…!”

And you could tell from his elated expression and his furious pace that he was ecstatic at your response, chasing it, chasing you, moaning as you caught him between your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist, gaining some leverage and meeting his thrusts, fingers tightening in his soft hair, fuck, so beautiful, the way the pleasure overtook his handsome features, his hazy dark brown orbs shrouded in lust, his pink lip trembling in his teeth, sharp jaw set, but still maintaining a little bit of that cunning exterior that ensnared you in the first place, unknowingly at the time, the side of his lips ticking up, this cheeky bastard.

Jungkook saw the way you looked at him.

He adjusted the position, hitting deeper, swelling inside you, and, fuck, you couldn’t help it, you smirked too because he was so, so full of himself and so were you, insufferable, troublesome, competitive even now, the obscene smack of his crotch hitting your hips, wet and noisy, the squish of your juices smearing against his inner thighs as you wildly matched his rapid, bruising rhythm, your moans blending together, sweet hot harmony, his bedframe ramming against the wall, and, as usual, neither of you caring, far to occupied with yourselves, pleasure snaking between you, up your spine and into your head, mixing with the light buzz of alcohol, a different kind of euphoria from every other one-night stand, because this was Jeon Jungkook and he wasn’t going to be a one-night stand.

His lower lip popped out of his teeth and he gasped your name.

Longingly, breathlessly.

Was he thinking the same thing?

You lifted yourself a little, your hands molded to his head, whispering intensely against his shaking lips.

“Don’t worry, Jungkook. We have all night and the morning.”

Fuck, he had a brilliant smile.

It was actually doomed for you, but you weren’t mad about it.

Eye contact, and he didn’t waver, thrusting deep into you, low moan pulled from his chest, jolting shudders sliding down his shoulders and then in between you and him, his cock twitching and spilling into the condom again, roughly clamped by your tightness, and you were already there, falling over the edge with a soft cry, straining your neck and pushing his head down to you to collide your lips with his, greedy for his kiss, his taste, his whimpers at your forcefulness.

“Jungkook, ah…”

He said your name in the same tone, delicate and possessive, a bullseye right to the heart.

-

“On one hand, I’m glad you’re finally serious about someone.”

You paid absolutely no attention to the annoyed baritone voice of your best friend.

“On the other hand,” Kim Taehyung gritted out, smacking you in the shoulder blades as you crawled into Jeon Jungkook’s lap, kisses intensifying, a needy whine in his chest, his hands wrapping around your waist. “Really feeling like a third wheel, you two! Stop making out for one goddamn second!”

He threw up his hands as both of you pretended to be deaf.

-

interlude respect drabble — "how much did you see?" popcorn drabble — "who are they?"

part ii threesome, ft kth — got it bad

--

masterpost

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

had a little idea for this fic the other day and couldn’t help but write it! based very shamelessly on my own aortic stenosis bc i like to give characters my own health problems lol I’m gonna tag @roughentumble and @princehendir bc i’m needy and want my mutuals’ validation

They’re lying together in one of their bedrolls, the soft sounds of the midnight forest all around them, when Geralt hears it.

He’s still coming down from a recent dose of Cat — par for the course on a werewolf contract — dark veins spiderwebbing out like constellations around his black as pitch eyes and every little sound within the forest, from the gentle evening breeze in the leaves to the scurry of nocturnal vermin skittering about in the underbrush, magnified to the point of deafening. He’s wrapped up in Jaskier’s arms, his head pillowed on Jaskier’s chest as the bard runs his fingers through Geralt’s hair in a familiar rhythm meant to soothe and relax, like a tactile lullaby.

Geralt’s beginning to feel much calmer thanks to Jaskier’s practiced ministrations, the urgency and adrenaline bleeding out of him as the effects of the potion very gradually start to fade, when he rather belatedly realizes that the rustle of leaves and crackle of the fire in the center of their camp aren’t the only things he’s hearing.

With one of his ears pressed to the soft fabric of Jaskier’s sleepshirt, Geralt can hear the comforting thump of Jaskier’s steadfast heartbeat, by now as familiar to Geralt as his own. But with his senses so heightened by the potion still coursing through his veins, so highly attuned to the slightest sound that he could hear a pin drop a dozen miles away and track it by sound alone, he hears something else, too.

With every one of Jaskier’s exhales, Geralt can hear a soft rasp, a whooshing sound he can’t quite make sense of. And it’s coming from Jaskier’s heart.

A bolt of bone-deep alarm shoots through Geralt like a stray flash of lightning and he jolts at the shock of it to his system.

“Jaskier,” he blurts, any semblance of tact tossed into the wilderness with his good trophy knife that he’d lost earlier, “Your heart.”

“Hmm…?” Jaskier hums distractedly, fingers continuing their soft stroking of Geralt’s hair.

“Your heart,” Geralt says again, this time with more urgency. “It’s… There’s something wrong with it. I can hear it.”

“Oh! That!” Jaskier replies cheerily, sounding much too casual for someone who had just been informed that there’s something wrong with his fucking heart.

“I have a heart murmur,” he elaborates plainly after a moment during which Geralt’s gripped by a sudden panic, thoughts spiraling about all the terrible things this could mean. “Well, technically, I have valve stenosis which causes the murmur. I was born with it.”

“Gave my poor mum quite the fright,” Jaskier muses with a soft huff of laughter, thumbing a stray strand of hair off of Geralt’s forehead. “She’d just lost a child before me, miscarriage. Think that’s why she was always so bloody overprotective.”

Geralt remains silent. It’s not very often Jaskier speaks of his family. There was good reason he had not returned to the comfort and safety of Lettenhove after he had graduated from Oxenfurt and had instead set out across the Continent on his own.

“When I was born, she hired every doctor, nurse, and healer along the Western coast to ensure that I was healthy,” Jaskier goes on, still threading his fingers through Geralt’s hair, carefully avoiding knots and occasionally raking his nails over Geralt’s scalp. “She even hired a mage. He was the one who actually discovered the stenosis. Something about leaflets in the valve fusing together or some such medical speak.”

“Is it serious? Are there any risks? Complications?” Geralt asks, hates that he doesn’t already know, that he hasn’t known in the decades he’s known Jaskier. For gods’ sake, he could’ve been exacerbating Jaskier’s condition without ever even knowing.

“I get chest pain sometimes,” Jaskier admits, just a touch hesitant. “But only if I’ve really overexerted myself. Used to lose my breath a lot but all my vocal training nipped that in the bud ages ago.”

“It doesn’t affect my daily life or anything. No medicine I have to take for it,” he continues. “It’s possible it may get worse when I get older, might have to cut down on the salt and sugar as dreadful as that may be, but that’s a long way’s off.”

A long moment passes in silence, only the wind and the murmur of Jaskier’s otherwise steady heartbeat audible. Then, very softly, Jaskier breathes, “I’m okay, Geralt. I promise.”

Geralt can only nod, curling his arms more securely around Jaskier, making a silent vow to himself to keep Jaskier and his heart, his beautiful stubborn heart, safe.

[shorkbrian]

I love your yan Hizashi and Aizawa teamup fic so much! I love how shy the reader is and how daddy Aizawa is, and then Hizashi comes home - damn! Thinking about that shower ending 🥰🥰🥰

shower sex just hit different bro.

(What to expect - shower sex lol, NSFW, no penetration, just some clit rubbing and hand jobs. Noncon, dubcon, soft domestic stuff too lol)

Like just Aizawa dragging you into the bathroom, Hizashi already in the shower, completely unaware of your presence as he whistles out a jaunty tune.

Aizawa strips you down, pushes you towards the shower before taking off his own clothes. He guides you inside, and you flinch when the water starts hitting your skin, far hotter than what you were used to.

“Oh shit, didn’t know we were gonna have a party!” Hizashi sings as he turns around, eyes twinkling as he looks you up and down.

You’re tempted to hide your body with your hands, the blond’s eyes sweeping shamelessly over your skin, the man grinning when he makes eye contact with you again.

But Aizawa doesn’t give you that option, softly gripping your elbows and pushing you forward a bit more so he can step in completely, shutting the foggy shower door behind him.

“Be gentle ‘Zashi, I haven’t done anything with her yet.”

You assumed the dark-haired man meant “done anything sexual”. He’d touched you quite a few times, hands stroking through your hair, quickly scrubbing you down in the shower, sitting close in bed as he read a book, one hand around your shoulders as he kept you from bolting.

“Oh.... Sho, how could you resist? She’s so beautiful.” Hizashi breathed, hands fluttering up to your face, stroking over your cheeks as the water burned your skin raw.

“I wanted to wait until you got home.” Shouta shrugged, although the tone in his voice indicated that he would rather have not.

His self control was admirable.

Hizashi had less control, hands immediately dropping to grope at your chest, squeezing gently, pulling.

“God, you’re amazing Sho, I wouldn’ta been able to hold back. Look at her, all sweet and ripe.”

Shouta merely hummed, pressing himself firm to your back to stop you from backing away from his husbands’s fondling. His chest was warm against your back, and you could feel his length quickly chubbing up against your ass, excited by the meek little noises of protest falling from your lips.

A pinch to your nipple had you cry out, hands flying to Hizashi’s wrists, pulling them away from your chest.

“Ah, sorry honey, was just feeling’ ya.”

“I told you to be gentle.” Shouta admonishes, wrapping his arms loosely around your shoulders, pulling you protectively towards his body, until there was no room between the two of you.

Hizashi pouted, backing into the spray of water to rinse out his hair, blonde tresses cascading like silk down his back. He was pretty, while the man behind you had rugged looks.

Shouta seemed to share the same thought, because he began slowly rubbing up and down your sides, pressing a kiss underneath your ear that made you shiver before murmuring “Doesn’t he look nice? He’s so beautiful, long hair, long legs....”

He trailed off as he pressed more kisses to your neck, slowly traveling down. One of his hands crept across your stomach, and you keened in discomfort, trying to move away from his touch, but his other hand grabbed hold of your hip, keeping you still.

“You aren’t so bad yourself, mr. mountain man.” Hizashi winked at his lover, before turning around to scrub at his face, hiding his bobbing erection from view.

The man behind you huffed out a low laugh, and then his fingers were slipping between your folds, making you squeal and buck your hips.

Having someone else touch you was entirely different from doing it yourself. You didn’t know the rhythm of his hands, where he’d touch you next, how much force he’d use, if he’d rub, or pinch, or tap.

The heat built up in your stomach so fast that you almost fainted. You came seconds later, knees buckling beneath you with a provocative moan.

“Holy shit, she’s sensitive.” Aizawa kept you standing, leaning you back against his sturdy body as your thoughts swirled loosely in your mind.

It was so intense, you missed Hizashi turning back to the two of you quickly, eyes widening. “Did she just cum? Just from your fingers?”

“I didn’t even get them inside.”

“Holy shit.” Hizashi echoed his husband’s earlier statement, stepping towards the both of you.

At the feel of his long, slender fingers taking the place of Aizawa’s shorter, stubby digits, you cried out, squirming desperately to escape the sensation of too much.

Thankfully, the blond relented. He reached around your body, gripping his husband’s thick length with a kiss over your shoulder with Aizawa, rubbing him slowly.

As you made sense of the world again, you could feel his wrist, how it jostled against the small of your back as he jerked Shouta off, making the dark haired man moan in your ear before capturing Hizashi’s lips in another passionate kiss.

You felt out of place, inserted between the two men, interrupting their private life, such an intimate moment.

Hizashi seemed to notice your discomfort, drawing back slightly so he could find one of your hands in his own.

“Doing so nice honey, bet Shouta made you feel so good. Wanna make me feel good too?”

You really didn’t, but you didn’t know what else to do except let his hand guide your around his cock, jumping when the blond hissed.

“Oh fuck, her hands’r so much smaller than yours.” He told his husband, reaching for another kiss.

“Mm, wonder what it’d feel like to have both of of you strokin’ me off.”

“Don’t be greedy-” Aizawa huffed, easily rocking his hips forward, signaling to his husband that he wanted more attention on his cock, a tighter grip, a faster pace.

Hizashi grinned lazily, letting out a drunken chuckle before speeding up his movements, Aizawa groaning at the stimulation and dropping his head forward onto your shoulder.

The blond’s hand was still on your own, gripping it tightly as he guided it up and down his shaft, the angle awkward and stiff.

But apparently it was doing something for him, because he was moaning breathily. The sound set Shouta off, because he began bucking against his husband’s hand, and subsequently your ass, grunting quietly as he neared his end.

“A bit faster ‘Zashi... ah, there we go. Making him feel good down there?” He directed the question towards you, breath puffing against your shoulder blades as you were jostled from the force of his thrusts into his husband’s hand.

“She’s doing real good, gonna-gonna cum soon.” Hizashi sounded strained, also reaching his climax as he humped against your hand.

And then they were done, cum sprayed over your lower back, dripping steadily down towards your ass, sliding grossly between your cheeks. There was cum on your front too, coating your hand, wet against your stomach.

Hizashi panted for a second, before moving to the side, letting the spray from the showered wash away the evidence of his pleasure, releasing your hand.

“Jesus, you’re amazing hon’, can’t wait to see what else you can do.” A wink was thrown your way, and Aizawa snorted from behind you as he regained his bearings.

“Calm down ‘Zashi, she’s overwhelmed.” And you were, struggling not to let your breath run away, quicken and choke you until you couldn’t draw air into your lungs. This was all happening so fast, and you couldn’t stop it, didn’t know how.

“You’re alright (Y/N).” Aizawa’s voice was soothing, deep and melodic as he shuffled away from your back, moving to your side so he could reach for the soap and a loofah.

“Okay, okay-” Hizashi held up his hands, grabbing the soap for Aizawa while the dark-haired man grabbed the loofah. “-just gettin’ excited, can’t believe our girl is actually here.”

They washed you together, wiping you down gently, careful of oversensitive skin and the tears beginning to brim in your eyes. Hizashi’s hands were quick to get distracted, trying to slip between your legs before Aizawa quickly slapped them away, giving his husband a warning look. Hizashi responded by playfully sticking out his tongue.

“I just can’t help it, she’s just so cute! And I didn’t get to see her when she came, Sho, you shoulda told me it was happening!” The man whined, putting the soap back on the shelf as they finished washing you up.

Aizawa snorted, rolling his eyes as he helped you rinse off. “You’re just an insatiable bastard, we can fool around after we get her taken care of.”

The blond grinned, checking to make sure everyone was thoroughly clean before he switched off the water, hurrying to grab towels. “Fuckin’ sweet! Here, catch-”

A towel was thrown your way as Aizawa helped you step out of the shower, but it was caught by the man behind you before you could blink. He immediately wrapped it around your body, before catching another towel Hizashi threw his way, slinging it around his hips.

“You gonna tell us about America? How did your stomach handle the food?”

Their conversation turned into a gentle drone of background noise as you were dried off, Hizashi’s hands taking over from your own to rub you down while he chatted with his husband.

You were guided into soft shorts, Hizashi holding them for you while you stepped in, Aizawa pulling an oversized shirt over your head.

They set you on the bed while they similarly dressed, and you sat there quietly, lost in your head, dazed, confused, too stressed and scared to do much but stare blankly at the floor.

It was warm when they tucked you into bed, nestled between them. They were still talking, voices soft and fading to whispers as you closed your eyes, silent and overwhelmed. 

Maybe some sleep would help you feel better, and less like the ground was crumbling from beneath your feet.

[scientiastudy]

Lay All Your Love on Me (Chapter IV)

Chapter I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII.

You don't think you'll ever get used to Ardyn, but maybe you'll learn.

Pairing: Ardyn Izunia x Reader

Word count: 3.4k

Rating: M

Content: Angst, kidnapping, reincarnation, one-sided relationship, graphic depictions of violence, gore, mentions of death, grief, dissociation

Author's note: I kinda let this one get away from me lol it's a beast. I felt like I needed a bit of a bigger update since I'm only doing one this week

At first, you had been relieved to be away from Ardyn. The weight of his presence slowly dissipated from the air as the lazy afternoon light streamed through the window. Being free of him gave you time to let your mind rest for the first time since you'd arrived in your prison. You let the calm wash over you like a wave letting yourself relax into the sheets. You didn’t dare fall asleep, but you closed your eyes and allow your brain to fall completely silent for what felt like the first time in weeks.

By the time you opened your eyes, the afternoon light had changed to the sleepy orange of the setting sun. You briefly debate trying to explore your surroundings, but the thought of Ardyn somehow finding you out and punishing you further stops you. Instead to you turn onto your side and watch the colors of the sky change from the warmth of twilight to the chill of the night through your window.

The grumbling of your stomach is a stark reminder of your current situation, but you push those thoughts away as you indulge yourself in fantasies.

You allow yourself to think about escape again as you watch the red shift to a muted orange. If you could figure out a way to turn something small into a weapon you might have a chance if you “kill” him. It seemed like the best plan because while the Chancellor had not died, he had been temporarily incapacitated.

The orange shifts to pink as your mind wanders to what you’ll do when you’re free. You figure that if you could get to Lucis you’d have a better chance of hiding from the niffs, but the Imperial embargo still stands. Your heart drops when you remember the man who has taken you is responsible for the embargos. If anything they’d become more strict if he knew you were trying to run.

The pink turns to a light yellow hue before dissolving into light blue. You’ll think smaller then. While you don’t know them very well, Ravus and Lunafreya know who you are and would be the easiest to convince of Ardyn’s lies. The only problem is that you’ve heard the Oracle is running around somewhere in Lucis and Ravus is busy fulfilling assignments all across the map. If you want a good chance of escape, you needed to make sure at least one of them is in Altissia or the Secretary’s estate.

The sky turns dark as you mull over your plan in your head. You play thousands of scenarios, and admittedly, Ardyn wins in most of them. You debate if you’d even be able to make the weapon for your plan with the spruce furnishings in your room. Your bed is one of the sole decorations in the blue room. The wooden nightstand next to your bed has been bolted down to the floor and the lamp is bolted to the desk. The last piece of furniture is the plush velvet armchair Ardyn had sat in earlier that day. You even don’t need to shake it to make sure it’s bolted down, the big black rivets visible just above the foot of the bed. To the left of the bed is the window, its gilded frame shimmers as light streams in. The color is a constant reminder of what you are– a bird in a golden cage.

You can’t remember seeing much when you were in the bathroom, but maybe if you broke the mirror you could use it? No, too obvious, Ardyn would notice a broken mirror. You know you’ll need something quick and effective because Ardyn towers over you, and even though you’re a trained crownsguard if it turned into a battle of strength you would not win.

Your mind turns to the closet. You had seen nothing but clothes, nothing in there would be useful in your endeavors.

You’re reminded of just how long you’ve been thinking when you realize your room has become pitch black. Your stomach rumbles faintly, but you have bigger fish to fry.

Namely, you need to pee.

You reach out to the nightstand and fumble around the lamp briefly until you find the on switch, flooding your room with a warm light. You stare at the door to the bathroom and debate your choices. You could sleep it off and hope Ardyn would return your use of your legs in the morning– or you could try yourself and risk punishment. You choose the latter, not wanting to rely on your captor for something so humiliating.

Getting out of bed was the easiest part of the process. You simply sat up against the headboard and rotated your legs so they were hanging off the bed. You then rolled yourself forward and winced at the resounding thunk that accompanied your half-lifeless body falling into the floor.

You simply stay in a heap for a moment, your world spinning on its axis as you try and orient yourself. You can feel your old wounds from the Archean fight scream in protest. Being dehydrated and malnourished doesn’t help much either. You can’t remember the last solid meal you ate– maybe when you were at the rest stop? You also can’t remember when you last had a drink. Your captor had not been benevolent enough to leave any food or water within your reach, and you could feel your throat beginning to dry up.

When you finally collect yourself you place your palms on the floor and attempt to drag yourself forward to the bathroom. You know you’ve been weakened from being asleep so long and your malnourishment and dehydration, but the full weight of their effects doesn’t really sink in until you began your journey to the bathroom.

You’re not out of shape, weeks of running across Lucis and years of crownsguard training had sharpened your physique. While you may not be a tank like Gladio, you still know how to hold your own using your raw strength. But days (maybe weeks? You have no way to tell time in the room) of neglect have left you weak and frail. Your muscles scream as you drag yourself across the carpet, as does your skin. The white slip the Chancellor dressed you in gives little protection to your legs, and as you drag yourself forward you feel rugburn begin to develop on your legs.

You grimace when you realize you’re shaking. Your arms have begun to tremble with your weight, and your legs feel as if they’re made of lead. It feels like you’ve been training with Gladio for two days straight without a break.

You ignore your growing exhaustion and focus on the closed door of the bathroom. As you slowly drag yourself towards the door movement itself begins to feel like a herculean task. Eventually, your exertion gets the better of you. You fall flat onto the floor, your head spinning as you try and drag yourself forward on your forearms.

You finally reach the door, smiling to yourself as you reach for the knob.

Locked.

A feeling of hopelessness fills you as you continue jiggling the door handle to no avail. Your captor had been meticulous about preventing your escape, why had you expected him to give you free rein over your room?

You halfheartedly begin pushing your body against the door, hoping it might give way. However, your efforts prove to be futile. You eventually give up, releasing your grip on the doorknob and slumping onto the floor in defeat.

It’s there, with the side of your face buried into the plush rug that you realize just how dire your straits really are.

You’re alone in a new country being held prisoner by an immortal nutjob, injured, malnourished, paralyzed, and weaponless. The crownsguard had mostly ceased operations, which meant none of your comrades were looking for you.

Comrades. The word bounces around in your head as you remember the grisly site where your companions had died. Tears prick at your eyes as guilt floods your mind. Maybe if you’d refused his offer– If you’d just taken your chance with the Archean they would still be alive.

A silent sob tears itself out of your chest as you realize just how alone you are. Even if you do escape, you’ll never be able to share a game of King’s Knight with Noct and Prompto again. You’ll never hear Ignis hum as he prepares dinner again, you’ll never spend another afternoon training with Gladio pushing yourself to the limit over casual banter.

You mourn for Regis as well. He had never been anything but kind to you. When he had selected you to travel with his son across the sea you had been honored. He’d given you a warm smile when he’d explained his son needed a healer on his journey in case things went awry. The fact that Noct would also benefit from healing due to his injuries went unsaid. He was a considerate man, and it had broken your heart to watch him decay over the years.

Another sob wracks your body as you mourn your city. Insomnia had been your home for as long as you could remember, and in one day it had all been taken from you. You’re no fool, you know if a crownsguard were to appear inside occupied Insomnia you’d be killed or captured by the MTs. The plumes of smoke that had risen in the sky are still ingrained in your brain, along with the horror of realizing you had no home to return to.

Your sobs continue as you fully allow your emotions to wash over you. You feel angry, devastated, terrified, confused, but most potently, alone. Your loneliness is all-consuming, it feels like someone cracked open your ribcage and pulled your heart out, leaving only a dark well of sadness in its place.

You don’t know how long you lay there, muted sobs wracking your frame until you run out of tears. When your eyes run dry numbness sets in, profound and absolute in the silence of the night.

You eventually fall asleep sprawled out on the carpet, your energy and fight long abandoned. All care about being sneaky thrown out the window. If Ardyn is going to punish you then so be it. Not much he could do to make the situation worse you figure.

You wake up to the sound of the door to your room opening. You don’t even need to open your eyes to know that the steady and confident footfalls approaching you are Ardyn.

“Well well, what do we have here?” He asks, and you feel dread build in your stomach at his saccharine tone. His shadow falls over your body as he looms over you, and you briefly wonder if he's about to crush you under the heel of his freshly polished boots. “Darling, I told you that your healing comes first. You cannot heal if you’re not in bed.” He flourishes his hand, once again freeing your voice before continuing. “One would think you would get the hint when your legs were taken. Perhaps I need to make you more sedated?”

Ice-cold fear pierces your heart at his words. You frantically shake your head, pointing to the bathroom.

“Need to pee,” You rasp out, your voice gravelly from misuse and lack of water. This seems to appease your captor. He visibly softens, crouching down to your level on the floor.

“Oh darling, my apologies. I should have known you’d need to use the facilities sometime or other,” You’re shocked by his apology as he produces the key to the bathroom from his pocket, unlocking the door and opening it before leaning down to scoop you into his arms.

“No,” You protest, voice weak. “I can do it myself,” You begin to squirm in his grip, trying your hardest to get away as he places you on top of the toilet like a doll. Humiliation burns hot and red in your cheeks as he stares at you expectantly.

“I can do this on my own,” You protest, trying your best to sound assertive as your look at Ardyn’s figure looming in the doorway.

“Darling you needn’t be shy, it isn’t anything I’ve never seen before,” He coos. His words make your skin crawl as he eyes you up and down, his gaze lingering on the lines of your chest and the curve of your waist. You don’t let it deter you, fixing your firm gaze on him in an expression you hope says “I’m not budging on this.”

Luckily it does. With a dramatic sigh, the chancellor turns around, resting his shoulder against the frame of the door.

“Could you please close the door?” You rasp, and the Chancellor shakes his head.

“Trust is given, not earned darling. And after your little stunts on the ship and in the hallway, you have a lot of earning to do.” He replies, and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

You sit in silence on the toilet, staring at the back of his head as you both reach a stalemate. He breaks the silence first, telling you “If you don’t complete your task by the time I turn around, you won’t find another opportunity for a while.”

His words are enough to make you sigh in defeat, pulling your underwear down your legs and hiking the white slip up above your hips. The silence while you finish your business was humiliating, but what's more humiliating is the realization you’ll need Ardyn’s help again to wash your hands.

Seemingly reading your mind, the Chancellor turns around and fills a basin full of water from the sink before putting it on your lap, handing you a bar of soap as well. You wash your hands in silence, the sylleblossom scent of the soap wafting into your nostrils as you lather it between your hands.

When you’re finished Ardyn removes the basin from your lap, pours the contents into the sink, and places the bar of soap on the counter.

The numbness from before creeps in, muting the disgust and rage that courses through your veins as your captor runs a hand through your hair. [You allow yourself to fall into it, losing yourself in the abyss of your own mind as you faintly feel your body being lifted into the air again. You barely register being put back into bed, your captor propping a pillow up behind the small of your back so you can sit up. You’re dimly aware of a hairbrush running through the tangled knots in your hair.

In your mind, you’re floating. You feel comfortably empty as memories slip by your consciousness. One moment you’re watching Ignis set up the propane stove at camp, the next you’re getting a tutorial from Prompto on how to use a Blizzaroid camera. It's like watching your life from someone else's point of view, like you're watching a movie for your own memories.

The image of Gladio kissing your cheek at one of the King’s soirees floats by, and you cling to it for a moment. The warmth of the memory washes over you, and you’re briefly there again. You’re in an itchy ballgown tagging along as a plainclothes guard for Noct when an old courtesan niff approaches you, the stench of wine radiating off him as he made clumsy attempts to flirt with you.

Gladio had come to your rescue with an arm around your waist and a kiss on the cheek, asking how you’d been enjoying the festivities. You’d played along and the courtesan had left in a huff, ranting about how he could find better prospects somewhere else.

Just as quickly as it came, the memory slips out of your fleeting grip. You’re once again floating in space. The static numbness is a comfort as you feel your captor begin to braid your hair. It almost feels as if it’s happening to someone else, that you've left a doll shaped like you back in your prison in Altissa while you freely float through your own mind.

Now you’re playing King’s Knight with Noct in the back of a trailer somewhere in Duscae. He always complains when he loses, but you don’t mind. Prompto will always cheer him back up anyways.

You’re in the crownsguard barracks. Your muscles are screaming from the Marshall’s particularly harsh training of the day. Your bunkmate Laurie won’t stop snoring and you kick the bottom of her bed out of frustration. She falls silent, and you take the opportunity to get some well-deserved rest.

You’re young now. Maybe ten? You flit around the market in search of the items on your list. Your chaperone, Cor, does most of the serious work while you look for simple things like milk and bread. You’re stunned by all of the colors and shapes and smells in one place.

Everything is blurry now. You see photos of your mother and father hanging in the front of the temple. There’s a priest talking about how the crownsguard have a noble duty to protect the crystal, how your parents died doing a divine service to the country.

Regis is holding your hand small hand. The next day you’re moved into the crownsguard barracks, the Marshall your chaperone until you’re old enough to be left to your own devices.]*

To your dismay, the shell of numbness begins to dissolve as you feel your captor begin to caress your cheek. You try and hang onto it, but the threads of static slip through your fingers as you slowly come back to reality.

When you finally come back to the present moment, Ardyn is holding a mirror in front of you. He’s delicately twisted your hair into an intricate braided pattern, small pins with garnets nestled into the design. His hand is holding your chin and you flinch away, now fully able to feel the disgust his touch triggers.

When you examine your reflection further you see just how much weight you’ve lost as your face looks sallow and gaunt. You’re paler than you remember. It strikes you that you look like one of the women you’d see in history books with your hairstyle, and your mood sours even further. You hate being this man’s little doll, hate how he’s chosen to enact his twisted fantasies on you just because of some “tragedy” centuries ago.

You’re broken out of your reverie by your captor planting a kiss on the top of your head. Punishment be damned, your years of crownsguard training kick in as you land a punch squarely on his jaw with a satisfying crack.

You'd almost prefer punishment over his true reaction.

He smiles kindly down at you, gathering you in his arms as you try anything to get away. Your fear and disgust morph into white-hot anger as he presses you to his chest. All your emotions from the previous night resurface, bloody and raw. You claw at his face, leaving angry red marks in your wake as your hurl curses at him, but he doesn’t budge. He remains still as you crush his eyes under your fingers, as you rake your nails over his ears and gnash your teeth.

You hurl every swear imaginable at him, your vocabulary foul enough to make even a sailor faint. You continue your onslaught despite your hands being slippery and covered in blood, pounding on your captor’s chest and demanding for him to let you go. He doesn’t budge until you finally exhaust yourself, your all-consuming anger simmering into quiet sobs of defeat.

If it were anyone else you’d be melting into his touch. You’d bask in the warmth of their chest and the security of their thick arms wrapped around you.

But it isn’t someone else.

It’s him.

He finally moves, slipping one arm out from under your legs to caress you, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His face is streaked with blood, his amber eyes fully regenerated as he looks at you with a mix of compassion and sadness. Angry red lines still cross his cheeks and neck, and for a moment you’re horrified with yourself as you become acutely aware of the blood drying on your hands.

“My little one,” He says gently, his eyes still soft. “I will love you no matter how much you hurt me, no matter how many times you grace me with the taste of death,” He places a kiss against the top of your head again, and this time you don’t fight it. You’re too exhausted to fight, too exhausted to feel.

“I understand you’re confused and in pain, but everything I do for you is in your best interest, my sweet,” He continues, and you muster up enough energy to roll your eyes, not caring that he can see you.

“Now, why we get you cleaned up, hm?”

* Information recap: The reader remembers a rime Gladio was flirty with her. It is revealed that the reader was an orphan raised by the crownsguard due to her parents being officers who were KIA.

[just-here-for-the-moment]

The Innkeeper's Daughter

Thank you sooooo much to @fandom-blackhole who let me take inspiration from This Ask for the original Anon and This follow-up Ask from me, and let me run wild with the premise of Pero Tovar falling in love with an innkeeper.

This one is for @silverwolf319 who sent me a request for "Ummmm...how about soft, sweet filthiness lol like, filthy dirty talk, but with feelings? Does that make sense?"

Saaaammmmm, I hope this delivers on that! 💜💜💜

Update: Part 2 is here!

Word count: 3200+

Rating: mature, 18+ only

Outline: Pero Tovar x “You” (OC cis/het female reader, “blank canvas”/no physical description/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: mature language; euphemisms; one use of “whorehouse” and “whore”; slow-burn; yearning; one incident of bar violence; Pero Tovar unleashing his desires verbally; lots of dirty talk; kissing; one breast grope; one erection; everyone’s clothes stay on

The first time you saw the grumpy Spaniard smile was a busy Saturday evening. Your father’s inn was full, the barroom filled with groups of raucous and rowdy men singing traveling songs and reminiscing loudly about battles won and women lost. The contrast between the exuberant hordes and the quiet, scowling man was evident to everyone, but they left him alone to brood.

“The Spaniard” had arrived in the early hours of Thursday morning and disappeared into his room immediately, sleeping the day away until supper. He kept to himself in the barroom, taking over a small table in the corner, keeping his back to the wall and his eyes on the other guests. He graced you with eye contact exactly once during Thursday’s supper, nodding at you to indicate his thanks for the ale before tucking his head back down to eat.

You knew from your two decades behind the bar that the quiet ones could sometimes be dangerous. But your father was much more concerned with the inn’s revenue and suppliers, and brushed off your questions with a wave.

“The Spaniard is quiet and doesn’t seem interested in starting trouble. He’s paid for his room in advance for the week. If he wants to be left alone, leave off.”

The Spaniard did not appear on Friday for the midday meal, but he did come back for late supper, repeating Thursday’s pattern exactly; a seat at the small table with his back to the wall, scanning the room from under his brow, a flash of eye contact to you as wordless thanks when you set down his plate and and the ewer of ale. The rest of the customers were settled for the moment, and something made you bolder than you would normally be, choosing to linger and try to break into the hard shell he wore like a cloak.

“Care for anything else? I have honey cakes set aside from the baker if you would like one.”

He grunted, a noise that was neither a yes nor a no. You weren’t sure if you should take offense or be happy that he made noise at all.

“What’s your name?”

He stopped chewing at that, and raised his eyes to yours, holding your gaze with his own deep brown orbs. The scar that ran over one eye was almost delicate, tracing a line from eyebrow to cheek that told a story of pain and must have resulted in him nearly losing the organ. You had seen many men disfigured and maimed by war and by accidents; but his scar was almost beautiful, highlighting his features in a way that made him more handsome, not less.

He swallowed roughly and grunted again. “Tovar.”

“Tovar… is that all?” You smiled wryly, hoping to pull more secrets out of him.

“Pero.” He grunted again, but this time it nearly resembled full speech. “Pero Tovar.”

He tucked his head back down and shoved more food into his mouth. You took that as your cue to go back to the bar. If he was staying all week you could wait until Sunday when things quieted down, spend a few days slowly probing. You got the sense he wasn’t dangerous, at least not to whoever brought him food and ale. You let yourself be distracted serving everyone else, and when you looked for him at the end of the night he was gone. You tried to ignore the little pang of disappointment that bloomed in your chest.

Saturday dawned clear and sunny, and you rose early to do the marketing for the inn and for your little household of two. Your mother had passed many years before, and your father prided himself on running an honorable establishment. You may have spent your formative years behind the bar of the inn, but nobody in the village mistook you for anything save an honest innkeeper’s daughter. The whorehouse was at the other end of town.

You finished your marketing and returned home, planning how to combine fresh eggs with leftover bread and meat for the midday meal. Most guests of the inn came for the late supper, but a few showed up for the midday meal and some companionship. You hoped Tovar would be one of them, but given that he had skipped the midday dinner on both Thursday and Friday, you didn’t dare hope too much.

To your great surprise, Tovar was already in the barroom when you arrived. He was dressed casually in tunic and pants and was standing on a table under the main beam, helping your father reattach the lantern. The chain had been broken for a few weeks, leaving this part of the room dark. Neither you nor your father had made time to obtain a ladder and fix it yet, but apparently for Tovar no ladder was needed. His tall frame was stretched up, arms raised to reach for the chain dangling from the ceiling, and his tunic lifted just enough to show a band of bare skin over his hips. The sight of him nearly made you drop your baskets.

You recovered your senses and looked away, greeting your father as naturally as you could. When you lifted your eyes to greet Tovar, you swore you saw the ghost of a smirk cross his lips. You hurried to the kitchen to prepare the midday meal.

When you dared to return to the bar, your father had gone, and Tovar was seated at his usual table. He lifted his eyes quickly to your face and you found that you could barely speak. Your words emerged in a breathy rush. “Are you hungry? Would you like to eat now?” You cursed your nerves and tried to settle them. Where were the other guests? Why was nobody else coming down to the bar?

Tovar looked at you sternly from under his brows and you suddenly felt like a child, caught for doing something naughty. But his next words made something in your middle turn over, fluttering like a moth.

“No. Sit with me a while.”

You sat. You were not accustomed to taking orders from strange men in your father’s establishment, but you rationalized it by telling yourself that attending to guests was good for the inn’s reputation, and that you would spring up and take care of any other guests as soon as they entered. You ignored the little whisper of lust that was suddenly at the base of your spine, tickling up like a trail of smoke from an extinguished candle.

“Tell me your name, woman.”

His question shocked you, until you realized that you hadn’t yet given it to him, and apparently neither had your father during their repair work. You opened your lips and spoke your own name, and under Tovar’s intense gaze it felt strange and foreign. He repeated it back to you in his sonorous tone, turning the fluttering moths in your center into lightning bolts.

“Are you enjoying your stay with us? Is there anything you need for your room?”

That half-smirk graced his lips for another moment, then passed away so quickly you were almost sure you imagined it. He shook his head, “No.”

You let the silence hang. Why had he asked you to sit with him if he wasn’t going to converse? Your stubborn streak won out over your curiosity and you decided to hold his eyes with your own and wait him out. Seconds stretched into minutes, and the air between you became heated, suffused with something like the vapors that distorted the air above a fire. Your hands grew moist, and you rubbed them across your lap, hoping the apron would absorb both the sweat and your discomfort. Tovar continued to look at you with interest, and the longer he stared the more you felt your face burn.

You broke first, bending your head and taking in a great shuddering gulp of air. Just then a footstep fell on the threshold and you leapt out of your chair and swept into the kitchen. When you calmed yourself and finally emerged, Tovar was gone. You let yourself get entwined in the gossip and the rhythm of your normal serving of guests, listening to the friendly chatter. By the time the bar was clear again, you decided to take yourself up to your room and rest, to conserve your energy for the busy Saturday night crowd. Saturday late supper consisted of cold leftovers and mug after mug of ale. The crowds were usually boisterous but good-natured, and you were looking forward to seeing Tovar again.

When you woke from your nap the sun was kissing the horizon, and you freshened your dress, changing into one of your nicer ones and a fresh bodice, tying a clean apron around your middle. You scrubbed your face with a wet cloth and rearranged your hair. You felt like a maiden heading to the altar, but you weren’t sure why. Nothing that Tovar had said or done so far gave you any indication that he favored you that way. There really was no need to change into clean clothing or present yourself in any special garments. Still… there was that hope, that whisper of lust that had sprung up under his gaze this afternoon. Maybe he would notice your efforts and begin to take an interest.

You entered the bar and began getting ready to serve the Saturday night crowd, handing around ewers of ale and plates of cold buns and cheese. The inn not only had a dedicated stream of locals every Saturday, but it also tended to draw groups of visitors from some of the smaller towns, as well as travelers on the road who needed a room for the night. You tried to keep your eyes on your work, but they kept flitting to the doorway without your permission, seeking any trace of the grumpy Spaniard and flickering the hope in your gut when they didn’t see him. As the barroom filled, you wondered whether he would appear at all. You pushed all hope of seeing him down, stomping on it and trying to keep yourself focused.

You hurried to the kitchen for another round of buns, and when you emerged into the bar he was there, sitting at “his” table and scowling his usual scowl. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and you felt your face heat with desire. When Tovar saw you his face opened, and the first genuine smile you had ever seen painted his lips. The rest of the raucous room fell away, and you zipped straight to his table, depositing the plate of buns that had been intended for someone else.

“Hello Pero.” You bit your lip, never having addressed him with his name before. Was it too forward?

“Hello, mi-” he stopped himself, then said your name, almost reluctantly. Had he forgotten it in the few hours since you had seen each other last?

You smiled tightly, a little less warmly than before. Icy flakes swept over your girlish crush and your ardor cooled. If he had already forgotten your name, he must not be interested. “Ale?”

He nodded. “Yes… if you please.”

Your thin layer of ice melted. A “please” from this man was like high praise from anyone else. You nodded and went to the bar, filling an ewer and a mug, and delivering both to his table. You wanted to linger, but calls from the other side of the room interrupted any notion of getting to spend more time with Tovar.

You nodded once at him and departed, taking care of the other guests and helping your father lug another barrel of ale from the back. Every time you dared glance at Tovar he was watching you, gentle interest and curiosity issuing from his eyes, instead of the menacing scowl he had sported when he first arrived. You tried to focus on your usual tasks, letting the rowdy laughter of the bar patrons wash over you, but you could feel Pero’s eyes on you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at him again and again, far too often. Your distraction was probably the reason that disaster struck.

Your eyes were again on Pero as you made your way across the room, and your toe caught the edge of someone’s foot, causing you to stumble and spill a mug of ale all over a large man. He bellowed in anger. You saw that he was a stranger, and as he unfolded himself from his chair and stood up, you could see that he was twice as broad as you and nearly two heads taller. The ale soaked his tunic and dripped onto the floor.

Before you could open your mouth to apologize, the man raised his hand to strike you. Suddenly his furious face crumpled into pain. He fell to his knees in front of you, the raised arm now twisted behind his back. As his knees hit the floor, Pero’s face materialized behind the man’s shoulder. Pero’s trademark scowl was directed at the back of the man’s head as he hissed instructions to the stranger.

“Apologize to the woman.”

The man spit out a curse and then refused. “She’s a whore!” Another wail of pain issued from his open mouth as Pero twisted his arm up and back.

He leaned down and spoke into the man’s ear, so low that you almost couldn’t hear it. “Apologize.”

The man dropped his head to his chest and whined out a stream of words that included several “sorrys” and “my mistakes”. You looked at him, eyes still wide with shock, mouth frozen into a grimace. Pero looked at you and then gave the man’s arm one final shove. A sickening crack met your ears and the man groaned as he fell forward onto his face.

“Now leave! And do not come back.” The man and his companions scrambled to the exit, and the rest of the customers murmured to themselves as they returned to their own drinks and gossip.

“Mi alma, are you alright?” Pero reached his hand out to you and you shook your head, tears springing to your eyes.

You spun on your heel and ran out of the bar, turning to flee to the back hallway, hands shaking. You pressed your back to the wall and then bent over at the waist, trying to catch your breath. You had seen bar fights before, and broken up a handful when they happened here and there, but you had never seen violence like that up close. You had never seen such hatred on a man’s face as the anger that had colored Pero’s features. You had the sense that Pero would have gladly killed the man and not had a second of remorse.

You heard a foot scrape the floor and you shot upright. Pero was at the end of the hall, eyes flickering in the light from the lone candle on the table. He put both hands out to you, palms facing you in a gesture of openness, approaching one slow step at a time.

“I am sorry. I am sorry.” His voice was low and calm. “Please forgive me.”

“No,” your own voice sounded high and panicked to your ears. “Stop. Don’t hurt me.”

Pero’s face crumpled and he halted his approach. “Hurt you? No, never. I would never hurt you. Please believe me.” He took another step toward you.

“But that man- You, you broke-”

Pero interrupted your awful cry. “Ssshhh, no. No, mi alma. That was not a man. He was a beast. I made him apologize and leave.”

Pero took another step, closing the distance between you to one stride. You were surprised to see tears in the corners of his eyes as well.

“I thought I was saving you, mi alma. Protecting you.”

“You did, you protected me, but- How were you so fast? And why do you keep calling me ‘mi alma’?”

Pero closed the final distance between you and reached his hands out to hold both of yours. He stepped close, and you had to tilt your head back to look into his eyes.

“I love you. You have enchanted me. ‘Mi alma’ means my soul. It means you have my love and my heart.” He looked deep into your eyes. “... and my body, if you so desire.”

He inclined his head and his lips met yours. You felt your head spin, heart pulsing through every vein, pounding in your ears as you let yourself be kissed, over and over again. You had kissed boys before, and even one young man in the village, but this was like being kissed for the first time anew. Pero kissed you with passion, with intent.

His hands gripped your waist and held you to him as your fingers entwined themselves up into his neck and the hair at the back of his neck. Pero broke the kiss and leaned toward your ear. His voice was low and gravelly, striking something in your core and sending sparks to your throat.

“I fell in love with you today. When I caught you looking at me as I changed the lantern. When you sat with me and met my eyes with your own and you didn’t shy away. When I saw that you had changed into a new dress, had made yourself pretty just for me.”

Your breath left your lungs in a huff, and the only sound you could make was a low hum.

Pero continued whispering words and warm breath across your ear, sending shivers down your neck, making your nipples harden with desire.

“I will take care of you, mi alma. Let me take you to bed and show you everything that you need to know. Let me show you how to make love to a man, to please him. How to take a husband and take your own pleasure, too.”

“Ohh…” You hardly recognized your voice as your own, and before you could say more, Pero kissed you again, opening your mouth and slipping his tongue inside. He pressed his hips against you, pinning you to the wall. You could feel his hardness against your hip; but instead of scaring you or making you feel ashamed, it stoked the fire in you from a flame to an explosion.

You kissed Pero back, as hard and as eager as he had kissed you. And then you did something you never would have imagined: you reached behind your waist and grabbed his wrist, bringing his hand up to cup around your breast. He squeezed and thrust his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your moans and squeaks.

He broke the kiss again to suck and nip at your cheek, your jaw, your neck. Every kiss inflamed you further, and you pressed your hips against his, rubbing from side to side to feel his hardness through the layers of your skirts.

“Let me take you to bed, mi alma. Let me make love with you.” Pero’s voice dropped to a low rumble. You could barely hear him above the thrum of your own heartbeat, but the words sent a new rush of something hot and wet to your private area.

“Let me kiss you between your legs, to taste you. Let me show you everything I know. Let me have you, and you may have me… all of me. Let me love you, mi alma.”

Your mouth opened and you spoke the only true answer to his request.

“Yes, Pero. Please.” --- Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

My “all fics” tag list:

@anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul

@kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @quica-quica-quica @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001

[griffintail]

Hey Griffin I love your work, your writing is amazing, and I was wondering if I could spare you an angsty request: Parental Tommy falls into deep grief after their child, Reader, goes into prison to tell Dream off for blowing up their home and hurting their father and Uncle Tubbo, and gets killed by Dream. Maybe how Wilbur and Schlatt react to Reader in the afterlife, and what Tommy does to try and get them back. (Inspired by this week's streams)

I went farther than with this than I planned to originally. Lol. Thank you and I hope you enjoy!

Quiet Uptown

Pairings: Parental! Tommy x Teenage F! Reader

Warnings: Death, Blood, Mentions of Violence, Angst!!, afterlife, swearing

A/N: (F/L) is first letter of your first name because that’s just a Tommy thing.

        Sam hesitated when (Y/N) had stepped into his prison that day.

        The young sixteen-year-old girl stood there; her eyes filled with determination as she waited for Sam to speak.

        “What are you doing here?” Sam asked, standing up. “Does Tommy know you’re here?”

        “No.” She answered truthfully. “He won’t realize I’m gone for maybe two hours. He wouldn’t ever let me near here but I want to give Dream a piece of my mind after everything he’s put my family through. Dad and I both own only one life after everything he’s one and I want to let him know how badly he lost.”

        “I…Don’t think this is wise. You’re just a kid.”

        “I’m more than a kid! Everyone seems to forget I fought for Pogtopia at the age of thirteen and lost a life for it. I went and helped dad every day in his exile when no one else would! Dream killed me for that bullshit and I refuse to let him think he has control over me and my family anymore.”

        Sam could see it was more than that. She wanted to know that Dream no longer held control over her and her family. Dream had taken everything from them. Their nation, their family members, their two spare lives, their friends. Now he was locked away after Tommy won and she needed to know he couldn’t control them anymore.

        “Alright. Well, I need you to read this carefully and sign it.” Sam slipped into his role as Warden.

        He walked (Y/N) through the clearance steps and lead her down through the prison.

        Dream was a broken man. Sam made sure his spirit was broken and the masked man had long since stopped trying to escape. The poor young girl needed closure.

        …Sam was overconfident in his abilities.

        “If you need anything, call for me,” Sam told her and she nodded.

        And she was let into the cell.

        The man of the hour was surprised by his visitor, picking himself off the floor as he grinned behind his mask.

        “Well, well, well. It’s little Innit.”

        “Shut up.” (Y/N) immediately said. “You’ll listen to me today.”

        Dream held up his hands, giving a laugh. “Alright. Let’s hear what you have to say.”

        (Y/N) looked around the small cell and was reminded of her father’s claustrophobia…that Dream caused.

        “It’s fitting for you to be in here. Trapped in a box. Your life thrown in a hole, waiting to be destroyed.” (Y/N) said. “You did a lot to my family Dream, you hurt them, you killed them. There are people out there that say you don’t deserve this but I know everything you’ve done. You’re going to rot in here forever if it’s the last thing I do.”

        “You’ve got a pretty big ego there.”

        “You’re one to talk! You took everything from us because you couldn’t handle that we took away even a bit of your power!” She took a deep breath to calm herself and Dream saw the Tommy in her. “You tried to kill Tubbo, you were going to used what everyone loved against them. You’re a psychopath and you can’t be let out.”

        “People can change though. I can change and get out.”

        “You’ll never change! You’re talking bullshit and I know! Dad knows it! Sam, Tubbo, Quackity! You’re just bullshit! You’re a green little bitch and you’ll never get out! You can’t hurt us anymore. We’re in control now and we’re free from you forever.” She told him, getting in his masked face without thinking.

        She never meant to go so far into the cell…Sam had asked her not to…

        Dream’s grin turned wicked, (Y/N) unable to see it but she felt something in the air change and she paled slightly as she took a step back towards the netherite barrier realizing how far she went.

        “I might not be able to hurt anyone…outside!”

        “SAM!” She screamed, bolting for the barrier…but Dream was faster…

        “DREAM! DON’T!!” Sam commanded as he tried to bring the lava down as fast as he could! …

        …

        “Come on Tubbo. You’re getting shit at this.” Tommy laughed as he knocked Tubbo’s wooden training sword out of his hand.

        “You’re such an arse.” Tubbo huffed, going over to get some water.

        Tommy grinned. He had missed this, just being to train with Tubbo for the hell of it. (Y/N) said she needed to do something Ranboo, so it felt like he was missing something during the training but he was glad to know she was able to go out in the world without him worrying. Dream wasn’t out there anymore.

        The taller man was practicing his swings when Tubbo heard both their walkies beep. Someone must be calling them. Tubbo picked up his walkie, going to answer but his eyes went wide as he saw why the walkie had beeped. He dropped it, taking a step back, making Tommy look over in confusion.

        “What’s wrong with you?” Tommy asked, going over to see what it was.

        “T-Tommy, don’t—” Tubbo started but Tommy had already picked up the walkie.

        Tommy entire world stopped as he stared at the words on the screen.

        (Y/N) was slain by Dream

        “This—This is a stupid fucking joke.” Tommy tried to say, looking at Tubbo.

        But Tubbo had both his hands over his mouth as he was already starting to cry.

        “She…He’s in prison!” He shouted as he went for his own walkie. “This is shit joke Tubbo!”

        He couldn’t breathe as his walkie displayed the same message. It felt like the world around him was getting smaller as he couldn’t think of anything but those five words.

        “It’s not true!” Tommy screamed before snatching up his gear.

        He ran out the door to find it raining. His trident came off his back and was soaring through the air after throwing it through the rain. There was no fucking way, she was with Ranboo! Dream was rotting in a cell! He made sure of it!

        His baby should be as safe as she could be!

        Mud splashed all over him as he landed in front of the prison complex, soaking wet but he felt so numb. He couldn’t feel anything. He didn’t care about anything else, he just wanted to know who was playing this cruel joke.

        “SAM!” Tommy stormed in.

        Sam clutched the figure to him as he made his way past the empty prison cells hearing Tommy’s voice.

        He failed…

        This was all his fault…

        Sam stared at the last door where Tommy shouted his name again before taking a deep breath and opening it.

        Tommy snapped his head over and his entire world collapsed as Sam held the bloody figure in his arms. Their blood was coating Sam’s armor along with their own clothes.

        “No, no…NO! NO!!” Tommy shouted as he gripped his head taking a step back.

        That couldn’t be her, it just couldn’t be! She shouldn’t be here! She wasn’t here! It was all a…a dream…a nightmare!

        “Tommy.” Sam let out a heartbroken voice.

        Tommy looked up and looked to her neck. The (F/C) bandana was undeniable…

        Taking a shaky step forward, Tommy took the girl from Sam before collapsing to the ground, sobbing when he saw what Dream had done to her. He rocked, back and forth as he held her close.

        “Please…please little (F/L)…come back to me. I’m here now.” Tommy choked out his words as he stared down at the bloody girl. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. Please come back (Y/N).”

        He put his forehead on hers as his tears stained her face.

        He let out a heartbroken scream!

        And it echoed all throughout the prison, making Dream’s maniacal laughter continue in his cell.

        …

        “Who’s this?” A voice asked.

        (Y/N) groaned at the feeling of a pounding headache before looking up.

        “(Y/N), I didn’t expect to see you here first.” She heard a much more familiar voice.

        She looked up seeing her Uncle Wilbur grinning at her.

        “W-Wilbur?”

        “Ayup.” He chuckled. “Nice to see you again kid.”

        “Where…Where…” She looked around at the darkness, startling when she saw the familiar ram man and scooted away. “Schlatt.”

        “Hey, brat. Nice to see you again.” He grinned. “Welcome to the afterlife.”

        “I’m…I died?” Her breathing picked up.

        Her head started to hurt and she gripped onto it as she remembered. The blood…the pain…daddy save me!

        She startled feeling a hand on her shoulder, seeing it was Schlatt as Wilbur stood there with his hands in his coat.

        “Yeah, it’s going to be pretty hard.” Wilbur shrugged. “We’ll…show you around.”

        Wilbur laughed as Schlatt rolled his eyes.

        “Come on brat.” He offered her a hand. “We’ll explain it all to you.”

        …

        Tubbo was waiting at Tommy’s base, his own heart shattering seeing his best friend sniffling as he wiped away his tears while covered in blood.

        “No.” Tubbo breathed.

        Tommy couldn’t think at the moment. The world seemed unreal. He couldn’t feel the rain hitting his body or the cold starting to set into him.

        “My little girl’s gone Tubbo.” He muttered.

        “I’m so sorry Tommy. What…what happened?” Tubbo asked.

        “I-I don’t know. I just…” Tommy put his hands through his hair, his breaths coming out short. “(Y/N)—She…Holy shit…My poor little (F/L)…”

        Tubbo came over putting his hands on Tommy’s shoulders. “Breathe Tommy.”

        “How?! My—She’s gotten! Beaten and blooded! She must have been terrified and I—I wasn’t there Tubbo!” Tommy shouted putting his hands over his face.

        “…What are you going to do?” Tubbo asked.

        Tommy rubbed his hands over his face. “I can’t think, I need…I need the night to get anything in me…”

        “Yeah, ok. I’ll stay.”

        “No, I…I really need some time alone right now,” Tommy told him.

        “…Ok. I’ll get a room at the hotel so I’ll be close by, ok?”

        “Yeah, alright,” Tommy muttered before pushing past into his house.

        Tubbo let tears roll down his cheeks before he looked at the prison, marching himself over.

        Tommy stood inside the house and…it felt so small and so quiet. He laughed bitterly to himself. Finally, it being quiet uptown made so much sense to him. Everything felt so dull and silent.

        Slowly, he went into his ender chest and pulled out his first disc. He stared down at it as he remembered finding (Y/N) after he found this disc. He ran a thumb over it as he remembered every time, he fought Dream for it till the final battle. He went to the bedroom, staring at the made bed across the room.

        He went to the jukebox and put the disc in as he sat on his bed staring at the empty one. His body broke down again as he cried into his hands.

        “If I had just kept the memories and you instead of this stupid disc you’d still be here!” He shouted to air. “I’m so sorry (Y/N)…I’m so sorry…”

        At the prison, Tubbo stormed in with a trident in hand.

        “What the hell happened?!” Tubbo demanded, Sam, sitting on his desk trying to process his own thoughts.

        “I was too late…” Sam muttered.

        “That answers nothing. What happened?!”

        “…She wanted to see Dream. She wanted closure after everything you’ve guys have been through…she was just a kid…and…”

        “Yeah, she was a kid, so why did you let her in?!”

        “Because she looked so broken. She wanted to see Dream couldn’t hurt her anymore. I-I-I thought I got the strength out of him! Then…she screamed for help…I tried to get in as fast as I could…he just laughed when I came in…”

        “…You shouldn’t have let her in.”

        Sam hung his low, knowing he was right.

        …

        (Y/N) sat watching the two men play solitaire.

        “Why’d you even go and see Dream?” Wilbur asked as he laid down an eight of spades on a nine of hearts.

        (Y/N) felt her throat tighten, it always making her feel weird when she did it past few days as she didn’t need to exactly breath.

        “I was having nightmares, Dream getting out and sit. I just…needed to see he was away, unable to hurt me.”

        Wilbur snorted and Schlatt punched him.

        “Shut the hell up man,” Schlatt told him.

        “Well, it obviously didn’t help, she’s here.” Wilbur rolled his eyes as Schlatt put down a five of diamonds. “And no punching, that’s round five.”

        (Y/N) breathing picked up and Schlatt huffed, throwing his cards down.

        “We’re not going to finish?” Wilbur questioned.

        “No, you’re driving us both nuts. Let’s go kid.” Schlatt hoisted her up and away, surprising her as that was the first time, he didn’t call her brat.

        (Y/N) glanced back seeing Wilbur continuing to play his game without them. She remembered Wilbur being insane before in Pogtopia. This was a whole new level.

        “We’ve been here for years,” Schlatt spoke, making her look at him. “He was nuts before; he’s even more fucked up now. I’m still more me because I’d rather sleep through this shit. You know the phrase I’ll sleep when I’m dead? That’s what I’m doing.” He grinned at his own joke.

        She snorted quietly, as she looked at her hands. “I just want to see my dad so bad…I lied to him as my last thing and…I miss him.”

        “I know kid. It’s hard for us to get down there though. I don’t even know how fuck face managed it.”

        “…Do you think he’s mad at me?” She asked.

        “No, I remember that stupid kid. If anything, someone probably had to hold him back, foaming at the mouth, from killing Dream himself with his bare hands. He wouldn’t be mad at you.”

        She smiled softly. She wished this had been president Schlatt and maybe everything would have been better. But Wilbur was right, L’Manberg needed to go, it corrupted everyone.

        …

        “Tommy,” Sam said as they stood in front of the lava wall.

        Four days had passed. Tommy had a funeral for his little girl and there had been gifts and tributes for her, but nothing made it, her. He felt like he was suffocating constantly and he couldn’t take it anymore. She had no ghost so Phil’s research would give him no help. But…there was one other thing.

        “You know what he’s going to ask for,” Sam spoke the obvious.

        “I know. He’s not going to get it.” Tommy said, his voice dead.

        Sam gripped the lever that would bring down the lava wall. “He hasn’t eaten in two days, he’ll be weak.”

        “Good. Now let me in.” Tommy stepped forward.

        Sam hesitated before pulling the lever. After a few minutes, Tommy was standing behind the netherite barrier. Dream grinned, his mask off as he stood up, holding his hands out.

        “The man of the hour! I’ve been waiting for you!” Dream laughed.

        The barrier dropped and Tommy walked in.

        “Bring her back.” Tommy simply stated.

        “Can’t without the book, you know what I’m going to need.”

        Tommy nodded, walking forward before hitting Dream with surprising force that sent him to the ground.

        “We’re…going to have a nice long chat,” Tommy told the surprised man in a monotone voice. “And it’s going to end with where you put that book or how to get my little girl back. So, let’s talk bitch.”

        Tommy would get her back. He wouldn’t let this be the end.

[thegirlintheswivelchair]

Deep, Disastrous Love || H.H

Pairings: fwb!harry holland x crewmate!reader

Summary: You decided to amp up the meaning of a booty call and surprise Harry at the club. Little do you know, Harry’s struggling with how to deal with your fwb set up.

Wordcount: +3.2k

Warnings: SMUT (like so much of it y’all…it’s pwp), thigh riding, oral fem receiving, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks!!!), super brief mention of alcohol, Angst (it gets angsty folks...sry), readers a tease and in complete denial, some swearing, and overuse of ellipses, aand I wanna say that’s it. (let me know if I missed anything)

A/N: Ok, so this turned into its own thing real quick. I meant for this to be a small little smut fic I could throw out there while I’m slowly making progress on everything else I’m writing! Jokes on me, this turned into its own monster and essentially I made pwp...lol I tried to do something here that I’m not entirely sure if it worked characterwise. So any feedback would be greatly appreciated! Ok, much love, and thanks for reading, liking, and reblogging!

MINORS DO NOT READ. +18 ONLY! THANK YOU!

----

The moment the elevator doors shut, your chest began to tighten as a certain anticipation and fear worked its way around your lungs. Butterflies raged in your stomach, and you felt your heartbeat pick up. 

You had never done this before. You had never surprised Harry. Not at a club, a party, heck you’d never even surprised him at his own door. It had always been a texted booty call or a drunken shag after a night out. That was the way your relationship worked when you weren’t just hanging out as friends. 

This, however...This was new territory. This was you showing up uninvited, purposefully teasing him, and hoping he’d take the bait.

You turned towards the mirrors that surrounded you and looked yourself over. The makeup you’d chosen wasn’t exactly dramatic, but it was smokier and sexier than you usually wore it, and like any fantasy you’ve had about a night like tonight, you rocked a deep, delicious red on your lips. 

Your hands found their way to your dress as you smoothed it out over your figure, making sure everything was perfect. It’s black fabric clung to your body, accentuating the right curves while forgiving others. It was the type of dress that made you feel invincible, and tonight you needed that.

Seeing the numbers steadily tick up to the rooftop where the club was, you turned back towards the doors and took a deep steadying breath in just as the last chime rang. 

Showtime.

The vibrations from the music thrummed through your body as you made your way towards the bar. Your eyes were already scanning the place, looking for the mop of curly red hair you were so familiar with. You didn’t see him until you had gotten your drink--courtesy of a gentleman down the way--and were sipping on it.

Harry was surrounded by a few of his friends, drinking what looked like his usual beer, and sporting a white t-shirt and jeans. You noticed he’d cut his hair. It was shorter, much shorter, than the last time you saw him. His curls were still there, but away from his forehead, no longer loose and running into his eyes. It was a clean cut, and there was something about the new look that had you biting your lip just thinking about what you might do to him tonight, given the chance.

Having found him, you knocked back the rest of your drink and started making your way towards the part of the dance floor closest to Harry and his friends. 

Alcohol and your focus on giving a show kept the self conscious feelings of dancing alone away, and the more you got into the music, the better you felt and the freer you moved. 

It wasn’t long before you started attracting attention. You felt eyes on you, saw the looks some people were giving you, watched the calculations being made for how they would approach you. 

But there was only one pair of eyes that mattered to you. When they finally found your figure, it was like fire licked over your skin. Starting at your feet, gliding up your legs, and wrapping around your torso the flames followed where his eyes traveled. 

You saw out of the corner of your eye, his whole body turning towards you, his tongue darting out and licking his lips. A smirk played on the corner of his mouth as his expression darkened. You could tell he knew what you were up to, and the thought alone added fuel to the fire burning across your body.

Not wanting your game to end just yet, you made it seem like you hadn’t noticed. You turned away from him, still dancing, pretending to be lost in the music. Your hips swayed, and you moved to the rhythm until you felt a pair of warm hands slide across your waist and pull you against a firm chest.

The hands guided you to keep moving as a low murmur made its way to your ears, “Didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

You smirked and murmured back, “Thought I’d spice up the meaning of a booty call.”

You felt his chest rumble as he chuckled, “Spice is right. Showing up here looking like this...” His voice trailed off as his hands slowly slid up and down your sides, and you felt the ghost of a kiss on your neck. The fire that followed his touch was beginning to pool at your core, and you wondered how long you could keep the act up.

“You like it?” you asked as you grind into him, your smirk growing when you heard him hiss. 

Like it? Was that even a question? Harry had seen you look sexy before, but it was never for him. Tonight though, you’d come here looking drop dead gorgeous, playing for his attention, and you ask if he likes it? If he said that didn’t make his heart do a somersault, he was lying through his teeth. Not that he would admit this to you. You were just playing a game...Thankfully, games he could do.

“Yeah, I do.” He said, his voice getting somehow lower than before.

He spun you around so your chests were together, and you looked into his eyes. Their usual warm brown was already darkening, and the glint you saw in them made your panties wet. “Why don’t we go somewhere I can show you how much I like it?”

A smile grew on your lips despite yourself, and you nodded, biting your lip to suppress the grin just a little bit.

----

Harry barely had you through his hotel room door before he was pushing you against the wall. One hand was on the back of your neck, the other dead bolted the door as he crashed his lips into yours. His body pressed against you, your chests moving together as you breathed each other in. He smelled of beer and something musky that you’d always attributed to being him. The familiarity comforted you and sent your heart racing, but that might have been from Harry’s wandering hands.

“This is a new dress isn’t it?” he mumbled in between kisses.

You nodded, “I bought it just for tonight. Just for you to take off.”

Harry moaned at your answer. He wanted nothing more than to rip the dress off you, but he didn’t want the night to end that quickly, not when you were in his arms again, and certainly not when you looked like this.

“Such a naughty girl…” He murmured before his tongue licked along your bottom lip, asking you to open. You gladly let him in as he slotted his knee between your legs, pressing against your core. Sparks erupted in your belly as you melted into the feeling of him all over your body, your arms encircling his neck, one of your hands finding his hair, the other pulling him closer.

Lost in the moment, tongues exploring each other, you almost missed the way his thumb caressed your jaw in the heat of it all. The gentle touch shot to your core, and your hips involuntarily thrust against Harry’s thigh, a little whine coming from the back of your throat.

You felt Harry smirk into the next few kisses as he slid his thigh back and forth underneath you, making you whimper as he gave you the friction you wanted.

Both his hands dropped to your legs, traveling up and under your dress until they stopped at your ass, massaging and squeezing as his leg kept moving against you.

He broke away from the kiss to look at you grinding on his leg, his own cock hardening at the sight. Your head was thrown back against the wall, lipstick starting to smear over your swollen lips, and eyes closed as you felt the pleasure building in your stomach, “Fuck. Look at you in this dress, riding my leg, making a mess of it.” He said softly, licking his lips as he thought about tasting you. Oh god did he want to taste you. He wanted to fucking eat you, make you squirm and come all over his mouth.

He felt your legs starting to quiver, and he leaned forward, kissing and nipping his teeth up your neck until he reached your ear where his voice whispered, “You’re already close aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” You gasped, unable to say much else as the knot in your stomach tightened.

“Go on then, lemme see you fall apart on my thigh.” Harry said as he kissed along your jaw, his mouth swallowing your moans as he reconnected your lips  just as you came. 

Even as the pleasure flooded your system, you knew it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you needed more. 

“Harry,” you breathed into his lips, his hands beginning to roam your body again, finding the zipper on your dress and tugging.

“Mmm?” He hummed as his lips moved to your shoulder, sucking at the soft skin while his hands slid the dress straps off your shoulders. The dress pooled at your feet, and all that covered you now were Harry’s arms and the flimsy lace thong already ruined by the night's activities. 

“I want you,” You said. The ache was building in your cunt again as you tugged on the hem of his shirt, wanting to get rid of all his clothes so you could actually fuck.

“Needy tonight, huh?” He teased as he pulled away, letting you remove his shirt. He stopped you as you made to undo his pants, his hand covering yours. You looked up at him, your mouth forming a pout, but he only smirked in response saying, “Not yet.”

He led you backwards towards the bed until your legs hit the edge.

“Gonna give you the attention you asked for.” 

He said this casually, but the look in his dark eyes made your breath hitch. You had really only aimed for a good energetic fuck, but it seemed you might have sparked something deeper tonight. 

Harry told you to get on the bed, so you crawled up to its head and watched as Harry climbed after you, situating himself between your legs. His hands smoothed their way up your thighs, and found the band of your panties and pulled.

Once they were gone, Harry groaned at the sight of you. You were fucking divine, every part of you. He kissed the inside of your knee and slowly, methodically began kissing his way towards your center until he reached your throbbing core.

He kissed gently around your clit, frustrating you until you whined, “Harry, come on.”

“So impatient,” Harry chuckled, and you could feel his warm breath on your folds, hovering right where you needed him. 

You were about to whine again when you felt his tongue dash out, lapping at your clit. You jolted at the feeling, your hand immediately flying to his hair, wanting to secure him to the spot, make sure he wouldn’t stop. 

As if he could have stopped...Once Harry tasted you, there was no going back. He hummed with pleasure, and licked at your folds again. He licked from your entrance to your clit, tasting your sweetness on his tongue, and began to swirl his thick muscle around your clit, sucking it into his mouth, savoring every whimper and cry of his name he heard you utter as he ate you. 

It was embarrassing how quickly you were reaching your climax again having had barely any control with the first one. Something about the way he was moaning almost reverently, murmuring praises about how good you tasted, and how beautiful you were was sending you flying to your next orgasm.

“So close, Har,” You mumbled.

“I know.” Harry hummed into your core. He could feel you getting closer as you tightened your grip on his hair. It was almost painful how tightly you held him, but the pride of how fast you were rising and the sheer hotness of you chanting his name had him licking and sucking like he’d starve without you. It wasn’t long before you came all over his tongue and chin.

A proud smirk curled over Harry’s glistening lips when he finally let go of your clit. You watched him move up your body, never losing eye contact until he was hovering over you, licking his lips absently. You barely gave him time to wipe the come from his chin when you pulled him down into a searing kiss. He met your lips and matched the passion with which you were kissing him.

You tasted yourself on his tongue, and you felt yourself clench around nothing. You couldn’t take it anymore, you needed him in you. You wanted to feel every part of him inside you. You wanted his chest pressed against yours and your legs to be wrapped around his body as he ruined you for tomorrow. It was why you had come out tonight, and you were going to feel him, every inch, every vein.

Your hands made their way to his pants, and this time he let you pull them down. His cock sprang free, erect and already leaking, making you even more aware of how empty your pussy was. You immediately went to pump it, but Harry caught your hand before you could.

“‘M not gonna last at all if you do that.” He said breathlessly, removing his pants all the way.

“Then fuck me already,” You answered back with a quick but pointed kiss.

“Gladly,” He said, an amused smirk playing on his lips as he lined himself up with your entrance.

A deep moan came from both of you as Harry pushed in, barely slowing as he bottomed out. You breathed an ok, letting him know you were ready, and he started thrusting lightly into you, but you both needed more and the pace quickened.

The sounds of skin on skin filled the room as Harry slammed into you, his own panting and moans mixing with yours in an off-kilter duet.

“Fuck, Y/n/n, you feel so good.” Harry muttered into your neck.

You barely managed more than his name in answer before your words turned into a cry of pleasure when he shifted your leg just enough to find your g-spot, hitting it over and over and over again. 

All you could feel was Harry, all you could think about was Harry and the way he made you feel. It was all too much to process, and something you didn’t want to process as your high raced to its peak, so you let your pleasure drown it out, getting lost in each thrust of his cock.

Your hands pressed him closer as your nails dragged down his back, no doubt leaving a mark in their wake. That did nothing but drive Harry closer to his own edge, but he wasn’t sure what was sending him faster, the sex or the stupid complicated feelings that were beginning to course through his veins right now.

Having you this close, thinking about you coming here to see him, and the way you were saying his name...It all felt like a jumbled mess of thoughts, and he didn’t know why...No, he knew why, but he wasn’t gonna think about it…

He changed positions one more time, finding an even deeper route through your slick walls as he hammered into you. Both of you moaned in unison, and your walls fluttered around him--a telling sign you were reaching your climax. He was so close himself, the knot just waiting to snap. 

Harry leaned down and kissed your neck, before panting softly, “Come with me, Y/n.”

You hummed and nodded, too far gone to answer with words, and together white hot pleasure explode and rushed through your bodies. Your lips once again found each other as you rode out your orgasms.

When you were finally too sensitive to take anymore, you gently pushed Harry away. He stilled his movements, but didn’t immediately move away, hesitating. It was so tempting to just roll onto his side, taking you with him so you could continue cuddling, but he knew that’s not how this worked between the two of you. You teased each other, kissed, fucked, and left. Falling asleep was certainly a possibility, but you were always gone before he woke. Always making sure what happened in the night, stayed in the night.

Harry looked at your face, absolutely fucked out, with a soft smile playing on your lips as you lazily blink back up at him. He returned the smile, before sweetly kissing your cheek and carefully getting up to grab a warm washcloth.

The cool of the room engulfed you when his body left yours, making you cringe at both the loss of him and his warmth, but you were entirely too tired to care. Even when Harry was back, and you felt him gently cleaning you up, you were already half way asleep, thoughts of him moving in and out of your consciousness.

He was so good at making you feel good. He knew you like the back of his hand. How had you gotten so lucky? You weren’t sure, and frankly you didn’t want to question it. You weren’t going to complicate what you had when it was going so well. Clearly, your gamble had paid off tonight, but it meant nothing--Well not nothing. This was one of the hottest hookups you’d ever had with Harry. You smiled to yourself at the thought. You might just have to do something like this again if it got Harry this riled up.

When the bed to your right dipped down, and you heard the covers shuffle and slid over you, you instinctively turned towards his warm body, nuzzling into his chest and sighing with complete contentment ready to sleep a few hours before finding your way back to your own bed.

Surprised, Harry didn’t immediately wrap his arms around you. He wasn’t sure if he should, knowing full well they’d be empty again in the morning. 

But you won. You always did. If he was going to keep doing this with you, not knowing when he’d have you in his arms next, then he was going to take every chance he had to hold you close. Besides, you were still one of his best friends and a fellow crewman on set. He’d see you tomorrow, and the day after that and the day after that. An empty bed in the morning didn’t need to mean anything...

At least that’s what he kept telling himself when he felt you stir later that night and get up, giving him your habitual goodbye kiss on the cheek. And it’s what he told himself when he heard the sharp click of the hotel door closing, his hands automatically grabbing the other pillow to hug. And it’s what he told himself the next day when he saw you flirting with another guy on set while your eyes flicked to him and winked.

Yeah. He’d told himself it didn’t matter. So why couldn’t he stop himself from falling for you. Because he was, and it was turning into a deep, disastrous love.

----

tagging some moots that might enjoy... (you can always let me know if you don’t wanna be tagged ☺️)

@harryhollandsgirlfriend @cocoamoonmalfoy @greenorangevioletgrass @violetlilysunshine @thsquad @hazofmyheart @hollandsmushroom

[dreamyjoons]

Our ‘Get Along’ Shirt - pjm

⇢ another day, another endless round of you and Jimin bickering. It’s never ending, all-consuming, and your friends have had enough. Namjoon decides to end it once and for all - with help from a shirt for squabbling toddlers.

Genre/warnings: smut, 18+! ‘enemies’-to-lovers, swearing, semi-public smut, mutual masturbation, fingering, honestly at this point a sweat kink, multiple orgasms, light choking, some spitting, unprotected sex, creampie.

Words: 14.2k lol

A/N: well hello! I’m back baby, and to celebrate i had to exorcise some Jimin demons. Did i talk about him sweating a lot? Yes. Did i use my favourite pic of him for the header? Also yes. Don’t @ me, i already know. I hope you enjoy!!!

"You're so wrong about this, it's actually kind of embarrassing."

"No you're wrong, only an idiot would think the way you do."

"Guys, no one - and I really mean this - no one cares about what kind of cups you need for beer pong. You've been arguing this for like twenty minutes now." Hoseok huffs, sitting back into the couch.

"Eighteen minutes." Namjoon sighs, tipping back his cup and gulping down its contents.

"But solo cups are far superior-"

"Jimin, they aren't!" You snap, dragging your glare away from his rolling eyes, deciding you never wanna look at him ever again.

"Please stop." Jungkook sighs, slipping off the chair beside Hoseok. His eyes flick between you before scanning the rest of the people in the room, slowly moving to the thump of the music. "Gonna find Yoongi and Tae." He mumbles before disappearing through the mass of bodies.

You'd been at the house party for less than three minutes before you and Jimin found a reason to have an argument. At first, it was how late you were - even though you found out he only got there five minutes before you. Then when you commented on the music choices to Yoongi, he found a way to disagree - despite you both knowing he loved the artist. On and on it went. Now here you were; Namjoon and Hoseok on the couch watching you both with bored expressions, Jin tuned out and typing rapidly on his phone beside them. Jimin stood to your left, and you made sure to keep him totally out of your sight.

But it was getting harder to hear him, thankfully. And he was losing steam. The house was crowded and loud, lively dancers everywhere and the smell of alcohol rich in the air. It was already way too hot out, but being stuffed inside at this party was causing everyone to sweat. You could see condensation forming on the walls.

The house was huge and expensively decorated, belonging to some producer friend of Namjoon. Marbled floors met white walls, a rug carpet covering the floor that made you wince when you thought about the price. It was sprawling and full of a ridiculous number rooms. Yet still, people had to squeeze between the spaces, excuses and polite taps lost in the fury of heat and confinement.

You held your can to your forehead to cool yourself down but it had grown warm waiting for you and Jimin to finish your current spout. You grimace but take a sip anyway - at least if you get a buzz you can ignore him for a little. You felt a pit of guilt at making Jungkook leave. But you were riled up, and you couldn't back down. Not to Jimin.

You saw Jimin tip his head back to drink out of the corner of your eye, but you daren't look at him. He was as insufferable as he was hot as hell, and not just in temperature.

However, you had managed to take a better look at him earlier in the night. His beige silk shirt was already sticking to his skin, tucked into tight jeans blacker than you had ever seen. Who wears silk to a house party? The necklace that he always wore sat just below his collarbones, and you're reminded of all the times you've wanted to throttle him with that damn chain. He'd been pushing his dark hair back all night - you could tell by how it fell about his face, silky strands falling into his eyes. Was he wearing some kind of lipgloss too? You grumble into your drink. He was too pretty for his own good.

At first the sparring was fun. There was an attraction there, on your part at least. It was spicy, something hot and fast, a way to see how compatible you were. Maybe you had some feelings for him. Possibly, potentially.

But over time it devolved. It felt like he'd say things just to get a rise out of you, to draw your attention into a battle with him. And now here you were, bitterly avoiding the man's existence.

"God, why is it so hot here?" Jin gasps, blotting his face with his sleeve.

"Probably haven't got the air con on." Jimin shrugs, taking a swig from his glass.

"It's on-" You start, eyes flicking to where you thought you could see a vent in the ceiling. It was open, so you assumed it would be on - it had to be.

"I highly doubt that."

Jimin gives you the look he always does - where he tilts his head back and stares into your soul. His plump lips part, tongue pressed behind his teeth, goading you into his trap. He gets his way every time.

"Why would they not have it on? It's burning hot even without a house full of people."

"Then it's clearly a crappy unit." He shrugs, but his words are quick and his eyes are still intensely focused on you.

"Jimin have you seen the rest of this house? Don't be dumb-"

"Shut up!"

You and Jimin spin to your friends who had all shouted in unison. The ones who could still stand to be around you both arguing, anyway. Several of the dancers that were nearby stopped to look at the exclamation but slowly drifted back into the music - albeit before taking a step further away from your group.

"Enough. I'm gonna put an end to this once and for all." Namjoon gets to his feet and strides away with purpose, standing a head above nearly everyone in the crowd.

You shiftily look at Jimin before silently waiting for Namjoon to return, confusion thick in your brain. You awkwardly chewed on your lip as the seconds ticked by, before finally he stalks back, his bag under his arm.

He throws himself back into his seat, flips open the top of his bag and rifles through.

Finally he pulls out a heap of bright yellow material, and with a small noise, he dumps his bag beside him before bolting up. He unravels the material and holds it up to you, grin growing on his face.

It takes you a few seconds to focus on what he is holding out to you and Jimin - but when you realise, you gasp.

"'Our get along shirt'? Namjoon you've gotta be joking." you splutter, scanning the shirt.

It was a sickly yellow, 'our get along shirt' printed on it in what appeared to be black glitter. It could probably fit both you and Jimin in it, maybe Yoongi could slip in too. It looked somewhat roomy, but that was not the point.

"What?" Jimin asks, lips parted as he stares into the glitter.

"You're both gonna wear it and get over whatever bullshit is going on here." Namjoon says so casually, as if he was asking the time or giving directions. But you saw the seriousness in the minute movements of his face. The clench on his jaw, the hardiness of his eyes.

"We're adults Namjoon, you can't expect us to wear that." Jimin's face had gone into a full blush, but his frown was deep as he stared at Namjoon.

"You are both gonna wear it."

"No-" You shout, but Namjoon pointedly huffs at you, and you take the hint.

"Put the shirt on. By the end of the night, either one of you will have killed the other or you have this sorted out. Because if not, you'll end up pushing us all away. For good." Namjoon finishes with a sigh, the depth of his gaze so severe it confirms that he isn’t playing with you.

You look behind him at Jin and Hoseok, and the direction in which Jungkook had walked away. Jin and Hoseok looked deadly serious, no hint of a smile or a cackle of laughter like you'd expect.

He had a point. You knew it. But it was so hard - Jimin couldn't let things lie, and you couldn't back away from a fight when it was him you were fighting. But to see others dropping out from around you...

"Hand over the shirt."

You spin to stare at Jimin. His face was tight, jaw set and eyebrows drawn. It had dawned on him too, just how far this had gone. But he obviously didn't like the idea of it, and neither did you.

"Fine but if I do kill him I’m taking you all down with me as accessories." You sigh, reaching forward and taking the shirt from Namjoon.

“How long have you had this, Joon?” Jimin asks, fiddling with the rings on his fingers.

“Long enough.”

You turn it in your hands and with a deep breath, you pull the shirt over your head, sticking your arm through the sleeve and head through the collar. Your left arm hangs loosely in the shirt, and you begin to fret about what you should do with it. Maybe you should just stick it in your pocket? You don't wanna brush anything-

Before you could follow that train of thought, Jimin tugs you and the shirt towards him. You follow, gulping thickly. He casts one last look at Namjoon before putting his head under the bottom of the shirt. within seconds his head is through the collar, his shoulder bumping yours as he tries to get comfortable.

The air is thick around you, the extra warmth of him being so close to you making the heat rise on your face. You were strongly aware of every microscopic move he makes, your senses keenly aware of his proximity. He lets out a harsh sigh, and you feel the breath ripple over the collar and down the shirt. A pout settles on his lips, glossy and wholly enticing - and entirely too close.

His face was inches from yours, shoulders stuck rigidly together as you subtly wrestle for space. The shirt was obviously made for kids, and much smaller than you had originally anticipated. Two kids would be able to almost comfortably stand side by side. You and Jimin had barely enough excess shirt, but the collar was far too small. His hand grazes mercilessly across your thigh, the hardness of his rings pressing into the material of your jeans.

You hear a click of a camera, and your attention snaps up to see Hoseok taking a photo of you both on his phone. With both you and Jimin glaring at him, he snaps another and giggles.

"One for Jungkook." He grins, before flipping his phone to you.

Instinctively you step forward to look, but the lack of space drags Jimin along with you. He crashes into your back, a steadying hand reaching out for your hip, a strangled grunt by your ear. You choke on your breath, and weakly tug at the collar as if it was the cause of your shock.

His hand is warm, the heat pulsating from his palm across your hip. If you weren't sweating before, you definitely were now. You shuffle back a little, easing the tension in the shirt that tugged tightly against you. Jimin brings up a hand and anxiously pushes his hair back from his face, his jaw set so sharply you could cut your finger on it.

"Well, there's bound to be a few teething problems but I'm sure you'll both work it out." Namjoon smiles, eyes bright and full of mischief. "Come on boys, let's give them some space."

You give Namjoon the fiercest glare you could muster before he walks away, but all he does is chuckle at you. Hoseok waves brightly whilst Jin merely winks - until soon all that remained was you and Jimin, hot, flustered and already tired of it all.

"Okay, now that they're gone-" Jimin mutters, twisting in the shirt so that his back was against you. You shuffle back as not to touch him, your mind a hazy hot mess.

Your hand dances threateningly close to his ass so you snatch it up to your chest, staring at the ceiling and holding back an agonised groan.

He brings his hands up and after a few seconds you hear a loud rip.

You snap your head to him to see that he'd ripped the collar almost to the end of the shoulder, giving you more space. You let out a breath and you both adapted to the space, but his shoulder was still brushing you. At least his face was at a less dangerous distance from yours now.

"Do... you wanna sit?" He asks quietly, A faint pinky blush crossing his cheeks. You forced your eyes away, determined not to be distracted.

"Jimin, Namjoon's gonna flip about the shirt."

"No he won't-"

"Yes, he will-"

"Ah, can we just sit?."

You huff, weighing his words before silently nodding, moving forward slowly to give him time to get his brain in gear. He stepped behind you and you shuffled around so that you wouldn't be sat under him.

"Okay sit." You order, and to your surprise he followed your words. You both crash back into the couch, his arms pressing back against you, his legs spread and pressed against yours.

You sit, the silence stretching. You finally get the smell of his cologne, the silk of his shirt sleeve brushing against your arm. It was filling your senses, and though it had only been seconds, this was stretching for an eternity.

And there were all those emotions you felt towards him, rushing to the surface, bubbling beneath your skin.

"Okay this is dumb, why are we doing this?" You grumble, slamming your head back against the cushions, desperate to be away from his heady scent.

He looks at you out of the corner of his eyes, so you pointedly avoid meeting his gaze.

"Because we don't want to lose our friends." His voice is low, the cogs turning in his head.

"Yes I know that, but why do we have to 'sort our problems' from inside the same damn t-shirt?" You snap.

"I... don't know. But I'm not gonna lose friends. Them or you - so get used to being stuck in this shirt with me."He purses his lips in thought, but you’re struck by his words.

"Well it's you who's stuck in here with me." You snark, unable to stop yourself before you say it.

He huffs out a laugh through his nose, and you can’t help but smile. You finally meet his eyes, and like a kid caught doing something he shouldn’t, he snaps his eyes away.

“So we have to like… work on our problems?”

“Apparently.” He murmurs, throwing himself back into the seat.  

The temperature feels ten times hotter than when you weren’t sharing clothing. Your hair sticks to your skin and you shift uncomfortably. Everywhere you touched him felt like it was on fire, every sensor in your body and edge and firing. You force yourself to breathe, in and out. Park Jimin was not going to get the better of you.

But he seemed affected too.

His swallows are thick, adam’s apple bobbing with each gulp. You could see his ringed finger tapping in his leg whilst his other hand was pushing back his hair a little more aggressively than usual.

“So uh…” He starts, but tapers off when you look at him.

“Yeah?”

The seconds tick on, the gap between you non-existent. You avert your eyes and try to focus on the crowd that swirls around you.

You couldn’t help but notice the fact that things were going well. No issues were being resolved per se, but you hadn’t fought properly for a few minutes. And for you both, that was progress. Even if every word that comes to your mind flights away, leaving the silence to stretch.

“Maybe-”

“How about-”

You both blurt words at the same time, letting out an embarrassed laugh as you squarely avoid looking at each other. The music seems louder, making it harder to think about anything that wasn’t directly in your senses. Essentially you were stuck in a Jimin lockdown.

“You go.”

“Oh, I was just going to say I’m gonna need a drink or two for this.” you confess, heat burning across your face.

“That’s… Not a bad idea actually. Let’s go to the kitchen.” Jimin rushes, a little too enthusiastically. It seems like he’s a little on edge too.

Without thinking he tries to stand up, causing you to get ruffled inside the shirt as he staggers to his feet. You’re ripped through the collar of the shirt, your face getting knocked into his hip. Your eyes widen and your breath catches in your throat as he’s slingshotted back into the chair beside you. Your head reemerges through the hole, leaving your hair vigorously disheveled.

“I-, I’m sorry!” He grits, a reddish blush bursting across his cheeks.

You bring up your hand inside the shirt to touch it to your face whilst the other tries to right whatever mess your hair had become.

“It’s fine, just, we gotta move as one.” You mumble, flicking your gaze at him.

“Agh, this isn’t gonna be easy.” He sighs, shuffling to the edge of the chair.

You take a deep breath and follow his lead. You put a tentative hand on the couch to shuffle yourself to the edge, but jimin had the same idea. He puts his hands on top of yours, but instantly snatches it back. He mumbles to himself before turning and giving you a nod. With a steadying breath you both move, almost effortlessly getting off the couch together. It takes you by surprise at how straightforward that was, until the clatter of a noise reaches your ears over the din of the music.

Following the rattle of the noise you look down, only to watch your phone skittering across the floor.

“Oh, shit.” You murmur, watching it stop out of reach. “Jimin, my phone!”

He follows your gaze to where it lays on the floor, narrowly avoiding being stepped on by dancers. Your heart flutters as people step around it, totally unaware.

“Go, go!” He mutters, placing the palm of his hand at the bottom of your back, steering you towards it.

You flush as you’re pushed through, stopping just above it. You’re both jostled by the people around you as you stand guard above your phone. People were dancing dangerously close to it,and all it would take is one drunken fool to stamp on it or you for this to end in disaster.

“Okay let’s drop, carefully this time!” you order, but Jimin scoffs at you.

“I’m trying to be careful!”

“Just don't thrash me about again, that would be nice-”

“I’m not doing it on purpose! I can if you want me to-”

“Oh my god, stop, just bend over and help me!”

“That sounds dirt-”

He starts, but before you let him manifest that in your mind you start to crouch, the force pulling him down to bump his chest into your back. The heat of him crashing into you is instant, an insatiable warmth that spreads in contact. He puts a stabilising hand on your hips as his breath rolls across the back of your neck. A shiver trickles down your body despite trying to hold it back.

“What did you do that for?” He grunts, his mouth closer to your ear as he tries to rebalance himself.

“Y- you’re taking too long trying to argue!”

He presses himself off your back and shuffles down beside you. You finally get crouched on the floor, tentative hands placed on the sticky surface to stop you from toppling over. Jimin crouches next to you, his body facing yours with his leg behind you, tight against your back. It was hard to stay focused with him pressed against you like that, but you know he was just trying to stay stable. So why were you blushing so hard?

Carefully you reach out, your fingers just brushing the edge of the phone. You’re just able to get your fingers over the edge when you’re slammed from the side. Your phone is knocked out of your reach once more as you’re thrown onto Jimin, both of you landing in a tangled heap.

You let out a yelp as you’re falling, the impact to the side of you bristling with shock. His back hits the floor and you land awkwardly, right on top of him.

“Watch what you’re doing, you moron!” Jimin snaps after your head slaps onto his shoulder.

Your heart slams erratically against your chest, his words stinging. You’d come to blows many more times than you can imagine, but he’d never spoken to you in that way, not ever.

“God, I’m sorry.” you murmur, pressing yourself up off his chest, your face practically aflame.

“What? Oh, no no, not you! Whichever idiot smacked into you. Are you alright?“ He asks, his fingers gently gripping your chin and turning you gently in his hands.

Your eyes are wide as he stares at you, your fingers twitching on the silk covering his chest. Once he’s satisfied that you’re okay, he softly releases you. You bring your gaze back to his, beads of sweat rolling down your face.

Jimin looks down to his hand and back up to you after realising what he had just done, before he clenches his fist closed and puts it down to his side. His forehead is creased, his face burning bright.

“We should… ah, should get your phone.” His voice is low, barely audible above the music. But you hear him all the same, stealing your hand back from his chest.

You swallow thickly, stabilizing yourself as you crouched back on your own two feet. Your phone isn’t too far out of reach, but just beyond the touch of your fingertips. You strain, tugging Jimin along behind you. His throat is pulled against your shoulder, but it was no good, you still needed the stretch.

“Hold on.” You mumble, slipping your head out from underneath the collar.

You keep your arm inside the shirt sleeve for plausible deniability - you’d never be able to lie to Namjoon if he asks if you stayed in. But you pull your head out from the bottom of the shirt and reach out, gripping your phone and snatching it up. You shove it in your deepest pocket of your jeans and pat it, relieved.

You crawl back to Jimin and try to climb back into the shirt. He throws the bottom over your head and you push it through - only to slam your head into his arm.

“Ah, sorry!” You yelp, trying to push yourself past him.

He tries to guide your head back up through the collar but manages to get his rings caught in your hair. You yelp at the tug, your hands flying up to untangle him.

“Sorry, sorry!” He shouts, bringing his other hands up to slide his rings off altogether.

Once they’re off his fingers it’s easier to free your hair. With the rings tucked safely in his pocket and with gentle easing, Jimin moves your head up to the collar of the shirt. You rapidly brush your hair out of your face and look at him out of the corner of your eye.

He’s flustered, roughly pushing the hair that sticks to his sweaty forehead back. His lips are parted and his eyes are fixed away from you.

Briefly, the thought of just running away from him crossed your mind. There’d be no more issues if you never saw his face again. No more embarrassment! Of course it was a silly idea, but it would be better than getting the opportunity to make yourself look like an idiot again.

You huff out a breath, blotting your damp forehead with the back of your hand. Your brush with the floor had left your clothes feeling sticky, and your brush against Jimin had set everything else on fire. You needed some fresh ai-

“It’s too hot for this, I need some air.” Jimin shifts in his spot, gesturing to the backdoor that was through the kitchen and blocked by a thick group of party goers. You follow the direction he points and nod enthusiastically.

“I wanna grab some water too.” You murmur. Ignoring his presence.

The people that stood between the cloying heat that you and Jimin were trapped in and the cooler climate outside were dense. You’d have to fight through, but the reward of fresher air to clear your head of Jimin was too tantalising.

With a look at Jimin, he motions with his hand for you to proceed. You roll your eyes at the gesture but you take a cautious step forward, slow and deliberate.

You started pushing your way through, bodies warm and fluid as you tried to champion the way. Jimin got ganged much closer to you, practically pressing into your back as you moved. You focus on finding a path ahead, ignoring the beads of sweat that form in your hairline.

Something had changed between you. This is the closest you had been together, the most you had touched, the longest you had been alone. And you wanted to hate it. You certainly hated how messy he must think you are. But you didn’t. A trickle of something different slides down your body, all your attention focused on his hand on you.

The music changes to something even louder and riles the crowd up. With a swell of movements in the dancers you’re sent flying, knocked by some erratic dancer’s elbow. With the force of the shirt Jimin is dragged with you, crashing into your back and pinballing you against another person.

Subconsciously you turn back to him - but as soon as you’re pressed together, you realise how big a mistake that was.

Stomach to stomach, his face is barely an inch or two from yours. His fingers wrap around your wrist, chest rising and falling as you stare at him.

The sweat that had rolled down his face had reached his throat, dropping down the column and hovering at his apple. The minutest of smirks pulls at his lips, and you realise you’ve been caught.  

He swallows, purposely. The bead rolls the rest of the way down his throat, dropping below his necklace before disappearing down the neckline of his shirt. The silk was clinging to his skin in the heat, and it took every ounce of dignity you had not to look down. You could see in your periphery, and that was more than enough. The man was hot, in every sense.

Your eyes flick back up, a different kind of heat burning up your face. You anxiously lick your lips, eyes finally meeting his. He has an eyebrow propped, a smugness radiating that let your blood boil. But his gaze drops to your mouth, watching your tongue gloss across your lip before looking back up. You can feel his breath hit your chest as his cheeks flushed more than they ever had. Now you were the one to have an audience.

Maybe this was it - the answer. You just needed a moment for everything to click, you could reach an understanding! It had nothing to do with how his stare left you feeling like you could burst in every way possible. Or that his pupils seemed to be blown wide, big enough for you to swim in. His fingers were hot against your wrist, and it felt almost as if his pinky was tracing the tiniest circles into your skin-

“I need the bathroom.”

The words are blurted loudly in your face, and for a moment you forget what reality is.

“I- what?”

“Bathroom. Gotta go. Bathroom stuff.” Jimin splutters.

Before you can respond - not that you knew how to -  he turns from you. His hand still holds your wrist as he pulls you through the crowd, uncaring as to who he pushes aside. All you can do is stare at the back of his hair and be lead.

“Jimin what the hell?!” You yell, ignoring the glares of the nosy partiers.

Your voice is lost, muffled by loud music and Jimin's deaf focus. You finally break free from the throng of people but your journey doesn't end. You're being whipped past busy rooms until you hit the staircase. The odd person watches you in fascination, some even snickering at what was written so plainly in glitter on the shirt. you felt your face burn, and make a silent note to fight Namjoon at the soonest opportunity.

He begins scurrying up the staircase, and with your wrist still firmly in his iron grip, you're soon flying up behind him. He casts a shifty look behind him to check you were still attached, his face flushed but his eyes focused. You have to remember to regulate your breathing.

"God, careful!" You snap, almost stumbling on the top step.

He doesn't acknowledge that he hears you, but then he slows for a second before darting down the winding corridor. He rushes into one of the rooms, a sprawling guest bedroom, before finally letting your wrist drop from his grip. It was almost bigger than your entire place, with an ensuite and even a door leading out to a balcony.

You close the door behind you before Jimin drags you towards the ensuite. Once he's at the open door he pulls his arms through the sleeve and slips out from the shirt. You know you're in the privacy of a bedroom but you suddenly get nervous, eyes turning to the bedroom door.

"We're gonna get in trouble." You murmur. Namjoon is a mind reader, you’d stake your life on it - he'll know you're separated and find you.

"You gotta relax. We're not gonna be spotted through floors and walls. Unless you wanna come in here with me?" He asks, that trademark smirk pulling at his lips. Your stomach flutters, but it is a relief to have a flash of the jimin who pushes your buttons back.

"I -wha- no! Just hurry up, god." You splutter, turning your back to him.

"I won't be long."

With that he saunters back, his cheeks blown out as he sighs, and finally closes the door for some sweet separation. You step back and move to the balcony - the door was unlocked so you push it open and finally breathe.

The air is still warm, but instant relief from being cooped up inside with Jimin washes over you. You close your eyes and soak up the moment of peace, the shirt hanging off your solitary frame.

Your brain was barely processing the situation you were both in. It was enough being stuck in the same item of clothing as someone, but with Jimin? It was hard.

But then again, it was also easy. It was too easy to get wrapped up in him, to be so close, to let yourself be taken with him. It was a place you had hoped to be before, and somewhere you couldn’t go.

You and Jimin were tumultuous. You weren’t sure why it had to be that way. It’s not like either of you were toxic or nasty people - so why did you have to make a stand on everything? Why does every time you stand off with him make the hairs on your neck stand up, make your heart beat so fast in your chest you swear he could hear it?

Maybe it was because you did, after all this time, like him.  

You're snapped out of your thoughts by an erratic knocking at the door. You dart your eyes to it as if you could see through the solid wood, your heart in your throat.

"Y/N? Jimin? You there?" Namjoon calls through the door, and you swear under your breath.

"One second!" You cry, scrambling back from the door and scurry to the ensuite.

"Jimin! Open up!" You whisper at him, your voice a hurried rasp.

"What?"

"I'm coming in!" You wait a few seconds just in case, and then finally throw the door open.

"Y?N!" Jimin yells, scrambling back against the basin.

He was standing with his silk shirt in his hands, His lips parted in shock as he stares at you. His chest was heaving, the faintest glimmer of abs visible behind the thin fabric. Your face was burning almost as much as his, your jaw dropping. His hair was tousled, strands covering his wide eyes as he stared at you.

"Wh... Why are you topless?" Your breath is barely above a whisper as you fight to keep your eyes on his face.

"It's so hot!”

“I’m hot! Do you see me taking my clothes off?” You rush, using every ounce of restraint in your body to not lick your lips.

The thought of you and Jimin taking your clothes off together flashed through your mind and you internally screamed at yourself. This was not the time to unpack that, though you’d be lying if you said the thought hadn’t crossed your mind before.

“Wah- uh, you... I was trying to cool dow- why are you barging in here?!" He rushes, taking a hasty step towards you. To have to sort through your frazzled thoughts before you remember why you were there in the first place.

"Namjoon! He's at the door!" As if to accentuate your point, Namjoon raps on the door again, calling out to you both.

"Agh!" Jimin cries, rushing forward and grabbing the hem of the shirt you still wore.

He begins to get into it as he pushes you towards the door. You could feel the horror fill your veins as the heat of his body slips in beside you, his hand at the small of your back as he guides you. Your arm brushes against his bare hip, the skin hot and smooth. You snatch your arm up and hold it against your chest as if burned and ignore the rapid change in your breathing.

"Why haven't you put your shirt on?!" You whisper, but he just huffs.

"To save time, Now show me your pretty smile and let's get rid of him so I can get dressed." Jimin's hand is on the door, and all you can do is stare at him, eyes wild.

"My wha-"

The door flies open, but you're still staring at Jimin. Pretty...?

"Well hello." Namjoon is leant against the doorframe, arms crossed as he gives you both a crooked grin. His eyes flicker to the room behind you, his eyes landing on the bed just beyond you both.

"Just needed the bathroom." Jimin rushes, hand once again settling in his hair.

"I didn't ask." His voice is light, but his eyes are fierce as he scans you both thoroughly.

"You were thinking about it, though." Jimin mutters. He tries to cross his arms at Namjoon, but with one arm under the shirt and one over he soon drops it. Your gaze was still stuck on him though. Pretty?

"How's the shirt working out, you both talking?" Namjoon asks, and you finally snap your attention to him. He's already watching you and raises an eyebrow. You scramble to stamp down your emotions, despite every nerve in your body sizzling.

"Oh yeah, we’re the best of friends now, right JimJam?" Your voice is bubblegum sweet, giving Jimin the goofiest smile you could muster.

"Totally! We've been braiding our hair and sharing juicy stories. We're basically besties."

Jimin beams at Namjoon, before stepping close and wrapping an arm around your waist to hug you. It was all part of the charade, of course. But as you're pulled back against his chest, you swear your heart could explode. His hand sits lightly on your hip, his every breath rolling down your neck. It didn’t matter that the move was practically hidden under the shirt.

"Yeah..." you laugh, but it's more of a choke as you pat his hand over the shirt and avoid meeting Namjoon's probing gaze.

Jimin clears his throat awkwardly behind you, his finger twitching on your hip. The heat between you swealters, every inch of your skin electric against his body.

Namjoon's eyes flick between you. You could see his thoughts brewing but they never pass his lips. Instead you and Jimin wait, his hands singeing your skin where they rested, his bare chest like fire against you.

"Well, I can see you're obviously working on something. But until you're actually convincing, you can stay in that shirt." He shrugs, grin widening across his face. With a final flick of his eyes, he pushes off the door frame and heads back towards the stairs.

"This is ridiculous Namjoon!" You yell at his back, crossing your arms across your stomach.

"Maybe - but you're both still wearing it." He smirks back over his shoulder.

You yell incoherent words at his back before huffing out a breath. Your fingers twitch in anger, putting a stubborn hand on your hip, the skin hot under your touch.

Faintly you realise the contact isn’t registering on your hip, and it isn’t until Jimin loosens his grip on you that you realise your hand had been resting on his. His hands fall from your body as he shuffles away, swallowing a throaty gulp.

You couldn’t look at him. It was all fun and games to begin with- oh, who were you kidding? This had been sucky, but something had shifted. You needed air, a chance to breathe, to not be tethered to the man that seems to haunt you.

“Need air.” Your voice a rasp as you step back into the room.

Jimin barely shuts the bedroom door before you’re marching to the balcony, not caring about whether you drag him along or not. Once you’re outside you heave in a breath, letting the air fill your lungs.

“That was too close.” You murmur, fiddling with the hem of the shirt.

“How was I supposed to know Namjoon would be keeping tabs?”

“I’m not blaming you Jimin! Why are you making this into an argument too?” You snap, your eyes fixed on the treeline on the edge of the property.

You feel him wriggling aggressively next to you, only to look back and see him climbing out of the shirt. You watch in horror as he slips out from under the sickly yellow material, keeping his bare back to you.

“What are you doing?” You yelp, scanning over the edge of the balcony for any sight of your friends. They couldn’t see you apart, they would never trust either of you again.

“What are we doing?”

“We’re meant to be working this out from inside the same ugly shirt-”

“No not right now. I mean, kind of. I just… Why did we let it get this far?”

You let his words hang in the air, your thoughts scattered. The thump of the music below drifts up to you, the mass of partygoers that stood out in the gardens laughing and chatting loudly. It seemed a world away from the tension that fills the air between you and Jimin.

He turns back to you with a look on his face so intense you can’t place it. But you could tell he was tightly wound - his shoulders were squared and his jaw was tight. He avoids making eye contact with you for as long as he can. But when he finally does, it was too easy to get lost in what you see there.

“We just argue, I guess.” you shrug, averting your eyes from his chest and stomach. This wasn’t the time to be fawning over him. It was hard - he was beautiful, there was no escape from that. It’s one of a million reasons you had liked him in the first place.

“You can't tell me you’re happy with that explanation.” He huffs, crossing his arms.

“Of course I’m not but what do you want me to say? You don’t like me, you’ve made that plain enough. Not everyone gets along.”

You bite your lip, admitting the words you’d been too scared to think out loud. But when you hear a faint gasp, your eyes shoot up to his face. His lips are parted, a look of abject shock written on his delicate features.

I d- I do like you.” His voice is so quiet you can barely hear him. But you do, and the words strike deep.

You can’t open yourself up to this right now. Namjoon will find a way to know that you’re both separated, and the rest of the guys will drift away. You want to be civil with Jimin, not have your entire soul bared open to him. You couldn’t survive that.

“Can you please put your shirt back on?” You mumble, your eyes laser-focused imploringly on his face, but he doesn't hear you, barrelling on.

“It’s not like I enjoy arguing with you!”

“Then why are you making it so difficult?” Your voice cracks, the hurt of your never ending battles threatening to surface.

“Do you know how hard it is to get your attention-“ he starts, his fast flow of words immediately cut off as he gawks at you, delicate fingers slamming over his lips.

“What?” You blurt, processing his words.

“No no, nothing! Forget it.” he shakes his hands at you, eyes wide and face blushing a deep pink.

“Jimin! What do you mean, get my attention?”

“I… yeah. We’re always with the guys, I guess I didn’t know how else to get you to focus on me.”

“Why?” Your voice is faint, a million thoughts crashing in your head.

“No, forget it!”

“Jimin!”

“Ah, I like you, okay?”

The air around you thickens, the distance between you a thousand miles yet still too close. Your heart thumps rapidly in your chest, your eyes wide as saucers and your skin prickled with goosebumps.

“You- huh?”

“I… like you. A lot. It happened pretty quickly.” He sighs, running a shaky hand through his hair.

"Why have you never told me?"

"Because it's humiliating as hell?" He laughs bitterly, his eyes darting to anywhere but you.

"Jimin..."

"No seriously. If I had told you, you'd reject me because why wouldn't you? All we do is argue."

"You think I'd reject you?" You ask, voice quiet as you step closer to him. His gaze finally snaps back to you at your movement.

"I mean, I... yeah?"

He runs a hand roughly over his face, turning his back to you. He looks so flawless in the moonlight. But he always looked flawless to you. Watching him fret like this was something so alien to you, but so human, so Jimin. You couldn’t let him suffer these feelings alone.

"Well, I wouldn't have." You mumble.

“You- what?”

Your brain scrambles, your heart hammering in your throat. He stares at you, wide eyes and chest heaving as if he was winded. Swallowing thickly you press on, despite the fear that churns in your gut.

“I wouldn’t reject you, Jimin. I… uh. I like you too.” You fiddle awkwardly with the hem of the stupid shirt.

The whole scenario had you feeling like a girl going through a childhood crush again. Though last time you had a crush on a boy who was fighting with you, you punched him in the nose. It was doubtful that would work this time around-

“Jimin?” You ask, watching as he shrinks back on himself.

You watch as he breathes, his chest rising and falling, the rapidly cooling night air raising goosebumps across his skin. It was hard to keep your brain on track.

After a moment he meets your gaze with a softness so potent it was enough to choke you.

In two steps he was on you, his lips crashing against yours. Your entire body threatens to shut down, the shock rippling through you. Before you even had a second to comprehend how good his lips felt against yours he pulls back, fear in his eyes as he worries.

You know then what you want. Who you want. You wondered why you wasted so long arguing to get it.

With your blood thrashing violently in your veins you reach your hands out to his face, caressing the smooth skin of his cheek before you surge forwards. The feel of the gloss on his lips smudges as you let yourself be consumed, the slightest hint of cherry seeping in.

Kissing Park Jimin. You. You’re kissing him. Your eyes slam shut as you sink into him, electricity crackling on your skin.

With no doubt in his mind at all Jimin slides his hands to your hips, fingers curling into the shirt as he moves you back, pushing you into the wall. You moan into his kiss, and he smirks against your lips. To trip him up you press the kiss deeper, letting the tip of your tongue dance at his pretty lips, wanting to taste him.

He does you one better, turning the tides and pressing the kiss back to you, tongue flicking to you.

Just like normal, you weren’t one to back down from Jimin.

Letting a hand move into his silken hair, you brush it back the way you’d seen him do a thousand times. But instead of letting your hands fall out of the soft locks, you let the strands wind around your fingers and give it a tug.

Jimin lets out a low groan, breaking the kiss to pant against your lips. Pride flows through you, but so did a sense of admiration - it was something you wanted to hear from that pretty mouth over and over.

“That’s a dangerous game you’re playing, Y/N.” He whispers, tugging sharply on the shirt so that your body was flat against his.

You try to not let the gasp from you come out too loud, the lines of his body startlingly apparent as you’re pressed together.

“You think that scares me?”

At your words he smiles. It spreads slowly, but soon his whole face is alight, brightness shining out of him. With his fingers at the hem of the massive shirt, he gives you a filthy giggle before kneeling and slipping himself inside of the material.

“What are you doing?” You yelp, feeling the familiar sensation of being stuck in the stupid shirt with him again. But it was different too, it wasn’t suffocating like before.

His head popped back up through the ripped collar, grin still annoyingly plastered across his face.

“Shouldn’t you be trying to get me out of this shirt, Park Jimin?” You whisper, breathless as he presses you back against the wall.

“I can’t deny that you have too many clothes on.” He smirks, delicate fingers sliding up your shirt to rest on your hot skin. “But there’s something… ah, satisfying about having you in this shirt.”

“Seriously?”

“What’s the matter Y/N, don’t think you can handle it?” His fingers circle agonisingly slow on your hips, a mischievous glint catching in his eye. He knows you so well.

“You’re gonna be the one who can’t handle it.”

“Prove it.”

You almost growl at him as he presses your buttons, but the burning in you meets the heat in your stomach. You need him more than ever.

You pull him back against you by the hair, crushing your lips together once more. He moans into you, nails pressing into your hips as your lips collide. You roll your hips against him, the fire in your veins white hot as he stutters against you. He breaks your kiss to gasp needily, eyes shut tight as your stomach brushes against the bulge in his tight jeans.

His eyes finally open, unfocused and swimming. But after a second he fixes his gaze on you, determined. A flicker of anticipation fills you, awaiting retribution.

His fingers move from your skin to the hem of your shirt, tugging it up until you have to help him. The shirt you were sharing was making it difficult, and you start to regret ever letting him get his way. But as soon as you are free he presses back into you, his hot skin flush against yours, his fingers idly tracing the straps of your bra.

Just with the gentle brush of his fingertips he nudges the straps down your arms, goosebumps rising along his trail. He presses his lips to your cheek, pecking slow, soft kisses across your cheekbone as he moves towards your ear. You sigh as his mouth moves lower, plump lips pressing dainty kisses down your neck. With you swept up, his hands move behind you and unclip your bra.

A gasp passes your lips while his own are still planted at your neck, sucking on a soft spot there. Your bra slides off your body, landing with a quiet thud on the floor of the balcony.

His fingers find their way back to your hips, slowly caressing their way up. An excited shiver catches you, and you feel him laugh against your skin. His warm hands find your breasts, thumbs rubbing over the soft skin before finding your nipples.

You suck in a breath as he kisses back up your neck. He pauses to capture your lips again, lulling you into him as his thumbs brush out across your nipples.

With your staccato breathing he smirks once more into your skin. Not one to ever be outmanoeuvred by Jimin, you decide it’s time to flip the switch.

You purposefully run your fingers down his stomach, featherlight and teasing. He hitches his breath, mouth detaching from your neck as he waits, anticipating your every move. His hot breath rolls down your neck, rippling off your chest. You hide a smirk in his hair and focus on your goal.

Letting your fingers rest on his belt buckle - no doubt something obnoxiously expensive - you begin to undo him as slow as you possibly could. You slide it off, inching it so little that you could feel him get restless against you.

“You’re a nightmare.” He whispers, looking up at you through his eyelashes.

“I’m just savouring the moment.” You offer softly, the soft clinks of the buckle resting against his thigh.

“You’ll pay if you tease me like this.” His voice is high, airy. The voice of a man in complete control - though you knew that was far from the truth.

“Mm, sure Jimin.” You smirk, bringing a hand up between you to his face.

You angle him back up to kiss you, which he does with ferocity. You smile into him, the power to provoke him rich in your veins.

Your hand sinks back to his belt, and with him distracted you pull it off him fast, dumping it somewhere on the floor and popping the button of his jeans. He gasps into your kiss, fingers automatically flexing across your breasts. You hold your reaction to yourself, intent on giving nothing away until you are ready.

You tug down his zipper, pressing it back onto him so he feels the teeth unclipping against his boxers. You knew they were gonna be some annoyingly expensive brand too, but the thought of getting him to ruin them for you was intoxicating. He leans his forehead against yours, the desperation rising his face palpable.

With a sharp tug you drop his jeans to his mid-thigh before moving your fingers back to him, running teasingly around his waistband. You didn’t have to look under the shirt to know his boxers were tented, his erection straining against the fabric. You dip a finger just below his waistband, tracing along the lines of his hips. He lets out a choked breath, hips subconsciously bucking into you.

“Y/N…”

“What?” You ask sweetly, moving your fingers to brush along his pubic bone. Your knuckles barely graze the base of his shaft, but he lets out a murmur of swear words as his eyes flicker.

Not one to be overshadowed for long, Jimin lets his hands drop to your hips and immediately flies to your zipper. He presses his crotch into you, and you feel just how hard he is for you. With a flapping mouth you watch him, challenging eyebrow raised.

Everything was a game. One that you were intent on winning.

Plucking at your courage, you slide a hand back down, wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock. His hips stutter in your hand, a gush of air forcing out of his lungs.

He felt good in your hand - really good. Firm skin, warm and pulsing in your hand. You experimentally ran a finger along his underside, tracing the vein all the way to his tip. He lets himself go then, head thrown back, eyes tightly clasped. A low groan rumbles from his throat, his fingers stilling on your zip.

“Feel good?” You whisper, pressing your lips to his.

“Ah, mm…” Is all he can manage as his head falls back.

He’s totally lost in your touch, and you’d barely started. A ripple of excitement darts through you, the sight of having Park Jimin needy and in your hands was too powerful to overlook.

A small giggle falls from your lips, the tiniest of noises. But it’s enough to spur him back to reality with his dark eyes finally refocusing on you.

He takes a breath to center himself before pulling down your jeans slowly. You feel the material slide over your hips and sit above your knees. Your panties quickly follow, thrust down faster than you can blink.

He lets a hand drag back up your thigh, running across to where you want his hand the most. Your touch on him falters as anticipation runs through your body. Ever so slowly he lets a finger stroke across your slit, barely grazing your skin. You wrap your free arm over his shoulder, taking a grip of his soft hair.

He smiles at you, and you let your eyes drag across his face. He drags his bottom lip between his teeth at your scrutiny. You can’t help but admire him: the way his lipgloss is smudged up across his cupid’s bow, the sweat that seemed to be dribbling so aesthetically down his sharp jaw, the blown out pupils of his deep eyes. Your breath catches in your throat as you soak him in - and that’s when he decides to strike.

He slips his fingers between your folds, feeling how wet you are for him, before sliding his fingers up to your clit. He applies only the slightest bit of pressure but it’s enough to have you gasping at his touch. He lets out a soft moan as he feels you, letting his fingers move in the tiniest circles.

You slowly rock your hips on his fingers, knotting your own in his hair. You instinctively flex your hand only to have his hips instinctively thrust his cock into your hand.

Deciding to move things on just a little, you move back just enough to see his cock in your hand. His eyes flutter open at your movements, only to blow wide when he sees a trail of spit drop from your lips onto his tip. You catch it with your thumb and rub it into his tip, rolling it down his length.

A low moan leaves him, his free hand coming up to wipe your bottom lip ever so delicately. You meet his eyes, a fire burning there just for you. He drags you into a kiss, his hand scrunching in your hair.

His hand start to move again, circling you and getting into a slow rhythm on your clit. You moan into his kiss, starting your movements too until both of you were breathless messes.

The kisses became scattered and sloppier as you both let your hands work. The delicate touch of his fingers was enough to blur your vision, and your firm grip that was growing in speed on his length rendered him weak in your hands.

His own hand moves deftly, nimble fingers moving between circling your needy clit to running through your wetness. His jaw slackens each time he feels how wet you are for him, pride drifting somewhere in his lust-blown eyes.

Jimin is slick under your grasp, rock hard as you twist up and down his length. Staggered gasps fall from his lips, getting more and more careless as you drag him higher.

His circling gets a little more pressure, and it’s enough to send your head lulling back, barely able to focus on the task literally in hand. You returned his zeal, putting an extra squeeze on his length. The choke that passes his lips sends pride through your already thrashing veins. His face twitches; his forehead creases, pretty lips part slightly further, eyebrows jolt. You know he’s close, and you have the power in your hands.

But he has you, too. The pressure pulsing from your core builds, your eyes slamming shut as you're barely able to form words. You can feel it rising, teetering on the edge of something good-

-until he jerks his fingers from you. You whimper at the loss of his fingers, orgasms skittering disappointingly away from you. Your eyes open as you snap your bereft gaze to him.

“Fuck, Y/N, too quick-“ he murmurs, grabbing hold of your wrist and gently pulling your hand of his throbbing cock.

“Jimin?”

He’s fully flushed, strands of silken hair stuck to his forehead. His chest rises and falls rapidly with his chest, eyes wild.

“I don’t wanna cum just yet.”

“What if I wanted you to-“

“Don’t argue with me on this,” he laughs, pressing a kiss to your lips. But then his voice drops low, lips pulled into a deadly smirk. “I have to make you cum first.”

You barely have a second to swallow down a gasp before you’re pulled from the wall to crash against his lips.

You hold him against you with the collar of the shirt you were still trapped in, matching his energy as he kisses you desperately. Your hands are held tight against his chest, his cock resting teasingly against your stomach.

His hands let go of you to grab your hips, steering your towards the edge of the balcony.

Once you're spun he pushes you gently, bending you over to lean against the railing. Forgetting that you’re stuck in the same damn shirt, he gets yanked down with you, body flush against your back. He lets out a tiny giggle into the back of your neck and it’s as if your heart could stop from the sound.

The cool of the metal railing presses into your chest, hands bracing it through the shirt. You look to the party happening below, guests hovering out in the garden to escape the heat of the sweaty party. You were pretty well out of sight - as long as nobody looked up.

“There’s quite a few people down there.” Jimin’s lips are by your ear, making the hairs on your neck stand on end.

“Don’t think you can make me loud enough? That’s a shame.” You smirk, unable to stop teasing him.

“You’re gonna regret those words baby.”

The pet name strikes deep within you. It’s perfect coming from Jimin, warmth radiating across your body. And you couldn’t blame that one on the heat.

Jimin presses his body onto your back, thick erection settling just above your cheeks. You feel the heat of his hand smooth from your thigh round to the front of you. He takes a few swipes across your clit to make you jerk beneath him before his fingers drift further back.

He swirls a finger around your waiting hole, agonizingly slow. You gasp at him, pushing your hips back into him. His shaft brushes against your cheeks and you can hear him suck in a desperate breath. Spurred on by his own need, he dips his finger gradually inside.

It’s slow, pushing past his knuckle until his finger sits inside you. You feel your walls pulse around him, desperate for more. His hand stills, taking his time to pepper kisses behind your ear. He nips playfully at your lobe, taking his sweet time with each movement.

You know he’s doing it to make you suffer. And god were you suffering, using every ounce of restraint to not whine for him.

Slowly he turns his finger so it sits better inside of you. The graze of his knuckle causes you to moan, and you feel him smirk into your skin.

“That’s what I was waiting for.”

He slowly begins to pump into you. It’s instantly better than his stationary finger, but still agonizingly slow. You needed him, harder and faster.

“Jimin…” you whine, pushing your rear back into him. He tuts into your ear, stilling his fingers.

“You need to let go, Y/N. I’ve got you.” He punctuates his point by kissing a trail along your shoulder.

You bite your lip, his words hitting a little deeper than just him getting you off. You always had to be in control of yourself around Jimin - you had to win, had to be alert. You couldn’t let your emotions get hold of you.

But it was all out in the open now. He knew how you felt - and he feels the same too. Maybe you can let go, just a little. It didn’t mean you had to start losing arguments any time soon, though.

You nod, turning your head to where he was pressing kisses into your skin. He beams at you, eyes scrunching as he surges up to catch your lips.

His movements cause his thumb to brush across your clit, and you moan wantonly into him. He pulls away to peer over the balcony, the loud noise escaping you both. You follow his gaze, but you’d drawn no attention. Not yet anyway-

He looks back at you and winks, the move cheeky and completely Jimin but he silences by pulling his finger almost completely out of you. Your jaw drops at the sensation, but just as quickly he pushes it back inside you, as far as he can go.

You bite the collar of the shirt to muffle your noise. His skin was still hot against yours, a sheen of sweat building on your forehead as you focused on him.

Mercifully he begins to fuck his finger in you, curling inside you. You inhale sharply through your nose, eyes shut tight as you let yourself go.

He carries on for a few more pups before he lets a second finger coat in your wetness. On the next thrust into you, he gently presses in a second finger, and you feel yourself clamp down at the stretch. Jimin keeps pressing kisses against your skin, but he gets breathless, his own erection pressing tauntingly at your back.

He sits his fingers for just a few seconds, letting you get used to him before he works them back out of you. In and out, in and out. He’s slow again, teasing you to the point of madness. You groan in frustration, but it was just what he was waiting for.

He thrusts his fingers deep into you, fucking you fast. Your hips roll to meet his pumps, the drag of him inside you delicious.

He brings up two fingers to your lips, and instinctively you take them into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digits. You make sure to meet his eye as you run your tip up the crack between his fingers, eliciting a groan from him and a buck of his hips against you.

He pulls them from your mouth and moves them between your legs. His fingers find your clit, and to match the rhythm that he was fingering into you, he begins to circle your needy bud.

It pushes you over the edge, almost literally. You cling onto the balcony as you’re thrust into it, Jimin sucking marks into your neck. You groan, the contact all over your body making you weak. The wet noises that surround you are pure sin, making you bite down on your lip. Jimin groans into your skin, teeth sinking softly into your shoulder as his fingers work fast.

“Fuck!” You yelp as his fingers brush your soft spot inside.

You slap a hand over your mouth as you stare down into the garden below, fear icy in your veins as you hope you’re not spotted.

Jimin doesn’t stop though. He hides his head in your neck, thrusting his fingers faster now that he knows your weak spot.

A few people below scan around them for the source of the swearing, but thankfully none of them think to look up. You bite your lip, eyes closing as you let yourself fall back into Jimin.

“That was a close one, huh?” He whispers, a lilt of a giggle in his voice.

“Shut up.” You murmur, voice cracking as he circles your clit so well you almost see stars.

“That’s no way to talk to the man who’s got two fingers deep in your-“

“Fuck, Jimin please!” You gasp, his next words dancing at the front of your mind.

The circles on your clit get defter, pressure hitting you just right as your hips start to roll uncontrollably. You grip tightly at the railing, unable to stop the flow of moans that echo from you. Being spotted from below is less important as you can feel your orgasm rising, your legs feeling weak underneath you.

Your skin prickles from the heat generating between your bodies, Jimin’s hot breath rolling across your neck as you flush harder.

“I’m gonna...” you whimper, your words lost to pleasure.

“Cum baby, all over my fingers.” His whisper sends shivers through you, a welcome change to the heat that dribbles down your temples.

He curls his fingers on every thrust to bring you closer to the precipice. You push back against him furiously, riding his fingers and your knuckles turn white on the railings. You feel it coil in your stomach, and you know you’re so close.

“Let go Y/N.” He whispers, breath ragged from exertion, but still peppering your marked skin with tiny kisses. You screw your eyes shut as you embody his words, letting yourself give in to the feeling.

“Jimin!”

Your orgasm crashes around you, a litany of swear words moan from your lips. Your walls clench down on Jimin’s fingers, twitching under his fingertips. You slam your hand over your mouth as your moans subside, wide eyes scanning the crowd below.

Heads turn in your direction, and before you can begin to scramble Jimin pulls you back from the balcony to stand flush against him. Your heart pounds in your chest, but the thrill that runs through your veins is undeniable.

He finally pulls his fingers out of you, the gush of wetness and noise make your face heat up. He wraps that arm across your chest and holds you against him, a wide grin wrinkling his eyes. You kiss him, soft and delicate, plump lips locking with yours.

Once you pull back he grins again, before moving the fingers that were in you towards his lips. your mouth parts as you watch him slip the digits inside, taking his time to suck off the taste of you. A light whimper leaves you as you watch him finally slide them out from between your lips with a pop, devilish glint in his eye.

Witha shiver you turn in his grip, pushing him firmly back against the wall.

He hisses lightly as his back hits it, and hisses louder as you're bungied in the shirt against him. He lets out a laugh and you do the same as you right yourself. But you can't keep yourself away from him as your lips are on his again. You flick your tongue at his, the taste of you on him.

“Wanna be inside you...” he whispers between kisses, his hot fingers idling their way up and down your sides. You groan at his words, nodding dreamily at him.

“God, yes please.” you sigh, feeling his lips trace kisses along your jaw.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” He smiles against your skin, grabbing you by the hips and spinning you both.

He pushes you back against the wall, the bite of the wood pressing into your skin.

“I’ve never heard you so passive.” He laughs, thumb and finger coming up to gently grip your chin. You grin at him, a flutter in your stomach.

“Don’t get used to it Park Jimin.”

He tips his head back to laugh, a pinky flush hot on his cheeks. All you can do is watch in awe, soak him in as he glows in the moonlight. But then he looks back down at you with the stars in his eyes and you realise that, yes - this is what you had wanted all along.

You bring his lips crashing back down to yours, letting your fingers knot in his dark hair and you touch him, drink him in. The silken strands flit through your fingers, and you idly think to yourself about him running his own hands through it. You can see why he does it now.

His thumb strokes across your chin, gently pulling your face from his. You open your eyes to look at him, the flush on his face even brighter.

“Ready?”

“Give it your best shot.” you smile, peppering his jaw with kisses.

You’re stopped in your tracks when he hoists one of your legs over his hip, a teasing eyebrow raised at you. Not to be bested, you hook your leg over his ass and pull him against you. You feel his erection sit against your stomach, hard and leaking onto your skin.

He takes hold of himself and strokes across your wet slit, coating himself. A withered sigh escapes your lips as you watch his frown deepen. His face contorts as he concentrates, teasing himself just as much as he was you. You lean forward to let a trail of spit fall from your lips and drip down onto him, coating his cock even more. You don’t know what possessed you to do it again, but the way he stuttered in a gasp made it well worth it.

Then with an agonisingly slow pace, he begins to press himself just inside you. Your mind clears, all that you can see and feel is Jimin. You had waited long enough.

A wimpery sigh strangles from you, Jimin pressing against your walls until he is fully seated in you. He was so warm, stretching you in all the right places, as close to you as he could physically be.

You give him an encouraging squeeze with your leg. He takes the hint and slowly starts to pull out of you, hair flopping in front of his eyes as he looks down to watch himself pull out of you. The drag of him is good, too good, as you let a warble of noises fall out of your mouth. He doesn't seem to mind though, his focus transfixed elsewhere.

"Jimin..." you whisper, fingers digging into his skin as he slowly begins to reach a rhythm.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, any mischievous glint in him gone. He was a man on a mission now, aiming to make you feel as good as possible. You could feel that in every stroke, the way he let you feel the length of him drag almost fully out before he pushes back inside you.

You start to roll your hips back at him, determined to not let him have all the fun. The tentative thrust of your hips had his head snap up to you, a fresh sheen of sweat glowing on his skin. You try to play it off coolly - another attempt to throw him off his game - but he squeezes your ass cheeks and holds himself deep in you, and your resolve melts away.

"Don't start something you can't finish." He smirks, and despite the need to fight him bubbling in you, you tip your head back and laugh.

"I guess that applies to both of us." You smile, pressing forward to kiss his lips softly. "Now fuck me Park Jimin, or we're really gonna have a fight on our hands."

He laughs against your lips, a gentle bubble that rises from his chest. But he takes on your words, pressing you hardest against the wall and hiking your leg higher.

He only goes slow for a few thrusts, getting a feel for you before he decides to ramp it up further. 'Typical Jimin' seems to float through your head, but you just grip him tighter, moving to meet his thrusts. You wanted to savour how full he made you feel for as long as possible.

His speed picks up, a hand moving to the underside of your raised legs and digs in deep. You let your own hands slide to his hair, keeping hold of the soft locks as he starts to hit harder inside you.

The sound of your skin making contact seems to echo loudly, and you barely spare a thought to people below working out what the noise was. You didn't care if they heard any more.

It was so hot inside the shirt together, and you could feel beads of sweat rolling down your chin and down your neck. This definitely wasn't helping the heat problem at all, but there was nothing on earth that would make you stop.  The edges of Jimin's hair were getting damper, and with every tug of his hair he let his head fall back into your touch. His throat was bared to you, salty beads dribbling down his hot skin.

You murmur a series of curses as you watched him, the thrum of him being underneath you almost unbelievable.

But then he pulls out a power move.

With fast thrusts he rolls his hips, his cock dragging almost perfectly across your soft spot inside, and all your senses seem to leave you. He repeatedly manages to hit your spot and you are sure he is planning to end you, it was the only way to explain it. Death by good dick, you could see it now.

"Fuck fuck fuck." you repeat like a mantra, The wet slaps that echoes just adding to the sensation.

"Wanna turn you." He mutters breathlessly, and a part of you is glad he's also feeling so affected.

You can't seem to vocalise an answer so you nod emphatically, unhitching your leg from its vice-like grip around him. He pulls out of you and you almost complain, but then his hands are on your hips.

He spins you and presses you against the wall, lifting your leg up and lining himself back inside you again. You're practically dripping for him, so it doesn't take much for him to push back inside. You push your ass back into his thrusts making his movements stutter, and with a playful squeeze he whines behind you.

A small smirk picks up on your lips as you roll your hips back at him, starting him out of his stupor and back to where you need him.

He pounds his hips into you and you have to steady yourself against the wall. The shirt bunches awkwardly, caught in your grip as the rough wood of the wall digs into your skin. Jimin presses his front against your back, the hotness of his skin pricking against your own.

An arm slides around your waist, guiding you, holding you steady as he ferociously fucks into you. His other arm settles across your chest, his fingers clenching across your collarbone. His mouth is by your ear, ragged breaths blowing across the taut collar of the shirt and hitting the warmth of your body.

“Y/N.” Jimin groans, the lilt in his voice uneven as his hips crash into yours.

Your entire body was tingling, the pleasure from your core and the bite of the wall against your bare skin a fight for your senses. You could feel perspiration form on your forehead making your hair stick to you awkwardly but it didn't matter.

Jimin filled you in every way. The hot touch from his fingertips on your waist and across your chest, the heat of his stomach at the base of your back, the soft moans that he sings by your ears.

"That's it, baby." He groans, his fingers curling onto your skin.

The hand that he has sat on your waist slinks across your stomach to reach between your legs, letting his fingers circle your throbbing clit. The pressure makes your eyes slam shut, letting your head fall back onto Jimin's shoulder behind you.

A small single laugh falls from his lips, but your inevitable clench off your walls around him cuts it short. He thrusts a little harder, rocking you against the wall. You have to brace yourself as he fills you repeatedly, his athletic hips working overtime.

The hand that has been pressed to your chest finds its way to your throat, holding just below your jaw. You let out a moan as you cover his hand with yours, pressing his fingers into your throat.

"Shit..." He gasps, his hips stuttering.

"I bet you've been wanting to strangle me for ages." You rush, voice cracking as he circles your clit a little harder.

"Only when I've thought about fucking you."

The moan that leaves you is barely human. In fact, you were barely human any more. you were turning to putty on his cock and under his fingers. It wasn't going to be long until you reached your peak.

His fingers press into your throat under your guidance, the delicious bite making your vision slowly pool. You gasp, shivers tingling down your body. He lets up his grip a little to let your blood flow one more, your body practically vibrating from stimulation.

"Close, Jimin..." you whine, rocking your ass back into him.

"Let loose for me, Y/N." He whispers, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear.

He lets out one last surge of energy, fucking into you and rubbing your clit with a renewed vigour. you throw yourself back at him without care, chasing the high he was leading to you.

With a few more pumps and circles on your clit, you come undone.

Your body pulses on him, clenching down hard as your orgasm crashes through you. Your fingernails dig into his hand and the wall, a strangled cry of his name bursting from you. You cum hard on him, helping him finally reach his peak too - you could tell by the way his hips stuttered, the way he throbbed inside you.

"Cum, Jimin." you whimper, rocking your throbbing core on him.

He doesn't hold back, pumping a few stuttery thrusts into you as he cums. He fills you, gasping against your ear as your walls milk him dry. He thrusts until he can’t anymore, slowing his hips as the fullness inside of you trickles out past his length.

Both of your movements slowly lull to a stop. Jimin holds your body close against him, ragged breath hot against your ear. Your skin is prickled from the heat but you nestle into him anyway.

He finally pulls his softening length from inside you, a small dribble of your combined juices trickle down causing shivers to cover your body.

Turning your head you smile at him, slightly out of breath and dewy. The sight of him is godly: Messy hair sticking to his damp forehead, a pretty red blush spreading across his cheeks, plushy lips parted and sucking in breaths. He smirks back, a lazy grin growing. He moves closer and kisses you, gentle brushes of his lips against yours.

His hand that sat on your throat moved to stroke your cheek, and you let your hands thread in his hair as your kiss trails off into small pecks.

The air is different around you. It’s still hot, swirling close and untempered. But there’s something else too - a coolness, an understanding. A person behind the battle lines. Someone you could lean on, and someone who could keep up with you in an argument.

You pull back from him and look at him, his eyes slightly starry and his lips swollen from all they had been doing. With a soft smile you rub your thumb across his cupid’s bow, wiping off the last of his lipgloss.

“We should probably go downstairs, right? We don’t want Namjoon sticking that long neck of his out here.” Jimin whispers, his eyes finally focusing on you.

You nod, but not before pressing one last soft kiss to his lips. Now you’ve started, there was nothing in the world that could stop you from peppering him.

“Yeah.” You sigh, voice cracking slightly.

But neither of you move, both unwilling to be the first to break apart.

“I don’t want to leave here either.” He smirks, but it’s softer. Not the smirk he throws out to purposely disarm you, though it still has that effect on you.

“Where do we go from here though?”

“I guess we’ll have to work that out. Maybe we can discuss it if you let me take you out tomorrow?” He asks, eyes darting over your face for an answer.

Excitement crackles through you, electricity rippling through your head to the end of your fingertips. A smile rises on your face, and you can see the relief flow through Jimin.

“I’d love to.”

“Perfect. Now, let’s go and rub in the guy’s faces how well we’re getting on.” He laughs, his eyes crinkling.

He kisses you one last time, hard and fast, satiated for now. With that you finally separate, Pulling your clothes back on before facing each other again.

The shirt felt big now. Too big.

You couldn’t get close enough to him. You both head for the door when you feel Jimin’s fingers interlock with yours. Your entire body flushes as you open the door to the bedroom, the wall of heat from the house hitting you both.

You’re both undeterred though, determined to find your friends. You pull him down the stairs, not caring at who stares at you both in the sickly shirt. The house felt hotter, a visible mist descending over the sea of people.

You find them where they last left you, congregating around the couch. When you stop in front of them with Jimin in tow, they all take it upon themselves to scrutinise you. It was quiet for a long while, and you could feel your resolve buckling. You didn’t want them to see through you, see what happened. But you wanted them to know that things would be okay. For all of you.

You can only imagine how you looked. Out of breath and flustered, both of your hair messy and fully damp. They couldn’t see your hands knotted together inside the shirt, but they didn’t need to. The demeanor change between you both must have been glaringly obvious.

“How’s it going?” Namjoon asks, glaring between you.

“Good, we, uh. We’re getting on. Yeah.” you smile awkwardly, completely lost on why you were being so suspicious. You had more guts than that!

“That was smooth.” Jimin grins. He was worlds away from you, utterly content and calm.

“Oh my god, shut up.” You roll your eyes, but give his hands an extra squeeze under the shirt.

“Where have you guys been? I haven’t seen you all night.” Jungkook asks with wide innocent eyes, and for a moment you feel like if he knew what had just been happening he would have been tainted.

“Oh, just… exploring.” Jimin smirks, and you fight the urge to pinch him. Who knew this would go to his head?

Well, you knew. You shouldn’t be surprised at all.

“About time.” Jin sighs, eyes still glued to his phone. The others laugh and throw in their agreements.

“What?” you and Jimin both yell, eyes scanning your ‘friends’ suspiciously.

“We knew you both liked each other. It got a bit weird towards the end there but we knew you’d work it out - or Namjoon would.” Hoseok shrugs, but his face is bright as he grins at you both.

“The shirt was a bit of a, well… drastic option.” Namjoon's smile was crooked, but his eyes were bright as he grinned at you.

“Oh… I don’t know what to say.” You murmur, heat creeping across your face again.

Jimin, however, throws his head back and laughs, slapping a hand on his chest for good measure. You stare up at him in shock, but you can’t help the smile that grows on your face. He was infectious. And your friends understood. You feel a tightness unfurl in your stomach.

“Well, it worked out. It worked out really well. I mean just so so good-”

“Jimin, shut up!”  You gasp, eyes wide as he winks at Namjoon.

Well, it’s good to know that the fire is still there between you. He was still impossibly infuriating and unendingly Jimin - but it was all for you. And it was only the start.

“Sorry baby.” He whispers as he lets go of your hand to wrap his arm around your waist pulling you into his side. You flush at the move in front of the others, but easily melt into his side. You had been waiting for this, after all.

“I’m glad.” smiles Namjoon, warm eyes flicking over you both in the stained and rumpled ugly item of clothing. “Maybe we should burn the shirt, though. Just for hygienic reasons.”

[jimlingss]

It's B from @bang-tan-bitches and I would like to request a yandere fic. It can be BTS OT7 x reader or BTS member of your choice x reader. Similar to your amazing isekai story i would like something similar(a long one shot or a multi-chapter, your choice). Whether YN transmigrates to a game or a novel (not as a villain but maybe as a cannon fodder side character that has little importance to the story and just wants to lay low) but YN captures the attention of the love interest(s) and shit starts getting weird, intense, uncomfortable. Maybe it causes the supposed female lead to turn into the villain, maybe it causes the love interest(s) to turn into the villain(s). Maybe YN realizes that something is wrong with the story/game but can't figure it out. Idk. Time period doesn't matter. Modern. Ancient. Fairytale. Fantasy. Whatever.

If you can do this great! If you can't or don't want to, that's okay too. You're an amazing writer with so much talent and I'm really appreciative of all your work. Thank you for taking requests from your fans, I'm sure you've received a lot.

Take care! 😘💜💜💜

at the start of the pandemic, I was getting back into manga and manhwa and then after a few months, I dawdled off but recently, I’ve been getting back into it again haha so this request came at a pretty good time. Hopefully you won’t mind that I’ve taken some creative liberties with this request lol I think it’s more fun if I keep readers on their toes, including the requester.

On another note, I really shouldn’t be writing all my isekai’s with Taehyung as the main lead but he’s just so fitting asdfghjkl

↳ The Fox Bride

2.6k || 99% Light Fluff, 1% Angst || Kim Taehyung || Isekai!AU, Slight Yandere!AU, Nine-Tailed Fox!Taehyung

You are a tutorial character.

But you weren’t always. You still remember being a career woman in the twenty-first century, struggling with overtime and paying bills while trying to keep yourself fed. The success of that ranged from month to month. But more importantly, you still remember that night too.

It was rainy. Your car blew a flat tire. You pulled to the side of the highway and got out.

The last thing that registered was the deafening honk of the semi-truck. 

Then you felt yourself flying upwards.

But when you landed, instead of colliding with the concrete and dying upon impact, you fell back onto your ass in the middle of a market on a dirt road. Transported back a thousand years ago.

Your purpose was fulfilled in the next two minutes. 

“Are you alright?”

The male protagonist had stretched out his hand and helped you up. The hero. The main character. It was obvious with his bright red hair, shining eyes and bronze armour. He was so starkly different from the rest who were gray and drab, including you who was suddenly in a brown shapeless dress. He was practically a neon billboard in the middle of a graveyard.

“Are you Y/N?”

You looked at him, befuddled that he knew your name. But before you could even respond or provide a line of dialogue, he said, “This is a delivery from Baker Jeon. He gives you his thanks.”

The protagonists handed you a loaf of bread. Undoubtedly his first ever quest. 

You looked down, not sure what to do with it.

“Do you know where the blacksmith is?”

You had absolutely no clue. But there was the deafening noise of hammering steel literally ten steps away. You would have to be blind not to see the gruff man shaping a sword at an anvil right on the road and deaf not to hear it. As if that wasn’t enough, the literal sign of the shop read: ‘the blacksmith’.

So you pointed.

“Thanks.” And he trudged off.

You were utterly confused until a background character who said they knew you waved you over. You shared your bread with her, brushed aside when she asked you what was wrong, and you followed her as she walked up to your supposed cottage.

All the while, you saw yourself in the background of the hero’s main quest as he ran through the town.

And that was that.

It wasn’t so hard to figure out where you were or what the hell this was when you put your mind to it. Without much of a job or a family, and no technology but the candle that you had to conserve when night fell, there was ample time.

So you spent it thinking and you eventually solved the mystery.

You were in Beast Boys Harem: A Forbidden Embrace. AKA. a dumb yaoi otome game app that you downloaded on your phone when you were sixteen and bored. You remember because you were too cheap to buy the routes, so you played the tutorial, prologue and read the summaries of the routes online. Now you regret that you didn’t just fork over the goddamn five dollars. 

Even more than that, you regret that you even downloaded the game in the first place.

But at least you’re just a tutorial character. You’re free from the storyline and the plot—

That’s what you thought.

Turns out living a thousand years in the past in a fantasy realm as a woman didn’t bode well. It was probably no different from how it would’ve been like in the medieval ages. You had no trade skills. No one was willing to accept you as an apprentice when you were a woman. You found that you were essentially illiterate with a reading level of a preschooler, no one was willing to teach you, and you had no power or wealth when you were without a father or a husband.

And you’re certain what the landlord and tax-collectors are doing is illegal.

But in this world, in this unjust realm, there is no such thing as the law.

“We know you’re in there!”

You jolt from the heavy pounding on the frail wooden door.

“It’s time to pay up!”

Your hands tremble as you set the candle down that’s still billowing of smoke, the flame smothered out mere seconds ago. As much as you want to hide and pull the blanket over your head, you know that door won’t last. They’ll find you if you’re trapped in here.

“If you can’t, spread those legs of yours!” a low voice spits and there’s chortling from the men.

Someone adds, “Sell your body already!” 

“Open up! Damn whore!”

Without a single possession but the white nightgown clad on your body, you open the latch of the back window. You cringe at the squeak, trying to keep your movements quiet before the door gives way.

You hoist yourself up onto the window ledge. The door bends with the strength of multiple clenched fists against it. Your feet touch the soft grass outside your cottage. The men shout.

And the door finally slams against the wall, hinges broken. 

But by then, you’ve slipped into the shadows.

“Where is she?!”

The blanket is ripped off the bed, curtains are whipped back, every drawer dumped onto the ground and cupboards yanked open. The floor shakes with the weight of their boots and you press your palm to your mouth to silence your panting breaths, slowly stepping away.

“That damn whore slipped through us—!”

But as your shitty luck would have it, a sudden crack has the whole world coming to a standstill.

Shit. You look down at your feet, realizing that the snapping noise came from you stepping on a twig. And it’s exposed your hiding place.

“There she is!” — “Out the back window!”

You grab fistfuls of your dress and bolt. 

“Get her!”

With your cottage on the edge of town, there’s nowhere to run but through the dense woods. It’s shrouded in the darkness, no doubt filled with wild beasts creeping through the thicket. The rustling canopy of the trees doesn’t allow the dim, waning moonlight to illuminate your path.

So you’re left blind. Struggling up the high incline of the forest, feet slipping on dirt and mud. But you keep sprinting with all your might, even when the pointed, coiling branches scrape at your calves until blood sheds and the hem of your dress tears in the underbrush.

“Run, little rabbit!” one of them mocks, “Run!”

The four men continue to give chase, gripping onto their roaring torches, shrieking and howling after you. One of them is manically laughing as if your efforts to flee only adds to the thrill. Their greased hands reach out to snatch you, but the tips of their fingers graze the ends of your hair.

Your teeth are sunk into the bottom of your lip, sobs breaking through your aching chest. Your lungs burn, dying for a break or moment of relief. But you don’t relent and luckily, you manage to build distance between you and the men. Only, that luck comes crashing down by a fucking hole.

A hole in the forest floor that you don’t see. That has your footing all wrong. That makes you scream and fall.

You twist your ankle in a direction it’s definitely not supposed to be in and cry from pain. 

A second later, you force yourself to get up and keep running with tears flooding your eyes and dripping down your cheeks. But it’s more like limping than running, akin to hobbling on one leg and every movement has pain shooting from your swelling ankle.

The effort becomes futile. They surround you within minutes.

“All finished?” The tax-collector’s head cocks with a spreading grin. “You’re not going to keep running?”

Why couldn’t you just fucking die the first time?! Even if it was an awful death where you didn’t have time to prepare yourself or say goodbye to anyone, at least it would’ve been the end. At least you wouldn’t have to suffer.

But there’s no time to grieve. Or hate the new life you’ve been given. This is it. You have to keep going. You have to survive. By any means. You’re about to pick up a branch and uselessly wave it around at them, shout at them to stand back. Anything that you could do to save yourself—

“Who dares come onto my mountain?!”

There’s a deep timbre behind you. A husky voice that quivers the very core of the forest.

As if the wind has swept through, the trees and thicket rustle and it goes silent.

The men fall back onto their asses, some torches clattering to the ground. Their eyes have grown double in size, nearly falling from their sockets and their jaws have dropped to the dirt.

“I-It’s the nine-tailed fox!”

The man scrambles back.

“Demon!” 

Another barely manages to get onto his feet. He turns around and lurches away while shrieking.

They all run. Scattering away as frantically as cockroaches when the light is flickered on.

From your spot on the ground, you turn around with wide eyes. 

Amber irises meet your gawking and they practically glow in the darkness of the forest. He is dressed in a loose, white robe that’s draped over his frame, open to the middle of his chest. And over his honey hair, on the top of his head, his pointed golden ears twitch. By the torch fire still yet to die out, he is illuminated and his shadow is casted on the ground. The blazing flame warms his cold, sharp features. 

He is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. In both worlds you’ve lived in.

And you know who he is.

Taehyung. One of the love interests of the hero. A seductive, sly creature that eventually coaxes the hero into selling him his soul to grant one of his wishes. But Taehyung grows to become an obsessed character that wants to do nothing but monopolize and possess the hero for himself.

That same Taehyung approaches you with his lip curled as you teeter to your feet.

“Run away, girl.” He leans close. “Before I eat you.”

“Stop!” 

On sheer instinct and adrenaline, you push him back. Your palm shoves against his firm chest.

Taehyung stumbles back with his eyes becoming rounded. He looks down to where you had made contact against his body. “Did...you just touch me?”

“What?”

Taehyung’s head darts upwards and he captures your wrist in his hand, squeezing tightly. He tugs you in and on your swollen ankle, you stumble into him. Bodies flush against one another. Your face pressed to his warm chest. His arm coming around your waist to break your fall.

He is aghast. 

“You’re not from this world.” Taehyung’s yellow eyes swirl as they gaze into you. “Where did you come from?”

…

It’s been three days.

“Wed me,” he begs for the seventy sixth time. 

You don’t know why you’re keeping a count.

“No.”

You’re hugging your knees for warmth. The rice paper-paneled doors are slid open and letting in the chilly air. He doesn’t seem to be affected by the cold, but you don’t look at him for long. 

You turn into the corner of his home while sitting on the tatami floors as if you’re putting yourself into time out. But you’d like to say it’s your privacy corner. It’s as private as this abode, which was basically one room, could get. 

Taehyung sighs in frustration, placing his hand on his forehead. His teeth grit. “You’re only making this harder for yourself.” Your silence angers him more. “You can never leave.”

You turn over your shoulder to glare. “Even if I married you, you’d never let me leave anyway.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes on you and then smirks. “You’re right. Wed or unwed, I won’t let you out of my sight. You should feel grateful, girl. You’re the best human I’ve ever treated.”

You quietly scoff.

Maybe you should feel scared. Maybe you should tread more lightly. After all, he’s not a character to be trifled with.

But you know he needs you. That alone gives you power. 

As a beast, Taehyung’s been trapped on this mountain by priests for centuries. The only way he can be free is by feeding off of sexual energy and breaking the barrier. But of course, they also cursed him to be unable to touch any woman in this universe. 

You aren’t from this universe.

You jolt when you realize that while you were lost in thought, Taehyung’s crawled closer. He has a foxy smile, amber eyes searching your expression. “Maybe….maybe I’ll grant you a bit of freedom if you would just give into the temptation and let me have a taste of you.”

As cold as he looks, he is beautiful. He is mischievous when he smirks and sly when he speaks. You are utterly spellbound as you look into his irises. And the temptation he speaks of flickers in the warmth of your belly.

But you turn away.

“I already said we only do that kind of thing after marriage. And I will only marry someone I love.”

Taehyung draws back with an unamused scoff. “What a prudish world you’re from.”

He wanted you the moment you were brought to this house. With the intensity of his stare and your captivated state, you had let him pin you to his floor and you liked it. But then clarity came and you blurted that such an act only happens after marriage. A lie just to buy time.

You didn’t expect for the hero to arrive at Taehyung’s house the next day. With his red hair and bronze armour, he had gotten lost in the forest and knocked on the door. Before you could limp over and answer it, Taehyung jumped off the roof and confronted him.

The guy was thrown off the mountain within five minutes.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. They were supposed to have a steamy rendezvous. Taehyung was supposed to get the sexual energy from him! 

The story was going off the rails. And you’re not sure what you’re even buying time for anymore.

The both of you know it’s only a matter of time before you break and succumb to his mesmerizing seduction.

Taehyung is cruel, ruthless, obsessive.

But what’s the most bewitching thing about him is the jarring contrast of when he’s clumsy and nurturing. It’s what he regards as his own weakness. What he hides from others. But you felt your heart waver two nights ago when you were shaken awake in the middle of twilight. When you peeked open your eye to see him gingerly wrapping your swollen ankle with bandages.

He looked beautiful in the pale moonlight, ears, tails, sharp features softened—

“Ow!” You wince as he squeezes your ankle, right on your injury.

“You think too much in your head,” he says and looks at you. “What’s wrong?”

“It hurts.”

A sadistic smile tugs on Taehyung’s lips. He lets go, but only to lift your chin with his fingers. His plush lips are inches away, his breath warm on your skin and he gazes deep into you. “I won’t let you return to your world. I won’t let you run away. I won’t let anyone harm you.”

“You’re mine now.” Taehyung swears, “You’ll fall in love with me eventually.”

You gulp and he smirks.

The two of you know it’s only a matter of time.

[sushiburritonoms]

Untitled Library Din/Luke ficlet

@darkisrising asked for #25 on the AU short fic list and I wasn't short enough for the little Ask box reply thing. I have worked multiple positions in libraries public and private so this came really quickly to me. Sorry for the multiple inside jokes in here but I hope @sadiebwrites appreciates this!

--

Normally Luke enjoyed Wednesday mornings. The middle of the week was a quieter time for library staff; it was far enough away from the hell that was the weekend shifts that Luke could take a break and mentally prepare himself for Thursday’s Toddler Storytime and Friday’s afterschool crush.  There were usually only a few moms with small children hanging around the board books corner at this time and typically his page could handle their easy questions.  It was supposed to be a nice peaceful time for him.

“Heads up Luke, your DILF is back.”

Luke nearly dropped the stack of new picture books he was carrying out from tech services. “Geez Dak, careful with that cart! ….Wait my what now?”

The library page grinned as took the new books from Luke’s hands and put them on his cart. “Your DILF! He’s in Children’s with his kid. You know, the biker looking dude with the sweet ‘tash?”

“I’m sorry young Dak,” the reference librarian Obi-Wan said with his head still huddled over his Wednesday crossword puzzle, “but might I inquire what a ‘DILF’ is?”

“No you may not!” Luke moaned as he ran his hand over his face. “And please keep your voice down.”

“Sorry boss!” Chirped Dak, “but they’re the only two in the room right now, so you got him all to yourself!”

“Luke’s got who all to himself?” their archivist Tionne asked as she walked by with her empty coffee mug.

“The DILF from last week. He’s back with his toddler and it’s not even Thursday,” Dak reported breathlessly.

“Hmm, is this the dark haired patron with the 2 year old boy, just moved in from Nevada?” Obi-Wan said thoughtfully as he finally looked up. “The one you were all telling me about last week?”

Dak nodded. “The hot one, yeah!”

“Don’t you have books to shelve,” Luke hissed at his page.

“Oh that’s so sweet,” Tionne murmured, “you looked so smitten after they left last week too.”

“I did not!” Luke protested. “I looked like my usual non smitten, very busy self.”

“You spent a half hour with them and pulled every single amphibian book we had for the dad,” Dak reported, “the guy looked overwhelmed as he left.”

“I was doing my job,” Luke said through gritted teeth, “just like a certain somebody should be doing.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Dak smirked as he started to push his cart out into the public area.

“Wait a minute,” Luke said suddenly as he remembered something. He peered at Dak’s bookcart and pulled a green and pink picture book out. “I think I’m gonna need this.”

Dak frowned. “You better not try to reshelve that yourself, I need to take stats if you use it.”

“I’m fully capable of logging usage stats myself,” said Luke.

“Yes, but will you?” Tionne asked as she sipped her coffee.

“No.” Obi-Wan and Dak replied for Luke.

“Why do I put up with any of you,” Luke muttered to himself.  “I’m leaving this conversation now.”

“Hmm,” said Obi-Wan. “Have fun with the ...DILF.”

“Oh my God, please never say that again,” Luke begged his mentor as he almost but not quite ran from the back room. The sound of Tionne and Dak laughing followed him out.

Sure enough as Luke walked towards the Children’s Room he could see there were only two patrons inside. The tiny toddler Grogu was absorbed in yet another book about frogs and snuggled inside of one of Luke’s red bean bag chairs, while his father sat awkwardly in a child sized wooden chair.  For a moment, Luke thought he might be able to sneak back to the reference desk without being spotted but nope. Little Grogu looked up and squealed in a non library friendly pitch as he spotted him.

“Shhh, mijo,” his father said gently. “We’re in a library, remember? Inside voice.”

“It’s alright,” Luke said as he stepped towards them. “There’s hardly anyone here at the moment.”

The father was startled and looked up at Luke. Then he unfolded himself from the tiny chair and stood up, looking strangely nervous. “Ah...hello.”

Luke put on his best friendly and not at all flirty children’s librarian face. “Hello again and ¡Hola, Grogu! ¿Cómo estás?”

The toddler squeaked from the beanbag chair in almost incomprehensible Spanish.

“Bien,” his father translated. “¿Y Usted?”

Luke’s spanish was limited to grade school level so he just went with “Muy bien, ¡gracias!” Then switched back to English. “Did we finish all of those books from last week?  What a great reader, excellente!”

Grogu’s dad looked up with his gorgeous brown eyes and chuckled, his deep voice sending a small bolt of electricity down Luke’s spine. “He wouldn’t put them down, he’s been obsessed with them all week. Especially the bilingual ones, thank you Mr. Skywalker.”

“Call me Luke,” he said with a smile. “You got a real reader there, señor…” Luke waited.

“Oh!” The man said. “Sorry, I guess I forgot to introduce myself last week. Din Djarin.”

“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Djarin.”

“Just Din is fine.” Din gave Luke a shy smile that sent more fluttering feelings throughout Luke’s cardigan covered chest.

“Din then.” He couldn’t help staring, fascinated by how the dingy lighting of their poorly funded library could still make Din’s eyes look amazing. Oh he had it bad--and for a patron! If the Head Librarian Jocasta Nu saw him, he’d get another damn lecture about professionalism and there would go his chances for the library to fund his trip to ALA in Chicago this year.

“¡Papi!” Grogu suddenly said. “¡Quiero libro!” He pointed to the picture book held in Luke’s arms.

Luke blinked. “Oh of course! Yes, this is for you.” He knelt down and handed Grogu the picture book. “This book is new, we just got it today and it’s about Frogs. It’s called ‘Kiki Kokí: La Leyenda Encantada del Coquí.” In English it was ‘The Legend of the Coquí Frog.’

Din looked down and gave Luke a huge smile. “Another bilingual book.”

“I try to order as many as I can,” Luke said solemnly. “I have some time, would you like for me to read it to him? It would be good to practice my Spanish in front of a more sympathetic audience.” The toddlers at Thursday��s Storytime were brutal critics.

“I--we--would love that,” Din said, giving Luke another amazing smile.

Oh god he loved Wednesday mornings, even if he was in so much trouble.

---

You can request a ficlet from the AU list here but I'll probably be slow in replying (I need to go do some actual work lol).

Edit: There's a part II here